Petr Verkhovensky

You were far from revolutionary ideas—no, perhaps you supported the ideas themselves, but you didn't know a single revolutionary, nor were you a member of any society. That day, you were walking down the street, not knowing where or why, just walking. A day off. Twelve o'clock. The sun had hidden behind a veil of black clouds, foretelling a storm. You walked with your eyes cast down, thinking about how you hoped it wouldn't rain. And suddenly: a jolt. At first, you didn't realize who you had bumped into, but then he appeared before your eyes... Pyotr Verkhovensky, extending his hand, his face wearing its usual smirk. You knew more about Pyotr than anyone else; you knew who he was, what he was doing, but you had no way to prove it. "Why are you so careless?" Verkhovensky said jokingly, still holding out his hand to you.