swimming in the deep sea. The word Razumov was the mere label of
a solitary individuality. There were no Razumovs belonging to him
anywhere. His closest parentage was defined in the statement that he
was a Russian. Whatever good he expected from life would be given to or
withheld from his hopes by that connexion alone. This immense parentage
suffered from the throes of internal dissensions, and he shrank mentally
from the fray as a good-natured man may shrink from taking definite
sides in a violent family quarrel.

Razumov, going home, reflected that having prepared all the matters of
the forthcoming examination, he could now devote his time to the subject
of the prize essay. He hankered after the silver medal. The prize was
offered by the Ministry of Education; the names of the competitors would
be submitted to the Minister himself. The mere fact of trying would be
considered meritorious in the higher quarters; and the possessor of the
prize would have a claim to an administrative appointment of the better
sort after he had taken his degree. The student Razumov in an access of
elation forgot the dangers menacing the stability of the institutions
which give rewards and appointments. But remembering the medallist of
the year before, Razumov, the young man of no parentage, was sobered. He
and some others happened to be assembled in their comrade's rooms at the
very time when that last received the official advice of his success.
He was a quiet, unassuming young man: "Forgive me," he had said with a
faint apologetic smile and taking up his cap, "I am going out to order
up some wine. But I must first send a telegram to my folk at home. I
say! Won't the old people make it a festive time for the neighbours for
twenty miles around our place."

Razumov thought there was nothing of that sort for him in the world. His
success would matter to no one. But he felt no bitterness against