outer door is shut all right. But this is indeed unexpected."

Victor Haldin, a student older than most of his contemporaries at the
University, was not one of the industrious set. He was hardly ever seen
at lectures; the authorities had marked him as "restless" and "unsound
"--very bad notes. But he had a great personal prestige with his
comrades and influenced their thoughts. Razumov had never been intimate
with him. They had met from time to time at gatherings in other
students' houses. They had even had a discussion together--one of those
discussions on first principles dear to the sanguine minds of youth.

Razumov wished the man had chosen some other time to come for a chat. He
felt in good trim to tackle the prize essay. But as Haldin could not be
slightingly dismissed Razumov adopted the tone of hospitality, asking
him to sit down and smoke.

"Kirylo Sidorovitch," said the other, flinging off his cap, "we are not
perhaps in exactly the same camp. Your judgment is more philosophical.
You are a man of few words, but I haven't met anybody who dared to
doubt the generosity of your sentiments. There is a solidity about your
character which cannot exist without courage."

Razumov felt flattered and began to murmur shyly something about being
very glad of his good opinion, when Haldin raised his hand.

"That is what I was saying to myself," he continued, "as I dodged in the
woodyard down by the river-side. 'He has a strong character this young
man,' I said to myself. 'He does not throw his soul to the winds.' Your
reserve has always fascinated me, Kirylo Sidorovitch. So I tried to
remember your address. But look here--it was a piece of luck. Your