Sister Pelagia and the Red Cockerel (56 page)

Matvei Bentsionovich did not attempt to answer this rhetorical question, especially since he had no idea whatever of the direction that this astounding conversation might take.

“I believe in Providence,” Pobedin declared solemnly. “It is what has led you to us. I told Sergei Sergeevich: ‘Of course, we could exterminate this public prosecutor so that he will not harm our cause. But take a look at his actions. This Berdichevsky acts like a man who is purposeful, intelligent, selfless. Is this not the very set of qualities that you and I value in men? Let me have a word with him, as a good shepherd. He will look into my eyes, and I into his, and it might very well be that we shall find ourselves a new fellow thinker.’”

Berdichevsky started slightly at the word “exterminate” and failed to listen very attentively to the remainder of the Chief Procurator’s speech—there was only a single, panicky thought left twitching in his mind: your fate is being decided right now, this very minute.

Konstantin Petrovich apparently failed to understand the real reason for the other man’s reserve. “You have no doubt heard that I am an anti-Semite, an enemy of the Jews. It is not true. To classify people according to their nationality is something I would never do. I am not an enemy of the Jews, but of the Jewish faith, because it is a poisonous tare that springs from the same root as Christianity and is a hundred times more dangerous than Islam, Buddhism, or paganism. The worst enemy is not he who is alien to you, but he who is your own kin! And therefore the Jew who, like unto you, has abjured the false faith of his fathers and accepted Christ is dearer to me than the Russian who abides in the bosom of the true faith through the grace of birth … However, I can see that you wish to ask me about something. You may do so now. Ask.”

“Your Excellency …” Matvei Bentsionovich began, trying to control the trembling of his voice.

“Please—Konstantin Petrovich,” the Chief Procurator corrected him gently.

“Very well… Konstantin Petrovich, I did not entirely understand about the conspiracy. Do you mean that in a figurative sense, or …”

“In the most direct sense possible. Only a conspiracy is usually arranged in order to overthrow the existing order, while my conspiracy exists in order to save it. Our country, yours and mine, is teetering on the brink of a precipice. If it fails to hold, and plunges into the abyss, it is the end of everything. Our long-suffering homeland is being dragged to its doom by a mighty satanic power, and those trying to avert this catastrophe are few in number. Disunity, a decline in morality, and, worst of all, a lack of faith—this is the Gogolesque troika that is bearing Russia toward the edge of the chasm that is already close, verily it is close! And the pit breathes fire and brimstone!”

Konstantin Petrovich made the transition from soft-spoken rationality to prophetic pathos quite naturally, without the slightest strain. The Chief Procurator was certainly exceptionally gifted as a public speaker. But when the passionate frenzy of those eyes and the entire charge of spiritual energy were directed at a single, solitary listener, the pressure was quite impossible to resist.
And he has no need to address crowds
, thought Berdichevsky.
An audience of one man is sufficient for him, because that man is the autocratic ruler of all Russia
. Despite himself, Matvei Bentsionovich began feeling flattered. Here was the great Pobedin, expending all the fervor and zeal of his statesman’s soul on a minnow like him.

Trying not to submit to the Chief Procurator’s magnetism, the state counselor said, “I beg your pardon, but there is something I don’t understand …” He lost the thread and started over again—he had to choose his words very carefully here. “If the theory that I developed is correct, then the cause of everything that has happened … of Mr. Dolinin’s actions, was the determination to kill the sectarian prophet Manuila, at no matter what cost. In order to achieve this goal and also to cover his tracks, the full state counselor stopped at nothing. If a perfectly innocent nun had to be eliminated—then by all means. He did not even take pity on a little peasant girl.”

“What girl is that?” Pobedin interrupted him, with a glance of annoyance at Sergei Sergeevich. “I know about the nun, but nothing about the girl.”

Dolinin replied abruptly: “It was Ratsevich. A professional, but he got carried away, and he turned out to be rotten. I have already said that I was mistaken to recruit him to our cause.”

“Anyone can make mistakes,” the Chief Procurator sighed. “The Lord will forgive, if the error was genuine. Continue, Matvei Bentsionovich.”

“Well then … I wanted to ask … what is so special about him, this swindler Manuila? Why was all this necessary for his sake … all
this?”

Konstantin Petrovich nodded and answered very seriously, indeed solemnly:

“You truly are a highly intelligent man. You have seen through to the very essence. Then you should know that the individual whom you have mentioned represents a terrible danger to Russia, and even more than that—to the entire Christian world.”

“Who, Manuila?” Berdichevsky asked, amazed. “Come now, Your Excellency! Surely you are exaggerating?”

The Chief Procurator smiled sadly.

“You have not yet learned to trust me as my soul mates trust me. I can commit errors of the mind or the heart, but never of both at the same time. This is a gift vouchsafed to me by the Lord. It is my predestined role. Believe me, Matvei Bentsionovich: I see further than other people, and much is revealed to me that is hidden from them.”

Pobedin looked Berdichevsky straight in the eyes, hammering home every word. The public prosecutor from Zavolzhsk listened as if he were in a trance.

“Everyone who comes into contact with Manuila is infected with the fatal disease of disbelief. I myself have spoken with him and felt this seductive power, and only rescued myself through prayer. Do you know who he is?” asked Konstantin Petrovich, suddenly speaking in a terrible whisper.

“No.”

“The Antichrist.”

The word was pronounced with quiet solemnity.

Berdichevsky blinked in fright.
Well, how about that! The most influential man in the state, the Chief Procurator of the Holy Synod, is insane. Poor Russia!

“I am not insane, and I am not a religious fanatic,” the Chief Procurator said, as if he had read Berdichevsky’s thoughts. “But I do believe in God. I have known that the Evil One was on his way for a long time. I have been expecting him. And it turns out that he is already here. He has appeared out of nowhere and wanders around Russia, getting a feel for things, taking stock, for he has no need to hurry—he has been granted three and a half years. For it is said in the revelation of St. John:
‘And he was given lips that spoke proudly and blasphemously, and he was given the power to act for forty-two months. And he opened his lips to blaspheme against God, to blaspheme against His name, and His dwelling, and those living in heaven. And it was granted to him to wage war against the saints and defeat them; and power was granted to him over every tribe and tongue and race. And all those living on earth shall bow to him, those whose names are not written in the book of life of the Lamb, sacrificed from the creation of the world.’”

These terrible and obscure words alarmed Matvei Bentsionovich. Pobedin no longer seemed like a madman to him, but even so, it was quite impossible to believe that the pitiful rogue Manuila was the Beast of the Apocalypse.

“I know,” Konstantin Petrovich sighed. “It is hard for a practical man such as yourself to believe in such things. It is one thing to read about the Antichrist in the sacred literature, and quite another to imagine him among real people in our age of steam and electricity, and here in Russia! But let me tell you this,” said the Chief Procurator, waxing passionate once again. “Russia is precisely the place! The very meaning and destined purpose of our country lies in this, that it is appointed to be the field on which the battle between Light and Darkness will be fought! The Beast chose Russia because she is a special country—she is an unfortunate country, farthest of all away from God, but at the same time closer to Him than any other! And also because we have suffered vacillation here for a long time in both the social order and our faith. Our country is the weakest link in the chain of Christian states. The Antichrist has seen this and prepared his blow. I know what that blow will be—he confessed it to me himself. You and Sergei Sergeevich have no need to know it; let the burden of knowledge remain mine alone. I will say only this: it is a blow from which our faith will not recover. And what is Russia without faith? An oak with no roots. A tower with no foundations. It will collapse and be scattered as dust.”

“The Antichrist?” Berdichevsky repeated hesitantly.

“Yes. And not in metaphorical terms, like Napoleon Bonaparte, but absolutely, completely real. Only without any horns or tail, with a quiet, heartfelt manner of speaking and an endearing gaze. I can feel people, I know them. Well,
Manuila is not human
.”

The simple, everyday manner in which these words were spoken sent a shiver running down Matvei Bentsionovich’s spine.

“What about Sister Pelagia?” he asked in a feeble voice. “Of what is she guilty?”

The Chief Procurator replied sternly: “The institution of capital punishment exists in every state. In the Christian countries it is employed in two cases: when someone has committed a serious offense against humanity, or represents a serious danger to society. The first case applies to hardened criminals, the second to those who would undermine the foundations of morality.”

“But Pelagia is not a murderer and not a revolutionary!”

“Even so, she represents an immense danger to our cause, and that is far worse than any offense committed against humanity. An offense can be forgiven; Christ himself has told us to do that.” At this point Pobedin’s face convulsed for some reason, but he instantly recovered control of himself. “We can, we even should, show mercy to a cruel murderer who has repented. However, not to eliminate a person who may be full of good intentions, but nonetheless represents a danger to the entire world order, is a crime. It is just like a doctor who fails to amputate a gangrenous limb from which deadly poison will flood throughout the body. Such is the higher law of the community: to sacrifice one for the good of the many.”

“But you could have talked to her, just as you are talking to me now,” Matvei Bentsionovich exclaimed. “She is an extremely intelligent woman and a true believer—she would have understood you!”

The Chief Procurator glanced at Dolinin, who raised his stiff, gloomy face and shook his head: “I could tell straightaway that she was dangerous. I kept her close by, to get a better look at her. I had already realized that she was too clever, she was bound to get to the bottom of things, but I kept putting it off… I know her kind, they won’t let go of a puzzle until they have solved it. And she was already getting close to the solution.”

Konstantin Petrovich took up the conversation again. “I can talk to you, Matvei Bentsionovich, because you are a man, and you can see past particular cases to what is truly important. A woman will never understand me, because for her the particular case is more important than the whole. You and I will sacrifice one person in order to save thousands or millions, even if that person is infinitely dear to us and it makes our hearts bleed. But a woman will never do that, and millions will die, together with the unfortunate individual on whom she has taken pity I have seen this Pelagia of yours, and I know what I am saying. She would not wish to remain silent and she would not be able to. The sword has already been raised above her head. I grieve for this extraordinary woman, and Sergei Sergeevich grieves even more, because he has managed to fall in love with her.”

Berdichevsky looked at Dolinin in horror, but not a single muscle twitched in the investigator’s face.

“We shall mourn her together,” the Chief Procurator concluded. “And let our consolation be that her final resting place will be in the Holy Land.”

Matvei Bentsionovich almost groaned aloud in his despair.
They know, they know everything!

“Yes, we know,” said Konstantin Petrovich, with a nod that confirmed his ability to read the other man’s thoughts. “She is still alive, because that is how we need it to be. But soon, very soon, she will be no more. Alas, there is no other way. The assembly of soul brothers sometimes has to take such bitter and painful decisions—even when it is not just a matter of a simple nun, but of far more distinguished individuals.”

Berdichevsky suddenly recalled the old rumors about the sudden demise of young General Skobelev, who was supposedly condemned to death by a secret monarchical organization called the Sacred Militia.

“The Sacred Militia?” he said uncertainly.

Pobedin frowned.

“We have no name. And the Sacred Militia was the stupid, infantile initiative of ambitious courtiers. We are not men of ambition, although each of my helpers is appointed to a high position in which he can be of maximum use to the motherland. I shall find you a job too, you may be sure of that, but I want you to join us, not out of careerist considerations, but out of conviction … Now listen to this.” The Chief Procurator looked hard at the state counselor, and Berdichevsky cringed under that piercing glance. “I am going to tell you something that is known only to the very closest circle of my friends. We have developed a plan of emergency measures in case the danger of a revolutionary eruption becomes too great. The problem is that the authorities and society remain childishly unconcerned. People are inclined to underestimate the threat contained in theories and ideas—until such time as blood is spilled. Well, then, we shall open society’s eyes! We shall seize the initiative! At the moment the ulcer of revolution in Russia has been cauterized with red-hot iron, but that is merely temporary relief. When a further wave of revolutionary violence becomes inescapable, we shall act first. We shall begin the terror ourselves.”