“Yes. He is annoyed that I listen to you more than to him. But it’s quite true. I love him and listen to you. He is dear to me ... and you are near to me.”
Solomin stroked her hand gently.
“This is a very unpleasant business,” he observed at last. “If Markelov is mixed up in it then he’s a lost man.”
Mariana shuddered.
“Lost?”
“Yes. He doesn’t do things by halves—and won’t hide things for the sake of others.”
“Lost!” Mariana whispered again as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “Oh, Vassily Fedotitch! I feel so sorry for him. But what makes you think that he won’t succeed? Why must he inevitably be lost?”
“Because in such enterprises the first always perish even if they come off victorious. And in this thing not only the first and second, but the tenth and twentieth will perish—”
“Then we shall never live to see it?”
“What you have in your mind—never. We shall never see it with our eyes; with these living eyes of ours. But with our spiritual ... but that is another matter. We may see it in that way now; there is nothing to hinder us.”