And then there was fear – fear of ruining his life once again, fear of living in fear. Could he really oppose himself to the collective again? Go back to his former solitude? It was time he took the world seriously. He had obtained things he had never even dreamed of. He could work in complete freedom; he was treated with solicitous attentiveness. And he hadn’t had to beg for any of this; he hadn’t repented. He had been victorious. What more could he ask for? Stalin had telephoned him. ‘Comrades, this is a very serious matter. I need to think about it. Allow me to put off my decision until
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