I follow the speeches in the Duma carefully, and each day I seem to ascend higher up a mountain that opens out new visions before me. And what horrible visions they are! The Germans are still in possession of Warsaw and advancing steadily. When is this alarming advance to stop? Our military experts declare that they cannot come beyond the forts of Vilna and Grodno, before whose impregnable walls they will crumple up. Ought not this to reassure us? But I am not reassured; I seem to feel their physical nearness and never turn a street corner without an absurd fear of seeing a German come rushing out. How clearly I see his German face, and spiked helmet! I can almost hear his insolent Teutonic speech. God forbid that it should come to pass! + 

Talking of visions, they make one’s hair stand on end. Why am I small and insignificant? I am honest enough, how is it I didn’t see and understand? Why did I trust as idiotically as a bewitched ass⁠—if one can use the expression⁠—when the country was in danger? The country in danger⁠—what appalling words! What use am I to the country? Any horse is far more useful than I, for all my wretched honesty. Wretched is the very word for it. + 

God save Russia! The words are heard on all hands, even among the sceptical fellows in the office. Supposing God refuses to save her? Supposing God were to say, “Perish with your Miasoyedovs, since you are so stupid and corrupt!” Should we have to go under? I shudder at the thought! I can’t admit it; I will fight against it with every ounce of strength I possess! And my heart is cold and apprehensive and desperate. What can I do? The country needs Samsons and heroes, and what kind of a hero am I? A sinner stripped I stand at the last judgment, quaking and unable to say a word in my own defence, for earthly subterfuges are over. + 

This is the case of Ilya Petrovitch Dementev, a clerk, who lived through the great war. + 