'I left him outside the apartment.'

'Shall we not let him in?'

'It will do no good. You will not be able to see him. I took him to see Lebezyatnikov. I thought if anyone could see him it would be my old tutor.'

'Did you introduce him to Kozodavlev?'

'Why bring up Kozodavlev? You're not still interested in Kozodavlev, are you? That was before. When you were with him.' Dolgoruky screwed up his face distastefully. 'He claimed that I did not interest him!'

'It's just that when you mentioned Lebezyatnikov, I naturally thought of Kozodavlev.'

'Why naturally?'

'Because Kozodavlev attacked Lebezyatnikov in print.'

'Ah yes.' Dolgoruky gave a distracted smile.

'I believe you acted as an agent in the transactions.'

Dolgoruky's air of distraction deepened. Virginsky had the sense that it was an evasive strategy.

'As you did in the articles Kozodavlev wrote attacking my former professor.'

Dolgoruky could not prevent himself from being interested in what Virginsky was saying. 'Your former professor? You mean . . . ?'

'Tatiscev.'

'I see. So you know Professor Tatiscev.'

'And knowing him to be a man of great integrity, a man whose radical credentials are beyond question, who is furthermore known to be sympathetic to the cause of social revolution, I must confess that I was surprised to find him the target of Kozodavlev's barbs. Equally, I am disappointed that you played a part in that transaction too, a sordid part, if I may say so.'

'But you don't understand. All that was . . . well, let's just say, it was Dyavol's idea.'

'Is Dyavol a member of the central committee?'

Dolgoruky shrugged. 'Dyavol is Dyavol. He needs no one's authority but his own.'

Virginsky's face lit up with sudden realisation. 'Dyavol is "D." The author of Swine!'

Dolgoruky's cracked grin left room for the possibility that he was right.

'And, if I remember rightly,' continued Virginsky, 'there is a character in the book called Dyavol. He wrote the book and put himself in it! But why? Is he an anti-revolutionist? It does not portray our people in a very good light.'

'He wrote it primarily as a warning. If you betray the cause, this is what will happen to you. But perhaps it amused him to write it too. He often does things because they amuse him.'

'Did it amuse him to have Kozodavlev attack Professor Tatiscev?'

Dolgoruky gave a delighted giggle. 'Oh, yes! That was the most amusing diversion he had ever concocted!'

'And why did Kozodavlev go along with it? That's what I don't understand. Kozodavlev's convictions, at least as evidenced by the articles he wrote under his own name, were every bit as radical as Professor Tatiscev's. Ideologically speaking, you could not put a cigarette paper between the two men.'

'Yes, yes, of course. That's true. But what you are forgetting is that, many years ago, Professor Tatiscev stole Kozodavlev's wife.'

'No!'

'It's true! It's wonderfully, fantastically true! Although perhaps it is not so correct to talk of his stealing her. In truth, Kozodavlev rather gave her up. He was very much the new man, you see. He loved his wife as an equal, or so he claimed. And when he saw that she was in love with . . . with your old professor, he would not stand in her way. So he allowed her to choose. And she chose Tatiscev. It's just like that book, you know, What Is to Be Done? Except he did not fake his own suicide. He just gave her up.'

'How could he do that? How could any man?'

'Well, the point is, and here this is my own theory you understand, but I think psychologically the facts bear me out . . . the thing is, he was a little bit in love with Professor Tatiscev himself! And he was driven, I think, as much by a desire to make the professor happy as to give his wife her freedom. I told you he was a new man.'

'But then to attack him in the press?'

'What could be more natural? Because, yes, of course, he proved himself capable of acting in the most selfless, n.o.ble way imaginable. But, you know, that's going to hurt. That's going to breed resentment. That's going to inflict a wound that festers. And so when, all these years later, out of a devilish desire for amus.e.m.e.nt, it is suggested to him, by none other than . . . than, well, by Dyavol himself . . . naturally, he agreed. And I was happy to act as intermediary.'

'But what political purpose was served by all this? How did it aid the cause of revolution?'

'It allowed us to control what was said about our people in the enemy's press. Yes, of course, we defamed ourselves, but in the most ludicrous ways imaginable.' Dolgoruky seemed to remember himself. 'And of course, we picked harmless targets, straw men. We made the reactionaries look in one direction, while the real work was being done elsewhere. That, I believe, was the theory. Lebezyatnikov, for example, was never anything to do with anything.'

'And Professor Tatiscev?'

'Professor Tatiscev is a respected member of the University of St Petersburg's teaching staff, as you know.'

'Why did Kozodavlev have to die?'

'Did he?'

'Did Dyavol kill him? Perhaps it amused him?'

'He may have put the idea in someone's head. The Devil works like that, you know.'

'But you don't believe in the Devil.'

'It's a useful figure of speech.'

'And Dyavol is a man.'

'Sometimes I forget.'

Virginsky smiled. 'What do our people call you, Dolgoruky? Alyosha Afanasevich is called Hunger . . .'

'He is?'

'So he tells me.'

'I have never heard anyone call him that.'

'He says that I shall be known as the Fiend.'

'I think we shall just call you Magistrate. Or Magistrate-Slayer.'

'He is not dead. Porfiry Petrovich is not dead.' Virginsky spoke urgently, pleadingly almost.

Dolgoruky frowned distractedly. 'Not yet. But we may hope.'

'Of course.' Virginsky nodded strenuous agreement. He affected a joviality that was not entirely convincing. 'But you didn't answer me. They must call you something.'

'I am the Prince, of course.' Dolgoruky cackled to himself, his eyes skittering wildly as if buffeted by the shockwaves of his laughter. Then he fell silent, as abruptly and madly as he had begun laughing. His expression snapped into seriousness. 'But, G.o.d, you must be bored, cooped up in here.'

'I have no choice, for the time being.'

'Of course you have a choice. One always has a choice.' Dolgoruky took hold of Virginsky's arm and began to pull. There was something boyish about his eagerness and insistence. 'Come on! A bit of fresh air will do you good.'

'I have been told to stay put. Not even to show myself at a window. It is for the best.'

'Nonsense.'

'What if I am picked up? The central committee '

'Hang the central committee.'

'But Tatyana Ruslanovna . . .'

'Ah now! That's a different matter! Tatyana Ruslanovna! What an admirable woman! You do admire her, don't you, Magistrate?'

'Yes.'

'Naturally. We all admire her. And she admires you. Your recent escapade has impressed her tremendously. That I have heard.'

'You have?'

'Indubitably.'

'From Tatyana Ruslanovna in person?'

'From someone very close to her.'

Virginsky frowned, as if the idea of someone very close to Tatyana Ruslanovna distressed him.

'From Dyavol, no less.' Dolgoruky could not resist making his hints explicit. 'They are very attached to one another.'

'I see.'

'There is no need for jealousy. Both Dyavol and Tanya are new people. Both believe that a woman should be free to love wherever her heart leads her. Such old-fashioned notions as fidelity, and therefore infidelity, do not trouble them. If Tanya takes it into her head to give herself to you, Dyavol will not stand in her way.'

'But he might write a nasty article about me in ten years' time.'

'It would be more Dyavol's style to get you to write it yourself.'

'You make it sound as though he can get anyone to do anything.'

'I believe he can.' Dolgoruky's smile took on a particular quality. 'He can make you leave this apartment. Today. Right this minute, in fact.'

Virginsky angled his head sceptically.

'You want to meet him, don't you?' teased Dolgoruky.

'You said that was out of the question.'

'Nothing is out of the question, as far as Dyavol is concerned. Come with me, and I will take you to him.'

A white radiance, a sudden spill of spring, momentarily filled the apartment, cascading in from all the windows at once. Virginsky felt it enter his heart, emptying it of its anxieties, expanding it with light and levity. In that moment, he made his decision. 'Very well.'

The all-encompa.s.sing flare faded as quickly as it had arrived. In its pa.s.sing, Virginsky saw the particular quality he had noticed in Dolgoruky's smile intensify. There seemed in it something malevolent and heartless that was directed entirely at Virginsky. It was unmistakably personal.

30.

A cleansing solution A crowded omnibus ground its way lugubriously down the centre of the broad avenue, the horses' hooves clashing angrily with the cobbles. It was like a giant, round-shouldered beetle trudging unthinkingly along a predetermined path. Lighter, more limber vehicles carriages, cabs and carts pa.s.sed either side of it in both directions, mayflies speeding off towards their destinies. Pedestrians dodged between the traffic: fashionable women in pairs, nursemaids with their infant charges, young bucks in military uniforms, cooks and housekeepers engrossed in the day's marketing. A tradesman in cap and ap.r.o.n cleared the deposits of manure from the road in front of his store.

The sky above Nevsky Prospect was filled with magnified brilliance. The promise Virginsky had glimpsed on the walls and floor of the apartment was fulfilled a thousand times over. The street was wide and long and inhumanly straight, but the sky was touched with infinity. The strings of buildings along either side were silhouetted into insignificance, the relentless stuccoed facades drained of detail.

'This is insane. The police will be looking for me.'

'And you may be a.s.sured that this is the one place they will not look! Indeed, have we not pa.s.sed three policemen already, and not one of them gave you a second glance?'

'You're enjoying this, aren't you, Dolgoruky?'

'Why would I not?'

'Because it's dangerous. It may end badly, for you, as well as for me.'

Dolgoruky grinned. 'Come now, what's the point of being alive if one cannot take a stroll along Nevsky Prospect?'

'I have always found it to be an overrated activity.'

Dolgoruky suddenly turned and ran out into the middle of the road, racing after the omnibus, which was heading back the way they had come. After a moment of reluctance, during which he considered the prospect of his abandonment, Virginsky gave chase.

But it was enlivening to haul himself onto the moving tailboard. A clog of pa.s.sengers was getting ready to disembark at the next stop. They viewed Dolgoruky and Virginsky with disapproval. But Virginsky was immune to their animosity. He was in possession of a rare privilege, the privilege earned through audacity. He felt himself exalted. Imbued with a sense of his own superiority, he deigned to pity them their pinched faces and mundane concerns.

The Prince bounded up the iron steps to the 'Imperial Deck'. Virginsky felt the tremor of pa.s.sage in his legs as he worked his way down the narrow aisle to take the seat next to Dolgoruky. He had to admit that it felt good to be raised as high as possible in the open day, and to be moving forward in it too.