The White Terror and The Red. Abraham Cahan

the other, is good for the cause. Every success scored by the ‘Will of the People’ is a step in the direction of that for which men like yourself are staking their lives, Pasha. Don’t interrupt me, pray. I’ll go a step further. I am of the opinion that under certain conditions, where an escape is assured, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to let one’s self be arrested just in order to add another name to the list of political gaol-breakers, that is to say, to the list of the government’s fiascos. Every little counts. Every straw increases that weight which will finally break the back of Russia’s despot.”

      “Do you really mean what you say, Makar? Do you actually want to be arrested?” Pavel asked.

      “Not at all. All I want is that another good man should gain the confidence of the Third Section and that another political prisoner should escape.”

      “And what if all Mlle. Safonoff says turns out to be as idiotic a dream as all this tommyrot of yours?”

      “ ‘If one is afraid of wolves one had better keep out of the woods.’ You, yourself, have taken much greater chances than that, Pasha. If I am arrested with papers and the worst comes to the worst they won’t hang me.”

      “I see you take it seriously after all. Well, if you think I’ll let you do anything of the kind you are a fool.”

      “You can’t prevent me from doing what I consider to be right. Nor do I want anybody else to send the denunciation which is to result in my arrest. I’ll send it myself. All I want is that somebody should claim credit for it afterward, when I am in prison—on that very day, if possible. The search and arrest will be ordered from St. Petersburg, and then some of our men will say at the Third Section that the anonymous letter was his, adding some details about me. Details can be worked out later. Where there is a will there is a way. At any rate, I don’t expect anybody but myself to bear the moral responsibility for my arrest.”

      He talked on in the same strain until Pavel sprang to his feet, flushed with rage. “It’s all posing—that’s all there’s to it!” he shouted. “On the surface it means that you are willing to sacrifice yourself without even attracting attention, but in reality this subtle modesty of yours is only the most elaborate piece of parading that was ever conceived. It’s love of applause all the way through, and you are willing to stake your life on it. That’s all there is about it.”

      Makar grew yellow in the face and sweat broke out on his forehead. “In that case, there’s no use talking, of course,” he said in a very low voice. “If I am a humbug I am a humbug.”