THE DARK
BY
LEONID ANDREEV
TRANSLATED BY L. A. MAGNUS AND K. WALTER
1922
PUBLISHED BY LEONARD AND VIRGINIA WOOLF AT
THE HOGARTH PRESS, HOGARTH HOUSE, RICHMOND
As a rule success had accompanied him in all his undertakings, butduring the last three days complications had arisen which wereunfavourable, not to say critical. His life, though a short one, hadlong been a game of terrible hazards; he was accustomed to these suddenturns of chance and could deal with them; the stake had before beenlife itself, his own and others', and this by itself had taught himalertness, swiftness of thought, and a cold hard outlook.
Chance this time had turned dangerously against him. A mere fluke,one of those unforeseeable accidents, had provided the police witha clue; for two whole days the detectives had been on his track,a known terrorist and nihilist, drawing the net ever closer roundhim. One after another the conspirators' hiding places had beencut off from him; there still remained to him a few streets andboulevards and restaurants where he might go undiscovered. But histerrible exhaustion, after two sleepless nights and days of ceaselessvigilance, had brought in its train a new danger: he might drop offto sleep anywhere, on a seat in the boulevards, even in a cab, and beludicrously arrested as a common drunk.
It was now Tuesday. On Thursday—only one day to spare—he had tocarry out a terrorist act of great importance. The preparations forthe assassination had kept the little organization busy for someconsiderable time. The »honour« of throwing the last and decisive bombhad fallen to him. He must retain self-command at all costs.
But sleep....
It was thus, on that October evening, standing at the crossing ofcrowded streets, that he decided to take refuge in a brothel. He wouldhave had recourse earlier to this refuge, though none too secure,had it not been for the good reason that all his twenty-six years hehad been chaste, had never known women as mere women, had never beenin a brothel. Now and then he had had to fight sternly against suchdesires, but gradually restraint had become habit, and had producedin him an attitude of calmness and complete indifference towards thesex. So now, at the thought of being forced into close contact with awoman who traded in such pleasures, and of perhaps seeing her naked,he had forebodings of any number of unpleasantnesses and awkwardmoments. True, he had only decided to go to a prostitute now, whenhis passion was quiescent, when a step had to be taken so importantand serious that virginity and the struggle for it lost their value.But in any event it was unpleasant, as might be any other obnoxiousincident which must be endured. Once, when assisting in an importantact, in which he played the part of second bomb-thrower, he saw ahorse which had been killed with its hind parts burst open and theentrails exposed; this incident, its filthy and disgusting character,and its needlessness, gave him a similar sensation—in its way evenmore unpleasant than the death of a comrade from an exploding bomb.And the more quietly and fearlessly, and even joyously, he anticipatedThursday, when he would probably have to die, the more was he oppressedwith the prospect of a night with a woman who practised love as aprofession, a thing utterly ridiculous, an incarnation of chaos,senseless, petty, and dirty.
But there was no alternative. He was tottering with fatigue.
It was still early when he arrived, about ten o'clock; but the greatwhite hall with its gilded chairs and mirrors was r