"No," I said. "You need not tell me this at all, Alexis. I am quite
glad enough to see you and to have you here, without explanation."
He made a gesture of impatience.
"As if I did not know that," he added; "but as I said a moment ago, it
is my pleasure to recite some of these things to you, because since I
came into this room and grasped your hand I have been impressed by the
idea that there is a great work for you to do; a great duty for you to
perform. A stupendous obstacle to human development exists in one part
of Europe to-day, which I believe you could overcome and demolish, if
only you could be convinced of it. I wonder, Dan, if you would give the
subject any thought if I were to suggest it to you?"
"Try," I said.
"I wonder if you would seriously consider one of the greatest
achievements that remains undone in Europe to-day," he added,
meditatively.
"The obstacle to which you just now referred?" I asked.
"Yes."
"What is it?"
"Nihilism."
"Hell!" I replied with emphasis.
But he took me literally, and not even the suggestion of a smile showed
in his face as he replied: "That is the fitting word, Dan. It is hell. It is worse than that to
hundreds of thousands of human beings, from the lowest mujik of the
steppes, to the czar himself. It is a word which carries with it a
certain magic which always spells the word death. It is death to those
who antagonize it, and it is death to them that uphold it. It is death
to the minister, the governor, the official, and it is death to the
poor devil who plots in the dark, secretly with his fellows, against
the powers that rule him. Nihilism is well named, for it means nothing
and it ends in nothing. Nihilo nihil fit! Whoever named the
revolutionists of Russia so, builded better than they knew."
I was watching Saberevski with some amazement. I had never heard him
express himself in such terms before, and I had not supposed him
capable, sympathetically, of doing so. I was not without a certain fund
of knowledge regarding the subject he had introduced, for my
professional duties had taken me more than once into Russia, and I had
encountered much of the conditions he described. But I regarded them,
as well as Saberevski himself, with the American idea and from an
American standpoint. It had always seemed to me so unnecessary that
conditions should exist as I had heard them described over there. I had
always believed that if the government of Russia would only go about
the work differently, it would be so easy to eradicate every phase of
the so-called nihilism, and especially that branch of it practiced by
those who are called extremists. Evidently Saberevski entertained
something of this view himself, although from the standpoint of a
Russian, for he ended a short silence between us by saying: "I have not finished what I was going to tell you, Dan. I have served
Alexander, the czar, many years, and served him faithfully. There are
reasons now why I can serve him no longer, in the capacity and at the
places where he needs me most. My life which is of small moment, and
his who is my royal master, would not be worth the weight of a feather
if I were to show my face at St. Petersburg again. There is nothing
remaining for me to do save to sit down quietly in some far country of
the world, and watch from a distance the passing of events which some
day, near or far as the case may be, will end in his assassination.
What my work has been and what it would still be if I could remain near
to his imperial majesty, you can guess, and I need not give it a name.
But Dan, if I could succeed in convincing you of the opportunity that
would be yours if you should go there, and if I could know that you had
gone, determined to offer your services where they are most needed,
then that far corner of the world where I would wait and watch events,
would become a peaceful spot to me, for I know that you could succeed
where all others have failed."