Chapter 19 Chapter 8 Ivanov (3)

He stayed with Ivanov until late in the morning.Ivanov, unexpected beginning, he thought to himself: Let's see how far the unexpected can take us! Never had time passed so slowly, never had there been such a lack of revelation in the air. Finally, he got bored and woke the man up. "Time to go, your shift is over," he said. Ivanov didn't seem to catch the thorn in his words.He was well rested and refreshed. "Aha!" he yawned. "I've got to go to the lavatory!" and came back and said, "Do you have any leftovers for breakfast?" He took Ivanov to the apartment.His breakfast was already on the table, but he had no appetite. "Please," he said briefly.Ivanov's eyes lit up, and his chin drooled.He ate in a respectable manner, and the little finger was curled up in the hand that held the cup at tea.When breakfast was over, he leaned back in his chair and sighed contentedly. "I am very happy that we have the chance to meet each other!" He sighed. "The world is a cold place, Fyodor Mikhailovich, and I know you feel the same way! You know, I'm not complaining. On a higher level, we get what we deserve I do. Yet I sometimes wonder whether each of us should also have a sanctuary, a safe haven, where the laws are a little more lenient and have mercy on us? I pose it as a question, a philosophical question. Even though " It’s not mentioned in the Bible, shouldn’t the spirit of the Bible be covered? That is, we should also get what we don’t have. What do you think?”

"Undoubtedly. Too bad it's not my apartment. You've got to go now." "Wait a minute. I have one last thing to say. You know, what I said last night about God seeing the cracks in our hearts wasn't just bullshit. Strictly speaking, I'm not a pious fool, but that doesn't mean I'm not qualified to speak the truth. You know, the truth can come by mysterious and roundabout paths." He tapped his forehead meaningfully with his fingertips. "When you first met me, you would never have dreamed that one day the two of us would sit together and drink tea elegantly. But we did!"

"Sorry, I didn't catch you, I was thinking of something else. Now you really have to go." "Yes, I must go. I have my mission." He stood up, flung the blanket over his shoulder like a cape, and held out a hand. "Good-bye. It is a pleasure talking with a man of your culture." "goodbye." He shook off the man and breathed a sigh of relief.But there was still an unpleasant smell of fish in the room.Although it was cold, he had to open the window for a while. Half an hour later, there was a knock on the door of the apartment.Never be that person again!He thought, frowning angrily and opened the door.

Before him was a child, a fat girl in a dark novitiate smock.Her face was round and expressionless, with high cheekbones that almost hid her small eyes, and her hair was pulled back tightly in a braid. "Are you Pavel Isaev's stepfather?" asked the girl in an unexpectedly low voice. He nodded. She entered the house and closed the door behind her. "I'm Pavel's friend," she announced.He expected words of condolence to follow, but there were none.Instead, she stood directly across from him with her arms akimbo, sizing him up with the calm, alert look of a wrestler waiting for a match to begin.Her breasts rose and fell evenly.

"Can I see his belongings?" she said at last. "He left very little. May I know what you call it?" "Catley. Can you let me see, even if it's a little? I've been here three times. The first two times, that irritating landlady of his wouldn't let me in. I hope you're not like that." Katri.Finnish name.She also looks like a Finn. "I think she must have her reasons. Do you know my son well?" Instead of answering the question, she said flatly, "You know, the police killed your son." Time stopped.He could hear his own heart beating.

"They killed him and made up a suicide story. Do you believe me? Believe it or not." "Why did you tell me this?" he whispered unemotionally. "Why? Because it is. What else?" She is not only aggressive, but also active.She began to shift her body weight from one foot to the other, rocking rhythmically and swinging her arms in time.Despite her stocky stature, she gave the impression of being nimble.No wonder Anna Sergeyevna didn't want to have anything to do with her! "No." He shook his head. "What my son leaves behind is a personal matter, a family matter. Please explain why you are here."

"Do you have any documents?" "There used to be some, but they're not here now. Why do you ask?" Then he added: "Are you from Nechayev's gang?" The question didn't fluster her.On the contrary, she raised her eyebrows and smiled, making her aggressive and triumphant eyes clearly visible for the first time.Of course she belongs to Nechayev's gang!A female warrior whose shaking is the prologue to the battle dance, the dance of those who are eager to go into battle. "Even if I were, would I tell you?" she replied, laughing. "Did you know the police were watching the house?"

She continued to shake her body, staring at him intently, as if she wanted him to see something in her eyes. "At this moment, there's someone downstairs," he insisted. "Where?" "You didn't notice him, but he must have noticed you. He was pretending to be a beggar." She laughed. "Do you think the police spies are smart enough to spot me?" she said.Then something amazing happened.She lifted the hem of her clothes and took two small steps, revealing her plain black shoes and white cotton socks. She was right, he thought, and people would take her for a child; but a child possessed by the devil.The devil in her body was pulling up clothes, jumping and jumping, and couldn't rest for a moment.

"Stop it!" he said coldly. "My son has nothing left for you." "Your son! He's not your son!" "He's my son and always will be. Now please go. I'm sick of this talk." He opened the door and motioned her out.When she left, she bumped into him on purpose.He seemed to be kicked by a pig. There was no sign of Ivanov when he went out later in the afternoon, nor when he returned.Why should he worry?If it is Ivanov's task to observe others without being seen, why has it become his task to observe Ivanov?In the present pretentious game, even if Ivanov played the part of the angel of God—only because he was not an angel at all—why should it be his job to find the angel?Let the angel knock at my door, he said to himself, and I will do my duty, and I will give him shelter: that is enough to make the bargain.But even when he thought about it, he knew that he was deluding himself, knowing that he had the ability to completely and completely remove Ivanov from the post of watchman.

So he was restless, and finally had no choice but to go downstairs to find that person.But the man was not downstairs, not on the street, and could not be found anywhere.He sighed in relief.I've done my best, he thought. But he knew in his heart that he wasn't trying his best.He has so much more to do, so much more.