“Wait a minute, gentlemen. I have to put down his name, all of his particulars, and then find out who to deal with — the war minister or the Orenburg Military District authorities. I hope I may wrest at least one talented man from the Third Department.”
“Here are his letters. Read them, Alexei Ivanovich,” Pletniov said, taking both letters out the drawer. “Read them and you will see what formidable power this man has to live, create, write, paint, and struggle.”
“And to struggle not for himself but for his people,” Butakov said reflectively, handing back to Pletniov the letters after he had read them. “It could be that we have read the letters of one of the most famous of our contemporaries. Who knows…”
“Well, that is a bit far-fetched,” the professor said with a smile. “He is simply a
