Madame de S—­ was pleased to discover that this young man was different from the other types of revolutionist members of committees, secret emissaries, vulgar and unmannerly fugitive professors, rough students, ex-cobblers with apostolic faces, consumptive and ragged enthusiasts, Hebrew youths, common fellows of all sorts that used to come and go around Peter Ivanovitch—­fanatics, pedants, proletarians all.  It was pleasant to talk to this young man of notably good appearance—­for Madame de S—­ was not always in a mystical state of mind.  Razumov’s taciturnity only excited her to a quicker, more voluble utterance.  It still dealt with the Balkans.  She knew all the statesmen of that region, Turks, Bulgarians, Montenegrins, Roumanians, Greeks, Armenians, and nondescripts, young and old, the living and the dead.  With some money an intrigue could be started which would set the Peninsula in a blaze and outrage the sentiment of the Russian people.  A cry of abandoned brothers could be raised, and then, with the nation seething with indignation, a couple of regiments or so would be enough to begin a military revolution in St. Petersburg and make an end of these thieves....

“Apparently I’ve got only to sit still and listen,” the silent Razumov thought to himself.  “As to that hairy and obscene brute” (in such terms did Mr. Razumov refer mentally to the popular expounder of a feministic conception of social state), “as to him, for all his cunning he too shall speak out some day.”

Razumov ceased to think for a moment.  Then a sombre-toned reflection formulated itself in his mind, ironical and bitter.  “I have the gift of inspiring confidence.”  He heard himself laughing aloud.  It was like a goad to the painted, shiny-eyed harridan on the sofa.

“You may well laugh!” she cried hoarsely.  “What else can one do!  Perfect swindlers—­and what base swindlers at that!  Cheap Germans—­Holstein-Gottorps!  Though, indeed, it’s hardly safe to say who and what they are.  A family that counts a creature like Catherine the Great in its ancestry—­you understand!”

“You are only upsetting yourself,” said Peter Ivanovitch, patiently but in a firm tone.  This admonition had its usual effect on the Egeria.  She dropped her thick, discoloured eyelids and changed her position on the sofa.  All her angular and lifeless movements seemed completely automatic now that her eyes were closed.  Presently she opened them very full.  Peter Ivanovitch drank tea steadily, without haste.

“Well, I declare!” She addressed Razumov directly.  “The people who have seen you on your way here are right.  You are very reserved.  You haven’t said twenty words altogether since you came in.  You let nothing of your thoughts be seen in your face either.”