A few weeks later Klimkov began to feel freer and more at ease. Every morning, warmly and comfortably dressed, with a box of small wares on his breast, he went to receive orders either at one of the cafés where the spies gathered, or at a police office, or at the lodging of one of the spies. The directions given him were simple and distinct.
"Go to such and such a house. Get acquainted with the servants. Find out how the masters live."
If he succeeded in penetrating to the kitchen of the given house, he would first try to bribe the servants by the cheap price of the goods and by little presents. Then he would carefully question them about what he had been ordered to learn. When he felt that the information gathered was insufficient, he filled up the deficiency from his own head, thinking it out according to the plan draughted for him by the old, fat, and sensual Solovyov.
"These men in whom we are interested," Solovyov once said in a smug, honey-sweet voice, "all have the same habits. They do not believe in God, they do not go to church, they dress poorly, but they are civil in their manners. They read many books, sit up late at night, often have gatherings of guests in their lodgings, but drink very little wine, and do not play cards. They speak about foreign countries, about systems of government, workingmen's socialism and full liberty for the people. Also about the poor masses, declaring it is necessary to stir them up to revolt against our Czar, to kill out the entire administration, take possession of the highest offices, and by means of socialism again introduce serfdom, in which they will have complete liberty." The warm voice of the spy broke off. He coughed and heaved a sentimental sigh. "Liberty—everybody likes and wants to have liberty. But if you give me liberty, maybe I'll become the first villain in the world. That's it. It is impossible to give even a child full liberty. The Church Fathers, God's saints, even they were subject to temptations of the flesh, and they sinned in the very highest. People's lives are held together, not by liberty but by fear. Submission to law is essential to man. But the revolutionists reject law. They form two parties. One wants to make quick work with the ministers and the faithful subjects of the Czar by means of bombs, etc. The other party is willing to wait a little; first they'll have a general uprising, then they'll kill off everybody at once." Solovyov raised his eyes pensively, and paused an instant. "It is difficult for us to comprehend their politics. Maybe they really understand something. But for us everything they propose is an obnoxious delusion. We fulfil the will of the Czar, the anointed sovereign of God. And he is responsible for us before God, so we ought to do what he bids us. In order to gain the confidence of the revolutionists you must complain, 'Life is very hard for the poor, the police insult them, and there's no sort of law.' Although they are people of villainous intent, yet they are credulous, and you can always catch them with that bait. Behave cannily toward their servants; for their servants aren't stupid, either. Whenever necessary, reduce the price of your goods, so that they will get used to you and value you. But guard against exciting suspicion. They will begin to think, 'What is it? He sells very cheap, and asks prying questions.' The best thing for you to do is to strike up friendships. Take a little dainty, hot, full-breasted thing, and you'll get all sorts of good information from her. She will sew shirts for you, and invite you to spend the night with her, and she will find out whatever you order her to. You know—a tiny, soft little mouse. You can stretch your arm a long distance through a woman."
This round man, hairy-handed, thick-lipped, and pock-marked, spoke about women more frequently than the others. He would lower his soft voice to a whisper, his neck would perspire, his feet would shuffle uneasily, and his eyes, minus eyebrows and eyelashes, would fill with warm, oily moisture. Yevsey with his sharp scent observed that Solovyov always smelt of hot, greasy, decayed meat.
In the chancery the spies had been spoken of as people who know everything, hold everything in their hands, and have friends and helpers everywhere. Though they could seize all the dangerous people at once, they were not doing so simply because they did not wish to deprive themselves of a position. On entering the Department of Safety everyone swore an oath to pity nobody, neither father, mother, nor brother, nor to speak a word to one another about the sacred and awful business which they vowed they would serve all their lives.
Consequently Yevsey had expected to find sullen personalities. He had pictured them as speaking little in words unintelligible to simple people, as possessing the miraculous perspicacity of a sorcerer, able to read a man's thoughts and divine all the secrets of his life.
Now from his sharp observation of them he clearly saw they were not unusual, nor for him either worse or more dangerous than others. In fact, they seemed to live in a more comradely fashion than was common. They frankly spoke of their mistakes and failures, even laughed over them. All without exception were equally fervent in swearing at their superiors, though with varying degrees of malice.
Conscious of a close bond uniting them they were solicitous for one another. When it happened that someone was late for a meeting or failed to appear at all, there was a general sense of uneasiness about the absentee, and Yevsey, Zarubin, or someone of the numerous group of "novices," or "assistants" was sent to look for the lost man at another gathering place.
A stranger observing them would have been instantly struck by the lack of greed for money among the majority and the readiness to share money with comrades who had gambled it away or squandered it in some other fashion. They all loved games of hazard, took a childish interest in card tricks, and envied the cleverness of the card-sharper.