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diff --git a/old/mthrg10.txt b/old/mthrg10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..aa998df --- /dev/null +++ b/old/mthrg10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,17902 @@ +*****The Project Gutenberg Etext of Mother, by Maxim Gorky***** +#4 in our series by Maxim Gorky + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. + +Please do not remove this. + +This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book. +Do not change or edit it without written permission. 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In the chill morning +twilight they walked through the narrow, unpaved street to the tall +stone cage that waited for them with cold assurance, illumining +their muddy road with scores of greasy, yellow, square eyes. The +mud plashed under their feet as if in mocking commiseration. Hoarse +exclamations of sleepy voices were heard; irritated, peevish, +abusive language rent the air with malice; and, to welcome the +people, deafening sounds floated about--the heavy whir of machinery, +the dissatisfied snort of steam. Stern and somber, the black +chimneys stretched their huge, thick sticks high above the village. + +In the evening, when the sun was setting, and red rays languidly +glimmered upon the windows of the houses, the factory ejected its +people like burned-out ashes, and again they walked through the +streets, with black, smoke-covered faces, radiating the sticky odor +of machine oil, and showing the gleam of hungry teeth. But now +there was animation in their voices, and even gladness. The +servitude of hard toil was over for the day. Supper awaited them +at home, and respite. + +The day was swallowed up by the factory; the machine sucked out of +men's muscles as much vigor as it needed. The day was blotted out +from life, not a trace of it left. Man made another imperceptible +step toward his grave; but he saw close before him the delights of +rest, the joys of the odorous tavern, and he was satisfied. + +On holidays the workers slept until about ten o'clock. Then the +staid and married people dressed themselves in their best clothes +and, after duly scolding the young folks for their indifference to +church, went to hear mass. When they returned from church, they +ate pirogs, the Russian national pastry, and again lay down to +sleep until the evening. The accumulated exhaustion of years had +robbed them of their appetites, and to be able to eat they drank, +long and deep, goading on their feeble stomachs with the biting, +burning lash of vodka. + +In the evening they amused themselves idly on the street; and those +who had overshoes put them on, even if it was dry, and those who had +umbrellas carried them, even if the sun was shining. Not everybody +has overshoes and an umbrella, but everybody desires in some way, +however small, to appear more important than his neighbor. + +Meeting one another they spoke about the factory and the machines, +had their fling against their foreman, conversed and thought only of +matters closely and manifestly connected with their work. Only +rarely, and then but faintly, did solitary sparks of impotent +thought glimmer in the wearisome monotony of their talk. Returning +home they quarreled with their wives, and often beat them, unsparing +of their fists. The young people sat in the taverns, or enjoyed +evening parties at one another's houses, played the accordion, sang +vulgar songs devoid of beauty, danced, talked ribaldry, and drank. + +Exhausted with toil, men drank swiftly, and in every heart there +awoke and grew an incomprehensible, sickly irritation. It demanded +an outlet. Clutching tenaciously at every pretext for unloading +themselves of this disquieting sensation, they fell on one another +for mere trifles, with the spiteful ferocity of beasts, breaking +into bloody quarrels which sometimes ended in serious injury and on +rare occasions even in murder. + +This lurking malice steadily increased, inveterate as the incurable +weariness in their muscles. They were born with this disease of the +soul inherited from their fathers. Like a black shadow it +accompanied them to their graves, spurring on their lives to crime, +hideous in its aimless cruelty and brutality. + +On holidays the young people came home late at night, dirty and +dusty, their clothes torn, their faces bruised, boasting maliciously +of the blows they had struck their companions, or the insults they +had inflicted upon them; enraged or in tears over the indignities +they themselves had suffered; drunken and piteous, unfortunate and +repulsive. Sometimes the boys would be brought home by the mother +or the father, who had picked them up in the street or in a tavern, +drunk to insensibility. The parents scolded and swore at them +peevishly, and beat their spongelike bodies, soaked with liquor; +then more or less systematically put them to bed, in order to rouse +them to work early next morning, when the bellow of the whistle +should sullenly course through the air. + +They scolded and beat the children soundly, notwithstanding the fact +that drunkenness and brawls among young folk appeared perfectly +legitimate to the old people. When they were young they, too, had +drunk and fought; they, too, had been beaten by their mothers and +fathers. Life had always been like that. It flowed on monotonously +and slowly somewhere down the muddy, turbid stream, year after year; +and it was all bound up in strong ancient customs and habits that +led them to do one and the same thing day in and day out. None of +them, it seemed, had either the time or the desire to attempt to +change this state of life. + +Once in a long while a stranger would come to the village. At first +he attracted attention merely because he was a stranger. Then he +aroused a light, superficial interest by the stories of the places +where he had worked. Afterwards the novelty wore off, the people +got used to him, and he remained unnoticed. From his stories it was +clear that the life of the workingmen was the same everywhere. And +if so, then what was there to talk about? + +Occasionally, however, some stranger spoke curious things never +heard of in the suburb. The men did not argue with him, but +listened to his odd speeches with incredulity. His words aroused +blind irritation in some, perplexed alarm in others, while still +others were disturbed by a feeble, shadowy glimmer of the hope of +something, they knew not what. And they all began to drink more in +order to drive away the unnecessary, meddlesome excitement. + +Noticing in the stranger something unusual, the villagers cherished +it long against him and treated the man who was not like them with +unaccountable apprehension. It was as if they feared he would throw +something into their life which would disturb its straight, dismal +course. Sad and difficult, it was yet even in its tenor. People +were accustomed to the fact that life always oppressed them with the +same power. Unhopeful of any turn for the better, they regarded +every change as capable only of increasing their burden. + +And the workingmen of the suburb tacitly avoided people who spoke +unusual things to them. Then these people disappeared again, going +off elsewhere, and those who remained in the factory lived apart, if +they could not blend and make one whole with the monotonous mass in +the village. + +Living a life like that for some fifty years, a workman died. + + +Thus also lived Michael Vlasov, a gloomy, sullen man, with little +eyes which looked at everybody from under his thick eyebrows +suspiciously, with a mistrustful, evil smile. He was the best +locksmith in the factory, and the strongest man in the village. But +he was insolent and disrespectful toward the foreman and the +superintendent, and therefore earned little; every holiday he beat +somebody, and everyone disliked and feared him. + +More than one attempt was made to beat him in turn, but without +success. When Vlasov found himself threatened with attack, he +caught a stone in his hand, or a piece of wood or iron, and +spreading out his legs stood waiting in silence for the enemy. His +face overgrown with a dark beard from his eyes to his neck, and his +hands thickly covered with woolly hair, inspired everybody with +fear. People were especially afraid of his eyes. Small and keen, +they seemed to bore through a man like steel gimlets, and everyone +who met their gaze felt he was confronting a beast, a savage power, +inaccessible to fear, ready to strike unmercifully. + +"Well, pack off, dirty vermin!" he said gruffly. His coarse, yellow +teeth glistened terribly through the thick hair on his face. The +men walked off uttering coward abuse. + +"Dirty vermin!" he snapped at them, and his eyes gleamed with a smile +sharp as an awl. Then holding his head in an attitude of direct +challenge, with a short, thick pipe between his teeth, he walked +behind them, and now and then called out: "Well, who wants death?" + +No one wanted it. + +He spoke little, and "dirty vermin" was his favorite expression. +It was the name he used for the authorities of the factory, and +the police, and it was the epithet with which he addressed his wife: +"Look, you dirty vermin, don't you see my clothes are torn?" + +When Pavel, his son, was a boy of fourteen, Vlasov was one day +seized with the desire to pull him by the hair once more. But Pavel +grasped a heavy hammer, and said curtly: + +"Don't touch me!" + +"What!" demanded his father, bending over the tall, slender figure +of his son like a shadow on a birch tree. + +"Enough!" said Pavel. "I am not going to give myself up any more." + +And opening his dark eyes wide, he waved the hammer in the air. + +His father looked at him, folded his shaggy hands on his back, and, +smiling, said: + +"All right." Then he drew a heavy breath and added: "Ah, you +dirty vermin!" + +Shortly after this he said to his wife: + +"Don't ask me for money any more. Pasha will feed you now." + +"And you will drink up everything?" she ventured to ask. + +"None of your business, dirty vermin!" From that time, for three +years, until his death, he did not notice, and did not speak to his son. + +Vlasov had a dog as big and shaggy as himself. She accompanied him +to the factory every morning, and every evening she waited for him +at the gate. On holidays Vlasov started off on his round of the +taverns. He walked in silence, and stared into people's faces as if +looking for somebody. His dog trotted after him the whole day long. +Returning home drunk he sat down to supper, and gave his dog to eat +from his own bowl. He never beat her, never scolded, and never +petted her. After supper he flung the dishes from the table--if his +wife was not quick enough to remove them in time--put a bottle of +whisky before him, and leaning his back against the wall, began in a +hoarse voice that spread anguish about him to bawl a song, his mouth +wide open and his eyes closed. The doleful sounds got entangled in +his mustache, knocking off the crumbs of bread. He smoothed down +the hair of his beard and mustache with his thick fingers and sang-- +sang unintelligible words, long drawn out. The melody recalled the +wintry howl of wolves. He sang as long as there was whisky in the +bottle, then he dropped on his side upon the bench, or let his head +sink on the table, and slept in this way until the whistle began to +blow. The dog lay at his side. + +When he died, he died hard. For five days, turned all black, he +rolled in his bed, gnashing his teeth, his eyes tightly closed. +Sometimes he would say to his wife: "Give me arsenic. Poison me." + +She called a physician. He ordered hot poultices, but said an +operation was necessary and the patient must be taken at once to +the hospital. + +"Go to the devil! I will die by myself, dirty vermin!" said Michael. + +And when the physician had left, and his wife with tears in her +eyes began to insist on an operation, he clenched his fists and +announced threateningly: + +"Don't you dare! It will be worse for you if I get well." + +He died in the morning at the moment when the whistle called the +men to work. He lay in the coffin with open mouth, his eyebrows +knit as if in a scowl. He was buried by his wife, his son, the dog, +an old drunkard and thief, Daniel Vyesovshchikov, a discharged +smelter, and a few beggars of the suburb. His wife wept a little +and quietly; Pavel did not weep at all. The villagers who met the +funeral in the street stopped, crossed themselves, and said to one +another: "Guess Pelagueya is glad he died!" And some corrected: +"He didn't die; he rotted away like a beast." + +When the body was put in the ground, the people went away, but the +dog remained for a long time, and sitting silently on the fresh +soil, she sniffed at the grave. + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Two weeks after the death of his father, on a Sunday, Pavel came +home very drunk. Staggering he crawled to a corner in the front +of the room, and striking his fist on the table as his father used +to do, shouted to his mother: + +"Supper!" + +The mother walked up to him, sat down at his side, and with her +arm around her son, drew his head upon her breast. With his hand +on her shoulder he pushed her away and shouted: + +"Mother, quick!" + +"You foolish boy!" said the mother in a sad and affectionate voice, +trying to overcome his resistance. + +"I am going to smoke, too. Give me father's pipe," mumbled Pavel +indistinctly, wagging his tongue heavily. + +It was the first time he had been drunk. The alcohol weakened his +body, but it did not quench his consciousness, and the question +knocked at his brain: "Drunk? Drunk?" + +The fondling of his mother troubled him, and he was touched by the +sadness in her eyes. He wanted to weep, and in order to overcome +this desire he endeavored to appear more drunk than he actually was. + +The mother stroked his tangled hair, and said in a low voice: + +"Why did you do it? You oughtn't to have done it." + +He began to feel sick, and after a violent attack of nausea the +mother put him to bed, and laid a wet towel over his pale forehead. +He sobered a little, but under and around him everything seemed to +be rocking; his eyelids grew heavy; he felt a bad, sour taste in his +mouth; he looked through his eyelashes on his mother's large face, +and thought disjointedly: + +"It seems it's too early for me. Others drink and nothing happens-- +and I feel sick." + +Somewhere from a distance came the mother's soft voice: + +"What sort of a breadgiver will you be to me if you begin to drink?" + +He shut his eyes tightly and answered: + +"Everybody drinks." + +The mother sighed. He was right. She herself knew that besides +the tavern there was no place where people could enjoy themselves; +besides the taste of whisky there was no other gratification. +Nevertheless she said: + +"But don't you drink. Your father drank for both of you. And he made +enough misery for me. Take pity on your mother, then, will you not?" + +Listening to the soft, pitiful words of his mother, Pavel remembered +that in his father's lifetime she had remained unnoticed in the +house. She had been silent and had always lived in anxious +expectation of blows. Desiring to avoid his father, he had been +home very little of late; he had become almost unaccustomed to his +mother, and now, as he gradually sobered up, he looked at her fixedly. + +She was tall and somewhat stooping. Her heavy body, broken down +with long years of toil and the beatings of her husband, moved about +noiselessly and inclined to one side, as if she were in constant +fear of knocking up against something. Her broad oval face, wrinkled +and puffy, was lighted up with a pair of dark eyes, troubled and +melancholy as those of most of the women in the village. On her +right eyebrow was a deep scar, which turned the eyebrow upward +a little; her right ear, too, seemed to be higher than the left, +which gave her face the appearance of alarmed listening. Gray locks +glistened in her thick, dark hair, like the imprints of heavy blows. +Altogether she was soft, melancholy, and submissive. + +Tears slowly trickled down her cheeks. + +"Wait, don't cry!" begged the son in a soft voice. "Give me a drink." + +She rose and said: + +"I'll give you some ice water." + +But when she returned he was already asleep. She stood over him for +a minute, trying to breathe lightly. The cup in her hand trembled, +and the ice knocked against the tin. Then, setting the cup on the +table, she knelt before the sacred image upon the wall, and began +to pray in silence. The sounds of dark, drunken life beat against +the window panes; an accordion screeched in the misty darkness of +the autumn night; some one sang a loud song; some one was swearing +with ugly, vile oaths, and the excited sounds of women's irritated, +weary voices cut the air. + + +Life in the little house of the Vlasovs flowed on monotonously, +but more calmly and undisturbed than before, and somewhat different +from everywhere else in the suburb. + +The house stood at the edge of the village, by a low but steep and +muddy declivity. A third of the house was occupied by the kitchen +and a small room used for the mother's bedroom, separated from the +kitchen by a partition reaching partially to the ceiling. The other +two thirds formed a square room with two windows. In one corner +stood Pavel's bed, in front a table and two benches. Some chairs, +a washstand with a small looking-glass over it, a trunk with clothes, +a clock on the wall, and two ikons--this was the entire outfit of +the household. + +Pavel tried to live like the rest. He did all a young lad should +do--bought himself an accordion, a shirt with a starched front, a +loud-colored necktie, overshoes, and a cane. Externally he became +like all the other youths of his age. He went to evening parties +and learned to dance a quadrille and a polka. On holidays he came +home drunk, and always suffered greatly from the effects of liquor. +In the morning his head ached, he was tormented by heartburns, +his face was pale and dull. + +Once his mother asked him: + +"Well, did you have a good time yesterday?" + +He answered dismally and with irritation: + +"Oh, dreary as a graveyard! Everybody is like a machine. I'd better +go fishing or buy myself a gun." + +He worked faithfully, without intermission and without incurring +fines. He was taciturn, and his eyes, blue and large like his +mother's, looked out discontentedly. He did not buy a gun, nor did +he go a-fishing; but he gradually began to avoid the beaten path +trodden by all. His attendance at parties became less and less +frequent, and although he went out somewhere on holidays, he always +returned home sober. His mother watched him unobtrusively but +closely, and saw the tawny face of her son grow keener and keener, +and his eyes more serious. She noticed that his lips were compressed +in a peculiar manner, imparting an odd expression of austerity to +his face. It seemed as if he were always angry at something or +as if a canker gnawed at him. At first his friends came to visit him, +but never finding him at home, they remained away. + +The mother was glad to see her son turning out different from all +the other factory youth; but a feeling of anxiety and apprehension +stirred in her heart when she observed that he was obstinately and +resolutely directing his life into obscure paths leading away from +the routine existence about him--that he turned in his career +neither to the right nor the left. + +He began to bring books home with him. At first he tried to escape +attention when reading them; and after he had finished a book, he +hid it. Sometimes he copied a passage on a piece of paper, and +hid that also. + +"Aren't you well, Pavlusha?" the mother asked once. + +"I'm all right," he answered. + +"You are so thin," said the mother with a sigh. + +He was silent. + +They spoke infrequently, and saw each other very little. In the +morning he drank tea in silence, and went off to work; at noon he +came for dinner, a few insignificant remarks were passed at the +table, and he again disappeared until the evening. And in the +evening, the day's work ended, he washed himself, took supper, and +then fell to his books, and read for a long time. On holidays he +left home in the morning and returned late at night. She knew he +went to the city and the theater; but nobody from the city ever +came to visit him. It seemed to her that with the lapse of time +her son spoke less and less; and at the same time she noticed that +occasionally and with increasing frequency he used new words +unintelligible to her, and that the coarse, rude, and hard expressions +dropped from his speech. In his general conduct, also, certain +traits appeared, forcing themselves upon his mother's attention. +He ceased to affect the dandy, but became more attentive to the +cleanliness of his body and dress, and moved more freely and alertly. +The increasing softness and simplicity of his manner aroused a +disquieting interest in his mother. + +Once he brought a picture and hung it on the wall. It represented +three persons walking lightly and boldly, and conversing. + +"This is Christ risen from the dead, and going to Emmaus," explained Pavel. + +The mother liked the picture, but she thought: + +"You respect Christ, and yet you do not go to church." + +Then more pictures appeared on the walls, and the number of books +increased on the shelves neatly made for him by one of his carpenter +friends. The room began to look like a home. + +He addressed his mother with the reverential plural "you," and +called her "mother" instead of "mamma." But sometimes he turned +to her suddenly, and briefly used the simple and familiar form of +the singular: "Mamma, please be not thou disturbed if I come home +late to-night." + +This pleased her; in such words she felt something serious and strong. + +But her uneasiness increased. Since her son's strangeness was not +clarified with time, her heart became more and more sharply troubled +with a foreboding of something unusual. Every now and then she felt +a certain dissatisfaction with him, and she thought: "All people +are like people, and he is like a monk. He is so stern. It's not +according to his years." At other times she thought: "Maybe he +has become interested in some of a girl down there." + +But to go about with girls, money is needed, and he gave almost +all his earnings to her. + +Thus weeks and months elapsed; and imperceptibly two years slipped +by, two years of a strange, silent life, full of disquieting +thoughts and anxieties that kept continually increasing. + +Once, when after supper Pavel drew the curtain over the window, +sat down in a corner, and began to read, his tin lamp hanging on +the wall over his head, the mother, after removing the dishes, came +out from the kitchen and carefully walked up to him. He raised his +head, and without speaking looked at her with a questioning expression. + +"Nothing, Pasha, just so!" she said hastily, and walked away, moving +her eyebrows agitatedly. But after standing in the kitchen for a +moment, motionless, thoughtful, deeply preoccupied, she washed her +hands and approached her son again. + +"I want to ask you," she said in a low, soft voice, "what you read +all the time." + +He put his book aside and said to her: "Sit down, mother." + +The mother sat down heavily at his side, and straightening herself +into an attitude of intense, painful expectation waited for +something momentous. + +Without looking at her, Pavel spoke, not loudly, but for some reason +very sternly: + +"I am reading forbidden books. They are forbidden to be read because +they tell the truth about our--about the workingmen's life. They +are printed in secret, and if I am found with them I will be put in +prison--I will be put in prison because I want to know the truth." + +Breathing suddenly became difficult for her. Opening her eyes wide +she looked at her son, and he seemed to her new, as if a stranger. +His voice was different, lower, deeper, more sonorous. He pinched +his thin, downy mustache, and looked oddly askance into the corner. +She grew anxious for her son and pitied him. + +"Why do you do this, Pasha?" + +He raised his head, looked at her, and said in a low, calm voice: + +"I want to know the truth." + +His voice sounded placid, but firm; and his eyes flashed resolution. +She understood with her heart that her son had consecrated himself +forever to something mysterious and awful. Everything in life had +always appeared to her inevitable; she was accustomed to submit +without thought, and now, too, she only wept softly, finding no +words, but in her heart she was oppressed with sorrow and distress. + +"Don't cry," said Pavel, kindly and softly; and it seemed to her +that he was bidding her farewell. + +"Think what kind of a life you are leading. You are forty years +old, and have you lived? Father beat you. I understand now that he +avenged his wretchedness on your body, the wretchedness of his life. +It pressed upon him, and he did not know whence it came. He worked +for thirty years; he began to work when the whole factory occupied +but two buildings; now there are seven of them. The mills grow, and +people die, working for them." + +She listened to him eagerly and awestruck. His eyes burned with a +beautiful radiance. Leaning forward on the table he moved nearer to +his mother, and looking straight into her face, wet with tears, he +delivered his first speech to her about the truth which he had now +come to understand. With the naivete of youth, and the ardor of a +young student proud of his knowledge, religiously confiding in its +truth, he spoke about everything that was clear to him, and spoke +not so much for his mother as to verify and strengthen his own +opinions. At times he halted, finding no words, and then he saw +before him a disturbed face, in which dimly shone a pair of kind +eyes clouded with tears. They looked on with awe and perplexity. +He was sorry for his mother, and began to speak again, about herself +and her life. + +"What joys did you know?" he asked. "What sort of a past can you recall?" + +She listened and shook her head dolefully, feeling something new, +unknown to her, both sorrowful and gladsome, like a caress to her +troubled and aching heart. It was the first time she had heard such +language about herself, her own life. It awakened in her misty, dim +thoughts, long dormant; gently roused an almost extinct feeling of +rebellion, perplexed dissatisfaction--thoughts and feelings of a +remote youth. She often discussed life with her neighbors, spoke a +great deal about everything; but all, herself included, only +complained; no one explained why life was so hard and burdensome. + +And now her son sat before her; and what he said about her--his eyes, +his face, his words--it all clutched at her heart, filling her with +a sense of pride for her son, who truly understood the life of his +mother, and spoke the truth about her and her sufferings, and +pitied her. + +Mothers are not pitied. She knew it. She did not understand Pavel +when speaking about matters not pertaining to herself, but all he +said about her own woman's existence was bitterly familiar and true. +Hence it seemed to her that every word of his was perfectly true, +and her bosom throbbed with a gentle sensation which warmed it more +and more with an unknown, kindly caress. + +"What do you want to do, then?" she asked, interrupting his speech. + +"Study and then teach others. We workingmen must study. We must +learn, we must understand why life is so hard for us." + +It was sweet to her to see that his blue eyes, always so serious and +stern, now glowed with warmth, softly illuminating something new +within him. A soft, contented smile played around her lips, +although the tears still trembled in the wrinkles of her face. She +wavered between two feelings: pride in her son who desired the good +of all people, had pity for all, and understood the sorrow and +affliction of life; and the involuntary regret for his youth, +because he did not speak like everybody else, because he resolved to +enter alone into a fight against the life to which all, including +herself, were accustomed. + +She wanted to say to him: "My dear, what can you do? People will +crush you. You will perish." + +But it was pleasant to her to listen to his speeches, and she feared +to disturb her delight in her son, who suddenly revealed himself so +new and wise, even if somewhat strange. + +Pavel saw the smile around his mother's lips, the attention in her +face, the love in her eyes; and it seemed to him that he compelled +her to understand his truth; and youthful pride in the power of his +word heightened his faith in himself. Seized with enthusiasm, he +continued to talk, now smiling, now frowning. Occasionally hatred +sounded in his words; and when his mother heard its bitter, harsh +accents she shook her head, frightened, and asked in a low voice: + +"Is it so, Pasha?" + +"It is so!" he answered firmly. And he told her about people who +wanted the good of men, and who sowed truth among them; and because +of this the enemies of life hunted them down like beasts, thrust +them into prisons, and exiled them, and set them to hard labor. + +"I have seen such people!" he exclaimed passionately. "They are the +best people on earth!" + +These people filled the mother with terror, and she wanted to ask +her son: "Is it so, Pasha?" + +But she hesitated, and leaning back she listened to the stories of +people incomprehensible to her, who taught her son to speak and +think words and thoughts so dangerous to him. Finally she said: + +"It will soon be daylight. You ought to go to bed. You've got +to go to work." + +"Yes, I'll go to bed at once," he assented. "Did you understand me?" + +"I did," she said, drawing a deep breath. Tears rolled down from +her eyes again, and breaking into sobs she added: "You will perish, +my son!" + +Pavel walked up and down the room. + +"Well, now you know what I am doing and where I am going. I told +you all. I beg of you, mother, if you love me, do not hinder me!" + +"My darling, my beloved!" she cried, "maybe it would be better for +me not to have known anything!" + +He took her hand and pressed it firmly in his. The word "mother," +pronounced by him with feverish emphasis, and that clasp of the hand +so new and strange, moved her. + +"I will do nothing!" she said in a broken voice. "Only be on your +guard! Be on your guard!" Not knowing what he should be on his +guard against, nor how to warn him, she added mournfully: "You are +getting so thin." + +And with a look of affectionate warmth, which seemed to embrace his +firm, well-shaped body, she said hastily, and in a low voice: + +"God be with you! Live as you want to. I will not hinder you. +One thing only I beg of you--do not speak to people unguardedly! +You must be on the watch with people; they all hate one another. +They live in greed and envy; all are glad to do injury; people +persecute out of sheer amusement. When you begin to accuse them and +to judge them, they will hate you, and will hound you to destruction!" + +Pavel stood in the doorway listening to the melancholy speech, and +when the mother had finished he said with a smile: + +"Yes, people are sorry creatures; but when I came to recognize that +there is truth in the world, people became better." He smiled again +and added: "I do not know how it happened myself! From childhood +I feared everybody; as I grew up I began to hate everybody, some +for their meanness, others--well, I do not know why--just so! And +now I see all the people in a different way. I am grieved for +them all! I cannot understand it; but my heart turned softer when +I recognized that there is truth in men, and that not all are to +blame for their foulness and filth." + +He was silent as if listening to something within himself. Then +he said in a low voice and thoughtfully: + +"That's how truth lives." + +She looked at him tenderly. + +"May God protect you!" she sighed. "It is a dangerous change that +has come upon you." + +When he had fallen asleep, the mother rose carefully from her bed +and came gently into her son's room. Pavel's swarthy, resolute, +stern face was clearly outlined against the white pillow. Pressing +her hand to her bosom, the mother stood at his bedside. Her lips +moved mutely, and great tears rolled down her cheeks. + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Again they lived in silence, distant and yet near to each other. +Once, in the middle of the week, on a holiday, as he was preparing +to leave the house he said to his mother: + +"I expect some people here on Saturday." + +"What people?" she asked. + +"Some people from our village, and others from the city." + +"From the city?" repeated the mother, shaking her head. And +suddenly she broke into sobs. + +"Now, mother, why this?" cried Pavel resentfully. "What for?" + +Drying her face with her apron, she answered quietly: + +"I don't know, but it is the way I feel." + +He paced up and down the room, then halting before her, said: + +"Are you afraid?" + +"I am afraid," she acknowledged. "Those people from the city-- +who knows them?" + +He bent down to look in her face, and said in an offended tone, +and, it seemed to her, angrily, like his father: + +"This fear is what is the ruin of us all. And some dominate us; +they take advantage of our fear and frighten us still more. Mark +this: as long as people are afraid, they will rot like the birches +in the marsh. We must grow bold; it is time! + +"It's all the same," he said, as he turned from her; "they'll meet +in my house, anyway." + +"Don't be angry with me!" the mother begged sadly. "How can I help +being afraid? All my life I have lived in fear!" + +"Forgive me!" was his gentler reply, "but I cannot do otherwise," +and he walked away. + +For three days her heart was in a tremble, sinking in fright each +time she remembered that strange people were soon to come to her +house. She could not picture them to herself, but it seemed to her +they were terrible people. It was they who had shown her son the +road he was going. + +On Saturday night Pavel came from the factory, washed himself, put +on clean clothes, and when walking out of the house said to his +mother without looking at her: + +"When they come, tell them I'll be back soon. Let them wait a while. +And please don't be afraid. They are people like all other people." + +She sank into her seat almost fainting. + +Her son looked at her soberly. "Maybe you'd better go away somewhere," +he suggested. + +The thought offended her. Shaking her head in dissent, she said: + +"No, it's all the same. What for?" + +It was the end of November. During the day a dry, fine snow had +fallen upon the frozen earth, and now she heard it crunching outside +the window under her son's feet as he walked away. A dense crust of +darkness settled immovably upon the window panes, and seemed to lie +in hostile watch for something. Supporting herself on the bench, +the mother sat and waited, looking at the door. + +It seemed to her that people were stealthily and watchfully walking +about the house in the darkness, stooping and looking about on all +sides, strangely attired and silent. There around the house some +one was already coming, fumbling with his hands along the wall. + +A whistle was heard. It circled around like the notes of a fine +chord, sad and melodious, wandered musingly into the wilderness of +darkness, and seemed to be searching for something. It came nearer. +Suddenly it died away under the window, as if it had entered into the +wood of the wall. The noise of feet was heard on the porch. The +mother started, and rose with a strained, frightened look in her eyes. + +The door opened. At first a head with a big, shaggy hat thrust +itself into the room; then a slender, bending body crawled in, +straightened itself out, and deliberately raised its right hand. + +"Good evening!" said the man, in a thick, bass voice, breathing heavily. + +The mother bowed in silence. + +"Pavel is not at home yet?" + +The stranger leisurely removed his short fur jacket, raised one +foot, whipped the snow from his boot with his hat, then did the same +with the other foot, flung his hat into a corner, and rocking on his +thin legs walked into the room, looking back at the imprints he left +on the floor. He approached the table, examined it as if to satisfy +himself of its solidity, and finally sat down and, covering his +mouth with his hand, yawned. His head was perfectly round and +close-cropped, his face shaven except for a thin mustache, the ends +of which pointed downward. + +After carefully scrutinizing the room with his large, gray, +protuberant eyes, he crossed his legs, and, leaning his head over +the table, inquired: + +"Is this your own house, or do you rent it?" + +The mother, sitting opposite him, answered: + +"We rent it." + +"Not a very fine house," he remarked. + +"Pasha will soon be here; wait," said the mother quietly. + +"Why, yes, I am waiting," said the man. + +His calmness, his deep, sympathetic voice, and the candor and +simplicity of his face encouraged the mother. He looked at her +openly and kindly, and a merry sparkle played in the depths of his +transparent eyes. In the entire angular, stooping figure, with its +thin legs, there was something comical, yet winning. He was dressed +in a blue shirt, and dark, loose trousers thrust into his boots. +She was seized with the desire to ask him who he was, whence he came, +and whether he had known her son long. But suddenly he himself +put a question, leaning forward with a swing of his whole body. + +"Who made that hole in your forehead, mother?" + +His question was uttered in a kind voice and with a noticeable +smile in his eyes; but the woman was offended by the sally. She +pressed her lips together tightly, and after a pause rejoined with +cold civility: + +"And what business is it of yours, sir?" + +With the same swing of his whole body toward her, he said: + +"Now, don't get angry! I ask because my foster mother had her head +smashed just exactly like yours. It was her man who did it for +her once, with a last--he was a shoemaker, you see. She was a +washerwoman and he was a shoemaker. It was after she had taken me +as her son that she found him somewhere, a drunkard, and married +him, to her great misfortune. He beat her--I tell you, my skin +almost burst with terror." + +The mother felt herself disarmed by his openness. Moreover, it +occurred to her that perhaps her son would be displeased with her +harsh reply to this odd personage. Smiling guiltily she said: + +"I am not angry, but--you see--you asked so very soon. It was +my good man, God rest his soul! who treated me to the cut. Are +you a Tartar?" + +The stranger stretched out his feet, and smiled so broad a smile +that the ends of his mustache traveled to the nape of his neck. +Then he said seriously: + +"Not yet. I'm not a Tartar yet." + +"I asked because I rather thought the way you spoke was not exactly +Russian," she explained, catching his joke. + +"I am better than a Russian, I am!" said the guest laughingly. +"I am a Little Russian from the city of Kanyev." + +"And have you been here long?" + +"I lived in the city about a month, and I came to your factory about +a month ago. I found some good people, your son and a few others. +I will live here for a while," he said, twirling his mustache. + +The man pleased the mother, and, yielding to the impulse to repay him +in some way for his kind words about her son, she questioned again: + +"Maybe you'd like to have a glass of tea?" + +"What! An entertainment all to myself!" he answered, raising his +shoulders. "I'll wait for the honor until we are all here." + +This allusion to the coming of others recalled her fear to her. + +"If they all are only like this one!" was her ardent wish. + +Again steps were heard on the porch. The door opened quickly, and +the mother rose. This time she was taken completely aback by the +newcomer in her kitchen--a poorly and lightly dressed girl of +medium height, with the simple face of a peasant woman, and a head +of thick, dark hair. Smiling she said in a low voice: + +"Am I late?" + +"Why, no!" answered the Little Russian, looking out of the living +room. "Come on foot?" + +"Of course! Are you the mother of Pavel Vlasov? Good evening! +My name is Natasha." + +"And your other name?" inquired the mother. + +"Vasilyevna. And yours?" + +"Pelagueya Nilovna." + +"So here we are all acquainted." + +"Yes," said the mother, breathing more easily, as if relieved, and +looking at the girl with a smile. + +The Little Russian helped her off with her cloak, and inquired: + +"Is it cold?" + +"Out in the open, very! The wind--goodness!" + +Her voice was musical and clear, her mouth small and smiling, her +body round and vigorous. Removing her wraps, she rubbed her ruddy +cheeks briskly with her little hands, red with the cold, and walking +lightly and quickly she passed into the room, the heels of her shoes +rapping sharply on the floor. + +"She goes without overshoes," the mother noted silently. + +"Indeed it is cold," repeated the girl. "I'm frozen through--ooh!" + +"I'll warm up the samovar for you!" the mother said, bustling and +solicitous. "Ready in a moment," she called from the kitchen. + +Somehow it seemed to her she had known the girl long, and even loved +her with the tender, compassionate love of a mother. She was glad +to see her; and recalling her guest's bright blue eyes, she smiled +contentedly, as she prepared the samovar and listened to the +conversation in the room. + +"Why so gloomy, Nakhodka?" asked the girl. + +"The widow has good eyes," answered the Little Russian. "I was +thinking maybe my mother has such eyes. You know, I keep thinking +of her as alive." + +"You said she was dead?" + +"That's my adopted mother. I am speaking now of my real mother. +It seems to me that perhaps she may be somewhere in Kiev begging +alms and drinking whisky." + +"Why do you think such awful things?" + +"I don't know. And the policemen pick her up on the street drunk +and beat her." + +"Oh, you poor soul," thought the mother, and sighed. + +Natasha muttered something hotly and rapidly; and again the sonorous +voice of the Little Russian was heard. + +"Ah, you are young yet, comrade," he said. "You haven't eaten +enough onions yet. Everyone has a mother, none the less people are +bad. For although it is hard to rear children, it is still harder +to teach a man to be good." + +"What strange ideas he has," the mother thought, and for a moment +she felt like contradicting the Little Russian and telling him that +here was she who would have been glad to teach her son good, but +knew nothing herself. The door, however, opened and in came Nikolay +Vyesovshchikov, the son of the old thief Daniel, known in the +village as a misanthrope. He always kept at a sullen distance from +people, who retaliated by making sport of him. + +"You, Nikolay! How's that?" she asked in surprise. + +Without replying he merely looked at the mother with his little +gray eyes, and wiped his pockmarked, high-cheeked face with the +broad palm of his hand. + +"Is Pavel at home?" he asked hoarsely. + +"No." + +He looked into the room and said: + +"Good evening, comrades." + +"He, too. Is it possible?" wondered the mother resentfully, and +was greatly surprised to see Natasha put her hand out to him in +a kind, glad welcome. + +The next to come were two young men, scarcely more than boys. +One of them the mother knew. He was Yakob, the son of the factory +watchman, Somov. The other, with a sharp-featured face, high forehead, +and curly hair, was unknown to her; but he, too, was not terrible. + +Finally Pavel appeared, and with him two men, both of whose faces +she recognized as those of workmen in the factory. + +"You've prepared the samovar! That's fine. Thank you!" said Pavel +as he saw what his mother had done. + +"Perhaps I should get some vodka," she suggested, not knowing how +to express her gratitude to him for something which as yet she did +not understand. + +"No, we don't need it!" he responded, removing his coat and smiling +affectionately at her. + +It suddenly occurred to her that her son, by way of jest, had +purposely exaggerated the danger of the gathering. + +"Are these the ones they call illegal people?" she whispered. + +"The very ones!" answered Pavel, and passed into the room. + +She looked lovingly after him and thought to herself condescendingly: + +"Mere children!" + +When the samovar boiled, and she brought it into the room, she found +the guests sitting in a close circle around the table, and Natasha +installed in the corner under the lamp with a book in her hands. + +"In order to understand why people live so badly," said Natasha. + +"And why they are themselves so bad," put in the Little Russian. + +"It is necessary to see how they began to live----" + +"See, my dears, see!" mumbled the mother, making the tea. + +They all stopped talking. + +"What is the matter, mother?" asked Pavel, knitting his brows. + +"What?" She looked around, and seeing the eyes of all upon her +she explained with embarrassment, "I was just speaking to myself." + +Natasha laughed and Pavel smiled, but the Little Russian said: +"Thank you for the tea, mother." + +"Hasn't drunk it yet and thanks me already," she commented inwardly. +Looking at her son, she asked: "I am not in your way?" + +"How can the hostess in her own home be in the way of her guests?" +replied Natasha, and then continuing with childish plaintiveness: +"Mother dear, give me tea quick! I am shivering with cold; my feet +are all frozen." + +"In a moment, in a moment!" exclaimed the mother, hurrying. + +Having drunk a cup of tea, Natasha drew a long breath, brushed +her hair back from her forehead, and began to read from a large +yellow-covered book with pictures. The mother, careful not to make +a noise with the dishes, poured tea into the glasses, and strained +her untrained mind to listen to the girl's fluent reading. The +melodious voice blended with the thin, musical hum of the samovar. +The clear, simple narrative of savage people who lived in caves and +killed the beasts with stones floated and quivered like a dainty +ribbon in the room. It sounded like a tale, and the mother looked +up to her son occasionally, wishing to ask him what was illegal in +the story about wild men. But she soon ceased to follow the narrative +and began to scrutinize the guests, unnoticed by them or her son. + +Pavel sat at Natasha's side. He was the handsomest of them all. +Natasha bent down, very low over the book. At times she tossed back +the thin curls that kept running down over her forehead, and lowered +her voice to say something not in the book, with a kind look at the +faces of her auditors. The Little Russian bent his broad chest over +a corner of the table, and squinted his eyes in the effort to see +the worn ends of his mustache, which he constantly twirled. +Vyesovshchikov sat on his chair straight as a pole, his palms resting +on his knees, and his pockmarked face, browless and thin-lipped, +immobile as a mask. He kept his narrow-eyed gaze stubbornly fixed +upon the reflection of his face in the glittering brass of the +samovar. He seemed not even to breathe. Little Somov moved his +lips mutely, as if repeating to himself the words in the book; and +his curly-haired companion, with bent body, elbows on knees, his +face supported on his hands, smiled abstractedly. One of the men +who had entered at the same time as Pavel, a slender young chap with +red, curly hair and merry green eyes, apparently wanted to say +something; for he kept turning around impatiently. The other, +light-haired and closely cropped, stroked his head with his hand +and looked down on the floor so that his face remained invisible. + +It was warm in the room, and the atmosphere was genial. The mother +responded to this peculiar charm, which she had never before felt. +She was affected by the purling of Natasha's voice, mingled with +the quavering hum of the samovar, and recalled the noisy evening +parties of her youth--the coarseness of the young men, whose breath +always smelled of vodka--their cynical jokes. She remembered all +this, and an oppressive sense of pity for her own self gently stirred +her worn, outraged heart. + +Before her rose the scene of the wooing of her husband. At one of +the parties he had seized her in a dark porch, and pressing her with +his whole body to the wall asked in a gruff, vexed voice: + +"Will you marry me?" + +She had been pained and had felt offended; but he rudely dug his +fingers into her flesh, snorted heavily, and breathed his hot, humid +breath into her face. She struggled to tear herself out of his grasp. + +"Hold on!" he roared. "Answer me! Well?" + +Out of breath, shamed and insulted, she remained silent. + +"Don't put on airs now, you fool! I know your kind. You are +mighty pleased." + +Some one opened the door. He let her go leisurely, saying: + +"I will send a matchmaker to you next Sunday." + +And he did. + +The mother covered her eyes and heaved a deep sigh. + + +"I do not want to know how people used to live, but how they ought +to live!" The dull, dissatisfied voice of Vyesovshchikov was heard +in the room. + +"That's it!" corroborated the red-headed man, rising. + +"And I disagree!" cried Somov. "If we are to go forward, we must +know everything." + +"True, true!" said the curly-headed youth in a low tone. + +A heated discussion ensued; and the words flashed like tongues of +fire in a wood pile. The mother did not understand what they were +shouting about. All faces glowed in an aureole of animation, but +none grew angry, no one spoke the harsh, offensive words so familiar +to her. + +"They restrain themselves on account of a woman's presence," she concluded. + +The serious face of Natasha pleased her. The young woman looked at +all these young men so considerately, with the air of an elder +person toward children. + +"Wait, comrades," she broke out suddenly. And they all grew silent +and turned their eyes upon her. + +"Those who say that we ought to know everything are right. We ought +to illumine ourselves with the light of reason, so that the people +in the dark may see us; we ought to be able to answer every question +honestly and truly. We must know all the truth, all the falsehood." + +The Little Russian listened and nodded his head in accompaniment to +her words. Vyesovshchikov, the red-haired fellow, and the other +factory worker, who had come with Pavel, stood in a close circle of +three. For some reason the mother did not like them. + +When Natasha ceased talking, Pavel arose and asked calmly: + +"Is filling our stomachs the only thing we want?" + +"No!" he answered himself, looking hard in the direction of the +three. "We want to be people. We must show those who sit on our +necks, and cover up our eyes, that we see everything, that we are +not foolish, we are not animals, and that we do not want merely to +eat, but also to live like decent human beings. We must show our +enemies that our life of servitude, of hard toil which they impose +upon us, does not hinder us from measuring up to them in intellect, +and as to spirit, that we rise far above them!" + +The mother listened to his words, and a feeling of pride in her son +stirred her bosom--how eloquently he spoke! + +"People with well-filled stomachs are, after all, not a few, but +honest people there are none," said the little Russian. "We ought +to build a bridge across the bog of this rotten life to a future +of soulful goodness. That's our task, that's what we have to do, +comrades!" + +"When the time is come to fight, it's not the time to cure the +finger," said Vyesovshchikov dully. + +"There will be enough breaking of our bones before we get to +fighting!" the Little Russian put in merrily. + +It was already past midnight when the group began to break up. +The first to go were Vyesovshchikov and the red-haired man--which +again displeased the mother. + +"Hm! How they hurry!" she thought, nodding them a not very friendly +farewell. + +"Will you see me home, Nakhodka?" asked Natasha. + +"Why, of course," answered the Little Russian. + +When Natasha put on her wraps in the kitchen, the mother said to +her: "Your stockings are too thin for this time of the year. Let +me knit some woolen ones for you, will you, please?" + +"Thank you, Pelagueya Nilovna. Woolen stockings scratch," Natasha +answered, smiling. + +"I'll make them so they won't scratch." + +Natasha looked at her rather perplexedly, and her fixed serious +glance hurt the mother. + +"Pardon me my stupidity; like my good will, it's from my heart, +you know," she added in a low voice. + +"How kind you are!" Natasha answered in the same voice, giving her +a hasty pressure of the hand and walking out. + +"Good night, mother!" said the Little Russian, looking into her +eyes. His bending body followed Natasha out to the porch. + +The mother looked at her son. He stood in the room at the door +and smiled. + +"The evening was fine," he declared, nodding his head energetically. +"It was fine! But now I think you'd better go to bed; it's time." + +"And it's time for you, too. I'm going in a minute." + +She busied herself about the table gathering the dishes together, +satisfied and even glowing with a pleasurable agitation. She was +glad that everything had gone so well and had ended peaceably. + +"You arranged it nicely, Pavlusha. They certainly are good people. +The Little Russian is such a hearty fellow. And the young lady, +what a bright, wise girl she is! Who is she?" + +"A teacher," answered Pavel, pacing up and down the room. + +"Ah! Such a poor thing! Dressed so poorly! Ah, so poorly! It +doesn't take long to catch a cold. And where are her relatives?" + +"In Moscow," said Pavel, stopping before his mother. "Look! her +father is a rich man; he is in the hardware business, and owns much +property. He drove her out of the house because she got into this +movement. She grew up in comfort and warmth, she was coddled and +indulged in everything she desired--and now she walks four miles +at night all by herself." + +The mother was shocked. She stood in the middle of the room, and +looked mutely at her son. Then she asked quietly: + +"Is she going to the city?" + +"Yes." + +"And is she not afraid?" + +"No," said Pavel smiling. + +"Why did she go? She could have stayed here overnight, and slept +with me." + +"That wouldn't do. She might have been seen here to-morrow morning, +and we don't want that; nor does she." + +The mother recollected her previous anxieties, looked thoughtfully +through the window, and asked: + +"I cannot understand, Pasha, what there is dangerous in all this, +or illegal. Why, you are not doing anything bad, are you?" + +She was not quite assured of the safety and propriety of his +conduct, and was eager for a confirmation from her son. But he +looked calmly into her eyes, and declared in a firm voice: + +"There is nothing bad in what we're doing, and there's not going +to be. And yet the prison is awaiting us all. You may as well +know it." + +Her hands trembled. "Maybe God will grant you escape somehow," +she said with sunken voice. + +"No," said the son kindly, but decidedly. "I cannot lie to you. +We will not escape." He smiled. "Now go to bed. You are tired. +Good night." + +Left alone, she walked up to the window, and stood there looking +into the street. Outside it was cold and cheerless. The wind +howled, blowing the snow from the roofs of the little sleeping +houses. Striking against the walls and whispering something, +quickly it fell upon the ground and drifted the white clouds of +dry snowflakes across the street. + +"O Christ in heaven, have mercy upon us!" prayed the mother. + +The tears began to gather in her eyes, as fear returned persistently +to her heart, and like a moth in the night she seemed to see fluttering +the woe of which her son spoke with such composure and assurance. + +Before her eyes as she gazed a smooth plain of snow spread out in +the distance. The wind, carrying white, shaggy masses, raced over +the plain, piping cold, shrill whistles. Across the snowy expanse +moved a girl's figure, dark and solitary, rocking to and fro. The +wind fluttered her dress, clogged her footsteps, and drove pricking +snowflakes into her face. Walking was difficult; the little feet +sank into the snow. Cold and fearful the girl bent forward, like a +blade of grass, the sport of the wanton wind. To the right of her +on the marsh stood the dark wall of the forest; the bare birches +and aspens quivered and rustled with a mournful cry. Yonder in +the distance, before her, the lights of the city glimmered dimly. + +"Lord in heaven, have mercy!" the mother muttered again, shuddering +with the cold and horror of an unformed fear. + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +The days glided by one after the other, like the beads of a rosary, +and grew into weeks and months. Every Saturday Pavel's friends +gathered in his house; and each meeting formed a step up a long +stairway, which led somewhere into the distance, gradually lifting +the people higher and higher. But its top remained invisible. + +New people kept coming. The small room of the Vlasovs became +crowded and close. Natasha arrived every Saturday night, cold and +tired, but always fresh and lively, in inexhaustible good spirits. +The mother made stockings, and herself put them on the little feet. +Natasha laughed at first; but suddenly grew silent and thoughtful, +and said in a low voice to the mother: + +"I had a nurse who was also ever so kind. How strange, Pelagueya +Nilovna! The workingmen live such a hard, outraged life, and yet +there is more heart, more goodness in them than in--those!" And +she waved her hand, pointing somewhere far, very far from herself. + +"See what sort of a person you are," the older woman answered. "You +have left your own family and everything--" She was unable to +finish her thought, and heaving a sigh looked silently into Natasha's +face with a feeling of gratitude to the girl for she knew not what. +She sat on the floor before Natasha, who smiled and fell to musing. + +"I have abandoned my family?" she repeated, bending her head down. +"That's nothing. My father is a stupid, coarse man--my brother +also--and a drunkard, besides. My oldest sister--unhappy, wretched +thing--married a man much older than herself, very rich, a bore and +greedy. But my mother I am sorry for! She's a simple woman like +you, a beaten-down, frightened creature, so tiny, like a little +mouse--she runs so quickly and is afraid of everybody. And sometimes +I want to see her so--my mother!" + +"My poor thing!" said the mother sadly, shaking her head. + +The girl quickly threw up her head and cried out: + +"Oh, no! At times I feel such joy, such happiness!" + +Her face paled and her blue eyes gleamed. Placing her hands on the +mother's shoulders she said with a deep voice issuing from her very +heart, quietly as if in an ecstasy: + +"If you knew--if you but understood what a great, joyous work we +are doing! You will come to feel it!" she exclaimed with conviction. + +A feeling akin to envy touched the heart of the mother. Rising +from the floor she said plaintively: + +"I am too old for that--ignorant and old." + +Pavel spoke more and more often and at greater length, discussed +more and more hotly, and--grew thinner and thinner. It seemed to +his mother that when he spoke to Natasha or looked at her his eyes +turned softer, his voice sounded fonder, and his entire bearing +became simpler. + +"Heaven grant!" she thought; and imagining Natasha as her +daughter-in-law, she smiled inwardly. + +Whenever at the meetings the disputes waxed too hot and stormy, +the Little Russian stood up, and rocking himself to and fro like +the tongue of a bell, he spoke in his sonorous, resonant voice +simple and good words which allayed their excitement and recalled +them to their purpose. Vyesovshchikov always kept hurrying everybody +on somewhere. He and the red-haired youth called Samoylov were the +first to begin all disputes. On their side were always Ivan Bukin, +with the round head and the white eyebrows and lashes, who looked +as if he had been hung out to dry, or washed out with lye; and the +curly-headed, lofty-browed Fedya Mazin. Modest Yakob Somov, always +smoothly combed and clean, spoke little and briefly, with a quiet, +serious voice, and always took sides with Pavel and the Little Russian. + +Sometimes, instead of Natasha, Alexey Ivanovich, a native of some +remote government, came from the city. He wore eyeglasses, his +beard was shiny, and he spoke with a peculiar singing voice. He +produced the impression of a stranger from a far-distant land. +He spoke about simple matters--about family life, about children, +about commerce, the police, the price of bread and meat--about +everything by which people live from day to day; and in everything +he discovered fraud, confusion, and stupidity, sometimes setting +these matters in a humorous light, but always showing their decided +disadvantage to the people. + +To the mother, too, it seemed that he had come from far away, from +another country, where all the people lived a simple, honest, easy +life; and that here everything was strange to him, that he could not +get accustomed to this life and accept it as inevitable, that it +displeased him, and that it aroused in him a calm determination to +rearrange it after his own model. His face was yellowish, with +thin, radiate wrinkles around his eyes, his voice low, and his hands +always warm. In greeting the mother he would enfold her entire hand +in his long, powerful fingers, and after such a vigorous hand clasp +she felt more at ease and lighter of heart. + +Other people came from the city, oftenest among them a tall, +well-built young girl with large eyes set in a thin, pale face. +She was called Sashenka. There was something manly in her walk +and movements; she knit her thick, dark eyebrows in a frown, and +when she spoke the thin nostrils of her straight nose quivered. + +She was the first to say, "We are socialists!" Her voice when she +said it was loud and strident. + +When the mother heard this word, she stared in dumb fright into +the girl's face. But Sashenka, half closing her eyes, said sternly +and resolutely: "We must give up all our forces to the cause of +the regeneration of life; we must realize that we will receive no +recompense." + +The mother understood that the socialists had killed the Czar. It +had happened in the days of her youth; and people had then said +that the landlords, wishing to revenge themselves on the Czar for +liberating the peasant serfs, had vowed not to cut their hair until +the Czar should be killed. These were the persons who had been +called socialists. And now she could not understand why it was +that her son and his friends were socialists. + +When they had all departed, she asked Pavel: + +"Pavlusha, are you a socialist?" + +"Yes," he said, standing before her, straight and stalwart as +always. "Why?" + +The mother heaved a heavy sigh, and lowering her eyes, said: + +"So, Pavlusha? Why, they are against the Czar; they killed one." + +Pavel walked up and down the room, ran his hand across his face, +and, smiling, said: + +"We don't need to do that!" + +He spoke to her for a long while in a low, serious voice. She +looked into his face and thought: + +"He will do nothing bad; he is incapable of doing bad!" + +And thereafter the terrible word was repeated with increasing +frequency; its sharpness wore off, and it became as familiar to +her ear as scores of other words unintelligible to her. But Sashenka +did not please her, and when she came the mother felt troubled and +ill at ease. + +Once she said to the Little Russian, with an expression of +dissatisfaction about the mouth: + +"What a stern person this Sashenka is! Flings her commands around! +--You must do this and you must do that!" + +The Little Russian laughed aloud. + +"Well said, mother! You struck the nail right on the head! Hey, Pavel?" + +And with a wink to the mother, he said with a jovial gleam in his eyes: + +"You can't drain the blue blood out of a person even with a pump!" + +Pavel remarked dryly: + +"She is a good woman!" His face glowered. + +"And that's true, too!" the Little Russian corroborated. "Only she +does not understand that she ought to----" + +They started up an argument about something the mother did not +understand. The mother noticed, also, that Sashenka was most stern +with Pavel, and that sometimes she even scolded him. Pavel smiled, +was silent, and looked in the girl's face with that soft look he +had formerly given Natasha. This likewise displeased the mother. + +The gatherings increased in number, and began to be held twice a +week; and when the mother observed with what avidity the young +people listened to the speeches of her son and the Little Russian, +to the interesting stories of Sashenka, Natasha, Alexey Ivanovich, +and the other people from the city, she forgot her fears and shook +her head sadly as she recalled the days of her youth. + +Sometimes they sang songs, the simple, familiar melodies, aloud and +merrily. But often they sang new songs, the words and music in +perfect accord, sad and quaint in tune. These they sang in an +undertone, pensively and seriously as church hymns are chanted. +Their faces grew pale, yet hot, and a mighty force made itself felt +in their ringing words. + +"It is time for us to sing these songs in the street," said +Vyesovshchikov somberly. + +And sometimes the mother was struck by the spirit of lively, +boisterous hilarity that took sudden possession of them. It was +incomprehensible to her. It usually happened on the evenings when +they read in the papers about the working people in other countries. +Then their eyes sparkled with bold, animated joy; they became +strangely, childishly happy; the room rang with merry peals of +laughter, and they struck one another on the shoulder affectionately. + +"Capital fellows, our comrades the French!" cried some one, as if +intoxicated with his own mirth. + +"Long live our comrades, the workingmen of Italy!" they shouted +another time. + +And sending these calls into the remote distance to friends who +did not know them, who could not have understood their language, +they seemed to feel confident that these people unknown to them +heard and comprehended their enthusiasm and their ecstasy. + +The Little Russian spoke, his eyes beaming, his love larger than +the love of the others: + +"Comrades, it would be well to write to them over there! Let them +know that they have friends living in far-away Russia, workingmen +who confess and believe in the same religion as they, comrades who +pursue the same aims as they, and who rejoice in their victories!" + +And all, with smiles on their faces dreamily spoke at length of +the Germans, the Italians, the Englishmen, and the Swedes, of the +working people of all countries, as of their friends, as of people +near to their hearts, whom without seeing they loved and respected, +whose joys they shared, whose pain they felt. + +In the small room a vast feeling was born of the universal kinship +of the workers of the world, at the same time its masters and its +slaves, who had already been freed from the bondage of prejudice +and who felt themselves the new masters of life. This feeling +blended all into a single soul; it moved the mother, and, although +inaccessible to her, it straightened and emboldened her, as it were, +with its force, with its joys, with its triumphant, youthful vigor, +intoxicating, caressing, full of hope. + +"What queer people you are!" said the mother to the Little Russian +one day. "All are your comrades--the Armenians and the Jews and +the Austrians. You speak about all as of your friends; you grieve +for all, and you rejoice for all!" + +"For all, mother dear, for all! The world is ours! The world is +for the workers! For us there is no nation, no race. For us there +are only comrades and foes. All the workingmen are our comrades; +all the rich, all the authorities are our foes. When you see how +numerous we workingmen are, how tremendous the power of the spirit +in us, then your heart is seized with such joy, such happiness, such +a great holiday sings in your bosom! And, mother, the Frenchman +and the German feel the same way when they look upon life, and the +Italian also. We are all children of one mother--the great, +invincible idea of the brotherhood of the workers of all countries +over all the earth. This idea grows, it warms us like the sun; +it is a second sun in the heaven of justice, and this heaven resides +in the workingman's heart. Whoever he be, whatever his name, a +socialist is our brother in spirit now and always, and through all +the ages forever and ever!" + +This intoxicated and childish joy, this bright and firm faith came +over the company more and more frequently; and it grew ever stronger, +ever mightier. + +And when the mother saw this, she felt that in very truth a great +dazzling light had been born into the world like the sun in the sky +and visible to her eyes. + +On occasions when his father had stolen something again and was in +prison, Nikolay would announce to his comrades: "Now we can hold +our meetings at our house. The police will think us thieves, and +they love thieves!" + +Almost every evening after work one of Pavel's comrades came to his +house, read with him, and copied something from the books. So greatly +occupied were they that they hardly even took the time to wash. +They ate their supper and drank tea with the books in their hands; +and their talks became less and less intelligible to the mother. + +"We must have a newspaper!" Pavel said frequently. + +Life grew ever more hurried and feverish; there was a constant +rushing from house to house, a passing from one book to another, +like the flirting of bees from flower to flower. + +"They are talking about us!" said Vyesovshchikov once. "We must +get away soon." + +"What's a quail for but to be caught in the snare?" retorted the +Little Russian. + +Vlasova liked the Little Russian more and more. When he called +her "mother," it was like a child's hand patting her on the cheek. +On Sunday, if Pavel had no time, he chopped wood for her; once he +came with a board on his shoulder, and quickly and skillfully +replaced the rotten step on the porch. Another time he repaired +the tottering fence with just as little ado. He whistled as he +worked. It was a beautifully sad and wistful whistle. + +Once the mother said to the son: + +"Suppose we take the Little Russian in as a boarder. It will be +better for both of you. You won't have to run to each other so much!" + +"Why need you trouble and crowd yourself?" asked Pavel, shrugging +his shoulders. + +"There you have it! All my life I've had trouble for I don't know +what. For a good person it's worth the while." + +"Do as you please. If he comes I'll be glad." + +And the Little Russian moved into their home. + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The little house at the edge of the village aroused attention. +Its walls already felt the regard of scores of suspecting eyes. +The motley wings of rumor hovered restlessly above them. + +People tried to surprise the secret hidden within the house by the +ravine. They peeped into the windows at night. Now and then somebody +would rap on the pane, and quickly take to his heels in fright. + +Once the tavern keeper stopped Vlasova on the street. He was a +dapper old man, who always wore a black silk neckerchief around his +red, flabby neck, and a thick, lilac-colored waistcoat of velvet +around his body. On his sharp, glistening nose there always sat a +pair of glasses with tortoise-shell rims, which secured him the +sobriquet of "bony eyes." + +In a single breath and without awaiting an answer, he plied Vlasova +with dry, crackling words: + +"How are you, Pelagueya Nilovna, how are you? How is your son? +Thinking of marrying him off, hey? He's a youth full ripe for +matrimony. The sooner a son is married off, the safer it is for his +folks. A man with a family preserves himself better both in the +spirit and the flesh. With a family he is like mushrooms in +vinegar. If I were in your place I would marry him off. Our times +require a strict watch over the animal called man; people are +beginning to live in their brains. Men have run amuck with their +thoughts, and they do things that are positively criminal. The +church of God is avoided by the young folk; they shun the public +places, and assemble in secret in out-of-the-way corners. They +speak in whispers. Why speak in whispers, pray? All this they +don't dare say before people in the tavern, for example. What is +it, I ask? A secret? The secret place is our holy church, as old +as the apostles. All the other secrets hatched in the corners are +the offspring of delusions. I wish you good health." + +Raising his hand in an affected manner, he lifted his cap, and waving +it in the air, walked away, leaving the mother to her perplexity. + +Vlasova's neighbor, Marya Korsunova, the blacksmith's widow, who +sold food at the factory, on meeting the mother in the market place +also said to her: + +"Look out for your son, Pelagueya!" + +"What's the matter?" + +"They're talking!" Marya tendered the information in a hushed +voice. "And they don't say any good, mother of mine! They speak +as if he's getting up a sort of union, something like those +Flagellants--sects, that's the name! They'll whip one another like +the Flagellants----" + +"Stop babbling nonsense, Marya! Enough!" + +"I'm not babbling nonsense! I talk because I know." + +The mother communicated all these conversations to her son. He +shrugged his shoulders in silence, and the Little Russian laughed +with his thick, soft laugh. + +"The girls also have a crow to pick with you!" she said. "You'd +make enviable bridegrooms for any of them; you're all good workers, +and you don't drink--but you don't pay any attention to them. +Besides, people are saying that girls of questionable character come +to you." + +"Well, of course!" exclaimed Pavel, his brow contracting in a frown +of disgust. + +"In the bog everything smells of rottenness!" said the Little Russian +with a sigh. "Why don't you, mother, explain to the foolish girls +what it is to be married, so that they shouldn't be in such a hurry +to get their bones broken?" + +"Oh, well," said the mother, "they see the misery in store for them, +they understand, but what can they do? They have no other choice!" + +"It's a queer way they have of understanding, else they'd find a +choice," observed Pavel. + +The mother looked into his austere face. + +"Why don't you teach them? Why don't you invite some of the +cleverer ones?" + +"That won't do!" the son replied dryly. + +"Suppose we try?" said the Little Russian. + +After a short silence Pavel said: + +"Couples will be formed; couples will walk together; then some will +get married, and that's all." + +The mother became thoughtful. Pavel's austerity worried her. She +saw that his advice was taken even by his older comrades, such as +the Little Russian; but it seemed to her that all were afraid of +him, and no one loved him because he was so stern. + +Once when she had lain down to sleep, and her son and the Little +Russian were still reading, she overheard their low conversation +through the thin partition. + +"You know I like Natasha," suddenly ejaculated the Little Russian +in an undertone. + +"I know," answered Pavel after a pause. + +"Yes!" + +The mother heard the Little Russian rise and begin to walk. The +tread of his bare feet sounded on the floor, and a low, mournful +whistle was heard. Then he spoke again: + +"And does she notice it?" + +Pavel was silent. + +"What do you think?" the Little Russian asked, lowering his voice. + +"She does," replied Pavel. "That's why she has refused to attend +our meetings." + +The Little Russian dragged his feet heavily over the floor, and +again his low whistle quivered in the room. Then he asked: + +"And if I tell her?" + +"What?" The brief question shot from Pavel like the discharge of a gun. + +"That I am--" began the Little Russian in a subdued voice. + +"Why?" Pavel interrupted. + +The mother heard the Little Russian stop, and she felt that he smiled. + +"Yes, you see, I consider that if you love a girl you must tell her +about it; else there'll be no sense to it!" + +Pavel clapped the book shut with a bang. + +"And what sense do you expect?" + +Both were silent for a long while. + +"Well?" asked the Little Russian. + +"You must be clear in your mind, Andrey, as to what you want to do," +said Pavel slowly. "Let us assume that she loves you, too--I do +not think so, but let us assume it. Well, you get married. An +interesting union--the intellectual with the workingman! Children +come along; you will have to work all by yourself and very hard. +Your life will become the ordinary life of a struggle for a piece +of bread and a shelter for yourself and children. For the cause, +you will become nonexistent, both of you!" + +Silence ensued. Then Pavel began to speak again in a voice that +sounded softer: + +"You had better drop all this, Andrey. Keep quiet, and don't worry +her. That's the more honest way." + +"And do you remember what Alexey Ivanovich said about the necessity +for a man to live a complete life--with all the power of his soul +and body--do you remember?" + +"That's not for us! How can you attain completion? It does not +exist for you. If you love the future you must renounce everything +in the present--everything, brother!" + +"That's hard for a man!" said the Little Russian in a lowered voice. + +"What else can be done? Think!" + +The indifferent pendulum of the clock kept chopping off the seconds +of life, calmly and precisely. At last the Little Russian said: + +"Half the heart loves, and the other half hates! Is that a heart?" + +"I ask you, what else can we do?" + +The pages of a book rustled. Apparently Pavel had begun to read +again. The mother lay with closed eyes, and was afraid to stir. +She was ready to weep with pity for the Little Russian; but she +was grieved still more for her son. + +"My dear son! My consecrated one!" she thought. + +Suddenly the Little Russian asked: + +"So I am to keep quiet?" + +"That's more honest, Andrey," answered Pavel softly. + +"All right! That's the road we will travel." And in a few seconds +he added, in a sad and subdued voice: "It will be hard for you, +Pasha, when you get to that yourself." + +"It is hard for me already." + +"Yes?" + +"Yes." + +The wind brushed along the walls of the house, and the pendulum +marked the passing time. + +"Um," said the Little Russian leisurely, at last. "That's too bad." + +The mother buried her head in the pillow and wept inaudibly. + +In the morning Andrey seemed to her to be lower in stature and +all the more winning. But her son towered thin, straight, and +taciturn as ever. She had always called the Little Russian Andrey +Stepanovich, in formal address, but now, all at once, involuntarily +and unconsciously she said to him: + +"Say, Andriusha, you had better get your boots mended. You are apt +to catch cold." + +"On pay day, mother, I'll buy myself a new pair," he answered, +smiling. Then suddenly placing his long hand on her shoulder, he +added: "You know, you are my real mother. Only you don't want to +acknowledge it to people because I am so ugly." + +She patted him on the hand without speaking. She would have liked +to say many endearing things, but her heart was wrung with pity, and +the words would not leave her tongue. + + +They spoke in the village about the socialists who distributed +broadcast leaflets in blue ink. In these leaflets the conditions +prevailing in the factory were trenchantly and pointedly depicted, +as well as the strikes in St. Petersburg and southern Russia; and +the workingmen were called upon to unite and fight for their interests. + +The staid people who earned good pay waxed wroth as they read the +literature, and said abusively: "Breeders of rebellion! For such +business they ought to get their eyes blacked." And they carried +the pamphlets to the office. + +The young people read the proclamations eagerly, and said excitedly: +"It's all true!" + +The majority, broken down with their work, and indifferent to +everything, said lazily: "Nothing will come of it. It is impossible!" + +But the leaflets made a stir among the people, and when a week +passed without their getting any, they said to one another: + +"None again to-day! It seems the printing must have stopped." + +Then on Monday the leaflets appeared again; and again there was a +dull buzz of talk among the workingmen. + +In the taverns and the factory strangers were noticed, men whom +no one knew. They asked questions, scrutinized everything and +everybody; looked around, ferreted about, and at once attracted +universal attention, some by their suspicious watchfulness, others +by their excessive obtrusiveness. + +The mother knew that all this commotion was due to the work of her +son Pavel. She saw how all the people were drawn together about +him. He was not alone, and therefore it was not so dangerous. But +pride in her son mingled with her apprehension for his fate; it was +his secret labors that discharged themselves in fresh currents into +the narrow, turbid stream of life. + +One evening Marya Korsunova rapped at the window from the street, +and when the mother opened it, she said in a loud whisper: + +"Now, take care, Pelagueya; the boys have gotten themselves into +a nice mess! It's been decided to make a search to-night in your +house, and Mazin's and Vyesovshchikov's----" + +The mother heard only the beginning of the woman's talk; all the +rest of the words flowed together in one stream of ill-boding, +hoarse sounds. + +Marya's thick lips flapped hastily one against the other. Snorts +issued from her fleshy nose, her eyes blinked and turned from side +to side as if on the lookout for somebody in the street. + +"And, mark you, I do not know anything, and I did not say anything +to you, mother dear, and did not even see you to-day, you understand?" + +Then she disappeared. + +The mother closed the window and slowly dropped on a chair, her +strength gone from her, her brain a desolate void. But the +consciousness of the danger threatening her son quickly brought +her to her feet again. She dressed hastily, for some reason wrapped +her shawl tightly around her head, and ran to Fedya Mazin, who, +she knew, was sick and not working. She found him sitting at the +window reading a book, and moving his right hand to and fro with +his left, his thumb spread out. On learning the news he jumped up +nervously, his lips trembled, and his face paled. + +"There you are! And I have an abscess on my finger!" he mumbled. + +"What are we to do?" asked Vlasova, wiping the perspiration from +her face with a hand that trembled nervously. + +"Wait a while! Don't be afraid," answered Fedya, running his sound +hand through his curly hair. + +"But you are afraid yourself!" + +"I?" He reddened and smiled in embarrassment. "Yes--h-m-- I had +a fit of cowardice, the devil take it! We must let Pavel know. +I'll send my little sister to him. You go home. Never mind! +They're not going to beat us." + +On returning home she gathered together all the books, and pressing +them to her bosom walked about the house for a long time, looking +into the oven, under the oven, into the pipe of the samovar, and +even into the water vat. She thought Pavel would at once drop work +and come home; but he did not come. Finally she sat down exhausted +on the bench in the kitchen, putting the books under her; and she +remained in that position, afraid to rise, until Pavel and the +Little Russian returned from the factory. + +"Do you know?" she exclaimed without rising. + +"We know!" said Pavel with a composed smile. "Are you afraid?" + +"Oh, I'm so afraid, so afraid!" + +"You needn't be afraid," said the Little Russian. "That won't +help anybody." + +"Didn't even prepare the samovar," remarked Pavel. + +The mother rose, and pointed to the books with a guilty air. + +"You see, it was on account of them--all the time--I was----" + +The son and the Little Russian burst into laughter; and this +relieved her. Then Pavel picked out some books and carried them +out into the yard to hide them, while the Little Russian remained +to prepare the samovar. + +"There's nothing terrible at all in this, mother. It's only a +shame for people to occupy themselves with such nonsense. Grown-up +men in gray come in with sabers at their sides, with spurs on their +feet, and rummage around, and dig up and search everything. They +look under the bed, and climb up to the garret; if there is a cellar +they crawl down into it. The cobwebs get on their faces, and they +puff and snort. They are bored and ashamed. That's why they put +on the appearance of being very wicked and very mad with us. It's +dirty work, and they understand it, of course they do! Once they +turned everything topsy-turvy in my place, and went away abashed, +that's all. Another time they took me along with them. Well, they +put me in prison, and I stayed there with them for about four months. +You sit and sit, then you're called out, taken to the street under +an escort of soldiers, and you're asked certain questions. They're +stupid people, they talk such incoherent stuff. When they're done +with you, they tell the soldiers to take you back to prison. So +they lead you here, and they lead you there--they've got to justify +their salaries somehow. And then they let you go free. That's all." + +"How you always do speak, Andriusha!" exclaimed the mother involuntarily. + +Kneeling before the samovar he diligently blew into the pipe; but +presently he turned his face, red with exertion, toward her, and +smoothing his mustache with both hands inquired: + +"And how do I speak, pray?" + +"As if nobody had ever done you any wrong." + +He rose, approached her, and shaking his head, said: + +"Is there an unwronged soul anywhere in the wide world? But I have +been wronged so much that I have ceased to feel wronged. What's +to be done if people cannot help acting as they do? The wrongs I +undergo hinder me greatly in my work. It is impossible to avoid +them. But to stop and pay attention to them is useless waste of +time. Such a life! Formerly I would occasionally get angry--but +I thought to myself: all around me I see people broken in heart. +It seemed as if each one were afraid that his neighbor would strike +him, and so he tried to get ahead and strike the other first. Such +a life it is, mother dear." + +His speech flowed on serenely. He resolutely distracted her mind +from alarm at the expected police search. His luminous, protuberant +eyes smiled sadly. Though ungainly, he seemed made of stuff that +bends but never breaks. + +The mother sighed and uttered the warm wish: + +"May God grant you happiness, Andriusha!" + +The Little Russian stalked to the samovar with long strides, sat in +front of it again on his heels, and mumbled: + +"If he gives me happiness, I will not decline it; ask for it I won't, +to seek it I have no time." + +And he began to whistle. + +Pavel came in from the yard and said confidently: + +"They won't find them!" He started to wash himself. Then carefully +rubbing his hands dry, he added: "If you show them, mother, that +you are frightened, they will think there must be something in this +house because you tremble. And we have done nothing as yet, nothing! +You know that we don't want anything bad; on our side is truth, +and we will work for it all our lives. This is our entire guilt. +Why, then, need we fear?" + +"I will pull myself together, Pasha!" she assured him. And the +next moment, unable to repress her anxiety, she exclaimed: "I wish +they'd come soon, and it would all be over!" + +But they did not come that night, and in the morning, in anticipation +of the fun that would probably be poked at her for her alarm, the +mother began to joke at herself. + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The searchers appeared at the very time they were not expected, +nearly a month after this anxious night. Nikolay Vyesovshchikov was +at Pavel's house talking with him and Andrey about their newspaper. +It was late, about midnight. The mother was already in bed. Half +awake, half asleep, she listened to the low, busy voices. Presently +Andrey got up and carefully picked his way through and out of the +kitchen, quietly shutting the door after him. The noise of the iron +bucket was heard on the porch. Suddenly the door was flung wide +open; the Little Russian entered the kitchen, and announced in a +loud whisper: + +"I hear the jingling of spurs in the street!" + +The mother jumped out of bed, catching at her dress with a trembling +hand; but Pavel came to the door and said calmly: + +"You stay in bed; you're not feeling well." + +A cautious, stealthy sound was heard on the porch. Pavel went to +the door and knocking at it with his hand asked: + +"Who's there?" + +A tall, gray figure tumultuously precipitated itself through the +doorway; after it another; two gendarmes pushed Pavel back, and +stationed themselves on either side of him, and a loud mocking voice +called out: + +"No one you expect, eh?" + +The words came from a tall, lank officer, with a thin, black mustache. +The village policeman, Fedyakin, appeared at the bedside of the +mother, and, raising one hand to his cap, pointed the other at her +face and, making terrible eyes, said: + +"This is his mother, your honor!" Then, waving his hand toward +Pavel: "And this is he himself." + +"Pavel Vlasov?" inquired the officer, screwing up his eyes; and when +Pavel silently nodded his head, he announced, twirling his mustache: + +"I have to make a search in your house. Get up, old woman!" + +"Who is there?" he asked, turning suddenly and making a dash for +the door. + +"Your name?" His voice was heard from the other room. + +Two other men came in from the porch: the old smelter Tveryakov +and his lodger, the stoker Rybin, a staid, dark-colored peasant. +He said in a thick, loud voice: + +"Good evening, Nilovna." + +She dressed herself, all the while speaking to herself in a low +voice, so as to give herself courage: + +"What sort of a thing is this? They come at night. People are +asleep and they come----" + +The room was close, and for some reason smelled strongly of shoe +blacking. Two gendarmes and the village police commissioner, +Ryskin, their heavy tread resounding on the floor, removed the books +from the shelves and put them on the table before the officer. Two +others rapped on the walls with their fists, and looked under the +chairs. One man clumsily clambered up on the stove in the corner. +Nikolay's pockmarked face became covered with red patches, and his +little gray eyes were steadfastly fixed upon the officer. The +Little Russian curled his mustache, and when the mother entered the +room, he smiled and gave her an affectionate nod of the head. + +Striving to suppress her fear, she walked, not sideways as always, +but erect, her chest thrown out, which gave her figure a droll, +stilted air of importance. Her shoes made a knocking sound on the +floor, and her brows trembled. + +The officer quickly seized the books with the long fingers of his +white hand, turned over the pages, shook them, and with a dexterous +movement of the wrist flung them aside. Sometimes a book fell to +the floor with a light thud. All were silent. The heavy breathing +of the perspiring gendarmes was audible; the spurs clanked, and +sometimes the low question was heard: "Did you look here?" + +The mother stood by Pavel's side against the wall. She folded her +arms over her bosom, like her son, and both regarded the officer. +The mother felt her knees trembling, and her eyes became covered +with a dry mist. + +Suddenly the piercing voice of Nikolay cut into the silence: + +"Why is it necessary to throw the books on the floor?" + +The mother trembled. Tveryakov rocked his head as if he had been +struck on the back. Rybin uttered a peculiar cluck, and regarded +Nikolay attentively. + +The officer threw up his head, screwed up his eyes, and fixed them +for a second upon the pockmarked, mottled, immobile face. His +fingers began to turn the leaves of the books still more rapidly. +His face was yellow and pale; he twisted his lips continually. At +times he opened his large gray eyes wide, as if he suffered from an +intolerable pain, and was ready to scream out in impotent anguish. + +"Soldier!" Vyesovshchikov called out again. "Pick the books up!" + +All the gendarmes turned their eyes on him, then looked at the +officer. He again raised his head, and taking in the broad figure +of Nikolay with a searching stare, he drawled: + +"Well, well, pick up the books." + +One gendarme bent down, and, looking slantwise at Vyesovshchikov, +began to collect the books scattered on the floor. + +"Why doesn't Nikolay keep quiet?" the mother whispered to Pavel. +He shrugged his shoulders. The Little Russian drooped his head. + +"What's the whispering there? Silence, please! Who reads the Bible?" + +"I!" said Pavel. + +"Aha! And whose books are all these?" + +"Mine!" answered Pavel. + +"So!" exclaimed the officer, throwing himself on the back of the +chair. He made the bones of his slender hand crack, stretched his +legs under the table, and adjusting his mustache, asked Nikolay: +"Are you Andrey Nakhodka?" + +"Yes!" answered Nikolay, moving forward. The Little Russian put +out his hand, took him by the shoulder, and pulled him back. + +"He made a mistake; I am Andrey!" + +The officer raised his hand, and threatening Vyesovshchikov with +his little finger, said: + +"Take care!" + +He began to search among his papers. From the street the bright, +moonlit night looked on through the window with soulless eyes. +Some one was loafing about outside the window, and the snow crunched +under his tread. + +"You, Nakhodka, you have been searched for political offenses +before?" asked the officer. + +"Yes, I was searched in Rostov and Saratov. Only there the +gendarmes addressed me as 'Mr.'" + +The officer winked his right eye, rubbed it, and showing his fine +teeth, said: + +"And do you happen to know, MR. Nakhodka--yes, you, MR. Nakhodka-- +who those scoundrels are who distribute criminal proclamations and +books in the factory, eh?" + +The Little Russian swayed his body, and with a broad smile on his +face was about to say something, when the irritating voice of +Nikolay again rang out: + +"This is the first time we have seen scoundrels here!" + +Silence ensued. There was a moment of breathless suspense. The +scar on the mother's face whitened, and her right eyebrow traveled +upward. Rybin's black beard quivered strangely. He dropped his +eyes, and slowly scratched one hand with the other. + +"Take this dog out of here!" said the officer. + +Two gendarmes seized Nikolay under the arm and rudely pulled him +into the kitchen. There he planted his feet firmly on the floor +and shouted: + +"Stop! I am going to put my coat on." + +The police commissioner came in from the yard and said: + +"There is nothing out there. We searched everywhere!" + +"Well, of course!" exclaimed the officer, laughing. "I knew it! +There's an experienced man here, it goes without saying." + +The mother listened to his thin, dry voice, and looking with terror +into the yellow face, felt an enemy in this man, an enemy without +pity, with a heart full of aristocratic disdain of the people. +Formerly she had but rarely seen such persons, and now she had +almost forgotten they existed. + +"Then this is the man whom Pavel and his friends have provoked," +she thought. + +"I place you, MR. Andrey Onisimov Nakhodka, under arrest." + +"What for?" asked the Little Russian composedly. + +"I will tell you later!" answered the officer with spiteful civility, +and turning to Vlasova, he shouted: + +"Say, can you read or write?" + +"No!" answered Pavel. + +"I didn't ask you!" said the officer sternly, and repeated: "Say, +old woman, can you read or write?" + +The mother involuntarily gave way to a feeling of hatred for the +man. She was seized with a sudden fit of trembling, as if she had +jumped into cold water. She straightened herself, her scar turned +purple, and her brow drooped low. + +"Don't shout!" she said, flinging out her hand toward him. "You +are a young man still; you don't know misery or sorrow----" + +"Calm yourself, mother!" Pavel intervened. + +"In this business, mother, you've got to take your heart between +your teeth and hold it there tight," said the Little Russian. + +"Wait a moment, Pasha!" cried the mother, rushing to the table and +then addressing the officer: "Why do you snatch people away thus?" + +"That does not concern you. Silence!" shouted the officer, rising. + +"Bring in the prisoner Vyesovshchikov!" he commanded, and began +to read aloud a document which he raised to his face. + +Nikolay was brought into the room. + +"Hats off!" shouted the officer, interrupting his reading. + +Rybin went up to Vlasova, and patting her on the back, said in an +undertone: + +"Don't get excited, mother!" + +"How can I take my hat off if they hold my hands?" asked Nikolay, +drowning the reading. + +The officer flung the paper on the table. + +"Sign!" he said curtly. + +The mother saw how everyone signed the document, and her excitement +died down, a softer feeling taking possession of her heart. Her +eyes filled with tears--burning tears of insult and impotence--such +tears she had wept for twenty years of her married life, but lately +she had almost forgotten their acid, heart-corroding taste. + +The officer regarded her contemptuously. He scowled and remarked: + +"You bawl ahead of time, my lady! Look out, or you won't have tears +left for the future!" + +"A mother has enough tears for everything, everything! If you have +a mother, she knows it!" + +The officer hastily put the papers into his new portfolio with its +shining lock. + +"How independent they all are in your place!" He turned to the +police commissioner. + +"An impudent pack!" mumbled the commissioner. + +"March!" commanded the officer. + +"Good-by, Andrey! Good-by, Nikolay!" said Pavel warmly and softly, +pressing his comrades' hands. + +"That's it! Until we meet again!" the officer scoffed. + +Vyesovshchikov silently pressed Pavel's hands with his short fingers +and breathed heavily. The blood mounted to his thick neck; his eyes +flashed with rancor. The Little Russian's face beamed with a sunny +smile. He nodded his head, and said something to the mother; she +made the sign of the cross over him. + +"God sees the righteous," she murmured. + +At length the throng of people in the gray coats tumbled out on +the porch, and their spurs jingled as they disappeared. Rybin went +last. He regarded Pavel with an attentive look of his dark eyes +and said thoughtfully: "Well, well--good-by!" and coughing in his +beard he leisurely walked out on the porch. + +Folding his hands behind his back, Pavel slowly paced up and down +the room, stepping over the books and clothes tumbled about on the +floor. At last he said somberly: + +"You see how it's done! With insult--disgustingly--yes! They +left me behind." + +Looking perplexedly at the disorder in the room, the mother +whispered sadly: + +"They will take you, too, be sure they will. Why did Nikolay speak +to them the way he did?" + +"He got frightened, I suppose," said Pavel quietly. "Yes--It's +impossible to speak to them, absolutely impossible! They cannot +understand!" + +"They came, snatched, and carried off!" mumbled the mother, waving +her hands. As her son remained at home, her heart began to beat +more lightly. Her mind stubbornly halted before one fact and +refused to be moved. "How he scoffs at us, that yellow ruffian! +How he threatens us!" + +"All right, mamma!" Pavel suddenly said with resolution. "Let us +pick all this up!" + +He called her "mamma," the word he used only when he came nearer to +her. She approached him, looked into his face, and asked softly: + +"Did they insult you?" + +"Yes," he answered. "That's--hard! I would rather have gone with them." + +It seemed to her that she saw tears in his eyes, and wishing to soothe +him, with an indistinct sense of his pain, she said with a sigh: + +"Wait a while--they'll take you, too!" + +"They will!" he replied. + +After a pause the mother remarked sorrowfully: + +"How hard you are, Pasha! If you'd only reassure me once in a while! +But you don't. When I say something horrible, you say something worse." + +He looked at her, moved closer to her, and said gently: + +"I cannot, mamma! I cannot lie! You have to get used to it." + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The next day they knew that Bukin, Samoylov, Somov, and five more had +been arrested. In the evening Fedya Mazin came running in upon them. +A search had been made in his house also. He felt himself a hero. + +"Were you afraid, Fedya?" asked the mother. + +He turned pale, his face sharpened, and his nostrils quivered. + +"I was afraid the officer might strike me. He has a black beard, +he's stout, his fingers are hairy, and he wears dark glasses, so +that he looks as if he were without eyes. He shouted and stamped +his feet. He said I'd rot in prison. And I've never been beaten +either by my father or mother; they love me because I'm their only +son. Everyone gets beaten everywhere, but I never!" + +He closed his eyes for a moment, compressed his lips, tossed his +hair back with a quick gesture of both hands, and looking at Pavel +with reddening eyes, said: + +"If anybody ever strikes me, I will thrust my whole body into him +like a knife--I will bite my teeth into him--I'd rather he'd kill +me at once and be done!" + +"To defend yourself is your right," said Pavel. "But take care not +to attack!" + +"You are delicate and thin," observed the mother. "What do you +want with fighting?" + +"I WILL fight!" answered Fedya in a low voice. + +When he left, the mother said to Pavel: + +"This young man will go down sooner than all the rest." + +Pavel was silent. + +A few minutes later the kitchen door opened slowly and Rybin entered. + +"Good evening!" he said, smiling. "Here I am again. Yesterday +they brought me here; to-day I come of my own accord. Yes, yes!" +He gave Pavel a vigorous handshake, then put his hand on the mother's +shoulder, and asked: "Will you give me tea?" + +Pavel silently regarded his swarthy, broad countenance, his thick, +black beard, and dark, intelligent eyes. A certain gravity spoke +out of their calm gaze; his stalwart figure inspired confidence. + +The mother went into the kitchen to prepare the samovar. Rybin sat +down, stroked his beard, and placing his elbows on the table, +scanned Pavel with his dark look. + +"That's the way it is," he said, as if continuing an interrupted +conversation. "I must have a frank talk with you. I observed you +long before I came. We live almost next door to each other. I see +many people come to you, and no drunkenness, no carrying on. That's +the main thing. If people don't raise the devil, they immediately +attract attention. What's that? There you are! That's why all +eyes are on me, because I live apart and give no offense." + +His speech flowed along evenly and freely. It had a ring that won +him confidence. + +"So. Everybody prates about you. My masters call you a heretic; +you don't go to church. I don't, either. Then the papers appeared, +those leaflets. Was it you that thought them out?" + +"Yes, I!" answered Pavel, without taking his eyes off Rybin's face. +Rybin also looked steadily into Pavel's eyes. + +"You alone!" exclaimed the mother, coming into the room. "It wasn't +you alone." + +Pavel smiled; Rybin also. + +The mother sniffed, and walked away, somewhat offended because they +did not pay attention to her words. + +"Those leaflets are well thought out. They stir the people up. +There were twelve of them, weren't there?" + +"Yes." + +"I have read them all! Yes, yes. Sometimes they are not clear, +and some things are superfluous. But when a man speaks a great deal, +it's natural he should occasionally say things out of the way." + +Rybin smiled. His teeth were white and strong. + +"Then the search. That won me over to you more than anything else. +You and the Little Russian and Nikolay, you all got caught!" He +paused for the right word and looked at the window, rapping the +table with his fingers. "They discovered your resolve. You attend +to your business, your honor, you say, and we'll attend to ours. +The Little Russian's a fine fellow, too. The other day I heard how +he speaks in the factory, and thinks I to myself: that man isn't +going to be vanquished; it's only one thing will knock him out, +and that's death! A sturdy chap! Do you trust me, Pavel?" + +"Yes, I trust you!" said Pavel, nodding. + +"That's right. Look! I am forty years old; I am twice as old as +you, and I've seen twenty times as much as you. For three years +long I wore my feet to the bone marching in the army. I have been +married twice. I've been in the Caucasus, I know the Dukhobors. +They're not masters of life, no, they aren't!" + +The mother listened eagerly to his direct speech. It pleased her to +have an older man come to her son and speak to him just as if he +were confessing to him. But Pavel seemed to treat the guest too +curtly, and the mother, to introduce a softer element, asked Rybin: + +"Maybe you'll have something to eat." + +"Thank you, mother! I've had my supper already. So then, Pavel, +you think that life does not go as it should?" + +Pavel arose and began to pace the room, folding his hands behind +his back. + +"It goes all right," he said. "Just now, for instance, it has +brought you here to me with an open heart. We who work our whole +life long--it unites us gradually and more and more every day. The +time will come when we shall all be united. Life is arranged +unjustly for us and is made a burden. At the same time, however, +life itself is opening our eyes to its bitter meaning and is itself +showing man the way to accelerate its pace. We all of us think just +as we live." + +"True. But wait!" Rybin stopped him. "Man ought to be renovated-- +that's what I think! When a man grows scabby, take him to the bath, +give him a thorough cleaning, put clean clothes on him--and he will +get well. Isn't it so? And if the heart grows scabby, take its +skin off, even if it bleeds, wash it, and dress it up all afresh. +Isn't it so? How else can you clean the inner man? There now!" + +Pavel began to speak hotly and bitterly about God, about the Czar, +about the government authorities, about the factory, and how in +foreign countries the workingmen stand up for their rights. Rybin +smiled occasionally; sometimes he struck a finger on the table as +if punctuating a period. Now and then he cried out briefly: "So!" +And once, laughing out, he said quietly: "You're young. You know +people but little!" + +Pavel stopping before him said seriously: + +"Let's not talk of being old or being young. Let us rather see +whose thoughts are truer." + +"That is, according to you, we've been fooled about God also. So! +I, too, think that our religion is false and injurious to us." + +Here the mother intervened. When her son spoke about God and about +everything that she connected with her faith in him, which was dear +and sacred to her, she sought to meet his eyes, she wanted to ask +her son mutely not to chafe her heart with the sharp, bitter words +of his unbelief. And she felt that Rybin, an older man, would also +be displeased and offended. But when Rybin calmly put his question +to Pavel, she could no longer contain herself, and said firmly: +"When you speak of God, I wish you were more careful. You can do +whatever you like. You have your compensation in your work." +Catching her breath she continued with still greater vehemence: +"But I, an old woman, I will have nothing to lean upon in my distress +if you take my God away from me." + +Her eyes filled with tears. She was washing the dishes, and her +fingers trembled. + +"You did not understand us, mother!" Pavel said softly and kindly. + +"Beg your pardon, mother!" Rybin added in a slow, thick voice. He +looked at Pavel and smiled. "I forgot that you're too old to cut +out your warts." + +"I did not speak," continued Pavel, "about that good and gracious +God in whom you believe, but about the God with whom the priests +threaten us as with a stick, about the God in whose name they want +to force all of us to the evil will of the few." + +"That's it, right you are!" exclaimed Rybin, striking his fingers +upon the table. "They have mutilated even our God for us, they have +turned everything in their hands against us. Mark you, mother, God +created man in his own image and after his own likeness. Therefore +he is like man if man is like him. But we have become, not like +God, but like wild beasts! In the churches they set up a scarecrow +before us. We have got to change our God, mother; we must cleanse +him! They have dressed him up in falsehood and calumny; they have +distorted his face in order to destroy our souls!" + +He talked composedly and very distinctly and intelligibly. Every +word of his speech fell upon the mother's ears like a blow. And his +face set in the frame of his black beard, his broad face attired, as +it were, in mourning, frightened her. The dark gleam of his eyes +was insupportable to her. He aroused in her a sense of anguish, and +filled her heart with terror. + +"No, I'd better go away," she said, shaking her head in negation. +"It's not in my power to listen to this. I cannot!" + +And she quickly walked into the kitchen followed by the words of +Rybin: + +"There you have it, Pavel! It begins not in the head, but in the +heart. The heart is such a place that nothing else will grow in it." + +"Only reason," said Pavel firmly, "only reason will free mankind." + +"Reason does not give strength!" retorted Rybin emphatically. "The +heart gives strength, and not the head, I tell you." + +The mother undressed and lay down in bed without saying her prayer. +She felt cold and miserable. And Rybin, who at first seemed such a +staid, wise man, now aroused in her a blind hostility. + +"Heretic! Sedition-maker!" she thought, listening to his even voice +flowing resonantly from his deep chest. He, too, had come--he was +indispensable. + +He spoke confidently and composedly: + +"The holy place must not be empty. The spot where God dwells is a +place of pain; and if he drops out from the heart, there will be a +wound in it, mark my word! It is necessary, Pavel, to invent a new +faith; it is necessary to create a God for all. Not a judge, not a +warrior, but a God who shall be the friend of the people." + +"You had one! There was Christ!" + +"Wait a moment! Christ was not strong in spirit. 'Let the cup pass +from me,' he said. And he recognized Caesar. God cannot recognize +human powers. He himself is the whole of power. He does not divide +his soul saying: so much for the godly, so much for the human. If +Christ came to affirm the divine he had no need for anything human. +But he recognized trade, and he recognized marriage. And it was +unjust of him to condemn the fig tree. Was it of its own will that +it was barren of fruit? Neither is the soul barren of good of its +own accord. Have I sown the evil in it myself? Of course not!" + +The two voices hummed continuously in the room, as if clutching at +each other and wrestling in exciting play. Pavel walked hurriedly +up and down the room; the floor cracked under his feet. When he +spoke all other sounds were drowned by his voice; but above the +slow, calm flow of Rybin's dull utterance were heard the strokes of +the pendulum and the low creaking of the frost, as of sharp claws +scratching the walls of the house. + +"I will speak to you in my own way, in the words of a stoker. God +is like fire. He does not strengthen anything. He cannot. He +merely burns and fuses when he gives light. He burns down churches, +he does not raise them. He lives in the heart." + +"And in the mind!" insisted Pavel. + +"That's it! In the heart and in the mind. There's the rub. It's +this that makes all the trouble and misery and misfortune. We have +severed ourselves from our own selves. The heart was severed from +the mind, and the mind has disappeared. Man is not a unit. It is +God that makes him a unit, that makes him a round, circular thing. +God always makes things round. Such is the earth and all the stars +and everything visible to the eye. The sharp, angular things are +the work of men." + +The mother fell asleep and did not hear Rybin depart. + +But he began to come often, and if any of Pavel's comrades were +present, Rybin sat in a corner and was silent, only occasionally +interjecting: "That's so!" + +And once looking at everybody from his corner with his dark glance +he said somberly: + +"We must speak about that which is; that which will be is unknown +to us. When the people have freed themselves, they will see for +themselves what is best. Enough, quite enough of what they do not +want at all has been knocked into their heads. Let there be an end +of this! Let them contrive for themselves. Maybe they will want to +reject everything, all life, and all knowledge; maybe they will see +that everything is arranged against them. You just deliver all the +books into their hands, and they will find an answer for themselves, +depend upon it! Only let them remember that the tighter the collar +round the horse's neck, the worse the work." + +But when Pavel was alone with Rybin they at once began an endless +but always calm disputation, to which the mother listened anxiously, +following their words in silence, and endeavoring to understand. +Sometimes it seemed to her as if the broad-shouldered, black-bearded +peasant and her well-built, sturdy son had both gone blind. In that +little room, in the darkness, they seemed to be knocking about from +side to side in search of light and an outlet, to be grasping out +with powerful but blind hands; they seemed to fall upon the floor, +and having fallen, to scrape and fumble with their feet. They hit +against everything, groped about for everything, and flung it away, +calm and composed, losing neither faith nor hope. + +They got her accustomed to listen to a great many words, terrible in +their directness and boldness; and these words had now ceased to +weigh down on her so heavily as at first. She learned to push them +away from her ears. And although Rybin still displeased her as +before, he no longer inspired her with hostility. + +Once a week she carried underwear and books to the Little Russian +in prison. On one occasion they allowed her to see him and talk to +him; and on returning home she related enthusiastically: + +"He is as if he were at home there, too! He is good and kind to +everybody; everybody jokes with him; just as if there were a holiday +in his heart all the time. His lot is hard and heavy, but he does +not want to show it." + +"That's right! That's the way one should act," observed Rybin. +"We are all enveloped in misery as in our skins. We breathe misery, +we wear misery. But that's nothing to brag about. Not all people +are blind; some close their eyes of their own accord, indeed! And +if you are stupid you have to suffer for it." + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The little old gray house of the Vlasovs attracted the attention of +the village more and more; and although there was much suspicious +chariness and unconscious hostility in this notice, yet at the same +time a confiding curiosity grew up also. Now and then some one +would come over, and looking carefully about him would say to Pavel: +"Well, brother, you are reading books here, and you know the laws. +Explain to me, then----" + +And he would tell Pavel about some injustice of the police or the +factory administration. In complicated cases Pavel would give the +man a note to a lawyer friend in the city, and when he could, he +would explain the case himself. + +Gradually people began to look with respect upon this young, serious +man, who spoke about everything simply and boldly, and almost never +laughed, who looked at everybody and listened to everybody with an +attention which searched stubbornly into every circumstance, and +always found a certain general and endless thread binding people +together by a thousand tightly drawn knots. + +Vlasova saw how her son had grown up; she strove to understand his +work, and when she succeeded, she rejoiced with a childlike joy. + +Pavel rose particularly in the esteem of the people after the +appearance of his story about the "Muddy Penny." + +Back of the factory, almost encircling it with a ring of putrescence, +stretched a vast marsh grown over with fir trees and birches. In +the summer it was covered with thick yellow and green scum, and +swarms of mosquitoes flew from it over the village, spreading fever +in their course. The marsh belonged to the factory, and the new +manager, wishing to extract profit from it, conceived the plan of +draining it and incidentally gathering in a fine harvest of peat. +Representing to the workingmen how much this measure would contribute +to the sanitation of the locality and the improvement of the general +condition of all, the manager gave orders to deduct a kopeck from +every ruble of their earnings, in order to cover the expense of +draining the marsh. The workingmen rebelled; they especially resented +the fact that the office clerks were exempted from paying the new tax. + +Pavel was ill on the Saturday when posters were hung up announcing +the manager's order in regard to the toll. He had not gone to work +and he knew nothing about it. The next day, after mass, a dapper +old man, the smelter Sizov, and the tall, vicious-looking locksmith +Makhotin, came to him and told him of the manager's decision. + +"A few of us older ones got together," said Sizov, speaking +sedately, "talked the matter over, and our comrades, you see, sent +us over to you, as you are a knowing man among us. Is there such a +law as gives our manager the right to make war upon mosquitoes with +our kopecks?" + +"Think!" said Makhotin, with a glimmer in his narrow eyes. "Three +years ago these sharpers collected a tax to build a bath house. +Three thousand eight hundred rubles is what they gathered in. Where +are those rubles? And where is the bath house?" + +Pavel explained the injustice of the tax, and the obvious advantage +of such a procedure to the factory owners; and both of his visitors +went away in a surly mood. + +The mother, who had gone with them to the door, said, laughing: + +"Now, Pasha, the old people have also begun to come to seek wisdom +from you." + +Without replying, Pavel sat down at the table with a busy air and +began to write. In a few minutes he said to her: "Please go to the +city immediately and deliver this note." + +"Is it dangerous?" she asked. + +"Yes! A newspaper is being published for us down there! That +'Muddy Penny' story must go into the next issue." + +"I'll go at once," she replied, beginning hurriedly to put on her wraps. + +This was the first commission her son had given her. She was happy +that he spoke to her so openly about the matter, and that she might +be useful to him in his work. + +"I understand all about it, Pasha," she said. "It's a piece of +robbery. What's the name of the man? Yegor Ivanovich?" + +"Yes," said Pavel, smiling kindly. + +She returned late in the evening, exhausted but contented. + +"I saw Sashenka," she told her son. "She sends you her regards. +And this Yegor Ivanovich is such a simple fellow, such a joker! +He speaks so comically." + +"I'm glad you like them," said Pavel softly. + +"They are simple people, Pasha. It's good when people are simple. +And they all respect you." + +Again, Monday, Pavel did not go to work. His head ached. But at +dinner time Fedya Mazin came running in, excited, out of breath, +happy, and tired. + +"Come! The whole factory has arisen! They've sent for you. Sizov +and Makhotin say you can explain better than anybody else. My! +What a hullabaloo!" + +Pavel began to dress himself silently. + +"A crowd of women are gathered there; they are screaming!" + +"I'll go, too," declared the mother. "You're not well, and--what +are they doing? I'm going, too." + +"Come," Pavel said briefly. + +They walked along the street quickly and silently. The mother panted +with the exertion of the rapid gait and her excitement. She felt that +something big was happening. At the factory gates a throng of women +were discussing the affair in shrill voices. When the three pushed +into the yard, they found themselves in the thick of a crowd buzzing +and humming in excitement. The mother saw that all heads were turned +in the same direction, toward the blacksmith's wall, where Sizov, +Makhotin, Vyalov, and five or six influential, solid workingmen were +standing on a high pile of old iron heaped on the red brick paving of +the court, and waving their hands. + +"Vlasov is coming!" somebody shouted. + +"Vlasov? Bring him along!" + +Pavel was seized and pushed forward, and the mother was left alone. + +"Silence!" came the shout from various directions. Near by the +even voice of Rybin was heard: + +"We must make a stand, not for the kopeck, but for justice. What +is dear to us is not our kopeck, because it's no rounder than any +other kopeck; it's only heavier; there's more human blood in it +than in the manager's ruble. That's the truth!" + +The words fell forcibly on the crowd and stirred the men to hot +responses: + +"That's right! Good, Rybin!" + +"Silence! The devil take you!" + +"Vlasov's come!" + +The voices mingled in a confused uproar, drowning the ponderous whir +of the machinery, the sharp snorts of the steam, and the flapping +of the leather belts. From all sides people came running, waving +their hands; they fell into arguments, and excited one another with +burning, stinging words. The irritation that had found no vent, +that had always lain dormant in tired breasts, had awakened, demanded +an outlet, and burst from their mouths in a volley of words. It +soared into the air like a great bird spreading its motley wings +ever wider and wider, clutching people and dragging them after it, +and striking them against one another. It lived anew, transformed +into flaming wrath. A cloud of dust and soot hung over the crowd; +their faces were all afire, and black drops of sweat trickled down +their cheeks. Their eyes gleamed from darkened countenances; +their teeth glistened. + +Pavel appeared on the spot where Sizov and Makhotin were standing, +and his voice rang out: + +"Comrades!" + +The mother saw that his face paled and his lips trembled; she +involuntarily pushed forward, shoving her way through the crowd. + +"Where are you going, old woman?" + +She heard the angry question, and the people pushed her, but she +would not stop, thrusting the crowd aside with her shoulders and +elbows. She slowly forced her way nearer to her son, yielding to +the desire to stand by his side. When Pavel had thrown out the word +to which he was wont to attach a deep and significant meaning, his +throat contracted in a sharp spasm of the joy of fight. He was +seized with an invincible desire to give himself up to the strength +of his faith; to throw his heart to the people. His heart kindled +with the dream of truth. + +"Comrades!" he repeated, extracting power and rapture from the word. +"We are the people who build churches and factories, forge chains +and coin money, make toys and machines. We are that living force +which feeds and amuses the world from the cradle to the grave." + +"There!" Rybin exclaimed. + +"Always and everywhere we are first in work but last in life. Who +cares for us? Who wishes us good? Who regards us as human beings? +No one!" + +"No one!" echoed from the crowd. + +Pavel, mastering himself, began to talk more simply and calmly; +the crowd slowly drew about him, blending into one dark, thick, +thousand-headed body. It looked into his face with hundreds of +attentive eyes; it sucked in his words in silent, strained attention. + +"We will not attain to a better life until we feel ourselves as +comrades, as one family of friends firmly bound together by one +desire--the desire to fight for our rights." + +"Get down to business!" somebody standing near the mother shouted rudely. + +"Don't interrupt!" "Shut up!" The two muffled exclamations were +heard in different places. The soot-covered faces frowned in sulky +incredulity; scores of eyes looked into Pavel's face thoughtfully +and seriously. + +"A socialist, but no fool!" somebody observed. + +"I say, he does speak boldly!" said a tall, crippled workingman, +tapping the mother on the shoulder. + +"It is time, comrades, to take a stand against the greedy power that +lives by our labor. It is time to defend ourselves; we must all +understand that no one except ourselves will help us. One for all +and all for one--this is our law, if we want to crush the foe!" + +"He's right, boys!" Makhotin shouted. "Listen to the truth!" And, +with a broad sweep of his arm, he shook his fist in the air. + +"We must call out the manager at once," said Pavel. "We must ask him." + +As if struck by a tornado, the crowd rocked to and fro; scores of +voices shouted: + +"The manager! The manager! Let him come! Let him explain!" + +"Send delegates for him! Bring him here!" + +"No, don't; it's not necessary!" + +The mother pushed her way to the front and looked up at her son. +She was filled with pride. Her son stood among the old, respected +workingmen; all listened to him and agreed with him! She was +pleased that he was so calm and talked so simply; not angrily, not +swearing, like the others. Broken exclamations, wrathful words and +oaths descended like hail on iron. Pavel looked down on the people +from his elevation, and with wide-open eyes seemed to be seeking +something among them. + +"Delegates!" + +"Let Sizov speak!" + +"Vlasov!" + +"Rybin! He has a terrible tongue!" + +Finally Sizov, Rybin, and Pavel were chosen for the interview with +the manager. When just about to send for the manager, suddenly low +exclamations were heard in the crowd: + +"Here he comes himself!" + +"The manager?" + +"Ah!" + +The crowd opened to make way for a tall, spare man with a pointed +beard, an elongated face and blinking eyes. + +"Permit me," he said, as he pushed the people aside with a short +motion of his hand, without touching them. With the experienced +look of a ruler of people, he scanned the workingmen's faces with a +searching gaze. They took their hats off and bowed to him. He +walked past them without acknowledging their greetings. His +presence silenced and confused the crowd, and evoked embarrassed +smiles and low exclamations, as of repentant children who had +already come to regret their prank. + +Now he passed, by the mother, casting a stern glance at her face, +and stopped before the pile of iron. Somebody from above extended a +hand to him; he did not take it, but with an easy, powerful movement +of his body he clambered up and stationed himself in front of Pavel +and Sizov. Looking around the silent crowd, he asked: + +"What's the meaning of this crowd? Why have you dropped your work?" + +For a few seconds silence reigned. Sizov waved his cap in the air, +shrugged his shoulders, and dropped his head. + +"I am asking you a question!" continued the manager. + +Pavel moved alongside of him and said in a low voice, pointing to +Sizov and Rybin: + +"We three are authorized by all the comrades to ask you to revoke +your order about the kopeck discount." + +"Why?" asked the manager, without looking at Pavel. + +"We do not consider such a tax just!" Pavel replied loudly. + +"So, in my plan to drain the marsh you see only a desire to exploit the +workingmen and not a desire to better their conditions; is that it?" + +"Yes!" Pavel replied. + +"And you, also?" the manager asked Rybin. + +"The very same!" + +"How about you, my worthy friend?" The manager turned to Sizov. + +"I, too, want to ask you to let us keep our kopecks." And drooping +his head again, Sizov smiled guiltily. The manager slowly bent his +look upon the crowd again, shrugged his shoulders, and then, +regarding Pavel searchingly, observed: + +"You appear to be a fairly intelligent man. Do you not understand +the usefulness of this measure?" + +Pavel replied loudly: + +"If the factory should drain the marsh at its own expense, we would +all understand it!" + +"This factory is not in the philanthropy business!" remarked the +manager dryly. "I order you all to start work at once!" + +And he began to descend, cautiously feeling the iron with his feet, +and without looking at anyone. + +A dissatisfied hum was heard in the crowd. + +"What!" asked the manager, halting. + +All were silent; then from the distance came a solitary voice: + +"You go to work yourself!" + +"If in fifteen minutes you do not start work, I'll order every single +one of you to be discharged!" the manager announced dryly and distinctly. + +He again proceeded through the crowd, but now an indistinct murmur +followed him, and the shouting grew louder as his figure receded. + +"Speak to him!" + +"That's what you call justice! Worse luck!" + +Some turned to Pavel and shouted: + +"Say, you great lawyer, you, what's to be done now? You talked and +talked, but the moment he came it all went up in the air!" + +"Well, Vlasov, what now?" + +When the shouts became more insistent, Pavel raised his hand and said: + +"Comrades, I propose that we quit work until he gives up that kopeck!" + +Excited voices burst out: + +"He thinks we're fools!" + +"We ought to do it!" + +"A strike?" + +"For one kopeck?" + +"Why not? Why not strike?" + +"We'll all be discharged!" + +"And who is going to do the work?" + +"There are others!" + +"Who? Judases?" + +"Every year I would have to give three rubles and sixty kopecks +to the mosquitoes!" + +"All of us would have to give it!" + +Pavel walked down and stood at the side of his mother. No one paid +any attention to him now. They were all yelling and debating hotly +with one another. + +"You cannot get them to strike!" said Rybin, coming up to Pavel. +"Greedy as these people are for a penny, they are too cowardly. +You may, perhaps, induce about three hundred of them to follow you, +no more. It's a heap of dung you won't lift with one toss of the +pitchfork, I tell you!" + +Pavel was silent. In front of him the huge black face of the crowd +was rocking wildly, and fixed on him an importunate stare. His +heart beat in alarm. It seemed to him as if all the words he had +spoken vanished in the crowd without leaving any trace, like +scattered drops of rain falling on parched soil. One after the +other, workmen approached him praising his speech, but doubting the +success of a strike, and complaining how little the people +understood their own interests and realized their own strength. + +Pavel had a sense of injury and disappointment as to his own power. +His head ached; he felt desolate. Hitherto, whenever he pictured +the triumph of his truth, he wanted to cry with the delight that +seized his heart. But here he had spoken his truth to the people, +and behold! when clothed in words it appeared so pale, so powerless, +so incapable of affecting anyone. He blamed himself; it seemed to +him that he had concealed his dream in a poor, disfiguring garment, +and no one could, therefore, detect its beauty. + +He went home, tired and moody. He was followed by his mother and +Sizov, while Rybin walked alongside, buzzing into his ear: + +"You speak well, but you don't speak to the heart! That's the trouble! +The spark must be thrown into the heart, into its very depths!" + +"It's time we lived and were guided by reason," Pavel said in a low voice. + +"The boot does not fit the foot; it's too thin and narrow! The +foot won't get in! And if it does, it will wear the boot out mighty +quick. That is the trouble." + +Sizov, meanwhile, talked to the mother. + +"It's time for us old folks to get into our graves. Nilovna! A new +people is coming. What sort of a life have we lived? We crawled +on our knees, and always crouched on the ground! But here are the +new people. They have either come to their senses, or else are +blundering worse than we; but they are not like us, anyway. Just +look at those youngsters talking to the manager as to their equal! +Yes, ma'am! Oh, if only my son Matvey were alive! Good-by, Pavel +Vlasov! You stand up for the people all right, brother. God grant +you his favor! Perhaps you'll find a way out. God grant it!" And +he walked away. + +"Yes, you may as well die straight off!" murmured Rybin. "You are +no men, now. You are only putty--good to fill cracks with, that's +all! Did you see, Pavel, who it was that shouted to make you a +delegate? It was those who call you socialist--agitator--yes!-- +thinking you'd be discharged, and it would serve you right!" + +"They are right, according to their lights!" said Pavel. + +"So are wolves when they tear one another to pieces!" Rybin's face +was sullen, his voice unusually tremulous. + +The whole day Pavel felt ill at ease, as if he had lost something, +he did not know what, and anticipated a further loss. + +At night when the mother was asleep and he was reading in bed, +gendarmes appeared and began to search everywhere--in the yard, in +the attic. They were sullen; the yellow-faced officer conducted +himself as on the first occasion, insultingly, derisively, delighting +in abuse, endeavoring to cut down to the very heart. The mother, +in a corner, maintained silence, never removing her eyes from her +son's face. He made every effort not to betray his emotion; but +whenever the officer laughed, his fingers twitched strangely, and +the old woman felt how hard it was for him not to reply, and to bear +the jesting. This time the affair was not so terrorizing to her +as at the first search. She felt a greater hatred to these gray, +spurred night callers, and her hatred swallowed up her alarm. + +Pavel managed to whisper: + +"They'll arrest me." + +Inclining her head, she quietly replied: + +"I understand." + +She did understand--they would put him in jail for what he had said to +the workingmen that day. But since all agreed with what he had said, +and all ought to stand up for him, he would not be detained long. + +She longed to embrace him and cry over him; but there stood the +officer, watching her with a malevolent squint of his eyes. His +lips trembled, his mustache twitched. It seemed to Vlasova that +the officer was but waiting for her tears, complaints, and +supplications. With a supreme effort endeavoring to say as little +as possible, she pressed her son's hand, and holding her breath +said slowly, in a low tone: + +"Good-by, Pasha. Did you take everything you need?" + +"Everything. Don't worry!" + +"Christ be with you!" + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +When the police had led Pavel away, the mother sat down on the +bench, and closing her eyes began to weep quietly. She leaned her +back against the wall, as her husband used to do, her head thrown +backward. Bound up in her grief and the injured sense of her +impotence, she cried long, gently, and monotonously, pouring out all +the pain of her wounded heart in her sobs. And before her, like an +irremovable stain, hung that yellow face with the scant mustache, and +the squinting eyes staring at her with malicious pleasure. Resentment +and bitterness were winding themselves about her breast like black +threads on a spool; resentment and bitterness toward those who tear +a son away from his mother because he is seeking truth. + +It was cold; the rain pattered against the window panes; something +seemed to be creeping along the walls. She thought she heard, +walking watchfully around the house, gray, heavy figures, with +broad, red faces, without eyes, and with long arms. It seemed to +her that she almost heard the jingling of their spurs. + +"I wish they had taken me, too!" she thought. + +The whistle blew, calling the people to work. This time its sounds +were low, indistinct, uncertain. The door opened and Rybin entered. +He stood before her, wiping the raindrops from his beard. + +"They snatched him away, did they?" he asked. + +"Yes, they did, the dogs!" she replied, sighing. + +"That's how it is," said Rybin, with a smile; "they searched me, +too; went all through me--yes! Abused me to their heart's content, +but did me no harm beyond that. So they carried off Pavel, did +they? The manager tipped the wink, the gendarme said 'Amen!' and +lo! a man has disappeared. They certainly are thick together. One +goes through the people's pockets while the other holds the gun." + +"You ought to stand up for Pavel!" cried the mother, rising to her +feet. "It's for you all that he's gone!" + +"Who ought to stand up for him?" asked Rybin. + +"All of you!" + +"You want too much! We'll do nothing of the kind! Our masters +have been gathering strength for thousands of years; they have +driven our hearts full of nails. We cannot unite at once. We +must first extract from ourselves, each from the other, the iron +spikes that prevent us from standing close to one another." + +And thus he departed, with his heavy gait, leaving the mother to +her grief, aggravated by the stern hopelessness of his words. + +The day passed in a thick mist of empty, senseless longing. She +made no fire, cooked no dinner, drank no tea, and only late in the +evening ate a piece of bread. When she went to bed it occurred to +her that her life had never yet been so humiliating, so lonely and +void. During the last years she had become accustomed to live +constantly in the expectation of something momentous, something +good. Young people were circling around her, noisy, vigorous, full +of life. Her son's thoughtful and earnest face was always before +her, and he seemed to be the master and creator of this thrilling +and noble life. Now he was gone, everything was gone. In the whole +day, no one except the disagreeable Rybin had called. + +Beyond the window, the dense, cold rain was sighing and knocking +at the panes. The rain and the drippings from the roof filled the +air with a doleful, wailing melody. The whole house appeared to be +rocking gently to and fro, and everything around her seemed aimless +and unnecessary. + +A gentle rap was heard at the door. It came once, and then a second +time. She had grown accustomed to these noises; they no longer +frightened her. A soft, joyous sensation thrilled her heart, and a +vague hope quickly brought her to her feet. Throwing a shawl over +her shoulders, she hurried to the door and opened it. + +Samoylov walked in, followed by another man with his face hidden +behind the collar of his overcoat and under a hat thrust over his +eyebrows. + +"Did we wake you?" asked Samoylov, without greeting the mother, his +face gloomy and thoughtful, contrary to his wont. + +"I was not asleep," she said, looking at them with expectant eyes. + +Samoylov's companion took off his hat, and breathing heavily and +hoarsely said in a friendly basso, like an old acquaintance, giving +her his broad, short-fingered hand: + +"Good evening, granny! You don't recognize me?" + +"Is it you?" exclaimed Nilovna, with a sudden access of delight. +"Yegor Ivanovich?" + +"The very same identical one!" replied he, bowing his large head +with its long hair. There was a good-natured smile on his face, and +a clear, caressing look in his small gray eyes. He was like a +samovar--rotund, short, with thick neck and short arms. His face +was shiny and glossy, with high cheek bones. He breathed noisily, +and his chest kept up a continuous low wheeze. + +"Step into the room. I'll be dressed in a minute," the mother said. + +"We have come to you on business," said Samoylov thoughtfully, +looking at her out of the corner of his eyes. + +Yegor Ivanovich passed into the room, and from there said: + +"Nikolay got out of jail this morning, granny. You know him?" + +"How long was he there?" she asked. + +"Five months and eleven days. He saw the Little Russian there, who +sends you his regards, and Pavel, who also sends you his regards and +begs you not to be alarmed. As a man travels on his way, he says, +the jails constitute his resting places, established and maintained +by the solicitous authorities! Now, granny, let us get to the point. +Do you know how many people were arrested yesterday?" + +"I do not. Why, were there any others arrested besides Pavel?" +she exclaimed. + +"He was the forty-ninth!" calmly interjected Yegor Ivanovich. "And +we may expect about ten more to be taken! This gentleman here, +for example." + +"Yes; me, too!" said Samoylov with a frown. + +Nilovna somehow felt relieved. + +"He isn't there alone," she thought. + +When she had dressed herself, she entered the room and, smiling +bravely, said: + +"I guess they won't detain them long, if they arrested so many." + +"You are right," assented Yegor Ivanovich; "and if we can manage +to spoil this mess for them, we can make them look altogether like +fools. This is the way it is, granny. If we were now to cease +smuggling our literature into the factory, the gendarmes would take +advantage of such a regrettable circumstance, and would use it +against Pavel and his comrades in jail." + +"How is that? Why should they?" the mother cried in alarm. + +"It's very plain, granny," said Yegor Ivanovich softly. "Sometimes +even gendarmes reason correctly. Just think! Pavel was, and there +were books and there were papers; Pavel is not, and no books and no +papers! Ergo, it was Pavel who distributed these books! Aha! Then +they'll begin to eat them all alive. Those gendarmes dearly love so +to unman a man that what remains of him is only a shred of himself, +and a touching memory." + +"I see, I see," said the mother dejectedly. "O God! What's to be +done, then?" + +"They have trapped them all, the devil take them!" came Samoylov's +voice from the kitchen. "Now we must continue our work the same as +before, and not only for the cause itself, but also to save our comrades!" + +"And there is no one to do the work," added Yegor, smiling. "We +have first-rate literature. I saw to that myself. But how to get +it into the factory, that's the question!" + +"They search everybody at the gates now," said Samoylov. + +The mother divined that something was expected of her. She understood +that she could be useful to her son, and she hastened to ask: + +"Well, now? What are we to do?" + +Samoylov stood in the doorway to answer. + +"Pelagueya Nilovna, you know Marya Korsunova, the peddler." + +"I do. Well?" + +"Speak to her; see if you can't get her to smuggle in our wares." + +"We could pay her, you know," interjected Yegor. + +The mother waved her hands in negation. + +"Oh, no! The woman is a chatterbox. No! If they find out it comes +from me, from this house--oh, no!" + +Then, inspired by a sudden idea, she began gladly and in a low voice: + +"Give it to me, give it to me. I'll manage it myself. I'll find a +way. I will ask Marya to make me her assistant. I have to earn my +living, I have to work. Don't I? Well, then, I'll carry dinners to +the factory. Yes, I'll manage it!" + +Pressing her hands to her bosom, she gave hurried assurances that +she would carry out her mission well and escape detection. Finally +she exclaimed in triumph: "They'll find out--Pavel Vlasov is away, +but his arm reaches out even from jail. They'll find out!" + +All three became animated. Briskly rubbing his hands, Yegor smiled +and said: + +"It's wonderful, stupendous! I say, granny, it's superb--simply +magnificent!" + +"I'll sit in jail as in an armchair, if this succeeds," said +Samoylov, laughing and rubbing his hands. + +"You are fine, granny!" Yegor hoarsely cried. + +The mother smiled. It was evident to her that if the leaflets +should continue to appear in the factory, the authorities would be +forced to recognize that it was not her son who distributed them. +And feeling assured of success, she began to quiver all over with joy. + +"When you go to see Pavel," said Yegor, "tell him he has a good mother." + +"I'll see him very soon, I assure you," said Samoylov, smiling. + +The mother grasped his hand and said earnestly: + +"Tell him that I'll do everything, everything necessary. I want +him to know it." + +"And suppose they don't put him in prison?" asked Yegor, pointing +at Samoylov. + +The mother sighed and said sadly: + +"Well, then, it can't be helped!" + +Both of them burst out laughing. And when she realized her ridiculous +blunder, she also began to laugh in embarrassment, and lowering +her eyes said somewhat slyly: + +"Bothering about your own folk keeps you from seeing other people +straight." + +"That's natural!" exclaimed Yegor. "And as to Pavel, you need not +worry about him. He'll come out of prison a still better man. The +prison is our place of rest and study--things we have no time for +when we are at large. I was in prison three times, and each time, +although I got scant pleasure, I certainly derived benefit for my +heart and mind." + +"You breathe with difficulty," she said, looking affectionately at +his open face. + +"There are special reasons for that," he replied, raising his finger. +"So the matter's settled, granny? Yes? To-morrow we'll deliver the +matter to you--and the wheels that grind the centuried darkness to +destruction will again start a-rolling. Long live free speech! And +long live a mother's heart! And in the meantime, good-by." + +"Good-by," said Samoylov, giving her a vigorous handshake. "To my +mother, I don't dare even hint about such matters. Oh, no!" + +"Everybody will understand in time," said Nilovna, wishing to please +him. "Everybody will understand." + +When they left, she locked the door, and kneeling in the middle of +the room began to pray, to the accompaniment of the patter of the +rain. It was a prayer without words, one great thought of men, of +all those people whom Pavel introduced into her life. It was as if +they passed between her, and the ikons upon which she held her eyes +riveted. And they all looked so simple, so strangely near to one +another, yet so lone in life. + +Early next morning the mother went to Marya Korsunova. The peddler, +noisy and greasy as usual, greeted her with friendly sympathy. + +"You are grieving?" Marya asked, patting the mother on the back. +"Now, don't. They just took him, carried him off. Where is the +calamity? There is no harm in it. It used to be that men were +thrown into dungeons for stealing, now they are there for telling +the truth. Pavel may have said something wrong, but he stood up for +all, and they all know it. Don't worry! They don't all say so, but +they all know a good man when they see, him. I was going to call on +you right along, but had no time. I am always cooking and selling, +but will end my days a beggar, I guess, all the same. My needs get +the best of me, confound them! They keep nibbling and nibbling like +mice at a piece of cheese. No sooner do I manage to scrape together +ten rubles or so, when along comes some heathen, and makes away with +all my money. Yes. It's hard to be a woman! It's a wretched +business! To live alone is hard, to live with anyone, still harder!" + +"And I came to ask you to take me as your assistant," Vlasova broke +in, interrupting her prattle. + +"How is that?" asked Marya. And after hearing her friend's +explanation, she nodded her head assentingly. + +"That's possible! You remember how you used to hide me from my +husband? Well, now I am going to hide you from want. Everyone +ought to help you, for your son is perishing for the public cause. +He is a fine chap, your son is! They all say so, every blessed +soul of them. And they all pity him. I'll tell you something. No +good is going to come to the authorities from these arrests, mark my +word! Look what's going on in the factory! Hear them talk! They +are in an ugly mood, my dear! The officials imagine that when +they've bitten at a man's heel, he won't be able to go far. But it +turns out that when ten men are hit, a hundred men get angry. A +workman must be handled with care! He may go on patiently enduring +and suffering everything that's heaped upon him for a long, long +time, but then he can also explode all of a sudden!" + + + +CHAPTER X + + +The upshot of the conversation was that the next day at noon the +mother was seen in factory yard with two pots of eatables from +Marya's culinary establishment, while Marya herself transferred +her base of operations to the market place. + +The workmen immediately noticed their new caterer. Some of them +approached her and said approvingly: + +"Gone into business, Nilovna?" + +They comforted her, arguing that Pavel would certainly be released +soon because his cause was a good one. Others filled her sad heart +with alarm by their cautious condolence, while still others awoke +a responsive echo in her by openly and bitterly abusing the manager +and the gendarmes. Some there were who looked at her with a +vindictive expression, among them Isay Gorbov, who, speaking through +his teeth, said: + +"If I were the governor, I would have your son hanged! Let him not +mislead the people!" + +This vicious threat went through her like the chill blast of death. +She made no reply, glanced at his small, freckled face, and with a +sigh cast down her eyes. + +She observed considerable agitation in the factory; the workmen +gathered in small groups and talked in an undertone, with great +animation; the foremen walked about with careworn faces, poking +their noses into everything; here and there were heard angry oaths +and irritated laughter. + +Two policemen escorted Samoylov past her. He walked with one hand +in his pocket, the other smoothing his red hair. + +A crowd of about a hundred workmen followed him, and plied the +policemen with oaths and banter. + +"Going to take a promenade, Grisha?" shouted one. + +"They do honor to us fellows!" chimed in another. + +"When we go to promenading, we have a bodyguard to escort us," said +a third, and uttered a harsh oath. + +"It does not seem to pay any longer to catch thieves!" exclaimed +a tall, one-eyed workingman in a loud, bitter voice. "So they take +to arresting honest people." + +"They don't even do it at night!" broke in another. "They come +and drag them away in broad daylight, without shame, the impudent +scoundrels!" + +The policemen walked on rapidly and sullenly, trying to avoid the +sight of the crowd, and feigning not to hear the angry exclamations +showered upon them from all sides. Three workmen carrying a big +iron bar happened to come in front of them, and thrusting the bar +against them, shouted: + +"Look out there, fishermen!" + +As he passed Nilovna, Samoylov nodded to her, and smiling, said: + +"Behold, this is Gregory, the servant of God, being arrested." + +She made a low bow to him in silence. These men, so young, sober, +and clever, who went to jail with a smile, moved her, and she +unconsciously felt for them the pitying affection of a mother. It +pleased her to hear the sharp comments leveled against the authorities. +She saw therein her son's influence. + +Leaving the factory, she passed the remainder of the day at Marya's +house, assisting her in her work, and listening to her chatter. +Late in the evening she returned home and found it bare, chilly and +disagreeable. She moved about from corner to corner, unable to find +a resting place, and not knowing what to do with herself. Night was +fast approaching, and she grew worried, because Yegor Ivanovich had +not yet come and brought her the literature which he had promised. + +Behind the window, gray, heavy flakes of spring snow fluttered and +settled softly and noiselessly upon the pane. Sliding down and +melting, they left a watery track in their course. The mother +thought of her son. + +A cautious rap was heard. She rushed to the door, lifted the latch, +and admitted Sashenka. She had not seen her for a long while, and +the first thing that caught her eye was the girl's unnatural stoutness. + +"Good evening!" she said, happy to have a visitor at such a time, +to relieve her solitude for a part of the night. "You haven't been +around for a long while! Were you away?" + +"No, I was in prison," replied the girl, smiling, "with Nikolay +Ivanovich. Do you remember him?" + +"I should think I do!" exclaimed the mother. "Yegor Ivanovich told +me yesterday that he had been released, but I knew nothing about +you. Nobody told me that you were there." + +"What's the good of telling? I should like to change my dress +before Yegor Ivanovich comes!" said the girl, looking around. + +"You are all wet." + +"I've brought the booklets." + +"Give them here, give them to me!" cried the mother impatiently. + +"Directly," replied the girl. She untied her skirt and shook it, +and like leaves from a tree, down fluttered a lot of thin paper +parcels on the floor around her. The mother picked them up, +laughing, and said: + +"I was wondering what made you so stout. Oh, what a heap of them +you have brought! Did you come on foot?" + +"Yes," said Sashenka. She was again her graceful, slender self. +The mother noticed that her cheeks were shrunken, and that dark +rings were under her unnaturally large eyes. + +"You are just out of prison. You ought to rest, and there you are +carrying a load like that for seven versts!" said the mother, +sighing and shaking her head. + +"It's got to be done!" said the girl. "Tell me, how is Pavel? +Did he stand it all right? He wasn't very much worried, was he?" +Sashenka asked the question without looking at the mother. She +bent her head and her fingers trembled as she arranged her hair. + +"All right," replied the mother. "You can rest assured he won't +betray himself." + +"How strong he is!" murmured the girl quietly. + +"He has never been sick," replied the mother. "Why, you are all +in a shiver! I'll get you some tea, and some raspberry jam." + +"That's fine!" exclaimed the girl with a faint smile. "But don't +you trouble! It's too late. Let me do it myself." + +"What! Tired as you are?" the mother reproached her, hurrying into +the kitchen, where she busied herself with the samovar. The girl +followed into the kitchen, sat down on the bench, and folded her +hands behind her head before she replied: + +"Yes, I'm very tired! After all, the prison makes one weak. The +awful thing about it is the enforced inactivity. There is nothing +more tormenting. We stay a week, five weeks. We know how much +there is to be done. The people are waiting for knowledge. We're +in a position to satisfy their wants, and there we are locked up +in a cage like animals! That's what is so trying, that's what +dries up the heart!" + +"Who will reward you for all this?" asked the mother; and with a +sigh she answered the question herself. "No one but God! Of course +you don't believe in Him either?" + +"No!" said the girl briefly, shaking her head. + +"And I don't believe you!" the mother ejaculated in a sudden burst +of excitement. Quickly wiping her charcoal-blackened hands on her +apron she continued, with deep conviction in her voice: + +"You don't understand your own faith! How could you live the kind +of life you are living, without faith in God?" + +A loud stamping of feet and a murmur of voices were heard on the +porch. The mother started; the girl quickly rose to her feet, and +whispered hurriedly: + +"Don't open the door! If it's the gendarmes, you don't know me. +I walked into the wrong house, came here by accident, fainted away, +you undressed me, and found the books around me. You understand?" + +"Why, my dear, what for?" asked the mother tenderly. + +"Wait a while!" said Sashenka listening. "I think it's Yegor." + +It was Yegor, wet and out of breath. + +"Aha! The samovar!" he cried. "That's the best thing in life, +granny! You here already, Sashenka ?" + +His hoarse voice filled the little kitchen. He slowly removed his +heavy ulster, talking all the time. + +"Here, granny, is a girl who is a thorn in the flesh of the police! +Insulted by the overseer of the prison, she declared that she would +starve herself to death if he did not ask her pardon. And for eight +days she went without eating, and came within a hair's breadth of +dying. It's not bad! She must have a mighty strong little stomach." + +"Is it possible you took no food for eight days in succession?" +asked the mother in amazement. + +"I had to get him to beg my pardon," answered the girl with a +stoical shrug of her shoulders. Her composure and her stern +persistence seemed almost like a reproach to the mother. + +"And suppose you had died?" she asked again. + +"Well, what can one do?" the girl said quietly. "He did beg my +pardon after all. One ought never to forgive an insult, never!" + +"Ye-es!" responded the mother slowly. "Here are we women who are +insulted all our lives long." + +"I have unloaded myself!" announced Yegor from the other room. +"Is the samovar ready? Let me take it in!" + +He lifted the samovar and talked as he carried it. + +"My own father used to drink not less than twenty glasses of tea a +day, wherefor his days upon earth were long, peaceful, and strong; +for he lived to be seventy-three years old, never having suffered +from any ailment whatsoever. In weight he reached the respectable +figure of three hundred and twenty pounds, and by profession he was +a sexton in the village of Voskesensk." + +"Are you Ivan's son?" exclaimed the mother. + +"I am that very mortal. How did you know his name?" + +"Why, I am a Voskresenskian myself!" + +"A fellow countrywoman! Who were your people?" + +"Your neighbors. I am a Sereguin." + +"Are you a daughter of Nil the Lame? I thought your face was +familiar! Why, I had my ears pulled by him many and many a time!" + +They stood face to face plying each other with questions and +laughing. Sashenka looked at them and smiled, and began to prepare +the tea. The clatter of the dishes recalled the mother to the +realities of the present. + +"Oh, excuse me! I quite forgot myself, talking about old times. It +is so sweet to recall your youth." + +"It's I who ought to beg your pardon for carrying on like this in +your house!" said Sashenka. "But it is eleven o'clock already, and +I have so far to go." + +"Go where? To the city?" the mother asked in surprise. + +"Yes." + +"What are you talking about! It's dark and wet, and you are so +tired. Stay here overnight. Yegor Ivanovich will sleep in the +kitchen, and you and I here." + +"No, I must go," said the girl simply. + +"Yes, countrywoman, she must go. The young lady must disappear. +It would be bad if she were to be seen on the street to-morrow." + +"But how can she go? By herself?" + +"By herself," said Yegor, laughing. + +The girl poured tea for herself, took a piece of rye bread, salted +it, and started to eat, looking at the mother contemplatively. + +"How can you go that way? Both you and Natasha. I wouldn't. I'm afraid!" + +"She's afraid, too," said Yegor. "Aren't you afraid, Sasha?" + +"Of course!" + +The mother looked at her, then at Yegor, and said in a low voice, +"What strange----" + +"Give me a glass of tea, granny," Yegor interrupted her. + +When Sashenka had drunk her glass of tea, she pressed Yegor's hand +in silence, and walked out into the kitchen. The mother followed +her. In the kitchen Sashenka said: + +"When you see Pavel, give him my regards, please." And taking hold +of the latch, she suddenly turned around, and asked in a low voice: +"May I kiss you?" + +The mother embraced her in silence, and kissed her warmly. + +"Thank you!" said the girl, and nodding her head, walked out. + +Returning to the room, the mother peered anxiously through the window. +Wet flakes of snow fluttered through the dense, moist darkness. + +"And do you remember Prozorov, the storekeeper?" asked Yegor. "He +used to sit with his feet sprawling, and blow noisily into his glass +of tea. He had a red, satisfied, sweet-covered face." + +"I remember, I remember," said the mother, coming back to the table. +She sat down, and looking at Yegor with a mournful expression in her +eyes, she spoke pityingly: "Poor Sashenka! How will she ever get +to the city?" + +"She will be very much worn out," Yegor agreed. "The prison has +shaken her health badly. She was stronger before. Besides, she +has had a delicate bringing up. It seems to me she has already +ruined her lungs. There is something in her face that reminds one +of consumption." + +"Who is she?" + +"The daughter of a landlord. Her father is a rich man and a big +scoundrel, according to what she says. I suppose you know, granny, +that they want to marry?" + +"Who?" + +"She and Pavel. Yes, indeed! But so far they have not yet been able. +When he is free, she is in prison, and vice versa." Yegor laughed. + +"I didn't know it!" the mother replied after a pause. "Pasha never +speaks about himself." + +Now she felt a still greater pity for the girl, and looking at her +guest with involuntary hostility, she said: + +"You ought to have seen her home." + +"Impossible!" Yegor answered calmly. "I have a heap of work to do +here, and the whole day to-morrow, from early morning, I shall have +to walk and walk and walk. No easy job, considering my asthma." + +"She's a fine girl!" said the mother, vaguely thinking of what Yegor +had told her. She felt hurt that the news should have come to her, +not from her son, but from a stranger, and she pressed her lips +together tightly, and lowered her eyebrows. + +"Yes, a fine girl!" Yegor nodded assent. "There's a bit of the +noblewoman in her yet, but it's growing less and less all the time. +You are sorry for her, I see. What's the use? You won't find heart +enough, if you start to grieve for all of us rebels, granny dear. +Life is not made very easy for us, I admit. There, for instance, is +the case of a friend of mine who returned a short while ago from +exile. When he went through Novgorod, his wife and child awaited +him in Smolensk, and when he arrived in Smolensk, they were already +in prison in Moscow. Now it's the wife's turn to go to Siberia. To +be a revolutionary and to be married is a very inconvenient arrangement +--inconvenient for the husband, inconvenient for the wife and in the +end for the cause also! I, too, had a wife, an excellent woman, but +five years of this kind of life landed her in the grave." + +He emptied the glass of tea at one gulp, and continued his narrative. +He enumerated the years and months he had passed in prison and in +exile, told of various accidents and misfortunes, of the slaughters +in prisons, and of hunger in Siberia. The mother looked at him, +listened with wonderment to the simple way in which he spoke of this +life, so full of suffering, of persecution, of wrong, and abuse of men. + +"Well, let's get down to business!" + +His voice changed, and his face grew more serious. He asked +questions about the way in which the mother intended to smuggle +the literature into the factory, and she marveled at his clear +knowledge of all the details. + +Then they returned to reminiscences of their native village. He +joked, and her mind roved thoughtfully through her past. It seemed +to her strangely like a quagmire uniformly strewn with hillocks, +which were covered with poplars trembling in constant fear; with low +firs, and with white birches straying between the hillocks. The +birches grew slowly, and after standing for five years on the unstable, +putrescent soil, they dried up, fell down, and rotted away. She +looked at this picture, and a vague feeling of insufferable sadness +overcame her. The figure of a girl with a sharp, determined face +stood before her. Now the figure walks somewhere in the darkness +amid the snowflakes, solitary, weary. And her son sits in a little +cell, with iron gratings over the window. Perhaps he is not yet +asleep, and is thinking. But he is thinking not of his mother. +He has one nearer to him than herself. Heavy, chaotic thoughts, +like a tangled mass of clouds, crept over her, and encompassed her +and oppressed her bosom. + +"You are tired, granny! Let's go to bed!" said Yegor, smiling. + +She bade him good night, and sidled carefully into the kitchen, +carrying away a bitter, caustic feeling in her heart. + +In the morning, after breakfast, Yegor asked her: + +"Suppose they catch you and ask you where you got all these +heretical books from. What will you say?" + +"I'll say, 'It's none of your business!'" she answered, smiling. + +"You'll never convince them of that!" Yegor replied confidently. +"On the contrary, they are profoundly convinced that this is +precisely their business. They will question you very, very +diligently, and very, very long!" + +"I won't tell, though!" + +"They'll put you in prison!" + +"Well, what of it? Thank God that I am good at least for that," +she said with a sigh. "Thank God! Who needs me? Nobody!" + +"H'm!" said Yegor, fixing his look upon her. "A good person ought +to take care of himself." + +"I couldn't learn that from you, even if I were good," the mother +replied, laughing. + +Yegor was silent, and paced up and down the room; then he walked +up to her and said: "This is hard, countrywoman! I feel it, it's +very hard for you!" + +"It's hard for everybody," she answered, with a wave of her hand. +"Maybe only for those who understand, it's easier. But I understand +a little, too. I understand what it is the good people want." + +"If you do understand, granny, then it means that everybody needs +you, everybody!" said Yegor earnestly and solemnly. + +She looked at him and laughed without saying anything. + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +At noon, calmly and in a businesslike way she put the books around +her bosom, and so skillfully and snugly that Yegor announced, +smacking his lips with satisfaction: + +"Sehr gut! as the German says when he has drunk a keg of beer. +Literature has not changed you, granny. You still remain the good, +tall, portly, elderly woman. May all the numberless gods grant you +their blessings on your enterprise!" + +Within half an hour she stood at the factory gate, bent with the +weight of her burden, calm and assured. Two guards, irritated by +the oaths and raillery of the workingmen, examined all who entered +the gate, handling them roughly and swearing at them. A policeman +and a thin-legged man with a red face and alert eyes stood at one +side. The mother, shifting the rod resting on her shoulders, with a +pail suspended from either end of it, watched the man from the +corner of her eye. She divined that he was a spy. + +A tall, curly-headed fellow with his hat thrown back over his neck, +cried to the guardsmen who searched him: + +"Search the head and not the pockets, you devils!" + +"There is nothing but lice on your head," retorted one of the guardsmen. + +"Catching lice is an occupation more suited to you than hunting +human game!" rejoined the workman. The spy scanned him with a +rapid glance. + +"Will you let me in?" asked the mother. "See, I'm bent double with +my heavy load. My back is almost breaking." + +"Go in! Go in!" cried the guard sullenly. "She comes with +arguments, too." + +The mother walked to her place, set her pails on the ground, and +wiping the perspiration from her face looked around her. + +The Gusev brothers, the locksmiths, instantly came up to her, and +the older of them, Vasily, asked aloud, knitting his eyebrows: + +"Got any pirogs?" + +"I'll bring them to-morrow," she answered. + +This was the password agreed upon. The faces of the brothers +brightened. Ivan, unable to restrain himself, exclaimed: + +"Oh, you jewel of a mother!" + +Vasily squatted down on his heels, looked into the pot, and a +bundle of books disappeared into his bosom. + +"Ivan!" he said aloud. "Let's not go home, let's get our dinner +here from her!" And he quickly shoved the books into the legs of his +boots. "We must give our new peddler a lift, don't you think so?" + +"Yes, indeed!" Ivan assented, and laughed aloud. + +The mother looked carefully about her, and called out: + +"Sour cabbage soup! Hot vermicelli soup! Roast meat!" + +Then deftly and secretly taking out one package of books after the +other, she shoved them into the hands of the brothers. Each time +a bundle disappeared from her hands, the sickly, sneering face of +the officer of gendarmes flashed up before her like a yellow stain, +like the flame of a match in a dark room, and she said to him in +her mind, with a feeling of malicious pleasure: + +"Take this, sir!" And when she handed over the last package she +added with an air of satisfaction: "And here is some more, take it!" + +Workmen came up to her with cups in their hands, and when they were +near Ivan and Vasily, they began to laugh aloud. The mother calmly +suspended the transfer of the books, and poured sour soup and +vermicelli soup, while the Gusevs joked her. + +"How cleverly Nilovna does her work!" + +"Necessity drives one even to catching mice," remarked a stoker +somberly. "They have snatched away your breadgiver, the scoundrels! +Well, give us three cents' worth of vermicelli. Never mind, mother! +You'll pull through!" + +"Thanks for the good word!" she returned, smiling. + +He walked off to one side and mumbled, "It doesn't cost me much to +say a good word!" + +"But there's no one to say it to!" observed a blacksmith, with a +smile, and shrugging his shoulders in surprise added: "There's a +life for you, fellows! There's no one to say a good word to; no one +is worth it. Yes, sir!" + +Vasily Gusev rose, wrapped his coat tightly around him, and exclaimed: + +"What I ate was hot, and yet I feel cold." + +Then he walked away. Ivan also rose, and ran off whistling merrily. + +Cheerful and smiling, Nilovna kept on calling her wares: + +"Hot! Hot! Sour soup! Vermicelli soup! Porridge!" + +She thought of how she would tell her son about her first experience; +and the yellow face of the officer was still standing before her, +perplexed and spiteful. His black mustache twitched uneasily, and +his upper lip turned up nervously, showing the gleaming white enamel +of his clenched teeth. A keen joy beat and sang in her heart like +a bird, her eyebrows quivered, and continuing deftly to serve her +customers she muttered to herself: + +"There's more! There's more!" + +Through the whole day she felt a sensation of delightful newness +which embraced her heart as with a fondling caress. And in the +evening, when she had concluded her work at Marya's house, and was +drinking tea, the splash of horses' hoofs in the mud was heard, +and the call of a familiar voice. She jumped up, hurried into the +kitchen, and made straight for the door. Somebody walked quickly +through the porch; her eyes grew dim, and leaning against the +doorpost, she pushed the door open with her foot. + +"Good evening, mother!" a familiar, melodious voice rang out, and a +pair of dry, long hands were laid on her shoulders. + +The joy of seeing Andrey was mingled in her bosom with the sadness +of disappointment; and the two contrary feelings blended into one +burning sensation which embraced her like a hot wave. She buried +her face in Andrey's bosom. He pressed her tightly to himself, +his hands trembled. The mother wept quietly without speaking, +while he stroked her hair, and spoke in his musical voice: + +"Don't cry, mother. Don't wring my heart. Upon my honest word, +they will let him out soon! They haven't a thing against him; +all the boys will keep quiet as cooked fish." + +Putting his long arm around the mother's shoulders he led her into +the room, and nestling up against him with the quick gesture of a +squirrel, she wiped the tears from her face, while her heart +greedily drank in his tender words. + +"Pavel sends you his love. He is as well and cheerful as can be. +It's very crowded in the prison. They have thrown in more than a +hundred of our people, both from here and from the city. Three and +four persons have been put into one cell. The prison officials are +rather a good set. They are exhausted with the quantity of work the +gendarmes have been giving them. The prison authorities are not +extremely rigorous, they don't order you about roughly. They simply +say: 'Be quiet as you can, gentlemen. Don't put us in an awkward +position!' So everything goes well. We talk with one another, we +give books to one another, and we share our food. It's a good +prison! Old and dirty, but so soft and so light. The criminals are +also nice people; they help us a good deal. Bukin, four others, and +myself were released. It got too crowded. They'll let Pavel go +soon, too. I'm telling you the truth, believe me. Vyesovshchikov +will be detained the longest. They are very angry at him. He +scolds and swears at everybody all the time. The gendarmes can't +bear to look at him. I guess he'll get himself into court, or +receive a sound thrashing some day. Pavel tries to dissuade him. +'Stop, Nikolay!' he says to him. 'Your swearing won't reform them.' +But he bawls: 'Wipe them off the face of the earth like a pest!' +Pavel conducts himself finely out there; he treats all alike, and +is as firm as a rock! They'll soon let him go." + +"Soon?" said the mother, relieved now and smiling. "I know he'll +be let out soon!" + +"Well, if you know, it's all right! Give me tea, mother. Tell me +how you've been, how you've passed your time." + +He looked at her, smiling all over, and seemed so near to her, such +a splendid fellow. A loving, somewhat melancholy gleam flashed from +the depths of his round, blue eyes. + +"I love you dearly, Andriusha!" the mother said, heaving a deep +sigh, as she looked at his thin face grotesquely covered with tufts +of hair. + +"People are satisfied with little from me! I know you love me; +you are capable of loving everybody; you have a great heart," said +the Little Russian, rocking in his chair, his eyes straying about +the room. + +"No, I love you very differently!" insisted the mother. "If you +had a mother, people would envy her because she had such a son." + +The Little Russian swayed his head, and rubbed it vigorously with +both hands. + +"I have a mother, somewhere!" he said in a low voice. + +"Do you know what I did to-day?" she exclaimed, and reddening a +little, her voice choking with satisfaction, she quickly recounted +how she had smuggled literature into the factory. + +For a moment he looked at her in amazement with his eyes wide open; +then he burst out into a loud guffaw, stamped his feet, thumped his +head with his fingers, and cried joyously: + +"Oho! That's no joke any more! That's business! Won't Pavel be +glad, though! Oh, you're a trump. That's good, mother! You have +no idea HOW good it is! Both for Pavel and all who were arrested +with him!" + +He snapped his fingers in ecstasy, whistled, and fairly doubled +over, all radiant with joy. His delight evoked a vigorous response +from the mother. + +"My dear, my Andriusha!" she began, as if her heart had burst open, +and gushed over merrily with a limpid stream of living words full of +serene joy. "I've thought all my life, 'Lord Christ in heaven! what +did I live for?' Beatings, work! I saw nothing except my husband. +I knew nothing but fear! And how Pasha grew I did not see, and I +hardly know whether I loved him when my husband was alive. All my +concerns, all my thoughts were centered upon one thing--to feed my +beast, to propitiate the master of my life with enough food, pleasing +to his palate, and served on time, so as not to incur his displeasure, +so as to escape the terrors of a beating, to get him to spare me +but once! But I do not remember that he ever did spare me. He beat +me so--not as a wife is beaten, but as one whom you hate and detest. +Twenty years I lived like that, and what was up to the time of my +marriage I do not recall. I remember certain things, but I see +nothing! I am as a blind person. Yegor Ivanovich was here--we are +from the same village--and he spoke about this and about that. I +remember the houses, the people, but how they lived, what they spoke +about, what happened to this one and what to that one--I forget, +I do not see! I remember fires--two fires. It seems that everything +has been beaten out of me, that my soul has been locked up and +sealed tight. It's grown blind, it does not hear!" + +Her quick-drawn breath was almost a sob. She bent forward, and +continued in a lowered voice: "When my husband died I turned to my +son; but he went into this business, and I was seized with a pity +for him, such a yearning pity--for if he should perish, how was I +to live alone? What dread, what fright I have undergone! My heart +was rent when I thought of his fate. + +"Our woman's love is not a pure love! We love that which we need. +And here are you! You are grieving about your mother. What do you +want her for? And all the others go and suffer for the people, they +go to prison, to Siberia, they die for them, many are hung. Young +girls walk alone at night, in the snow, in the mud, in the rain. +They walk seven versts from the city to our place. Who drives them? +Who pursues them? They love! You see, theirs is pure love! They +believe! Yes, indeed, they believe, Andriusha! But here am I-- +I can't love like that! I love my own, the near ones!" + +"Yes, you can!" said the Little Russian, and turning away his face +from her, he rubbed his head, face, and eyes vigorously as was his +wont. "Everybody loves those who are near," he continued. "To a +large heart, what is far is also near. You, mother, are capable +of a great deal. You have a large capacity of motherliness!" + +"God grant it!" she said quietly. "I feel that it is good to live +like that! Here are you, for instance, whom I love. Maybe I love +you better than I do Pasha. He is always so silent. Here he wants +to get married to Sashenka, for example, and he never told me, his +mother, a thing about it." + +"That's not true," the Little Russian retorted abruptly. "I know it +isn't true. It's true he loves her, and she loves him. But marry? +No, they are not going to marry! She'd want to, but Pavel--he can't! +He doesn't want to!" + +"See how you are!" said the mother quietly, and she fixed her eyes +sadly and musingly on the Little Russian's face. "You see how you +are! You offer up your own selves!" + +"Pavel is a rare man!" the Little Russian uttered in a low voice. +"He is a man of iron!" + +"Now he sits in prison," continued the mother reflectively. "It's +awful, it's terrible! It's not as it used to be before! Life +altogether is not as it used to be, and the terror is different from +the old terror. You feel a pity for everybody, and you are alarmed +for everybody! And the heart is different. The soul has opened its +eyes, it looks on, and is sad and glad at the same time. There's +much I do not understand, and I feel so bitter and hurt that you do +not believe in the Lord God. Well, I guess I can't help that! But +I see and know that you are good people. And you have consecrated +yourselves to a stern life for the sake of the people, to a life of +hardship for the sake of truth. The truth you stand for, I comprehend: +as long as there will be the rich, the people will get nothing, +neither truth nor happiness, nothing! Indeed, that's so, Andriusha! +Here am I living among you, while all this is going on. Sometimes +at night my thoughts wander off to my past. I think of my youthful +strength trampled under foot, of my young heart torn and beaten, +and I feel sorry for myself and embittered. But for all that I +live better now, I see myself more and more, I feel myself more." + +The Little Russian arose, and trying not to scrape with his feet, +began to walk carefully up and down the room, tall, lean, absorbed +in thought. + +"Well said!" he exclaimed in a low voice. "Very well! There was +a young Jew in Kerch who wrote verses, and once he wrote: + + "And the innocently slain, + Truth will raise to life again." + +"He himself was killed by the police in Kerch, but that's not the +point. He knew the truth and did a great deal to spread it among +the people. So here you are one of the innocently slain. He spoke +the truth!" + +"There, I am talking now," the mother continued. "I talk and do not +hear myself, don't believe my own ears! All my life I was silent, I +always thought of one thing--how to live through the day apart, how +to pass it without being noticed, so that nobody should touch me! +And now I think about everything. Maybe I don't understand your +affairs so very well; but all are near me, I feel sorry for all, and +I wish well to all. And to you, Andriusha, more than all the rest." + +He took her hand in his, pressed it tightly, and quickly turned +aside. Fatigued with emotion and agitation, the mother leisurely +and silently washed the cups; and her breast gently glowed with a +bold feeling that warmed her heart. + +Walking up and down the room the Little Russian said: + +"Mother, why don't you sometimes try to befriend Vyesovshchikov and +be kind to him? He is a fellow that needs it. His father sits in +prison--a nasty little old man. Nikolay sometimes catches sight of +him through the window and he begins to swear at him. That's bad, +you know. He is a good fellow, Nikolay is. He is fond of dogs, +mice, and all sorts of animals, but he does not like people. That's +the pass to which a man can be brought." + +"His mother disappeared without a trace, his father is a thief and +a drunkard," said Nilovna pensively. + +When Andrey left to go to bed, the mother, without being noticed, +made the sign of the cross over him, and after about half an hour, +she asked quietly, "Are you asleep, Andriusha?" + +"No. Why?" + +"Nothing! Good night!" + +"Thank you, mother, thank you!" he answered gently. + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The next day when Nilovna came up to the gates of the factory with +her load, the guides stopped her roughly, and ordering her to put +the pails down on the ground, made a careful examination. + +"My eatables will get cold," she observed calmly, as they felt +around her dress. + +"Shut up!" said a guard sullenly. + +Another one, tapping her lightly on the shoulder, said with +assurance: + +"Those books are thrown across the fence, I say!" + +Old man Sizov came up to her and looking around said in an undertone: + +"Did you hear, mother?" + +"What?" + +"About the pamphlets. They've appeared again. They've just +scattered them all over like salt over bread. Much good those +arrests and searches have done! My nephew Mazin has been hauled +away to prison, your son's been taken. Now it's plain it isn't he!" +And stroking his beard Sizov concluded, "It's not people, but +thoughts, and thoughts are not fleas; you can't catch them!" + +He gathered his beard in his hand, looked at her, and said as he +walked away: + +"Why don't you come to see me some time? I guess you are lonely +all by yourself." + +She thanked him, and calling her wares, she sharply observed the +unusual animation in the factory. The workmen were all elated, they +formed little circles, then parted, and ran from one group to +another. Animated voices and happy, satisfied faces all around! +The soot-filled atmosphere was astir and palpitating with something +bold and daring. Now here, now there, approving ejaculations were +heard, mockery, and sometimes threats. + +"Aha! It seems truth doesn't agree with them," she heard one say. + +The younger men were in especially good spirits, while the elder +workmen had cautious smiles on their faces. The authorities walked +about with a troubled expression, and the police ran from place to +place. When the workingmen saw them, they dispersed, and walked +away slowly, or if they remained standing, they stopped their +conversation, looking silently at the agitated, angry faces. + +The workingmen seemed for some reason to be all washed and clean. +The figure of Gusev loomed high, and his brother stalked about like +a drake, and roared with laughter. The joiner's foreman, Vavilov, +and the record clerk, Isay, walked slowly past the mother. The +little, wizened clerk, throwing up his head and turning his neck to +the left, looked at the frowning face of the foreman, and said +quickly, shaking his reddish beard: + +"They laugh, Ivan Ivanovich. It's fun to them. They are pleased, +although it's no less a matter than the destruction of the +government, as the manager said. What must be done here, Ivan +Ivanovich, is not merely to weed but to plow!" + +Vavilov walked with his hands folded behind his back, and his +fingers tightly clasped. + +"You print there what you please, you blackguards!" he cried aloud. +"But don't you dare say a word about me!" + +Vasily Gusev came up to Nilovna and declared: + +"I am going to eat with you again. Is it good today?" And lowering +his head and screwing up his eyes, he added in an undertone: "You +see? It hit exactly! Good! Oh, mother, very good!" + +She nodded her head affably to him, flattered that Gusev, the +sauciest fellow in the village, addressed her with a respectful +plural "you," as he talked to her in secret. The general stir and +animation in the factory also pleased her, and she thought to +herself: "What would they do without me?" + +Three common laborers stopped at a short distance from her, and +one of them said with disappointment in his voice: "I couldn't +find any anywhere!" + +Another remarked: "I'd like to hear it, though. I can't read +myself, but I understand it hits them just in the right place." + +The third man looked around him, and said: "Let's go into the +boiler room. I'll read it for you there!" + +"It works!" Gusev whispered, a wink lurking in his eye. + +Nilovna came home in gay spirits. She had now seen for herself how +people are moved by books. + +"The people down there are sorry they can't read," she said to Andrey, +"and here am I who could when I was young, but have forgotten." + +"Learn over again, then," suggested the Little Russian. + +"At my age? What do you want to make fun of me for?" + +Andrey, however, took a book from the shelf and pointing with the +tip of a knife at a letter on the cover, asked: "What's this?" + +"R," she answered, laughing. + +"And this?" + +"A." + +She felt awkward, hurt, and offended. It seemed to her that Andrey's +eyes were laughing at her, and she avoided their look. But his +voice sounded soft and calm in her ears. She looked askance at +his face, once, and a second time. It was earnest and serious. + +"Do you really wish to teach me to read?" she asked with an +involuntary smile. + +"Why not?" he responded. "Try! If you once knew how to read, it +will come back to you easily. 'If no miracle it's no ill, and if +a miracle better still!'" + +"But they say that one does not become a saint by looking at a +sacred image!" + +"Eh," said the Little Russian, nodding his head. "There are +proverbs galore! For example: 'The less you know, the better you +sleep'--isn't that it? Proverbs are the material the stomach thinks +with; it makes bridles for the soul, to be able to control it +better. What the stomach needs is a rest, and the soul needs +freedom. What letter is this?" + +"M." + +"Yes, see how it sprawls. And this?" + +Straining her eyes and moving her eyebrows heavily, she recalled +with an effort the forgotten letters, and unconsciously yielding to +the force of her exertions, she was carried away by them, and forgot +herself. But soon her eyes grew tired. At first they became moist +with tears of fatigue; and then tears of sorrow rapidly dropped down +on the page. + +"I'm learning to read," she said, sobbing. "It's time for me to +die, and I'm just learning to read!" + +"You mustn't cry," said the Little Russian gently. "It wasn't your +fault you lived the way you did; and yet you understand that you +lived badly. There are thousands of people who could live better +than you, but who live like cattle and then boast of how well they +live. But what is good in their lives? To-day, their day's work +over, they eat, and to-morrow, their day's work over, they eat, and +so on through all their years--work and eat, work and eat! Along +with this they bring forth children, and at first amuse themselves +with them, but when they, too, begin to eat much, they grow surly +and scold: 'Come on, you gluttons! Hurry along! Grow up quick! +It's time you get to work!' and they would like to make beasts of +burden of their children. But the children begin to work for their +own stomachs, and drag their lives along as a thief drags a worthless +stolen mop. Their souls are never stirred with joy, never quickened +with a thought that melts the heart. Some live like mendicants-- +always begging; some like thieves--always snatching out of the hands +of others. They've made thieves' laws, placed men with sticks over +the people, and said to them: 'Guard our laws; they are very convenient +laws; they permit us to suck the blood out of the people!' They +try to squeeze the people from the outside, but the people resist, +and so they drive the rules inside so as to crush the reason, too." + +Leaning his elbows on the table and looking into the mother's face +with pensive eyes, he continued in an even, flowing voice: + +"Only those are men who strike the chains from off man's body and +from off his reason. And now you, too, are going into this work +according to the best of your ability." + +"I? Now, now! How can I?" + +"Why not? It's just like rain. Every drop goes to nourish the +seed! And when you are able to read, then--" He stopped and began +to laugh; then rose and paced up and down the room. + +"Yes, you must learn to read! And when Pavel gets back, won't you +surprise him, eh?" + +"Oh, Andriusha! For a young man everything is simple and easy! +But when you have lived to my age, you have lots of trouble, little +strength, and no mind at all left." + +In the evening the Little Russian went out. The mother lit a lamp +and sat down at a table to knit stockings. But soon she rose again, +walked irresolutely into the kitchen, bolted the outer door, and +straining her eyebrows walked back into the living room. She pulled +down the window curtains, and taking a book from the shelf, sat down +at the table again, looked around, bent down over the book, and +began to move her lips. When she heard a noise on the street, she +started, clapped the book shut with the palm of her hand, and +listened intently. And again, now closing, now opening her eyes, +she whispered: + +"E--z--a." + +With even precision and stern regularity the dull tick of the +pendulum marked the dying seconds. + +A knock at the door was heard; the mother jumped quickly to her feet, +thrust the book on the shelf, and walking up to the door asked anxiously: + +"Who's there?" + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Rybin came in, greeted her, and stroking his beard in a dignified +manner and peeping into the room with his dark eyes, remarked: + +"You used to let people into your house before, without inquiring +who they were. Are you alone?" + +"Yes." + +"You are? I thought the Little Russian was here. I saw him to-day. +The prison doesn't spoil a man. Stupidity, that's what spoils most +of all." + +He walked into the room, sat down and said to the mother: + +"Let's have a talk together. I have something to tell you. I have +a theory!" There was a significant and mysterious expression in his +face as he said this. It filled the mother with a sense of foreboding. +She sat down opposite him and waited in mute anxiety for him to speak. + +"Everything costs money!" he began in his gruff, heavy voice. "It +takes money to be born; it takes money to die. Books and leaflets +cost money, too. Now, then, do you know where all this money for +the books comes from?" + +"No, I don't know," replied the mother in a low voice, anticipating danger. + +"Nor do I! Another question I've got to ask is: Who writes those +books? The educated folks. The masters!" Rybin spoke curtly and +decisively, his voice grew gruffer and gruffer, and his bearded face +reddened as with the strain of exertion. "Now, then, the masters +write the books and distribute them. But the writings in the books +are against these very masters. Now, tell me, why do they spend their +money and their time to stir up the people against themselves? Eh?" + +Nilovna blinked, then opened her eyes wide and exclaimed in fright: + +"What do you think? Tell me." + +"Aha!" exclaimed Rybin, turning in his chair like a bear. "There you +are! When I reached that thought I was seized with a cold shiver, too." + +"Now what is it? Tell me! Did you find out anything?" + +"Deception! Fraud! I feel it. It's deception. I know nothing, +but I feel sure there's deception in it. Yes! The masters are up +to some clever trick, and I want nothing of it. I want the truth. +I understand what it is; I understand it. But I will not go hand +in hand with the masters. They'll push me to the front when it +suits them, and then walk over my bones as over a bridge to get +where they want to." + +At the sound of his morose words, uttered in a stubborn, thick, +and forceful voice, the mother's heart contracted in pain. + +"Good Lord!" she exclaimed in anguish. "Where is the truth? Can +it be that Pavel does not understand? And all those who come here +from the city--is it possible that they don't understand?" The +serious, honest faces of Yegor, Nikolay Ivanovich, and Sashenka +passed before her mind, and her heart fluttered. + +"No, no!" she said, shaking her head as if to dismiss the thought. +"I can't believe it. They are for truth and honor and conscience; +they have no evil designs; oh, no!" + +"Whom are you talking about?" asked Rybin thoughtfully. + +"About all of them! Every single one I met. They are not the +people who will traffic in human blood, oh, no!" Perspiration +burst out on her face, and her fingers trembled. + +"You are not looking in the right place, mother; look farther back," +said Rybin, drooping his head. "Those who are directly working in +the movement may not know anything about it themselves. They think +it must be so; they have the truth at heart. But there may be +people behind them who are looking out only for their own selfish +interests. Men won't go against themselves." And with the firm +conviction of a peasant fed on centuries of distrust, he added: "No +good will ever come from the masters! Take my word for it!" + +"What concoction has your brain put together?" the mother asked, +again seized with anxious misgiving. + +"I?" Rybin looked at her, was silent for a while, then repeated: +"Keep away from the masters! That's what!" He grew morosely silent +again, and seemed to shrink within himself. + +"I'll go away, mother," he said after a pause. "I wanted to join the +fellows, to work along with them. I'm fit for the work. I can read +and write. I'm persevering and not a fool. And the main thing is, I +know what to say to people. But now I will go. I can't believe, and +therefore I must go. I know, mother, that the people's souls are +foul and besmirched. All live on envy, all want to gorge themselves; +and since there's little to eat, each seeks to eat the other up." + +He let his head droop, and remained absorbed in thought for a while. +Finally he said: + +"I'll go all by myself through village and hamlet and stir the +people up. It's necessary that the people should take the matter +in their own hands and get to work themselves. Let them but +understand--they'll find a way themselves. And so, I'm going to +try to make them understand. There is no hope for them except in +themselves; there's no understanding for them except in their own +understanding! And that's the truth!" + +"They will seize you!" said the mother in a low voice. + +"They will seize me, and let me out again. And then I'll go ahead again!" + +"The peasants themselves will bind you, and you will be thrown into jail." + +"Well, I'll stay in jail for a time, then be released, and I'll go +on again. As for the peasants, they'll bind me once, twice, and +then they will understand that they ought not to bind me, but listen +to me. I'll tell them: 'I don't ask you to believe me; I want you +just to listen to me!' And if they listen, they will believe." + +Both the mother and Rybin spoke slowly, as if testing every word +before uttering it. + +"There's little joy for me in this, mother," said Rybin. "I have +lived here of late, and gobbled up a deal of stuff. Yes; I understand +some, too! And now I feel as if I were burying a child." + +"You'll perish, Mikhail Ivanych!" said the mother, shaking her head sadly. + +His dark, deep eyes looked at her with a questioning, expectant +look. His powerful body bent forward, propped by his hands resting +on the seat of the chair, and his swarthy face seemed pale in the +black frame of his beard. + +"Did you hear what Christ said about the seed? 'Thou shalt not die, +but rise to life again in the new ear.' I don't regard myself as +near death at all. I am shrewd. I follow a straighter course than +the others. You can get further that way. Only, you see, I feel +sorry--I don't know why." He fidgeted on his chair, then slowly +rose. "I'll go to the tavern and be with the people a while. The +Little Russian is not coming. Has he gotten busy already?" + +"Yes!" The mother smiled. "No sooner out of prison than they rush +to their work." + +"That's the way it should be. Tell him about me." + +They walked together slowly into the kitchen, and without looking +at each other exchanged brief remarks: + +"I'll tell him," she promised. + +"Well, good-by!" + +"Good-by! When do you quit your job?" + +"I have already." + +"When are you going?" + +"To-morrow, early in the morning. Good-by!" + +He bent his head and crawled off the porch reluctantly, it seemed, +and clumsily. The mother stood for a moment at the door listening +to the heavy departing footsteps and to the doubts that stirred in +her heart. Then she noiselessly turned away into the room, and +drawing the curtain peered through the window. Black darkness stood +behind, motionless, waiting, gaping, with its flat, abysmal mouth. + +"I live in the night!" she thought. "In the night forever!" She +felt a pity for the black-bearded, sedate peasant. He was so broad +and strong--and yet there was a certain helplessness about him, +as about all the people. + +Presently Andrey came in gay and vivacious. When the mother told +him about Rybin, he exclaimed: + +"Going, is he? Well, let him go through the villages. Let him +ring forth the word of truth. Let him arouse the people. It's +hard for him here with us." + +"He was talking about the masters. Is there anything in it?" +she inquired circumspectly. "Isn't it possible that they want +to deceive you?" + +"It bothers you, mother, doesn't it?" The Little Russian laughed. +"Oh, mother dear--money! If we only had money! We are still +living on charity. Take, for instance, Nikolay Ivanych. He earns +seventy-five rubles a month, and gives us fifty! And others do +the same. And the hungry students send us money sometimes, which +they collect penny by penny. And as to the masters, of course +there are different kinds among them. Some of them will deceive us, +and some will leave us; but the best will stay with us and march +with us up to our holiday." He clapped his hands, and rubbing them +vigorously against each other continued: "But not even the flight +of an eagle's wings will enable anyone to reach that holiday, so +we'll make a little one for the first of May. It will be jolly." + +His words and his vivacity dispelled the alarm excited in the +mother's heart by Rybin. The Little Russian walked up and down the +room, his feet sounding on the floor. He rubbed his head with one +hand and his chest with the other, and spoke looking at the floor: + +"You know, sometimes you have a wonderful feeling living in your +heart. It seems to you that wherever you go, all men are comrades; +all burn with one and the same fire; all are merry; all are good. +Without words they all understand one another; and no one wants to +hinder or insult the other. No one feels the need of it. All live +in unison, but each heart sings its own song. And the songs flow +like brooks into one stream, swelling into a huge river of bright +joys, rolling free and wide down its course. And when you think +that this will be--that it cannot help being if we so wish it--then +the wonderstruck heart melts with joy. You feel like weeping--you +feel so happy." + +He spoke and looked as if he were searching something within +himself. The mother listened and tried not to stir, so as not to +disturb him and interrupt his speech. She always listened to him +with more attention than to anybody else. He spoke more simply +than all the rest, and his words gripped her heart more powerfully. +Pavel, too, was probably looking to the future. How could it be +otherwise, when one is following such a course of life? But when +he looked into the remote future it was always by himself; he never +spoke of what he saw. This Little Russian, however, it seemed to +her, was always there with a part of his heart; the legend of the +future holiday for all upon earth, always sounded in his speech. +This legend rendered the meaning of her son's life, of his work, +and that of all of his comrades, clear to the mother. + +"And when you wake up," continued the Little Russian, tossing his +head and letting his hands drop alongside his body, "and look around, +you see it's all filthy and cold. All are tired and angry; human +life is all churned up like mud on a busy highway, and trodden underfoot!" + +He stopped in front of the mother, and with deep sorrow in his eyes, +and shaking his head, added in a low, sad voice: + +"Yes, it hurts, but you must--you must distrust man; you must fear +him, and even hate him! Man is divided, he is cut in two by life. +You'd like only to love him; but how is it possible? How can you +forgive a man if he goes against you like a wild beast, does not +recognize that there is a living soul in you, and kicks your face-- +a human face! You must not forgive. It's not for yourself that +you mustn't. I'd stand all the insults as far as I myself am +concerned; but I don't want to show indulgence for insults. I don't +want to let them learn on my back how to beat others!" + +His eyes now sparkled with a cold gleam; he inclined his head +doggedly, and continued in a more resolute tone: + +"I must not forgive anything that is noxious, even though it does +not hurt! I'm not alone in the world. If I allow myself to be +insulted to-day--maybe I can afford to laugh at the insult, maybe +it doesn't sting me at all--but, having tested his strength on me, +the offender will proceed to flay some one else the next day! That's +why one is compelled to discriminate between people, to keep a firm +grip on one's heart, and to classify mankind--these belong to me, +those are strangers." + +The mother thought of the officer and Sashenka, and said with a sigh: + +"What sort of bread can you expect from unbolted meal?" + +"That's it; that's the trouble!" the Little Russian exclaimed. +"You must look with two kinds of eyes; two hearts throb in your +bosom. The one loves all; the other says: 'Halt! You mustn't!'" + +The figure of her husband, somber and ponderous, like a huge +moss-covered stone, now rose in her memory. She made a mental +image for herself of the Little Russian as married to Natasha, +and her son as the husband of Sashenka. + +"And why?" asked the Little Russian, warming up. "It's so plainly +evident that it's downright ridiculous--simply because men don't +stand on an equal footing. Then let's equalize them, put them all +in one row! Let's divide equally all that's produced by the brains +and all that's made by the hands. Let's not keep one another in the +slavery of fear and envy, in the thraldom of greed and stupidity!" + +The mother and the Little Russian now began to carry on such +conversations with each other frequently. He was again taken into +the factory. He turned over all his earnings to the mother, and +she took the money from him with as little fuss as from Pavel. +Sometimes Andrey would suggest with a twinkle in his eyes: + +"Shall we read a little, mother, eh?" + +She would invariably refuse, playfully but resolutely. The twinkle +in his eyes discomfited her, and she thought to herself, with a +slight feeling of offense: "If you laugh at me, then why do you +ask me to read with you?" + +He noticed that the mother began to ask him with increasing +frequency for the meaning of this or that book word. She always +looked aside when asking for such information, and spoke in a +monotonous tone of indifference. He divined that she was studying +by herself in secret, understood her bashfulness, and ceased to +invite her to read with him. Shortly afterwards she said to him: + +"My eyes are getting weak, Andriusha. I guess I need glasses." + +"All right! Next Sunday I'll take you to a physician in the city, +a friend of mine, and you shall have glasses!" + +She, had already been three times in the prison to ask for a meeting +with Pavel, and each time the general of the gendarmes, a gray old +man with purple cheeks and a huge nose, turned her gently away. + +"In about a week, little mother, not before! A week from now we +shall see, but at present it's impossible!" + +He was a round, well-fed creature, and somehow reminded her of a +ripe plum, somewhat spoiled by too long keeping, and already covered +with a downy mold. He kept constantly picking his small, white teeth +with a sharp yellow toothpick. There was a little smile in his +small greenish eyes, and his voice had a friendly, caressing sound. + +"Polite!" said the mother to the Little Russian with a thoughtful air. +"Always with a smile on him. I don't think it's right. When a man +is tending to affairs like these, I don't think he ought to grin." + +"Yes, yes. They are so gentle, always smiling. If they should be +told: 'Look here, this man is honest and wise, he is dangerous to us; +hang him!' they would still smile and hang him, and keep on smiling." + +"The one who made the search in our place is the better of the two; +he is simpler. You can see at once that he is a dog." + +"None of them are human beings; they are used to stun the people +and render them insensible. They are tools, the means wherewith +our kind is rendered more convenient to the state. They themselves +have already been so fixed that they have become convenient +instruments in the hand that governs us. They can do whatever they +are told to do without thought, without asking why it is necessary +to do it." + +At last Vlasova got permission to see her son, and one Sunday she +was sitting modestly in a corner of the prison office, a low, +narrow, dingy apartment, where a few more people were sitting and +waiting for permission to see their relatives and friends. Evidently +it was not the first time they were here, for they knew one another +and in a low voice kept up a lazy, languid conversation. + +"Have you heard?" said a stout woman with a wizened face and a +traveling bag on her lap. "At early mass to-day the church regent +again ripped up the ear of one of the choir boys." + +An elderly man in the uniform of a retired soldier coughed aloud +and remarked: + +"These choir boys are such loafers!" + +A short, bald, little man with short legs, long arms, and protruding +jaw, ran officiously up and down the room. Without stopping he said +in a cracked, agitated voice: + +"The cost of living is getting higher and higher. An inferior +quality of beef, fourteen cents; bread has again risen to two +and a half." + +Now and then prisoners came into the room--gray, monotonous, with +coarse, heavy, leather shoes. They blinked as they entered; iron +chains rattled at the feet of one of them. The quiet and calm and +simplicity all around produced a strange, uncouth impression. It +seemed as if all had grown accustomed to their situation. Some sat +there quietly, others looked on idly, while still others seemed to +pay their regular visits with a sense of weariness. The mother's +heart quivered with impatience, and she looked with a puzzled air at +everything around her, amazed at the oppressive simplicity of life +in this corner of the world. + +Next to Vlasova sat a little old woman with a wrinkled face, but +youthful eyes. She kept her thin neck turned to listen to the +conversation, and looked about on all sides with a strange +expression of eagerness in her face. + +"Whom have you here?" Vlasova asked softly. + +"A son, a student," answered the old woman in a loud, brusque voice. +"And you?" + +"A son, also. A workingman." + +"What's the name?" + +"Vlasov." + +"Never heard of him. How long has he been in prison?" + +"Seven weeks." + +"And mine has been in for ten months," said the old woman, with a +strange note of pride in her voice which did not escape the notice +of the mother. + +A tall lady dressed in black, with a thin, pale face, said lingeringly: + +"They'll soon put all the decent people in prison. They can't +endure them, they loathe them!" + +"Yes, yes!" said the little old bald man, speaking rapidly. "All +patience is disappearing. Everybody is excited; everybody is +clamoring, and prices are mounting higher and higher. As a consequence +the value of men is depreciating. And there is not a single, +conciliatory voice heard, not one!" + +"Perfectly true!" said the retired military man. "It's monstrous! +What's wanted is a voice, a firm voice to cry, 'Silence!' Yes, +that's what we want--a firm voice!" + +The conversation became more general and animated. Everybody was +in a hurry to give his opinion about life; but all spoke in a +half-subdued voice, and the mother noticed a tone of hostility in +all, which was new to her. At home they spoke differently, more +intelligibly, more simply, and more loudly. + +The fat warden with a square red beard called out her name, looked +her over from head to foot, and telling her to follow him, walked +off limping. She followed him, and felt like pushing him to make +him go faster. Pavel stood in a small room, and on seeing his +mother smiled and put out his hand to her. She grasped it, laughed, +blinked swiftly, and at a loss for words merely asked softly: + +"How are you? How are you?" + +"Compose yourself, mother." Pavel pressed her hand. + +"It's all right! It's all right!" + +"Mother," said the warden, fetching a sigh, "suppose you move away +from each other a bit. Let there be some distance between you." +He yawned aloud. + +Pavel asked the mother about her health and about home. She waited +for some other questions, sought them in her son's eyes, but could +not find them. He was calm as usual, although his face had grown +paler, and his eyes seemed larger. + +"Sasha sends you her regards," she said. Pavel's eyelids quivered +and fell. His face became softer and brightened with a clear, open +smile. A poignant bitterness smote the mother's heart. + +"Will they let you out soon?" she inquired in a tone of sudden +injury and agitation. "Why have they put you in prison? Those +papers and pamphlets have appeared in the factory again, anyway." + +Pavel's eyes flashed with delight. + +"Have they? When? Many of them?" + +"It is forbidden to talk about this subject!" the warden lazily +announced. "You may talk only of family matters." + +"And isn't this a family matter?" retorted the mother. + +"I don't know. I only know it's forbidden. You may talk about his +wash and underwear and food, but nothing else!" insisted the warden, +his voice, however, expressing utter indifference. + +"All right," said Pavel. "Keep to domestic affairs, mother. What +are you doing?" + +She answered boldly, seized with youthful ardor: + +"I carry all this to the factory." She paused with a smile and +continued: "Sour soup, gruel, all Marya's cookery, and other stuff." + +Pavel understood. The muscles of his face quivered with restrained +laughter. He ran his fingers through his hair and said in a tender +tone, such as she had never heard him use: + +"My own dear mother! That's good! It's good you've found something +to do, so it isn't tedious for you. You don't feel lonesome, do +you, mother?" + +"When the leaflets appeared, they searched me, too," she said, +not without a certain pride. + +"Again on this subject!" said the warden in an offended tone. "I +tell you it's forbidden, it's not allowed. They have deprived him +of liberty so that he shouldn't know anything about it; and here +you are with your news. You ought to know it's forbidden!" + +"Well, leave it, mother," said Pavel. "Matvey Ivanovich is a good +man. You mustn't do anything to provoke him. We get along together +very well. It's by chance he's here to-day with us. Usually, it's +the assistant superintendent who is present on such occasions. +That's why Matvey Ivanovich is afraid you will say something you +oughtn't to." + +"Time's up!" announced the warden looking at his watch. "Take your leave!" + +"Well, thank you," said Pavel. "Thank you, my darling mother! +Don't worry now. They'll let me out soon." + +He embraced her, pressed her warmly to his bosom, and kissed her. +Touched by his endearments, and happy, she burst into tears. + +"Now separate!" said the warden, and as he walked off with the +mother he mumbled: + +"Don't cry! They'll let him out; they'll let everybody out. It's +too crowded here." + +At home the mother told the Little Russian of her conversation with +Pavel, and her face wore a broad smile. + +"I told him! Yes, indeed! And cleverly, too. He understood!" +and, heaving a melancholy sigh: "Oh, yes, he understood; otherwise +he wouldn't have been so tender and affectionate. He has never +been that way before." + +"Oh, mother!" the Little Russian laughed. "No matter what other +people may want, a mother always wants affection. You certainly +have a heart plenty big enough for one man!" + +"But those people! Just think, Andriusha!" she suddenly exclaimed, +amazement in her tone. "How used they get to all this! Their +children are taken away from them, are thrown into dungeons, and, +mind you, it's as nothing to them! They come, sit about, wait, +and talk. What do you think of that? If intelligent people are +that way, if they can so easily get accustomed to a thing like that, +then what's to be said about the common people?" + +"That's natural," said the Little Russian with his usual smile. +"The law after all is not so harsh toward them as toward us. And +they need the law more than we do. So that when the law hits them +on the head, although they cry out they do not cry very loud. +Your own stick does not fall upon you so heavily. For them the +laws are to some extent a protection, but for us they are only +chains to keep us bound so we can't kick." + +Three days afterwards in the evening, when the mother sat at the +table knitting stockings and the Little Russian was reading to her +from a book about the revolt of the Roman slaves, a loud knock was +heard at the door. The Little Russian went to open it and admitted +Vyesovshchikov with a bundle under his arm, his hat pushed back on +his head, and mud up to his knees. + +"I was passing by, and seeing a light in your house, I dropped in to +ask you how you are. I've come straight from the prison." + +He spoke in a strange voice. He seized Vlasov's hand and wrung it +violently as he added: "Pavel sends you his regards." Irresolutely +seating himself in a chair he scanned the room with his gloomy, +suspicious look. + +The mother was not fond of him. There was something in his angular, +close-cropped head and in his small eyes that always scared her; +but now she was glad to see him, and with a broad smile lighting +her face she said in a tender, animated voice: + +"How thin you've become! Say, Andriusha, let's dose him with tea." + +"I'm putting up the samovar already!" the Little Russian called +from the kitchen. + +"How is Pavel? Have they let anybody else out besides yourself?" + +Nikolay bent his head and answered: + +"I'm the only one they've let go." He raised his eyes to the +mother's face and said slowly, speaking through his teeth with +ponderous emphasis: "I told them: 'Enough! Let me go! Else +I'll kill some one here, and myself, too!' So they let me go!" + +"Hm, hm--ye-es," said the mother, recoiling from him and involuntarily +blinking when her gaze met his sharp, narrow eyes. + +"And how is Fedya Mazin?" shouted the Little Russian from the +kitchen. "Writing poetry, is he?" + +"Yes! I don't understand it," said Nikolay, shaking his head. +"They've put him in a cage and he sings. There's only one thing +I'm sure about, and that is I have no desire to go home." + +"Why should you want to go home? What's there to attract you?" +said the mother pensively. "It's empty, there's no fire burning, +and it's chilly all over." + +Vyesovshchikov sat silent, his eyes screwed up. Taking a box of +cigarettes from his pocket he leisurely lit one of them, and looking +at the gray curl of smoke dissolve before him he grinned like a +big, surly dog. + +"Yes, I guess it's cold. And the floor is filled with frozen +cockroaches, and even the mice are frozen, too, I suppose. +Pelagueya Nilovna, will you let me sleep here to-night, please?" +he asked hoarsely without looking at her. + +"Why, of course, Nikolay! You needn't even ask it!" the mother +quickly replied. She felt embarrassed and ill at ease in Nikolay's +presence, and did not know what to speak to him about. But he +himself went on to talk in a strangely broken voice. + +"We live in a time when children are ashamed of their own parents." + +"What!" exclaimed the mother, starting. + +He glanced up at her and closed his eyes. His pockmarked face +looked like that of a blind man. + +"I say that children have to be ashamed of their parents," he +repeated, sighing aloud. "Now, don't you be afraid. It's not +meant for you. Pavel will never be ashamed of you. But I am +ashamed of my father, and shall never enter his house again. I +have no father, no home! They have put me under the surveillance +of the police, else I'd go to Siberia. I think a man who won't +spare himself could do a great deal in Siberia. I would free +convicts there and arrange for their escape." + +The mother understood, with her ready feelings, what agony this man +must be undergoing, but his pain awoke no sympathetic response in her. + +"Well, of course, if that's the case, then it's better for you to +go," she said, in order not to offend him by silence. + +Andrey came in from the kitchen, and said, smiling: + +"Well, are you sermonizing, eh?" + +The mother rose and walked away, saying: + +"I'm going to get something to eat." + +Vyesovshchikov looked at the Little Russian fixedly and suddenly declared: + +"I think that some people ought to be killed off!" + +"Oho! And pray what for?" asked the Little Russian calmly. + +"So they cease to be." + +"Ahem! And have you the right to make corpses out of living people?" + +"Yes, I have." + +"Where did you get it from?" + +"The people themselves gave it to me." + +The Little Russian stood in the middle of the room, tall and spare, +swaying on his legs, with his hands thrust in his pockets, and +looked down on Nikolay. Nikolay sat firmly in his chair, enveloped +in clouds of smoke, with red spots on his face showing through. + +"The people gave it to me!" he repeated clenching his fist. "If +they kick me I have the right to strike them and punch their eyes +out! Don't touch me, and I won't touch you! Let me live as I +please, and I'll live in peace and not touch anybody. Maybe I'd +prefer to live in the woods. I'd build myself a cabin in the +ravine by the brook and live there. At any rate, I'd live alone." + +"Well, go and live that way, if it pleases you," said the Little +Russian, shrugging his shoulders. + +"Now?" asked Nikolay. He shook his head in negation and replied, +striking his fist on his knee: + +"Now it's impossible!" + +"Who's in your way?" + +"The people!" Vyesovshchikov retorted brusquely. "I'm hitched to +them even unto death. They've hedged my heart around with hatred +and tied me to themselves with evil. That's a strong tie! I hate +them, and I will not go away; no, never! I'll be in their way. +I'll harass their lives. They are in my way, I'll be in theirs. +I'll answer only for myself, only for myself, and for no one else. +And if my father is a thief----" + +"Oh!" said the Little Russian in a low voice, moving up to Nikolay. + +"And as for Isay Gorbov, I'll wring his head off! You shall see!" + +"What for?" asked the Little Russian in a quiet, earnest voice. + +"He shouldn't be a spy; he shouldn't go about denouncing people. +It's through him my father's gone to the dogs, and it's owing to +him that he now is aiming to become a spy," said Vyesovshchikov, +looking at Andrey with a dark, hostile scowl. + +"Oh, that's it!" exclaimed the Little Russian. "And pray, who'd +blame you for that? Fools!" + +"Both the fools and the wise are smeared with the same oil!" said +Nikolay heavily. "Here are you a wise fellow, and Pavel, too. +And do you mean to say that I am the same to you as Fedya Mazin or +Samoylov, or as you two are to each other? Don't lie! I won't +believe you, anyway. You all push me aside to a place apart, all +by myself." + +"Your heart is aching, Nikolay!" said the Little Russian softly and +tenderly sitting down beside him. + +"Yes, it's aching, and so is your heart. But your aches seem nobler +to you than mine. We are all scoundrels toward one another, that's +what I say. And what have you to say to that?" + +He fixed his sharp gaze on Andrey, and waited with set teeth. His +mottled face remained immobile, and a quiver passed over his thick +lips, as if scorched by a flame. + +"I have nothing to say!" said the Little Russian, meeting Vyesovshchikov's +hostile glance with a bright, warm, yet melancholy look of his blue +eyes. "I know that to argue with a man at a time when all the wounds +of his heart are bleeding, is only to insult him. I know it, brother." + +"It's impossible to argue with me; I can't," mumbled Nikolay, +lowering his eyes. + +"I think," continued the Little Russian, "that each of us has gone +through that, each of us has walked with bare feet over broken glass, +each of us in his dark hour has gasped for breath as you are now." + +"You have nothing to tell me!" said Vyesovshchikov slowly. "Nothing! +My heart is so--it seems to me as if wolves were howling there!" + +"And I don't want to say anything to you. Only I know that you'll +get over this, perhaps not entirely, but you'll get over it!" He +smiled, and added, tapping Nikolay on the back: "Why, man, this is +a children's disease, something like measles! We all suffer from +it, the strong less, the weak more. It comes upon a man at the +period when he has found himself, but does not yet understand life, +and his own place in life. And when you do not see your place, and +are unable to appraise your own value, it seems that you are the +only, the inimitable cucumber on the face of the earth, and that no +one can measure, no one can fathom your worth, and that all are +eager only to eat you up. After a while you'll find out that the +hearts in other people's breasts are no worse than a good part of +your own heart, and you'll begin to feel better. And somewhat +ashamed, too! Why should you climb up to the belfry tower, when +your bell is so small that it can't be heard in the great peal of +the holiday bells? Moreover, you'll see that in chorus the sound of +your bell will be heard, too, but by itself the old church bells +will drown it in their rumble as a fly is drowned in oil. Do you +understand what I am saying?" + +"Maybe I understand," Nikolay said, nodding his head. "Only I +don't believe it." + +The Little Russian broke into a laugh, jumped to his feet, and +began to run noisily up and down the room. + +"I didn't believe it either. Ah, you--wagonload!" + +"Why a wagonload?" Nikolay asked with a sad smile, looking at the +Little Russian. + +"Because there's a resemblance!" + +Suddenly Nikolay broke into a loud guffaw, his mouth opening wide. + +"What is it?" the Little Russian asked in surprise, stopping in +front of him. + +"It struck me that he'd be a fool who'd want to insult you!" Nikolay +declared, shaking his head. + +"Why, how can you insult me?" asked the Little Russian, shrugging +his shoulders. + +"I don't know," said Vyesovshchikov, grinning good-naturedly or +perhaps condescendingly. "I only wanted to say that a man must +feel mighty ashamed of himself after he'd insulted you." + +"There now! See where you got to!" laughed the Little Russian. + +"Andriusha!" the mother called from the kitchen. "Come get the +samovar. It's ready!" + +Andrey walked out of the room, and Vyesovshchikov, left alone, +looked about, stretched out his foot sheathed in a coarse, heavy +boot, looked at it, bent down, and felt the stout calf of his legs. +Then he raised one hand to his face, carefully examined the palm, +and turned it around. His short-fingered hand was thick, and +covered with yellowish hair. He waved it in the air, and arose. + +When Andrey brought in the samovar, Vyesovshchikov was standing +before the mirror, and greeted him with these words: + +"It's a long time since I've seen my face." Then he laughed and +added: "It's an ugly face I have!" + +"What's that to you?" asked Andrey, turning a curious look upon him. + +"Sashenka says the face is the mirror of the heart!" Nikolay +replied, bringing out the words slowly. + +"It's not true, though!" the little Russian ejaculated. "She has +a nose like a mushroom, cheek bones like a pair of scissors; yet +her heart is like a bright little star." + +They sat down to drink tea. + +Vyesovshchikov took a big potato, heavily salted a slice of bread, +and began to chew slowly and deliberately, like an ox. + +"And how are matters here?" he asked, with his mouth full. + +When Andrey cheerfully recounted to him the growth the socialist +propaganda in the factory, he again grew morose and remarked dully: + +"It takes too long! Too long, entirely! It ought go faster!" + +The mother regarded him, and was seized with a feeling of hostility +toward this man. + +"Life is not a horse; you can't set it galloping with a whip," said Andrey. + +But Vyesovshchikov stubbornly shook his head, and proceeded: + +"It's slow! I haven't the patience. What am I to do?" He opened +his arms in a gesture of helplessness, and waited for a response. + +"We all must learn and teach others. That's our business!" said +Andrey, bending his head. + +Vyesovshchikov asked: + +"And when are we going to fight?" + +"There'll be more than one butchery of us up to that time, that I +know!" answered the Little Russian with a smile. "But when we shall +be called on to fight, that I don't know! First, you see, we must +equip the head, and then the hand. That's what I think." + +"The heart!" said Nikolay laconically. + +"And the heart, too." + +Nikolay became silent, and began to eat again. From the corner of +her eye the mother stealthily regarded his broad, pockmarked face, +endeavoring to find something in it to reconcile her to the +unwieldy, square figure of Vyesovshchikov. Her eyebrows fluttered +whenever she encountered the shooting glance of his little eyes. +Andrey held his head in his hands; he became restless--he suddenly +laughed, and then abruptly stopped, and began to whistle. + +It seemed to the mother that she understood his disquietude. +Nikolay sat at the table without saying anything; and when the +Little Russian addressed a question to him, he answered briefly, +with evident reluctance. + +The little room became too narrow and stifling for its two occupants, +and they glanced, now the one, now the other, at their guest. + +At length Nikolay rose and said: "I'd like to go to bed. I sat +and sat in prison--suddenly they let me go; I'm off!--I'm tired!" + +He went into the kitchen and stirred about for a while. Then a +sudden stillness settled down. The mother listened for a sound, +and whispered to Andrey: "He has something terrible in his mind!" + +"Yes, he's hard to understand!" the Little Russian assented, shaking +his head. "But you go to bed, mother, I am going to stay and read +a while." + +She went to the corner where the bed was hidden from view by chintz +curtains. Andrey, sitting at the table, for a long while listened +to the warm murmur of her prayers and sighs. Quickly turning the +pages of the book Andrey nervously rubbed his lips, twitched his +mustache with his long fingers, and scraped his feet on the floor. +Ticktock, ticktock went the pendulum of the clock; and the wind +moaned as it swept past the window. + +Then the mother's low voice was heard: + +"Oh, God! How many people there are in the world, and each one +wails in his own way. Where, then, are those who feel rejoiced?" + +"Soon there will be such, too, soon!" announced the Little Russian. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Life flowed on swiftly. The days were diversified and full of +color. Each one brought with it something new, and the new ceased +to alarm the mother. Strangers came to the house in the evening +more and more frequently, and they talked with Andrey in subdued +voices with an engrossed air. Late at night they went out into the +darkness, their collars up, their hats thrust low over their faces, +noiselessly, cautiously. All seemed to feel a feverish excitement, +which they kept under restraint, and had the air of wanting to sing +and laugh if they only had the time. They were all in a perpetual +hurry. All of them--the mocking and the serious, the frank, jovial +youth with effervescing strength, the thoughtful and quiet--all of +them in the eyes of the mother were identical in the persistent +faith that characterized them; and although each had his own peculiar +cast of countenance, for her all their faces blended into one thin, +composed, resolute face with a profound expression in its dark eyes, +kind yet stern, like the look in Christ's eyes on his way to Emmaus. + +The mother counted them, and mentally gathered them together into a +group around Pavel. In that throng he became invisible to the eyes +of the enemy. + +One day a vivacious, curly-haired girl appeared from the city, +bringing some parcel for Andrey; and on leaving she said to Vlasova, +with a gleam in her merry eyes: + +"Good-by, comrade!" + +"Good-by!" the mother answered, restraining a smile. After seeing +the girl to the door, she walked to the window and, smiling, looked +out on the street to watch her comrade as she trotted away, nimbly +raising and dropping her little feet, fresh as a spring flower and +light as a butterfly. + +"Comrade!" said the mother when her guest had disappeared from her +view. "Oh, you dear! God grant you a comrade for all your life!" + +She often noticed in all the people from the city a certain +childishness, for which she had the indulgent smile of an elderly +person; but at the same time she was touched and joyously surprised +by their faith, the profundity of which she began to realize more +and more clearly. Their visions of the triumph of justice captivated +her and warmed her heart. As she listened to their recital of +future victories, she involuntarily sighed with an unknown sorrow. +But what touched her above all was their simplicity, their beautiful, +grand, generous unconcern for themselves. + +She had already come to understand a great deal of what was said +about life. She felt they had in reality discovered the true source +of the people's misfortune, and it became a habit with her to agree +with their thoughts. But at the bottom of her heart she did not +believe that they could remake the whole of life according to their +idea, or that they would have strength enough to gather all the +working people about their fire. Everyone, she knew, wants to fill +his stomach to-day, and no one wants to put his dinner off even for +a week, if he can eat it up at once. Not many would consent to +travel the long and difficult road; and not all eyes could see at +the end the promised kingdom where all men are brothers. That's why +all these good people, despite their beards and worn faces, seemed +to her mere children. + +"My dear ones!" she thought, shaking her head. + +But they all now lived a good, earnest, and sensible life; they all +spoke of the common weal; and in their desire to teach other people +what they knew, they did not spare themselves. She understood that +it was possible to love such a life, despite its dangers; and with +a sigh she looked back to bygone days in which her past dragged along +flatly and monotonously, a thin, black thread. Imperceptibly she +grew conscious of her usefulness in this new life--a consciousness +that gave her poise and assurance. She had never before felt herself +necessary to anybody. When she had lived with her husband, she knew +that if she died he would marry another woman. It was all the same +to him whether a dark-haired or a red-haired woman lived with him +and prepared his meals. When Pavel grew up and began to run about +in the street, she saw that she was not needed by him. But now she +felt that she was helping a good work. It was new to her and +pleasant. It set her head erect on her shoulders. + +She considered it her duty to carry the books regularly to the +factory. Indeed, she elaborated a number of devices for escaping +detection. The spies, grown accustomed to her presence on the +factory premises, ceased to pay attention to her. She was searched +several times, but always the day after the appearance of the +leaflets in the factory. When she had no literature about her, she +knew how to arouse the suspicion of the guards and spies. They +would halt her, and she would pretend to feel insulted, and would +remonstrate with them, and then walk off blushing, proud of her +clever ruse. She began to enjoy the fun of the game. + +Vyesovshchikov was not taken back to the factory, and went to work +for a lumberman. The whole day long he drove about the village +with a pair of black horses pulling planks and beams after them. +The mother saw him almost daily with the horses as they plodded +along the road, their feet trembling under the strain and dropping +heavily upon the ground. They were both old and bare-boned, their +heads shook wearily and sadly, and their dull, jaded eyes blinked +heavily. Behind them jerkingly trailed a long beam, or a pile of +boards clattering loudly. And by their side Nikolay trudged along, +holding the slackened reins in his hand, ragged, dirty, with heavy +boots, his hat thrust back, uncouth as a stump just turned up from +the ground. He, too, shook his head and looked down at his feet, +refusing to see anything. His horses blindly ran into the people +and wagons going the opposite direction. Angry oaths buzzed about +him like hornets, and sinister shouts rent the air. He did not +raise his head, did not answer them, but went on, whistling a sharp, +shrill whistle, mumbling dully to the horses. + +Every time that Andrey's comrades gathered at the mother's house to +read pamphlets or the new issue of the foreign papers, Nikolay came +also, sat down in a corner, and listened in silence for an hour or +two. When the reading was over the young people entered into long +discussions; but Vyesovshchikov took no part in the arguments. He +remained longer than the rest, and when alone, face to face with +Andrey, he glumly put to him the question: + +"And who is the most to blame? The Czar?" + +"The one to blame is he who first said: 'This is mine.' That man +has now been dead some several thousand years, and it's not worth +the while to bear him a grudge," said the Little Russian, jesting. +His eyes, however, had a perturbed expression. + +"And how about the rich, and those who stand up for them? Are they right?" + +The Little Russian clapped his hands to his head; then pulled his +mustache, and spoke for a long time in simple language about life +and about the people. But from his talk it always appeared as if +all the people were to blame, and this did not satisfy Nikolay. +Compressing his thick lips tightly, he shook his head in demur, and +declared that he could not believe it was so, and that he did not +understand it. He left dissatisfied and gloomy. Once he said: + +"No, there must be people to blame! I'm sure there are! I tell +you, we must plow over the whole of life like a weedy field, showing +no mercy!" + +"That's what Isay, the record clerk, once said about us!" the mother +said. For a while the two were silent. + +"Isay?" + +"Yes, he's a bad man. He spies after everybody, fishes about +everywhere for information. He has begun to frequent this street, +and peers into our windows." + +"Peers into your windows?" + +The mother was already in bed and did not see his face. But she +understood that she had said too much, because the Little Russian +hastened to interpose in order to conciliate Nikolay. + +"Let him peer! He has leisure. That's his way of killing time." + +"No hold on!" said Nikolay. "THERE! He is to blame!" + +"To blame for what?" the Little Russian asked brusquely. "Because +he's a fool?" + +But Vyesovshchikov did not stop to answer and walked away. + +The Little Russian began to pace up and down the room, slowly and +languidly. He had taken off his boots as he always did when the +mother was in bed in order not to disturb her. But she was not +asleep, and when Nikolay had left she said anxiously: + +"I'm so afraid of that man. He's just like an overheated oven. +He does not warm things, but scorches them." + +"Yes, yes!" the Little Russian drawled. "He's an irascible boy. +I wouldn't talk to him about Isay, mother. That fellow Isay is +really spying and getting paid for it, too." + +"What's so strange in that? His godfather is a gendarme," observed +the mother. + +"Well, Nikolay will give him a dressing. What of it?" the Little +Russian continued uneasily. "See what hard feelings the rulers of +our life have produced in the rank and file? When such people as +Nikolay come to recognize their wrong and lose their patience, what +will happen then? The sky will be sprinkled with blood, and the +earth will froth and foam with it like the suds of soap water." + +"It's terrible, Andriusha!" the mother exclaimed in a low voice. + +"They have swallowed flies, and have to vomit them now!" said Andrey +after a pause. "And after all, mother, every drop of their blood +that may be shed will have been washed in seas of the people's tears." + +Suddenly he broke into a low laugh and added: + +"That's true; but it's no comfort!" + +Once on a holiday the mother, on returning home from a store, opened +the door of the porch, and remained fixed to the spot, suddenly +bathed in the sunshine of joy. From the room she heard the sound +of Pavel's voice. + +"There she is!" cried the Little Russian. + +The mother saw Pavel turn about quickly, and saw how his face +lighted up with a feeling that held out the promise of something +great to her. + +"There you are--come home!" she mumbled, staggered by the unexpectedness +of the event. She sat down. + +He bent down to her with a pale face, little tears glistened +brightly in the corners of his eyes, and his lips trembled. For a +moment he was silent. The mother looked at him, and was silent also. + +The Little Russian, whistling softly, passed by them with bent head +and walked out into the yard. + +"Thank you, mother," said Pavel in a deep, low voice, pressing her +hand with his trembling fingers. "Thank you, my dear, my own +mother!" + +Rejoiced at the agitated expression of her son's face and the +touching sound of his voice, she stroked his hair and tried to +restrain the palpitation of her heart. She murmured softly: + +"Christ be with you! What have I done for you? It isn't I who +have made you what you are. It's you yourself----" + +"Thank you for helping our great cause!" he said. "When a man can +call his mother his own in spirit also--that's rare fortune!" + +She said nothing, and greedily swallowed his words. She admired +her son as he stood before her so radiant and so near. + +"I was silent, mother dear. I saw that many things in my life hurt +you. I was sorry for you, and yet I could not help it. I was +powerless! I thought you could never get reconciled to us, that you +could never adopt our ideas as yours, but that you would suffer in +silence as you had suffered all your life long. It was hard." + +"Andriusha made me understand many things!" she declared, in her +desire to turn her son's attention to his comrade. + +"Yes, he told me about you," said Pavel, laughing. + +"And Yegor, too! He is a countryman of mine, you know. Andriusha +wanted to teach me to read, also." + +"And you got offended, and began to study by yourself in secret." + +"Oh, so he found me out!" she exclaimed in embarrassment. Then +troubled by this abundance of joy which filled her heart she again +suggested to Pavel: + +"Shan't we call him in? He went out on purpose, so as not to +disturb us. He has no mother." + +"Andrey!" shouted Pavel, opening the door to the porch. "Where are you?" + +"Here. I want to chop some wood." + +"Never mind! There's time enough! Come here!" + +"All right! I'm coming!" + +But he did not come at once; and on entering the kitchen he said +in a housekeeper-like fashion: + +"We must tell Nikolay to bring us wood. We have very little wood +left. You see, mother, how well Pavel looks? Instead of punishing +the rebels, the government only fattens them." + +The mother laughed. Her heart was still leaping with joy. She was +fairly intoxicated with happiness. But a certain, cautious, chary +feeling already called forth in her the wish to see her son calm as +he always was. She wanted this first joy in her life to remain +fixed in her heart forever as live and strong as at first. In order +to guard against the diminution of her happiness; she hastened to +hide it, as a fowler secrets some rare bird that has happened to +fall into his hands. + +"Let's have dinner! Pasha, haven't you had anything to eat yet?" +she asked with anxious haste. + +"No. I learned yesterday from the warden that I was to be released, +and I couldn't eat or drink anything to-day." + +"The first person I met here was Sizov," Pavel communicated to +Andrey. "He caught sight of me and crossed the street to greet me. +I told him that he ought to be more careful now, as I was a +dangerous man under the surveillance of the police. But he said: +'Never mind!' and you ought to have heard him inquire about his +nephew! 'Did Fedor conduct himself properly in prison?' I wanted +to know what is meant by proper behavior in prison, and he declared: +'Well, did he blab anything he shouldn't have against his comrades?' +And when I told him that Fedya was an honest and wise young man, he +stroked his beard and declared proudly: 'We, the Sizovs, have no +trash in our family.'" + +"He's a brainy old man!" said the Little Russian, nodding his head. +"We often have talks with him. He's a fine peasant. Will they +let Fedya out soon?" + +"Yes, one of these days, I suppose. They'll let out all, I think. +They have no evidence except Isay's, and what can he say?" + +The mother walked up and down the room, and looked at her son. +Andrey stood at the window with his hands clasped behind his back, +listening to Pavel's narrative. Pavel also paced up and down the +room. His beard had grown, and small ringlets of thin, dark hair +curled in a dense growth around his cheeks, softening the swarthy +color of his face. His dark eyes had their stern expression. + +"Sit down!" said the mother, serving a hot dish. + +At dinner Andrey told Pavel about Rybin. When he had concluded +Pavel exclaimed regretfully: + +"If I had been home, I would not have let him go that way. What +did he take along with him? A feeling of discontent and a muddle +in his head!" + +"Well," said Andrey, laughing, "when a man's grown to the age of +forty and has fought so long with the bears in his heart, it's hard +to make him over." + +Pavel looked at him sternly and asked: + +"Do you think it's impossible for enlightenment to destroy all the +rubbish that's been crammed into a man's brains?" + +"Don't fly up into the air at once, Pavel! Your flight will knock +you up against the belfry tower and break your wings," said the +Little Russian in admonition. + +And they started one of those discussions in which words were used +that were unintelligible to the mother. The dinner was already at +an end, but they still continued a vehement debate, flinging at each +other veritable rattling hailstones of big words. Sometimes their +language was simpler: + +"We must keep straight on our path, turning neither to the right +nor to the left!" Pavel asserted firmly. + +"And run headlong into millions of people who will regard us as +their enemies!" + +"You can't avoid that!" + +"And what, my dear sir, becomes of your enlightenment?" + +The mother listened to the dispute, and understood that Pavel did +not care for the peasants, but that the Little Russian stood up for +them, and tried to show that the peasants, too, must be taught to +comprehend the good. She understood Andrey better, and he seemed to +her to be in the right; but every time he spoke she waited with +strained ears and bated breath for her son's answer to find out +whether the Little Russian had offended Pavel. But although they +shouted at the top of their voices, they gave each other no offense. + +Occasionally the mother asked: + +"Is it so, Pavel?" + +And he answered with a smile: + +"Yes, it's so." + +"Say, my dear sir," the Little Russian said with a good-natured +sneer, "you have eaten well, but you have chewed your food up badly, +and a piece has remained sticking in your throat. You had better +gargle." + +"Don't go fooling now!" said Pavel. + +"I am as solemn as a funeral." + +The mother laughed quietly and shook her head. + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Spring was rapidly drawing near; the snow melted and laid bare the +mud and the soot of the factory chimneys. Mud, mud! Wherever the +villagers looked--mud! Every day more mud! The entire village +seemed unwashed and dressed in rags and tatters. During the day the +water dripped monotonously from the roofs, and damp, weary exhalations +emanated from the gray walls of the houses. Toward night whitish +icicles glistened everywhere in dim outline. The sun appeared in +the heavens more frequently, and the brooks began to murmur hesitatingly +on their way to the marsh. At noon the throbbing song of spring +hopes hung tremblingly and caressingly over the village. + +They were preparing to celebrate the first of May. Leaflets +appeared in the factory explaining the significance of this holiday, +and even the young men not affected by the propaganda said, as they +read them: + +"Yes, we must arrange a holiday!" + +Vyesovshchikov exclaimed with a sullen grin: + +"It's time! Time we stopped playing hide and seek!" + +Fedya Mazin was in high spirits. He had grown very thin. With his +nervous, jerky gestures, and the trepidation in his speech, he was +like a caged lark. He was always with Yakob Somov, taciturn and +serious beyond his years. + +Samoylov, who had grown still redder in prison, Vasily Gusev, +curly-haired Dragunov, and a number of others argued that it was +necessary to come out armed, but Pavel and the Little Russian, Somov, +and others said it was not. + +Yegor always came tired, perspiring, short of breath, but always joking. + +"The work of changing the present order of things, comrades, is a +great work, but in order to advance it more rapidly, I must buy +myself a pair of boots!" he said, pointing to his wet, torn shoes. +"My overshoes, too, are torn beyond the hope of redemption, and I +get my feet wet every day. I have no intention of migrating from +the earth even to the nearest planet before we have publicly and +openly renounced the old order of things; and I am therefore +absolutely opposed to comrade Samoylov's motion for an armed +demonstration. I amend the motion to read that I be armed with a +pair of strong boots, inasmuch as I am profoundly convinced that +this will be of greater service for the ultimate triumph of +socialism than even a grand exhibition of fisticuffs and black eyes!" + +In the same playfully pretentious language, he told the workingmen +the story of how in various foreign countries the people strove to +lighten the burden of their lives. The mother loved to listen to +his tales, and carried away a strange impression from them. She +conceived the shrewdest enemies of the people, those who deceived +them most frequently and most cruelly, as little, big-bellied, +red-faced creatures, unprincipled and greedy, cunning and heartless. +When life was hard for them under the domination of the czars, they +would incite the common people against the ruler; and when the +people arose and wrested the power from him, these little creatures +got it into their own hands by deceit, and drove the people off to +their holes; and if the people remonstrated, they killed them by the +hundreds and thousands. + +Once she summoned up courage and told him of the picture she had +formed of life from his tales, and asked him: + +"Is it so, Yegor Ivanovich?" + +He burst into a guffaw, turned up his eyes, gasped for breath, and +rubbed his chest. + +"Exactly, granny! You caught the idea to a dot! Yes, yes! You've +placed some ornaments on the canvas of history, you've added some +flourishes, but that does not interfere with the correctness of the +whole. It's these very little, pot-bellied creatures who are the +chief sinners and deceivers and the most poisonous insects that +harass the human race. The Frenchmen call them 'bourgeois.' +Remember that word, dear granny--bourgeois! Brr! How they chew +us and grind us and suck the life out of us!" + +"The rich, you mean?" + +"Yes, the rich. And that's their misfortune. You see, if you keep +adding copper bit by bit to a child's food, you prevent the growth +of its bones, and he'll be a dwarf; and if from his youth up you +poison a man with gold, you deaden his soul." + +Once, speaking about Yegor, Pavel said: + +"Do you know, Andrey, the people whose hearts are always aching +are the ones who joke most?" + +The Little Russian was silent a while, and then answered, blinking +his eyes: + +"No, that's not true. If it were, then the whole of Russia would +split its sides with laughter." + +Natasha made her appearance again. She, too, had been in prison, +in another city, but she had not changed. The mother noticed that +in her presence the Little Russian grew more cheerful, was full of +jokes, poked fun at everybody, and kept her laughing merrily. But +after she had left he would whistle his endless songs sadly, and +pace up and down the room for a long time, wearily dragging his feet +along the floor. + +Sashenka came running in frequently, always gloomy, always in haste, +and for some reason more and more angular and stiff. Once when +Pavel accompanied her out onto the porch, the mother overheard their +abrupt conversation. + +"Will you carry the banner?" the girl asked in a low voice. + +"Yes." + +"Is it settled?" + +"Yes, it's my right." + +"To prison again?" Pavel was silent. "Is it not possible for you--" +She stopped. + +"What?" + +"To give it up to somebody else?" + +"No!" he said aloud. + +"Think of it! You're a man of such influence; you are so much liked +--you and Nakhodka are the two foremost revolutionary workers here. +Think how much you could accomplish for the cause of freedom! You +know that for this they'll send you off far, far, and for a long time!" + +Nilovna thought she heard in the girl's voice the familiar sound of +fear and anguish, and her words fell upon the mother's heart like +heavy, icy drops of water. + +"No, I have made up my mind. Nothing can make me give it up!" + +"Not even if I beg you--if I----" + +Pavel suddenly began to speak rapidly with a peculiar sternness. + +"You ought not to speak that way. Why you? You ought not!" + +"I am a human being!" she said in an undertone. + +"A good human being, too!" he said also in an undertone, and in a +peculiar voice, as if unable to catch his breath. "You are a dear +human being to me, yes! And that's why--why you mustn't talk that way!" + +"Good-by!" said the girl. + +The mother heard the sound of her departing footsteps, and knew that +she was walking away very fast, nay, almost running. Pavel followed +her into the yard. + +A heavy oppressive fear fell like a load on the mother's breast. +She did not understand what they had been talking about, but she +felt that a new misfortune was in store for her, a great and sad +misfortune. And her thoughts halted at the question, "What does +he want to do?" Her thoughts halted, and were driven into her +brain like a nail. She stood in the kitchen by the oven, and +looked through the window into the profound, starry heaven. + +Pavel walked in from the yard with Andrey, and the Little Russian +said, shaking his head: + +"Oh, Isay, Isay! What's to be done with him?" + +"We must advise him to give up his project," said Pavel glumly. + +"Then he'll hand over those who speak to him to the authorities," +said the Little Russian, flinging his hat away in a corner. + +"Pasha, what do you want to do?" asked the mother, drooping her head. + +"When? Now?" + +"The first of May--the first of May." + +"Aha!" exclaimed Pavel, lowering his voice. "You heard! I am +going to carry our banner. I will march with it at the head of +the procession. I suppose they'll put me in prison for it again." + +The mother's eyes began to burn. An unpleasant, dry feeling came +into her mouth. Pavel took her hand and stroked it. + +"I must do it! Please understand me! It is my happiness!" + +"I'm not saying anything," she answered, slowly raising her head; +but when her eyes met the resolute gleam in his, she again lowered +it. He released her hand, and with a sigh said reproachfully: + +"You oughtn't to be grieved. You ought to feel rejoiced. When are +we going to have mothers who will rejoice in sending their children +even to death?" + +"Hopp! Hopp!" mumbled the Little Russian. "How you gallop away!" + +"Why; do I say anything to you?" the mother repeated. "I don't +interfere with you. And if I'm sorry for you--well, that's a +mother's way." + +Pavel drew away from her, and she heard his sharp, harsh words: + +"There is a love that interferes with a man's very life." + +She began to tremble, and fearing that he might deal another blow +at her heart by saying something stern, she rejoined quickly: + +"Don't, Pasha! Why should you? I understand. You can't act +otherwise, you must do it for your comrades." + +"No!" he replied. "I am doing it for myself. For their sake I can +go without carrying the banner, but I'm going to do it!" + +Andrey stationed himself in the doorway. It was too low for him, +and he had to bend his knees oddly. He stood there as in a frame, +one shoulder leaning against the jamb, his head and other shoulder +thrust forward. + +"I wish you would stop palavering, my dear sir," he said with a +frown, fixing his protuberant eyes on Pavel's face. He looked +like a lizard in the crevice of a stone wall. + +The mother was overcome with a desire to weep, but she did not +want her son to see her tears, and suddenly mumbled: "Oh, dear!-- +I forgot--" and walked out to the porch. There, her head in a +corner, she wept noiselessly; and her copious tears weakened her, +as though blood oozed from her heart along with them. + +Through the door standing ajar the hollow sound of disputing voices +reached her ear. + +"Well, do you admire yourself for having tortured her?" + +"You have no right to speak like that!" shouted Pavel. + +"A fine comrade I'd be to you if I kept quiet when I see you making +a fool of yourself. Why did you say all that to your mother?" + +"A man must always speak firmly and without equivocation. He must +be clear and definite when he says 'Yes.' He must be clear and +definite when he says 'No.'" + +"To her--to her must you speak that way?" + +"To everybody! I want no love, I want no friendship which gets +between my feet and holds me back." + +"Bravo! You're a hero! Go say all this to Sashenka. You should +have said that to her." + +"I have!" + +"You have! The way you spoke to your mother? You have not! To her +you spoke softly; you spoke gently and tenderly to her. I did not +hear you, but I know it! But you trot out your heroism before your +mother. Of course! Your heroism is not worth a cent." + +Vlasova began to wipe the tears from her face in haste. For fear +a serious quarrel should break out between the Little Russian and +Pavel, she quickly opened the door and entered the kitchen, shivering, +terrified, and distressed. + +"Ugh! How cold! And it's spring, too!" + +She aimlessly removed various things in the kitchen from one place +to another, and in order to drown the subdued voices in the room, +she continued in a louder voice: + +"Everything's changed. People have grown hotter and the weather +colder. At this time of the year it used to get warm; the sky would +clear, and the sun would be out." + +Silence ensued in the room. The mother stood waiting in the middle +of the floor. + +"Did you hear?" came the low sound of the Little Russian's voice. +"You must understand it, the devil take it! That's richer than yours." + +"Will you have some tea?" the mother called with a trembling voice, +and without waiting for an answer she exclaimed, in order to excuse +the tremor in her voice: + +"How cold I am!" + +Pavel came up slowly to her, looking at her from the corners of his +eyes, a guilty smile quivering on his lips. + +"Forgive me, mother!" he said softly. "I am still a boy, a fool." + +"You mustn't hurt me!" she cried in a sorrowful voice, pressing his +head to her bosom. "Say nothing! God be with you. Your life is +your own! But don't wound my heart. How can a mother help sorrowing +for her son? Impossible! I am sorry for all of you. You are all +dear to me as my own flesh and blood; you are all such good people! +And who will be sorry for you if I am not? You go and others follow +you. They have all left everything behind them, Pasha, and gone +into this thing. It's just like a sacred procession." + +A great ardent thought burned in her bosom, animating her heart with +an exalted feeling of sad, tormenting joy; but she could find no +words, and she waved her hands with the pang of muteness. She +looked into her son's face with eyes in which a bright, sharp pain +had lit its fires. + +"Very well, mother! Forgive me. I see all now!" he muttered, +lowering his head. Glancing at her with a light smile, he added, +embarrassed but happy: "I will not forget this, mother, upon my word." + +She pushed him from her, and looking into the room she said to +Andrey in a good-natured tone of entreaty: + +"Andriusha, please don't you shout at him so! Of course, you are +older than he, and so you----" + +The Little Russian was standing with his back toward her. He sang +out drolly without turning around to face her: + +"Oh, oh, oh! I'll bawl at him, be sure! And I'll beat him some day, too." + +She walked up slowly to him, with outstretched hand, and said: + +"My dear, dear man!" + +The Little Russian turned around, bent his head like an ox, and +folding his hands behind his back walked past her into the kitchen. +Thence his voice issued in a tone of mock sullenness: + +"You had better go away, Pavel, so I shan't bite your head off! +I am only joking, mother; don't believe it! I want to prepare +the samovar. What coals these are! Wet, the devil take them!" + +He became silent, and when the mother walked into the kitchen he was +sitting on the floor, blowing the coals in the samovar. Without +looking at her the Little Russian began again: + +"Yes, mother, don't be afraid. I won't touch him. You know, I'm a +good-natured chap, soft as a stewed turnip. And then--you hero out +there, don't listen--I love him! But I don't like the waistcoat he +wears. You see, he has put on a new waistcoat, and he likes it very +much, so he goes strutting about, and pushes everybody, crying: +'See, see what a waistcoat I have on!' It's true, it's a fine +waistcoat. But what's the use of pushing people? It's hot enough +for us without it." + +Pavel smiled and asked: + +"How long do you mean to keep up your jabbering? You gave me one +thrashing with your tongue. That's enough!" + +Sitting on the floor, the Little Russian spread his legs around the +samovar, and regarded Pavel. The mother stood at the door, and fixed +a sad, affectionate gaze at Andrey's long, bent neck and the round +back of his head. He threw his body back, supporting himself with +his hands on the floor, looked at the mother and at the son with his +slightly reddened and blinking eyes, and said in a low, hearty voice: + +"You are good people, yes, you are!" + +Pavel bent down and grasped his hand. + +"Don't pull my hand," said the Little Russian gruffly. "You'll let +go and I'll fall. Go away!" + +"Why are you so shy?" the mother said pensively. "You'd better +embrace and kiss. Press hard, hard!" + +"Do you want to?" asked Pavel softly. + +"We--ell, why not?" answered the Little Russian, rising. + +Pavel dropped on his knees, and grasping each other firmly, they +sank for a moment into each other's embrace--two bodies and one soul +passionately and evenly burning with a profound feeling of friendship. + +Tears ran down the mother's face, but this time they were easy tears. +Drying them she said in embarrassment: + +"A woman likes to cry. She cries when she is in sorrow,; she cries +when she is in joy!" + +The Little Russian pushed Pavel away, and with a light movement, +also wiping his eyes with his fingers, he said: + +"Enough! When the calves have had their frolic, they must go to +the shambles. What beastly coal this is! I blew and blew on it, +and got some of the dust in my eyes." + +Pavel sat at the window with bent head, and said mildly: + +"You needn't be ashamed of such tears." + +The mother walked up to him, and sat down beside him. Her heart +was wrapped in a soft, warm, daring feeling. She felt sad, but +pleasant and at ease. + +"It's all the same!" she thought, stroking her son's hand. "It +can't be helped; it must be so!" + +She recalled other such commonplace words, to which she had been +accustomed for a long time; but they did not give adequate expression +to all she had lived through that moment. + +"I'll put the dishes on the table; you stay where you are, mother," +said the Little Russian, rising from the floor, and going into the +room. "Rest a while. Your heart has been worn out with such blows!" + +And from the room his singing voice, raised to a higher pitch, was heard. + +"It's not a nice thing to boast of, yet I must say we tasted the +right life just now, real, human, loving life. It does us good." + +"Yes," said Pavel, looking at the mother. + +"It's all different now," she returned. "The sorrow is different, +and the joy is different. I do not know anything, of course! I +do not understand what it is I live by--and I can't express my +feelings in words!" + +"This is the way it ought to be!" said the Little Russian, returning. +"Because, mark you, mother dear, a new heart is coming into existence, +a new heart is growing up in life. All hearts are smitten in the +conflict of interests, all are consumed with a blind greed, eaten up +with envy, stricken, wounded, and dripping with filth, falsehood, +and cowardice. All people are sick; they are afraid to live; they +wander about as in a mist. Everyone feels only his own toothache. +But lo, and behold! Here is a Man coming and illuminating life with +the light of reason, and he shouts: 'Oh, ho! you straying roaches! +It's time, high time, for you to understand that all your interests +are one, that everyone has the need to live, everyone has the desire +to grow!' The Man who shouts this is alone, and therefore he cries +aloud; he needs comrades, he feels dreary in his loneliness, dreary +and cold. And at his call the stanch hearts unite into one great, +strong heart, deep and sensitive as a silver bell not yet cast. +And hark! This bell rings forth the message: 'Men of all countries, +unite into one family! Love is the mother of life, not hate!' My +brothers! I hear this message sounding through the world!" + +"And I do, too!" cried Pavel. + +The mother compressed her lips to keep them from trembling, and shut +her eyes tight so as not to cry. + +"When I lie in bed at night or am out walking alone--everywhere I +hear this sound, and my heart rejoices. And the earth, too--I know +it--weary of injustice and sorrow, rings out like a bell, responding +to the call, and trembles benignly, greeting the new sun arising in +the breast of Man." + +Pavel rose, lifted his hand, and was about to say something, but the +mother took his other hand, and pulling him down whispered in his ear: + +"Don't disturb him!" + +"Do you know?" said the Little Russian, standing in the doorway, +his eyes aglow with a bright flame, "there is still much suffering +in store for the people, much of their blood will yet flow, squeezed +out by the hands of greed; but all that--all my suffering, all my +blood, is a small price for that which is already stirring in my +breast, in my mind, in the marrow of my bones! I am already rich, +as a star is rich in golden rays. And I will bear all, I will +suffer all, because there is within me a joy which no one, which +nothing can ever stifle! In this joy there is a world of strength!" + +They drank tea and sat around the table until midnight, and +conversed heart to heart and harmoniously about life, about people, +and about the future. + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Whenever a thought was clear to the mother, she would find confirmation +of the idea by drawing upon some of her rude, coarse experiences. +She now felt as on that day when her father said to her roughly: + +"What are you making a wry face about? A fool has been found who +wants to marry you. Marry him! All girls must get husbands; all +women must bear children, and all children become a burden to their +parents!" + +After these words she saw before her an unavoidable path running for +some inexplicable reason through a dark, dreary waste. Thus it was +at the present moment. In anticipation of a new approaching misfortune, +she uttered speechless words, addressing some imaginary person. + +This lightened her mute pain, which reverberated in her heart like +a tight chord. + +The next day, early in the morning, very soon after Pavel and Andrey +had left, Korsunova knocked at the door alarmingly, and called out hastily: + +"Isay is killed! Come, quick!" + +The mother trembled; the name of the assassin flashed through her mind. + +"Who did it?" she asked curtly, throwing a shawl over her shoulders. + +"The man's not sitting out there mourning over Isay. He knocked +him down and fled!" + +On the street Marya said: + +"Now they'll begin to rummage about again and look for the murderer. +It's a good thing your folks were at home last night. I can bear +witness to that. I walked past here after midnight and glanced into +the window, and saw all of you sitting around the table." + +"What are you talking about, Marya? Why, who could dream of such +a thing about them?" the other ejaculated in fright. + +"Well, who killed him? Some one from among your people, of course!" +said Korsunova, regarding the idea as a matter to be taken for +granted. "Everybody knows he spied on them." + +The mother stopped to fetch breath, and put her hand to her bosom. + +"What are you going on that way for? Don't be afraid! Whoever it +is will reap the harvest of his own rashness. Let's go quick, or +else they'll take him away!" + +The mother walked on without asking herself why she went, and shaken +by the thought of Vyesovshchikov. + +"There--he's done it!" Her mind was held fast by the one idea. + +Not far from the factory walls, on the grounds of a building +recently burned down, a crowd was gathered, tramping down the coal +and stirring up ash dust. It hummed and buzzed like a swarm of +bees. There were many women in the crowd, even more children, and +storekeepers, tavern waiters, policemen, and the gendarme Petlin, a +tall old man with a woolly, silvery beard, and decorations on his breast. + +Isay half reclined on the ground, his back resting against a +burned joist, his bare head hanging over his right shoulder, his +right hand in his trousers' pocket, and the fingers of his left +hand clutching the soil. + +The mother looked at Isay's face. One eye, wide open, had its dim +glance fixed upon his hat lying between his lazily outstretched legs. +His mouth was half open in astonishment, his little shriveled body, +with its pointed head and bony face, seemed to be resting. The +mother crossed herself and heaved a sigh. He had been repulsive +to her when alive, but now she felt a mild pity for him. + +"No blood!" some one remarked in an undertone. "He was evidently +knocked down with a fist blow." + +A stout woman, tugging at the gendarme's hand, asked: + +"Maybe he is still alive?" + +"Go away!" the gendarme shouted not very loudly, withdrawing his hand. + +"The doctor was here and said it was all over," somebody said to +the woman. + +A sarcastic, malicious voice cried aloud: + +"They've choked up a denouncer's mouth. Serves him right!" + +The gendarme pushed aside the women, who were crowded close about +him, and asked in a threatening tone: + +"Who was that? Who made that remark?" + +The people scattered before him as he thrust them aside. A number +took quickly to their heels, and some one in the crowd broke into +a mocking laugh. + +The mother went home. + +"No one is sorry," she thought. The broad figure of Nikolay stood +before her like a shadow, his narrow eyes had a cold, cruel look, +and he wrung his right hand as if it had been hurt. + +When Pavel and Andrey came to dinner, her first question was: + +"Well? Did they arrest anybody for Isay's murder?" + +"We haven't heard anything about it," answered the Little Russian. + +She saw that they were both downhearted and sullen. "Nothing is +said about Nikolay?" the mother questioned again in a low voice. + +Pavel fixed his stern eyes on the mother, and said distinctly: + +"No, there is no talk of him. He is not even thought of in connection +with this affair. He is away. He went off on the river yesterday, +and hasn't returned yet. I inquired for him." + +"Thank God!" said the mother with a sigh of relief. "Thank God!" + +The Little Russian looked at her, and drooped his head. + +"He lies there," the mother recounted pensively. "and looks as +though he were surprised; that's the way his face looks. And no one +pities him; no one bestows a good word on him. He is such a tiny +bit of a fellow, such a wretched-looking thing, like a bit of broken +china. It seems as if he had slipped on something and fallen, and +there he lies!" + +At dinner Pavel suddenly dropped his spoon and exclaimed: + +"That's what I don't understand!" + +"What?" asked the Little Russian, who had been sitting at the table +dismal and silent. + +"To kill anything living because one wants to eat, that's ugly +enough. To kill a beast--a beast of prey--that I can understand. +I think I myself could kill a man who had turned into a beast preying +upon mankind. But to kill such a disgusting, pitiful creature--I +don't understand how anyone could lift his hand for an act like that!" + +The Little Russian raised his shoulders and dropped them again; +then said: + +"He was no less noxious than a beast." + +"I know." + +"We kill a mosquito for sucking just a tiny bit of our blood," the +Little Russian added in a low voice. + +"Well, yes, I am not saying anything about that. I only mean to +say it's so disgusting." + +"What can you do?" returned Andrey with another shrug of his shoulders. + +After a long pause Pavel asked: + +"Could you kill a fellow like that?" + +The Little Russian regarded him with his round eyes, threw a glance +at the mother, and said sadly, but firmly: + +"For myself, I wouldn't touch a living thing. But for comrades, +for the cause, I am capable of everything. I'd even kill. I'd +kill my own son." + +"Oh, Andriusha!" the mother exclaimed under her breath. + +He smiled and said: + +"It can't be helped! Such is our life!" + +"Ye-es," Pavel drawled. "Such is our life." + +With sudden excitation, as if obeying some impulse from within, +Andrey arose, waved his hands, and said: + +"How can a man help it? It so happens that we sometimes must abhor +a certain person in order to hasten the time when it will be possible +only to take delight in one another. You must destroy those who +hinder the progress of life, who sell human beings for money in order +to buy quiet or esteem for themselves. If a Judas stands in the way +of honest people, lying in wait to betray them, I should be a Judas +myself if I did not destroy him. It's sinful, you say? And do they, +these masters of life, do they have the right to keep soldiers and +executioners, public houses and prisons, places of penal servitude, +and all that vile abomination by which they hold themselves in quiet +security and in comfort? If it happens sometimes that I am compelled +to take their stick into my own hands, what am I to do then? Why, +I am going to take it, of course. I will not decline. They kill +us out by the tens and hundreds. That gives me the right to raise +my hand and level it against one of the enemy, against that one of +their number who comes closest to me, and makes himself more directly +noxious to the work of my life than the others. This is logic; but +I go against logic for once. I do not need your logic now. I know +that their blood can bring no results, I know that their blood is +barren, fruitless! Truth grows well only on the soil irrigated with +the copious rain of our own blood, and their putrid blood goes to +waste, without a trace left. I know it! But I take the sin upon +myself. I'll kill, if I see a need for it! I speak only for myself, +mind you. My crime dies with me. It will not remain a blot upon +the future. It will sully no one but myself--no one but myself." + +He walked to and fro in the room, waving his hands in front of him, +as if he were cutting something in the air out of his way. The +mother looked at him with an expression of melancholy and alarm. +She felt as though something had hit him; and that he was pained. +The dangerous thoughts about murder left her. If Vyesovshchikov +had not killed Isay, none of Pavel's comrades could have done the +deed. Pavel listened to the Little Russian with drooping head, and +Andrey stubbornly continued in a forceful tone: + +"In your forward march it sometimes chances that you must go against +your very own self. You must be able to give up everything--your +heart and all. To give your life, to die for the cause--that's +simple. Give more! Give that which is dearer to you than your +life! Then you will see that grow with a vigorous growth which +is dearest to you--your truth!" + +He stopped in the middle of the room, his face grown pale and his +eyes half closed. Raising his hand and shaking it, he began slowly +in a solemn tone of assurance with faith and with strength: + +"There will come a time, I know, when people will take delight in +one another, when each will be like a star to the other, and when +each will listen to his fellow as to music. The free men will walk +upon the earth, men great in their freedom. They will walk with +open hearts, and the heart of each will be pure of envy and greed, +and therefore all mankind will be without malice, and there will be +nothing to divorce the heart from reason. Then life will be one +great service to man! His figure will be raised to lofty heights-- +for to free men all heights are attainable. Then we shall live in +truth and freedom and in beauty, and those will be accounted the +best who will the more widely embrace the world with their hearts, +and whose love of it will be the profoundest; those will be the best +who will be the freest; for in them is the greatest beauty. Then +will life be great, and the people will be great who live that life." + +He ceased and straightened himself. Then swinging to and fro like +the tongue of a bell, he added in a resonant voice that seemed to +issue from the depths of his breast: + +"So for the sake of this life I am prepared for everything! I will +tear my heart out, if necessary, and will trample it with my own feet!" + +His face quivered and stiffened with excitement, and great, heavy +tears rolled down one after the other. + +Pavel raised his head and looked at him with a pale face and +wide-open eyes. The mother raised herself a little over the table +with a feeling that something great was growing and impending. + +"What is the matter with you, Andrey?" Pavel asked softly. + +The Little Russian shook his head, stretched himself like a violin +string, and said, looking at the mother: + +"I struck Isay." + +She rose, and quickly walked up to him, all in a tremble, and seized +his hands. He tried to free his right hand, but she held it firmly +in her grasp and whispered hotly: + +"My dear, my own, hush! It's nothing--it's nothing--nothing, Pasha! +Andriushenka--oh, what a calamity! You sufferer! My darling heart!" + +"Wait, mother," the Little Russian muttered hoarsely. "I'll tell +you how it happened." + +"Don't!" she whispered, looking at him with tears in her eyes. +"Don't, Andriusha! It isn't our business. It's God's affair!" + +Pavel came up to him slowly, looking at his comrade with moist eyes. +He was pale, and his lips trembled. With a strange smile he said +softly and slowly: + +"Come, give me your hand, Andrey. I want to shake hands with you. +Upon my word, I understand how hard it is for you!" + +"Wait!" said the Little Russian without looking at them, shaking +his head, and tearing himself away from their grasp. When he +succeeded in freeing his right hand from the mother's, Pavel caught +it, pressing it vigorously and wringing it. + +"And you mean to tell me you killed that man?" said the mother. +"No, YOU didn't do it! If I saw it with my own eyes I wouldn't +believe it." + +"Stop, Andrey! Mother is right. This thing is beyond our judgment." + +With one hand pressing Andrey's, Pavel laid the other on his +shoulder, as if wishing to stop the tremor in his tall body. +The Little Russian bent his head down toward him, and said in +a broken, mournful voice: + +"I didn't want to do it, you know, Pavel. It happened when you +walked ahead, and I remained behind with Ivan Gusev. Isay came +from around a corner and stopped to look at us, and smiled at us. +Ivan walked off home, and I went on toward the factory--Isay at +my side!" Andrey stopped, heaved a deep sigh, and continued: +"No one ever insulted me in such an ugly way as that dog!" + +The mother pulled the Little Russian by the hand toward the table, +gave him a shove, and finally succeeded in seating him on a chair. +She sat down at his side close to him, shoulder to shoulder. Pavel +stood in front of them, holding Andrey's hand in his and pressing it. + +"I understand how hard it is for you," he said. + +"He told me that they know us all, that we are all on the gendarme's +record, and that we are going to be dragged in before the first of +May. I didn't answer, I laughed, but my blood boiled. He began to +tell me that I was a clever fellow, and that I oughtn't to go on the +way I was going, but that I should rather----" + +The Little Russian stopped, wiped his face with his right hand, +shook his head, and a dry gleam flashed in his eyes. + +"I understand!" said Pavel. + +"Yes," he said, "I should rather enter the service of the law." +The Little Russian waved his hand, and swung his clenched fist. +"The law!--curse his soul!" he hissed between his teeth. "It would +have been better if he had struck me in the face. It would have +been easier for me, and better for him, perhaps, too! But when he +spit his dirty thought into my heart that way, I could not bear it." + +Andrey pulled his hand convulsively from Pavel's, and said more +hoarsely with disgust in his face: + +"I dealt him a back-hand blow like that, downward and aslant, and +walked away. I didn't even stop to look at him; I heard him fall. +He dropped and was silent. I didn't dream of anything serious. I +walked on peacefully, just as if I had done no more than kick a frog +with my foot. And then--what's all this? I started to work, and I +heard them shouting: 'Isay is killed!' I didn't even believe it, +but my hand grew numb--and I felt awkward in working with it. It +didn't hurt me, but it seemed to have grown shorter." + +He looked at his hand obliquely and said: + +"All my life, I suppose, I won't be able to wash off that dirty +stain from it." + +"If only your heart is pure, my dear boy!" the mother said softly, +bursting into tears. + +"I don't regard myself as guilty; no, I don't!" said the Little +Russian firmly. "But it's disgust. It disgusts me to carry such +dirt inside of me. I had no need of it. It wasn't called for." + +"What do you think of doing?" asked Pavel, giving him a suspicious look. + +"What am I going to do?" the Little Russian repeated thoughtfully, +drooping his head. Then raising it again he said with a smile: +"I am not afraid, of course, to say that it was I who struck him. +But I am ashamed to say it. I am ashamed to go to prison, and even +to hard labor, maybe, for such a--nothing. If some one else is +accused, then I'll go and confess. But otherwise, go all of my own +accord--I cannot!" + +He waved his hands, rose, and repeated: + +"I cannot! I am ashamed!" + +The whistle blew. The Little Russian, bending his head to one side, +listened to the powerful roar, and shaking himself, said: + +"I am not going to work." + +"Nor I," said Pavel. + +"I'll go to the bath house," said the Little Russian, smiling. He +got ready in silence and walked off, sullen and low-spirited. + +The mother followed him with a compassionate look. + +"Say what you please, Pasha, I cannot believe him! And even if I +did believe him, I wouldn't lay any blame on him. No, I would not. +I know it's sinful to kill a man; I believe in God and in the Lord +Jesus Christ, but still I don't think Andrey guilty. I'm sorry for +Isay. He's such a tiny bit of a manikin. He lies there in astonishment. +When I looked at him I remembered how he threatened to have you +hanged. And yet I neither felt hatred toward him nor joy because +he was dead. I simply felt sorry. But now that I know by whose +hand he fell I am not even sorry for him." + +She suddenly became silent, reflected a while, and with a smile of +surprise, exclaimed: + +"Lord Jesus Christ! Do you hear what I am saying, Pasha?" + +Pavel apparently had not heard her. Slowly pacing up and down the +room with drooping head, he said pensively and with exasperation: + +"Andrey won't forgive himself soon, if he'll forgive himself at all! +There is life for you, mother. You see the position in which people +are placed toward one another. You don't want to, but you must +strike! And strike whom? Such a helpless being. He is more +wretched even than you because he is stupid. The police, the +gendarmes, the soldiers, the spies--they are all our enemies, and +yet they are all such people as we are. Their blood is sucked out +of them just as ours is, and they are no more regarded as human +beings than we are. That's the way it is. But they have set one +part of the people against the other, blinded them with fear, bound +them all hand and foot, squeezed them, and drained their blood, and +used some as clubs against the others. They've turned men into +weapons, into sticks and stones, and called it civilization, government." + +He walked up to his mother and said to her firmly: + +"That's crime, mother! The heinous crime of killing millions of +people, the murder of millions of souls! You understand--they kill +the soul! You see the difference between them and us. He killed a +man unwittingly. He feels disgusted, ashamed, sick--the main thing +is he feels disgusted! But they kill off thousands calmly, without +a qualm, without pity, without a shudder of the heart. They kill +with pleasure and with delight. And why? They stifle everybody and +everything to death merely to keep the timber of their houses +secure, their furniture, their silver, their gold, their worthless +papers--all that cheap trash which gives them control over the +people. Think, it's not for their own selves, for their persons, +that they protect themselves thus, using murder and the mutilation +of souls as a means--it's not for themselves they do it, but for the +sake of their possessions. They do not guard themselves from +within, but from without." + +He bent over to her, took her hands, and shaking them said: + +"If you felt the abomination of it all, the disgrace and rottenness, +you would understand our truth; you would then perceive how great it +is, how glorious!" + +The mother arose agitated, full of a desire to sink her heart into +the heart of her son, and to join them in one burning, flaming torch. + +"Wait, Pasha, wait!" she muttered, panting for breath. "I am a +human being. I feel. Wait." + +There was a loud noise of some one entering the porch. Both of them +started and looked at each other. + +"If it's the police coming for Andrey--" Pavel whispered. + +"I know nothing--nothing!" the mother whispered back. "Oh, God!" + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +The door opened slowly, and bending to pass through, Rybin strode in +heavily. + +"Here I am!" he said, raising his head and smiling. + +He wore a short fur overcoat, all stained with tar, a pair of +dark mittens stuck from his belt, and his head was covered with +a shaggy fur cap. + +"Are you well? Have they let you out of prison, Pavel? So, how +are you, Nilovna?" + +"Why, you? How glad I am to see you!" + +Slowly removing his overclothes, Rybin said: + +"Yes, I've turned muzhik again. You're gradually turning gentlemen, +and I am turning the other way. That's it!" + +Pulling his ticking shirt straight, he passed through the room, +examined it attentively, and remarked: + +"You can see your property has not increased, but you've grown +richer in books. So! That's the dearest possession, books are, +it's true. Well, tell me how things are going with you." + +"Things are going forward," said Pavel. + +"Yes," said Rybin. + + "We plow and we sow, + All high and low, + Boasting is cheap, + But the harvest we reap, + A feast we'll make, + And a rest we'll take." + +"Will you have some tea?" asked the mother. + +"Yes, I'll have some tea, and I'll take a sip of vodka, too; and +if you'll give me something to eat, I won't decline it, either. +I am glad to see you--that's what!" + +"How's the world wagging with you, Mikhail Ivanych?" Pavel inquired, +taking a seat opposite Rybin. + +"So, so. Fairly well. I settled at Edilgeyev. Have you ever heard +of Edilgeyev? It's a fine village. There are two fairs a year +there; over two thousand inhabitants. The people are an evil pack. +There's no land. It's leased out in lots. Poor soil!" + +"Do you talk to them?" asked Pavel, becoming animated. + +"I don't keep mum. You know I have all your leaflets with me. I +grabbed them away from here--thirty-four of them. But I carry on +my propaganda chiefly with the Bible. You can get something out of +it. It's a thick book. It's a government book. It's published by +the Holy Synod. It's easy to believe!" He gave Pavel a wink, and +continued with a laugh: "But that's not enough! I have come here +to you to get books. Yefim is here, too. We are transporting tar; +and so we turned aside to stop at your house. You stock me up with +books before Yefim comes. He doesn't have to know too much!" + +"Mother," said Pavel, "go get some books! They'll know what to +give you. Tell them it's for the country." + +"All right. The samovar will be ready in a moment, and then I'll go." + +"You have gone into this movement, too, Nilovna?" asked Rybin with +a smile. "Very well. We have lots of eager candidates for books. +There's a teacher there who creates a desire for them. He's a fine +fellow, they say, although he belongs to the clergy. We have a +woman teacher, too, about seven versts from the village. But they +don't work with illegal books; they're a 'law and order' crowd out +there; they're afraid. But I want forbidden books--sharp, pointed +books. I'll slip them through their fingers. When the police +commissioners or the priest see that they are illegal books, they'll +think it's the teachers who circulate them. And in the meantime +I'll remain in the background." + +Well content with his hard, practical sense, he grinned merrily. + +"Hm!" thought the mother. "He looks like a bear and behaves like a fox." + +Pavel rose, and pacing up and down the room with even steps, said +reproachfully: + +"We'll let you have the books, but what you want to do is not right, +Mikhail Ivanovich." + +"Why is it not right?" asked Rybin, opening his eyes in astonishment. + +"You yourself ought to answer for what you do. It is not right to +manage matters so that others should suffer for what you do." Pavel +spoke sternly. + +Rybin looked at the floor, shook his head, and said: + +"I don't understand you." + +"If the teachers are suspected," said Pavel, stationing himself in +front of Rybin, "of distributing illegal books, don't you think +they'll be put in jail for it?" + +"Yes. Well, what if they are?" + +"But it's you who distribute the books, not they. Then it's you +that ought to go to prison." + +"What a strange fellow you are!" said Rybin with a smile, striking +his hand on his knee. "Who would suspect me, a muzhik, of occupying +myself with such matters? Why, does such a thing happen? Books are +affairs of the masters, and it's for them to answer for them." + +The mother felt that Pavel did not understand Rybin, and she saw +that he was screwing up his eyes--a sign of anger. So she interjected +in a cautious, soft voice: + +"Mikhail Ivanovich wants to fix it so that he should be able to go +on with his work, and that others should take the punishment for it." + +"That's it!" said Rybin, stroking his beard. + +"Mother," Pavel asked dryly, "suppose some of our people, Andrey, +for example, did something behind my back, and I were put in prison +for it, what would you say to that?" + +The mother started, looked at her son in perplexity, and said, +shaking her head in negation: + +"Why, is it possible to act that way toward a comrade?" + +"Aha! Yes!" Rybin drawled. "I understand you, Pavel." And with +a comical wink toward the mother, he added: "This is a delicate +matter, mother." And again turning to Pavel he held forth in a +didactic manner: "Your ideas on this subject are very green, +brother. In secret work there is no honor. Think! In the first +place, they'll put those persons in prison on whom they find the +books, and not the teachers. That's number one! Secondly, even +though the teachers give the people only legal books to read, you +know that they contain prohibited things just the same as in the +forbidden books; only they are put in a different language. The +truths are fewer. That's number two. I mean to say, they want the +same thing that I do; only they proceed by side paths, while I +travel on the broad highway. And thirdly, brother, what business +have I with them? How can a traveler on foot strike up friendship +with a man on horseback? Toward a muzhik, maybe, I wouldn't want +to act that way. But these people, one a clergyman, the other the +daughter of a land proprietor, why they want to uplift the people, I +cannot understand. Their ideas, the ideas of the masters, are +unintelligible to me, a muzhik. What I do myself, I know, but what +they are after I cannot tell. For thousands of years they have +punctiliously and consistently pursued the business of being masters, +and have fleeced and flayed the skins of the muzhiks; and all of +a sudden they wake up and want to open the muzhik's eyes. I am not +a man for fairy tales, brother, and that's in the nature of a fairy +tale. That's why I can't get interested in them. The ways of +the masters are strange to me. You travel in winter, and you see +some living creature in front of you. But what it is--a wolf, a +fox, or just a plain dog--you don't know." + +The mother glanced at her son. His face wore a gloomy expression. + +Rybin's eyes sparkled with a dark gleam. He looked at Pavel, +combing down his beard with his fingers. His air was at once +complacent and excited. + +"I have no time to flirt," he said. "Life is a stern matter. We +live in dog houses, not in sheep pens, and every pack barks after +its own fashion." + +"There are some masters," said the mother, recalling certain +familiar faces, "who die for the people, and let themselves be +tortured all their lives in prison." + +"Their calculations are different, and their deserts are different," +said Rybin. "The muzhik grown rich turns into a gentleman, and the +gentleman grown poor goes to the muzhik. Willy-nilly, he must have +a pure soul, if his purse is empty. Do you remember, Pavel, you +explained to me that as a man lives, so he also thinks, and that +if the workingman says 'Yes,' the master must say 'No,' and if the +workingman says 'No,' the master, because of the nature of the +beast, is bound to cry 'Yes.' So you see, their natures are +different one from the other. The muzhik has his nature, and the +gentleman has his. When the peasant has a full stomach, the +gentleman passes sleepless nights. Of course, every fold has its +black sheep, and I have no desire to defend the peasants wholesale." + +Rybin rose to his feet somber and powerful. His face darkened, his +beard quivered as if he ground his teeth inaudibly, and he continued +in a lowered voice: + +"For five years I beat about from factory to factory, and got +unaccustomed to the village. Then I went to the village again, +looked around, and I found I could not live like that any more! +You understand? I CAN'T. You live here, you don't know hunger, +you don't see such outrages. There hunger stalks after a man all +his life like a shadow, and he has no hope for bread--no hope! +Hunger destroys the soul of the people; the very image of man is +effaced from their countenances. They do not live, they rot in +dire unavoidable want. And around them the government authorities +watch like ravens to see if a crumb is not left over. And if they +do find a crumb, they snatch that away, too, and give you a punch +in the face besides." + +Rybin looked around, bent down to Pavel, his hand resting on the table: + +"I even got sick and faint when I saw that life again. I looked +around me--but I couldn't! However, I conquered my repulsion. +'Fiddlesticks!' I said. 'I won't let my feelings get the better of +me. I'll stay here. I won't get your bread for you; but I'll cook +you a pretty mess, I will.' I carry within me the wrongs of my +people and hatred of the oppressor. I feel these wrongs like a +knife constantly cutting at my heart." + +Perspiration broke out on his forehead; he shrugged his shoulders and +slowly bent toward Pavel, laying a tremulous hand on his shoulder: + +"Give me your help! Let me have books--such books that when a man +has read them he will not be able to rest. Put a prickly hedgehog +to his brains. Tell those city folks who write for you to write for +the villagers also. Let them write such hot truth that it will +scald the village, that the people will even rush to their death." + +He raised his hand, and laying emphasis on each word, he said hoarsely: + +"Let death make amends for death. That is, die so that the people +should arise to life again. And let thousands die in order that +hosts of people all over the earth may arise to life again. That's +it! It's easy to die--but let the people rise to life again! +That's a different thing! Let them rise up in rebellion!" + +The mother brought in the samovar, looking askance at Rybin. His +strong, heavy words oppressed her. Something in him reminded her +of her husband. He, too, showed his teeth, waved his hands, and +rolled up his sleeves; in him, too, there was that impatient wrath, +impatient but dumb. Rybin was not dumb; he was not silent; he +spoke, and therefore was less terrible. + +"That's necessary," said Pavel, nodding his head. "We need a +newspaper for the villages, too. Give us material, and we'll +print you a newspaper." + +The mother looked at her son with a smile, and shook her head. +She had quietly put on her wraps and now went out of the house. + +"Yes, do it. We'll give you everything. Write as simply as +possible, so that even calves could understand," Rybin cried. Then, +suddenly stepping back from Pavel, he said, as he shook his head: + +"Ah, me, if I were a Jew! The Jew, my dear boy, is the most +believing man in the world! Isaiah, the prophet, or Job, the +patient, believed more strongly than Christ's apostles. They could +say words to make a man's hair stand on end. But the apostles, you +see, Pavel, couldn't. The prophets believed not in the church, but +in themselves; they had their God in themselves. The apostles--they +built churches; and the church is law. Man must believe in himself, +not in law. Man carries the truth of God in his soul; he is not a +police captain on earth, nor a slave! All the laws are in myself." + +The kitchen door opened, and somebody walked in. + +"It's Yefim," said Rybin, looking into the kitchen. "Come here, +Yefim. As for you, Pavel, think! Think a whole lot. There is a +great deal to think about. This is Yefim. And this man's name is +Pavel. I told you about him." + +A light-haired, broad-faced young fellow in a short fur overcoat, +well built and evidently strong, stood before Pavel, holding his cap +in both hands and looking at him from the corners of his gray eyes. + +"How do you do?" he said hoarsely, as he shook hands with Pavel, +and stroked his curly hair with both hands. He looked around the +room, immediately spied the bookshelf, and walked over to it slowly. + +"Went straight to them!" Rybin said, winking to Pavel. + +Yefim started to examine the books, and said: + +"A whole lot of reading here! But I suppose you haven't much time +for it. Down in the village they have more time for reading." + +"But less desire?" Pavel asked. + +"Why? They have the desire, too," answered the fellow, rubbing his +chin. "The times are so now that if you don't think, you might as +well lie down and die. But the people don't want to die; and so +they've begun to make their brains work. 'Geology'--what's that?" + +Pavel explained. + +"We don't need it!" Yefim said, replacing the book on the shelf. + +Rybin sighed noisily, and said: + +"The peasant is not so much interested to know where the land came +from as where it's gone to, how it's been snatched from underneath +his feet by the gentry. It doesn't matter to him whether it's fixed +or whether it revolves--that's of no importance--you can hang it on +a rope, if you want to, provided it feeds him; you can nail it to +the skies, provided it gives him enough to eat." + +"'The History of Slavery,'" Yefim read out again, and asked Pavel: +"Is it about us?" + +"Here's an account of Russian serfdom, too," said Pavel, giving him +another book. Yefim took it, turned it in his hands, and putting +it aside, said calmly: + +"That's out of date." + +"Have you an apportionment of land for yourself?" inquired Pavel. + +"We? Yes, we have. We are three brothers, and our portion is about +ten acres and a half--all sand--good for polishing brass, but poor +for making bread." After a pause he continued: "I've freed myself +from the soil. What's the use? It does not feed; it ties one's +hands. This is the fourth year that I'm working as a hired man. +I've got to become a soldier this fall. Uncle Mikhail says: 'Don't +go. Now,' he says, 'the soldiers are being sent to beat the people.' +However, I think I'll go. The army existed at the time of Stepan +Timofeyevich Razin and Pugachev. The time has come to make an end +of it. Don't you think so?" he asked, looking firmly at Pavel. + +"Yes, the tine has come." The answer was accompanied by a smile. "But +it's hard. You must know what to say to soldiers, and how to say it." + +"We'll learn; we'll know how," Yefim said. + +"And if the superiors catch you at it, they may shoot you down," +Pavel concluded, looking curiously at Yefim. + +"They will show no mercy," the peasant assented calmly, and resumed +his examination of the books. + +"Drink your tea, Yefim; we've got to leave soon," said Rybin. + +"Directly." And Yefim asked again: "Revolution is an uprising, +isn't it?" + +Andrey came, red, perspiring, and dejected. He shook Yefim's hand +without saying anything, sat down by Rybin's side, and smiled as he +looked at him. + +"What's the trouble? Why so blue?" Rybin asked, tapping his knee. + +"Nothing." + +"Are you a workingman, too?" asked Yefim, nodding his head toward +the Little Russian. + +"Yes," Andrey answered. "Why?" + +"This is the first time he's seen factory workmen," explained Rybin. +"He says they're different from others." + +"How so?" Pavel asked. + +Yefim looked carefully at Andrey and said: + +"You have sharp bones; peasants' bones are rounder." + +"The peasant stands more firmly on his feet," Rybin supplemented. +"He feels the ground under him although he does not possess it. +Yet he feels the earth. But the factory workingman is something +like a bird. He has no home. To-day he's here, to-morrow there. +Even his wife can't attach him to the same spot. At the least +provocation--farewell, my dear! and off he goes to look for something +better. But the peasant wants to improve himself just where he is +without moving off the spot. There's your mother!" And Rybin went +out into the kitchen. + +Yefim approached Pavel, and with embarrassment asked: + +"Perhaps you will give me a book?" + +"Certainly." + +The peasant's eyes flashed, and he said rapidly: + +"I'll return it. Some of our folks bring tar not far from here. +They will return it for me. Thank you! Nowadays a book is like +a candle in the night to us." + +Rybin, already dressed and tightly girt, came in and said to Yefim: + +"Come, it's time for us to go." + +"Now, I have something to read!" exclaimed Yefim, pointing to the +book and smiling inwardly. When he had gone, Pavel animatedly said, +turning to Andrey: + +"Did you notice those fellows?" + +"Y-yes!" slowly uttered the Little Russian. "Like clouds in the +sunset--thick, dark clouds, moving slowly." + +"Mikhail!" exclaimed the mother. "He looks as if he had never been +in a factory! A peasant again. And how formidable he looks!" + +"I'm sorry you weren't here," said Pavel to Andrey, who was sitting +at the table, staring gloomily into his glass of tea. "You could +have seen the play of hearts. You always talk about the heart. +Rybin got up a lot of steam; he upset me, crushed me. I couldn't +even reply to him. How distrustful he is of people, and how cheaply +he values them! Mother is right. That man has a formidable power +in him." + +"I noticed it," the Little Russian replied glumly. "They have +poisoned people. When the peasants rise up, they'll overturn +absolutely everything! They need bare land, and they will lay it +bare, tear down everything." He spoke slowly, and it was evident +that his mind was on something else. The mother cautiously tapped +him on the shoulder. + +"Pull yourself together, Andriusha." + +"Wait a little, my dear mother, my own!" he begged softly and +kindly. "All this is so ugly--although I didn't mean to do any +harm. Wait!" And suddenly rousing himself, he said, striking +the table with his hand: "Yes, Pavel, the peasant will lay the +land bare for himself when he rises to his feet. He will burn +everything up, as if after a plague, so that all traces of his +wrongs will vanish in ashes." + +"And then he will get in our way," Pavel observed softly. + +"It's our business to prevent that. We are nearer to him; he trusts +us; he will follow us." + +"Do you know, Rybin proposes that we should publish a newspaper +for the village?" + +"We must do it, too. As soon as possible." + +Pavel laughed and said: + +"I feel bad I didn't argue with him." + +"We'll have a chance to argue with him still," the Little Russian +rejoined. "You keep on playing your flute; whoever has gay feet, +if they haven't grown into the ground, will dance to your tune. +Rybin would probably have said that we don't feel the ground under +us, and need not, either. Therefore it's our business to shake it. +Shake it once, and the people will be loosened from it; shake it once +more, and they'll tear themselves away." + +The mother smiled. + +"Everything seems to be simple to you, Andriusha." + +"Yes, yes, it's simple," said the Little Russian, and added gloomily: +"Like life." A few minutes later he said: "I'll go take a walk in +the field." + +"After the bath? The wind will blow through you," the mother warned. + +"Well, I need a good airing." + +"Look out, you'll catch a cold," Pavel said affectionately. "You'd +better lie down and try to sleep." + +"No, I'm going." He put on his wraps, and went out without speaking. + +"It's hard for him," the mother sighed. + +"You know what?" Pavel observed to her. "It's very good that you +started to say 'thou' to him after that." + +She looked at him in astonishment, and after reflecting a moment, said: + +"Um, I didn't even notice how it came. It came all of itself. He +has grown so near to me. I can't tell you in words just how I feel. +Oh, such a misfortune!" + +"You have a good heart, mamma," Pavel said softly. + +"I'm very glad if I have. If I could only help you in some way, +all of you. If I only could!" + +"Don't fear, you will." + +She laughed softly: + +"I can't help fearing; that's exactly what I can't help. But thank +you for the good word, my dear son." + +"All right, mother; don't let's talk about it any more. Know that +I love you; and I thank you most heartily." + +She walked into the kitchen in order not to annoy him with her tears. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Several days later Vyesovshchikov came in, as shabby, untidy, and +disgruntled as ever. + +"Haven't you heard who killed Isay?" He stopped in his clumsy +pacing of the room to turn to Pavel. + +"No!" Pavel answered briefly. + +"There you got a man who wasn't squeamish about the job! And I'd +always been preparing to do it myself. It was my job--just the +thing for me!" + +"Don't talk nonsense, Nikolay," Pavel said in a friendly manner. + +"Now, really, what's the matter with you?" interposed the mother +kindly. "You have a soft heart, and yet you keep barking like a +vicious dog. What do you go on that way for?" + +At this moment she was actually pleased to see Nikolay. Even his +pockmarked face looked more agreeable to her. She pitied him as +never before. + +"Well, I'm not fit for anything but jobs like that!" said Nikolay +dully, shrugging his shoulders. "I keep thinking, and thinking +where my place in the world is. There is no place for me! The +people require to be spoken to, and I cannot. I see everything; I +feel all the people's wrongs; but I cannot express myself: I have a +dumb soul." He went over to Pavel with drooping head; and scraping +his fingers on the table, he said plaintively, and so unlike +himself, childishly, sadly: "Give me some hard work to do, comrade. +I can't live this life any longer. It's so senseless, so useless. +You are all working in the movement, and I see that it is growing, +and I'm outside of it all. I haul boards and beams. Is it possible +to live for the sake of hauling timber? Give me some hard work." + +Pavel clasped his hand, pulling him toward himself. + +"We will!" + +From behind the curtains resounded the Little Russian's voice: + +"Nikolay, I'll teach you typesetting, and you'll work as a +compositor for us. Yes?" + +Nikolay went over to him and said: + +"If you'll teach me that, I'll give you my knife." + +"To the devil with your knife!" exclaimed the Little Russian and +burst out laughing. + +"It's a good knife," Nikolay insisted. Pavel laughed, too. + +Vyesovshchikov stopped in the middle of the room and asked: + +"Are you laughing at me?" + +"Of course," replied the Little Russian, jumping out of bed. "I'll +tell you what! Let's take a walk in the fields! The night is fine; +there's bright moonshine. Let's go!" + +"All right," said Pavel. + +"And I'll go with you, too!" declared Nikolay. "I like to hear you +laugh, Little Russian." + +"And I like to hear you promise presents," answered the Little +Russian, smiling. + +While Andrey was dressing in the kitchen, the mother scolded him: + +"Dress warmer! You'll get sick." And when they all had left, she +watched them through the window; then looked at the ikon, and said +softly: "God help them!" + +She turned off the lamp and began to pray alone in the moonlit room. + + +The days flew by in such rapid succession that the mother could not +give much thought to the first of May. Only at night, when, +exhausted by the noise and the exciting bustle of the day, she went +to bed, tired and worn out, her heart would begin to ache. + +"Oh, dear, if it would only be over soon!" + +At dawn, when the factory whistle blew, the son and the Little +Russian, after hastily drinking tea and snatching a bite, would go, +leaving a dozen or so small commissions for the mother. The whole +day long she would move around like a squirrel in a wheel, cook +dinner, and boil lilac-colored gelatin and glue for the proclamations. +Some people would come, leave notes with her to deliver to Pavel, +and disappear, infecting her with their excitement. + +The leaflets appealing to the working people to celebrate the first +of May flooded the village and the factory. Every night they were +posted on the fences, even on the doors of the police station; and +every day they were found in the factory. In the mornings the +police would go around, swearing, tearing down and scraping off the +lilac-covered bills from the fences. At noon, however, these bills +would fly over the streets again, rolling to the feet of the +passers-by. Spies were sent from the city to stand at the street +corners and carefully scan the working people on their gay passages +from and to the factory at dinner time. Everybody was pleased to +see the impotence of the police, and even the elder workingmen would +smile at one another: + +"Things are happening, aren't they?" + +All over, people would cluster into groups hotly discussing the +stirring appeals. Life was at boiling point. This spring it held +more of interest to everybody, it brought forth something new to +all; for some it was a good excuse to excite themselves--they could +pour out their malicious oaths on the agitators; to others, it +brought perplexed anxiety as well as hope; to others again, the +minority, an acute delight in the consciousness of being the power +that set the village astir. + +Pavel and Andrey scarcely ever went to bed. They came home just +before the morning whistle sounded, tired, hoarse, and pale. The +mother knew that they held meetings in the woods and the marsh; that +squads of mounted police galloped around the village, that spies +were crawling all over, holding up and searching single workingmen, +dispersing groups, and sometimes making an arrest. She understood +that her son and Andrey might be arrested any night. Sometimes she +thought that this would be the best thing for them. + +Strangely enough, the investigation of the murder of Isay, the +record clerk, suddenly ceased. For two days the local police +questioned the people in regard to the matter, examining about ten +men or so, and finally lost interest in the affair. + +Marya Korsunova, in a chat with the mother, reflected the opinion of +the police, with whom she associated as amicably as with everybody: + +"How is it possible to find the guilty man? That morning some hundred +people met Isay, and ninety of them, if not more, might have given +him the blow. During these eight years he has galled everybody." + +The Little Russian changed considerably. His face became hollow-cheeked; +his eyelids got heavy and drooped over his round eyes, half covering +them. His smiles were wrung from him unwillingly, and two thin wrinkles +were drawn from his nostrils to the corners of his lips. He talked +less about everyday matters; on the other hand, he was more frequently +enkindled with a passionate fire; and he intoxicated his listeners +with his ecstatic words about the future, about the bright, beautiful +holiday, when they would celebrate the triumph of freedom and reason. +Listening to his words, the mother felt that he had gone further than +anybody else toward the great, glorious day, and that he saw the joys +of that future more vividly than the rest. When the investigations of +Isay's murder ceased, he said in disgust and smiling sadly: + +"It's not only the people they treat like trash, but even the very +men whom they set on the people like dogs. They have no concern for +their faithful Judases, they care only for their shekels--only for +them." And after a sullen silence, he added: "And I pity that man +the more I think of him. I didn't intend to kill him--didn't want to!" + +"Enough, Andrey," said Pavel severely. + +"You happened to knock against something rotten, and it fell to +pieces," added the mother in a low voice. + +"You're right--but that's no consolation." + +He often spoke in this way. In his mouth the words assumed a +peculiar, universal significance, bitter and corrosive. + +At last, it was the first of May! The whistle shrilled as usual, +powerful and peremptory. The mother, who hadn't slept a minute +during the night, jumped out of bed, made a fire in the samovar, +which had been prepared the evening before, and was about, as +always, to knock at the door of her son's and Andrey's room, when, +with a wave of her hand she recollected the day, and went to seat +herself at the window, leaning her cheek on her hand. + +Clusters of light clouds, white and rosy, sailed swiftly across the +pale blue sky, like huge birds frightened by the piercing shriek of +the escaping steam. The mother watched the clouds, absorbed in +herself. Her head was heavy, her eyes dry and inflamed from the +sleepless night. A strange calm possessed her breast, her heart was +beating evenly, and her mind dwelt on only common, everyday things. + +"I prepared the samovar too early; it will boil away. Let them +sleep longer to-day; they've worn themselves out, both of them." + +A cheerful ray of sun looked into the room. She held her hand out +to it, and with the other gently patted the bright young beam, +smiling kindly and thoughtfully. Then she rose, removed the pipe +from the samovar, trying not to make a noise, washed herself, and +began to pray, crossing herself piously, and noiselessly moving her +lips. Her face was radiant, and her right eyebrow kept rising +gradually and suddenly dropping. + +The second whistle blew more softly with less assurance, a tremor +in its thick and mellow sound. It seemed to the mother that the +whistle lasted longer to-day than ever. The clear, musical voice +of the Little Russian sounded in the room: + +"Pavel, do you hear? They're calling." + +The mother heard the patter of bare feet on the floor and some one +yawn with gusto. + +"The samovar is ready," she cried. + +"We're getting up," Pavel answered merrily. + +"The sun is rising," said the Little Russian. "The clouds are +racing; they're out of place to-day." He went into the kitchen all +disheveled but jolly after his sleep. "Good morning, mother dear; +how did you sleep?" + +The mother went to him and whispered: + +"Andriusha, keep close to him." + +"Certainly. As long as it depends on us, we'll always stick to +each other, you may be sure." + +"What's that whispering about?" Pavel asked. + +"Nothing. She told me to wash myself better, so the girls will +look at me," replied the Little Russian, going out on the porch +to wash himself. + +"'Rise up, awake, you workingmen,'" Pavel sang softly. + +As the day grew, the clouds dispersed, chased by the wind. The +mother got the dishes ready for the tea, shaking her head over the +thought of how strange it was for both of them to be joking and +smiling all the time on this morning, when who knew what would +befall them in the afternoon. Yet, curiously enough, she felt +herself calm, almost happy. + +They sat a long time over the tea to while away the hours of +expectation. Pavel, as was his wont, slowly and scrupulously mixed +the sugar in the glass with his spoon, and accurately salted his +favorite crust from the end of the loaf. The Little Russian moved +his feet under the table--he never could at once settle his feet +comfortably--and looked at the rays of sunlight playing on the wall +and ceiling. + +"When I was a youngster of ten years," he recounted, "I wanted to +catch the sun in a glass. So I took the glass, stole to the wall, +and bang! I cut my hand and got a licking to boot. After the +licking I went out in the yard and saw the sun in a puddle. So I +started to trample the mud with my feet. I covered myself with mud, +and got another drubbing. What was I to do? I screamed to the sun: +'It doesn't hurt me, you red devil; it doesn't hurt me!' and stuck +out my tongue at him. And I felt comforted." + +"Why did the sun seem red to you?" Pavel asked, laughing. + +"There was a blacksmith opposite our house, with fine red cheeks, +and a huge red beard. I thought the sun resembled him." + +The mother lost patience and said: + +"You'd better talk about your arrangements for the procession." + +"Everything's been arranged," said Pavel. + +"No use talking of things once decided upon. It only confuses the +mind," the Little Russian added. "If we are all arrested, Nikolay +Ivanovich will come and tell you what to do. He will help you in +every way." + +"All right," said the mother with a heavy sigh. + +"Let's go out," said Pavel dreamily. + +"No, rather stay indoors," replied Andrey. "No need to annoy the +eyes of the police so often. They know you well enough." + +Fedya Mazin came running in, all aglow, with red spots on his cheeks, +quivering with youthful joy. His animation dispelled the tedium of +expectation for them. + +"It's begun!" he reported. "The people are all out on the street, +their faces sharp as the edge of an ax. Vyesovshchikov, the Gusevs, +and Samoylov have been standing at the factory gates all the time, +and have been making speeches. Most of the people went back from +the factory, and returned home. Let's go! It's just time! It's +ten o'clock already." + +"I'm going!" said Pavel decidedly. + +"You'll see," Fedya assured them, "the whole factory will rise up +after dinner." + +And he hurried away, followed by the quiet words of the mother: + +"Burning like a wax candle in the wind." + +She rose and went into the kitchen to dress. + +"Where are you going, mother?" + +"With you," she said. + +Andrey looked at Pavel pulling his mustache. Pavel arranged his +hair with a quick gesture, and went to his mother. + +"Mother, I will not tell you anything; and don't you tell me +anything, either. Right, mother?" + +"All right, all right! God bless you!" she murmured. + +When she went out and heard the holiday hum of the people's voices-- +an anxious and expectant hum--when she saw everywhere, at the gates +and windows, crowds of people staring at Andrey and her son, a blur +quivered before her eyes, changes from a transparent green to a +muddy gray. + +People greeted them--there was something peculiar in their greetings. +She caught whispered, broken remarks: + +"Here they are, the leaders!" + +"We don't know who the leaders are!" + +"Why, I didn't say anything wrong." + +At another place some one in a yard shouted excitedly: + +"The police will get them, and that'll be the end them!" + +"What if they do?" retorted another voice. + +Farther on a crying woman's voice leaped frightened the window to +the street: + +"Consider! Are you a single man, are you? They are bachelors and +don't care!" + +When they passed the house of Zosimov, the man without legs, who +received a monthly allowance from the factory because of his +mutilation, he stuck his head through, the window and cried out: + +"Pavel, you scoundrel, they'll wring your head off for your doings, +you'll see!" + +The mother trembled and stopped. The exclamation aroused in her a +sharp sensation of anger. She looked up at the thick, bloated face +of the cripple, and he hid himself, cursing. Then she quickened her +pace, overtook her son, and tried not to fall behind again. He and +Andrey seemed not to notice anything; not to hear the outcries that +pursued them. They moved calmly, without haste, and talked loudly +about commonplaces. They were stopped by Mironov, a modest, elderly +man, respected by everybody for his clean, sober life. + +"Not working either, Daniil Ivanovich?" Pavel asked. + +"My wife is going to be confined. Well, and such an exciting day, +too," Mironov responded, staring fixedly at the comrades. He said +to them in an undertone: + +"Boys, I hear you're going to make an awful row--smash the +superintendent's windows." + +"Why, are we drunk?" exclaimed Pavel. + +"We are simply going to march along the streets with flags, and sing +songs," said the Little Russian. "You'll have a chance to hear our +songs. They're our confession of faith." + +"I know your confession of faith," said Mironov thoughtfully. "I +read your papers. You, Nilovna," he exclaimed, smiling at the +mother with knowing eyes, "are you going to revolt, too?" + +"Well, even if it's only before death, I want to walk shoulder to +shoulder with the truth." + +"I declare!" said Mironov. "I guess they were telling the truth +when they said you carried forbidden books to the factory." + +"Who said so?" asked Pavel. + +"Oh, people. Well, good-by! Behave yourselves!" + +The mother laughed softly; she was pleased to hear that such things +were said of her. Pavel smilingly turned to her: + +"Oh, you'll get into prison, mother!" + +"I don't mind," she murmured. + +The sun rose higher, pouring warmth into the bracing freshness of +the spring day. The clouds floated more slowly, their shadows grew +thinner and more transparent, and crawled gently over the streets +and roofs. The bright sunlight seemed to clean the village, to wipe +the dust and dirt from the walls and the tedium from the faces. +Everything assumed a more cheerful aspect; the voices sounded louder, +drowning the far-off rumble and heavings of the factory machines. + +Again, from all sides, from the windows and the yards, different +words and voices, now uneasy and malicious, now thoughtful and gay, +found their way to the mother's ears. But this time she felt a +desire to retort, to thank, to explain, to participate in the +strangely variegated life of the day. + +Off a corner of the main thoroughfare, in a narrow by-street, a +crowd of about a hundred people had gathered, and from its depths +resounded Vyesovshchikov's voice: + +"They squeeze our blood like juice from huckleberries." His words +fell like hammer blows on the people. + +"That's true!" the resonant cry rang out simultaneously from a +number of throats. + +"The boy is doing his best," said the Little Russian. "I'll go help +him." He bent low and before Pavel had time to stop him he twisted +his tall, flexible body into the crowd like a corkscrew into a cork, +and soon his singing voice rang out: + +"Comrades! They say there are various races on the earth--Jews and +Germans, English and Tartars. But I don't believe it. There are +only two nations, two irreconcilable tribes--the rich and the poor. +People dress differently and speak differently; but look at the rich +Frenchman, the rich German, or the rich Englishman, you'll see that +they are all Tartars in the way they treat their workingman--a +plague on them!" + +A laugh broke out in the crowd. + +"On the other hand, we can see the French workingmen, the Tartar +workingmen, the Turkish workingmen, all lead the same dog's life, +as we--we, the Russian workingmen." + +More and more people joined the crowd; one after the other they +thronged into the by-street, silent, stepping on tiptoe, and craning +their necks. Andrey raised his voice: + +"The workingmen of foreign countries have already learned this +simple truth, and to-day, on this bright first of May, the foreign +working people fraternize with one another. They quit their work, +and go out into the streets to look at themselves, to take stock of +their immense power. On this day, the workingmen out there throb +with one heart; for all hearts are lighted with the consciousness of +the might of the working people; all hearts beat with comradeship, +each and every one of them is ready to lay down his life in the war +for the happiness of all, for freedom and truth to all--comrades!" + +"The police!" some one shouted. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +From the main street four mounted policemen flourishing their knouts +came riding into the by-street directly at the crowd. + +"Disperse!" + +"What sort of talking is going on?" + +"Who's speaking?" + +The people scowled, giving way to the horses unwillingly. Some +climbed up on fences; raillery was heard here and there. + +"They put pigs on horses; they grunt: 'Here we are, leaders, too!'" +resounded a sonorous, provoking voice. + +The Little Russian was left alone in the middle of the street; +two horses shaking their manes pressed at him. He stepped aside, +and at the same time the mother grasped his hand, pulling him away +grumbling: + +"You promised to stick to Pasha; and here you are running up against +the edge of a knife all by yourself." + +"I plead guilty," said the Little Russian, smiling at Pavel. "Ugh! +What a force of police there is in the world!" + +"All right," murmured the mother. + +An alarming, crushing exhaustion came over her. It rose from within +her and made her dizzy. There was a strange alternation of sadness +and joy in her heart. She wished the afternoon whistle would sound. + +They reached the square where the church stood. Around the church +within the paling a thick crowd was sitting and standing. There +were some five hundred gay youth and bustling women with children +darting around the groups like butterflies. The crowd swung from +side to side. The people raised their heads and looked into the +distance in different directions, waiting impatiently. + +"Mitenka!" softly vibrated a woman's voice. "Have pity on yourself!" + +"Stop!" rang out the response. + +And the grave Sizov spoke calmly, persuasively: + +"No, we mustn't abandon our children. They have grown wiser than +ourselves; they live more boldly. Who saved our cent for the marshes? +They did. We must remember that. For doing it they were dragged to +prison; but we derived the benefit. The benefit was for all." + +The whistle blew, drowning the talk of the crowd. The people started. +Those sitting rose to their feet. For a moment the silence of death +prevailed; all became watchful, and many faces grew pale. + +"Comrades!" resounded Pavel's voice, ringing and firm. + +A dry, hot haze burned the mother's eyes, and with a single movement +of her body, suddenly strengthened, she stood behind her son. All +turned toward Pavel, and drew up to him, like iron filings attracted +by a magnet. + +"Brothers! The hour has come to give up this life of ours, this +life of greed, hatred, and darkness, this life of violence and +falsehood, this life where there is no place for us, where we are +no human beings." + +He stopped, and everybody maintained silence, moving still closer +to him. The mother stared at her son. She saw only his eyes, his +proud, brave, burning eyes. + +"Comrades! We have decided to declare openly who we are; we raise +our banner to-day, the banner of reason, of truth, of liberty! And +now I raise it!" + +A flag pole, white and slender, flashed in the air, bent down, +cleaving the crowd. For a moment it was lost from sight; then over +the uplifted faces the broad canvas of the working people's flag +spread its wings like a red bird. + +Pavel raised his hand--the pole swung, and a dozen hands caught +the smooth white rod. Among them was the mother's hand. + +"Long live the working people!" he shouted. Hundreds of voices +responded to his sonorous call. "Long live the Social Democratic +Workingmen's Party, our party, comrades, our spiritual mother." + +The crowd seethed and hummed. Those who understood the meaning of +the flag squeezed their way up to it. Mazin, Samoylov, and the +Gusevs stood close at Pavel's side. Nikolay with bent head pushed +his way through the crowd. Some other people unknown to the mother, +young and with burning eyes, jostled her. + +"Long live the working people of all countries!" shouted Pavel. + +And ever increasing in force and joy, a thousand-mouthed echo +responded in a soul-stirring acclaim. + +The mother clasped Pavel's hand, and somebody else's, too. She was +breathless with tears, yet refrained from shedding them. Her legs +trembled, and with quivering lips she cried: + +"Oh, my dear boys, that's true. There you are now----" + +A broad smile spread over Nikolay's pockmarked face; he stared at +the flag and, stretching his hand toward it, roared out something; +then caught the mother around the neck with the same hand, kissed +her, and laughed. + +"Comrades!" sang out the Little Russian, subduing the noise of the +crowd with his mellow voice. "Comrades! We have now started a holy +procession in the name of the new God, the God of Truth and Light, +the God of Reason and Goodness. We march in this holy procession, +comrades, over a long and hard road. Our goal is far, far away, and +the crown of thorns is near! Those who don't believe in the might +of truth, who have not the courage to stand up for it even unto +death, who do not believe in themselves and are afraid of suffering +--such of you, step aside! We call upon those only who believe in +our triumph. Those who cannot see our goal, let them not walk with +us; only misery is in store for them! Fall into line, comrades! +Long live the first of May, the holiday of freemen!" + +The crowd drew closer. Pavel waved the flag. It spread out in the +air and sailed forward, sunlit, smiling, red, and glowing. + +"Let us renounce the old world!" resounded Fedya Mazin's ringing +voice; and scores of voices took up the cry. It floated as on a +mighty wave. + +"Let us shake its dust from our feet." + +The mother marched behind Mazin with a smile on her dry lips, and +looked over his head at her son and the flag. Everywhere, around +her, was the sparkle of fresh young cheerful faces, the glimmer of +many-colored eyes; and at the head of all--her son and Andrey. She +heard their voices, Andrey's, soft and humid, mingled in friendly +accord with the heavy bass of her son: + + "Rise up, awake, you workingmen! + On, on, to war, you hungry hosts!" + +Men ran toward the red flag, raising a clamor; then joining the +others, they marched along, their shouts lost in the broad sounds +of the song of the revolution. + +The mother had heard that song before. It had often been sung in a +subdued tone; and the Little Russian had often whistled it. But now +she seemed for the first time to hear this appeal to unite in the +struggle. + + "We march to join our suffering mates." + +The song flowed on, embracing the people. + +Some one's face, alarmed yet joyous, moved along beside the +mother's, and a trembling voice spoke, sobbing: + +"Mitya! Where are you going?" + +The mother interfered without stopping: + +"Let him go! Don't be alarmed! Don't fear! I myself was afraid +at first, too. Mine is right at the head--he who bears the standard +--that's my son!" + +"Murderers! Where are you going? There are soldiers over there!" +And suddenly clasping the mother's hand in her bony hands, the tall, +thin woman exclaimed: "My dear! How they sing! Oh, the sectarians! +And Mitya is singing!" + +"Don't be troubled!" murmured the mother. "It's a sacred thing. +Think of it! Christ would not have been, either, if men hadn't +perished for his sake." + +This thought had flashed across the mother's mind all of a sudden +and struck her by its simple, clear truth. She stared at the woman, +who held her hand firmly in her clasp, and repeated, smiling: + +"Christ would not have been, either, if men hadn't suffered for his +sake." + +Sizov appeared at her side. He took off his hat and waving it to +the measure of the song, said: + +"They're marching openly, eh, mother? And composed a song, too! +What a song, mother, eh?" + + "The Czar for the army soldiers must have, + Then give him your sons----" + +"They're not afraid of anything," said Sizov. "And my son is in the +grave. The factory crushed him to death, yes!" + +The mother's heart beat rapidly, and she began to lag behind. She +was soon pushed aside hard against a fence, and the close-packed +crowd went streaming past her. She saw that there were many people, +and she was pleased. + + "Rise up, awake, you workingmen!" + +It seemed as if the blare of a mighty brass trumpet were rousing +men and stirring in some hearts the willingness to fight, in other +hearts a vague joy, a premonition of something new, and a burning +curiosity; in still others a confused tremor of hope and curiosity. +The song was an outlet, too, for the stinging bitterness accumulated +during years. + +The people looked ahead, where the red banner was swinging and +streaming in the air. All were saying something and shouting; but +the individual voice was lost in the song--the new song, in which +the old note of mournful meditation was absent. It was not the +utterance of a soul wandering in solitude along the dark paths of +melancholy perplexity, of a soul beaten down by want, burdened with +fear, deprived of individuality, and colorless. It breathed no +sighs of a strength hungering for space; it shouted no provoking +cries of irritated courage ready to crush both the good and the bad +indiscriminately. It did not voice the elemental instinct of the +animal to snatch freedom for freedom's sake, nor the feeling of +wrong or vengeance capable of destroying everything and powerless +to build up anything. In this song there was nothing from the old, +slavish world. It floated along directly, evenly; it proclaimed an +iron virility, a calm threat. Simple, clear, it swept the people +after it along an endless path leading to the far distant future; +and it spoke frankly about the hardships of the way. In its steady +fire a heavy clod seemed to burn and melt--the sufferings they had +endured, the dark load of their habitual feelings, their cursed +dread of what was coming. + +"They all join in!" somebody roared exultantly. "Well done, boys!" + +Apparently the man felt something vast, to which he could not give +expression in ordinary words, so he uttered a stiff oath. Yet the +malice, the blind dark malice of a slave also streamed hotly through +his teeth. Disturbed by the light shed upon it, it hissed like a +snake, writhing in venomous words. + +"Heretics!" a man with a broken voice shouted from a window, shaking +his fist threateningly. + +A piercing scream importunately bored into the mother's ears-- +"Rioting against the emperor, against his Majesty the Czar? No, no?" + +Agitated people flashed quickly past her, a dark lava stream of men +and women, carried along by this song, which cleared every obstacle +out of its path. + +Growing in the mother's breast was the mighty desire to shout to the +crowd: + +"Oh, my dear people!" + +There, far away from her, was the red banner--she saw her son without +seeing him--his bronzed forehead, his eyes burning with the bright +fire of faith. Now she was in the tail of the crowd among the people +who walked without hurrying, indifferent, looking ahead with the cold +curiosity of spectators who know beforehand how the show will end. +They spoke softly with confidence. + +"One company of infantry is near the school, and the other near +the factory." + +"The governor has come." + +"Is that so?" + +"I saw him myself. He's here." + +Some one swore jovially and said: + +"They've begun to fear our fellows, after all, haven't they? The +soldiers have come and the governor----" + +"Dear boys!" throbbed in the breast of the mother. But the words +around her sounded dead and cold. She hastened her steps to get +away from these people, and it was not difficult for her to outstrip +their lurching gait. + +Suddenly the head of the crowd, as it were, bumped against something; +its body swung backward with an alarming, low hum. The song trembled, +then flowed on more rapidly and louder; but again the dense wave of +sounds hesitated in its forward course. Voices fell out of the chorus +one after the other. Here and there a voice was raised in the effort +to bring the song to its previous height, to push it forward: + + "Rise up, awake, you workingmen! + On, on, to war, you hungry hosts!" + +Though she saw nothing and was ignorant of what was happening +there in front, the mother divined, and elbowed her way rapidly +through the crowd. + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +"Comrades!" the voice of Pavel was heard. "Soldiers are people the +same as ourselves. They will not strike us! Why should they beat +us? Because we bear the truth necessary for all? This our truth is +necessary to them, too. Just now they do not understand this; but +the time is nearing when they will rise with us, when they will +march, not under the banner of robbers and murderers, the banner +which the liars and beasts order them to call the banner of glory +and honor, but under our banner of freedom and goodness! We ought +to go forward so that they should understand our truth the sooner. +Forward, comrades! Ever forward!" + +Pavel's voice sounded firm, the words rang in the air distinctly. +But the crowd fell asunder; one after the other the people dropped +off to the right or to the left, going toward their homes, or +leaning against the fences. Now the crowd had the shape of a wedge, +and its point was Pavel, over whose head the banner of the laboring +people was burning red. + +At the end of the street, closing the exit to the square, the mother +saw a low, gray wall of men, one just like the other, without faces. +On the shoulder of each a bayonet was smiling its thin, chill smile; +and from this entire immobile wall a cold gust blew down on the +workmen, striking the breast of the mother and penetrating her heart. + +She forced her way into the crowd among people familiar to her, and, +as it were, leaned on them. + +She pressed closely against a tall, lame man with a clean-shaven +face. In order to look at her, he had to turn his head stiffly. + +"What do you want? Who are you?" he asked her. + +"The mother of Pavel Vlasov," she answered, her knees trembling +beneath her, her lower lip involuntarily dropping. + +"Ha-ha!" said the lame man. "Very well!" + +"Comrades!" Pavel cried. "Onward all your lives. There is no +other way for us! Sing!" + +The atmosphere grew tense. The flag rose and rocked and waved over +the heads of the people, gliding toward the gray wall of soldiers. +The mother trembled. She closed her eyes; and cried: "Oh--oh!" + +None but Pavel, Andrey, Samoylov, and Mazin advanced beyond the crowd. + +The limpid voice of Fedya Mazin slowly quivered in the air. + +"'In mortal strife--'" he began the song. + +"'You victims fell--'" answered thick, subdued voices. The words +dropped in two heavy sighs. People stepped forward, each footfall +audible. A new song, determined and resolute, burst out: + + "You yielded up your lives for them." + +Fedya's voice wreathed and curled like a bright ribbon. + +"A-ha-ha-ha!" some one exclaimed derisively. "They've struck up a +funeral song, the dirty dogs!" + +"Beat him!" came the angry response. + +The mother clasped her hands to her breast, looked about and saw +that the crowd, before so dense, was now standing irresolute, +watching the comrades walk away from them with the banner, followed +by about a dozen people, one of whom, however, at every forward +move, jumped aside as if the path in the middle of the street were +red hot and burned his soles. + +"The tyranny will fall--" sounded the prophetic song from the +lips of Fedya. + +"And the people will rise!" the chorus of powerful voices seconded +confidently and menacingly. + +But the harmonious flow of the song was broken by the quiet words: + +"He is giving orders." + +"Charge bayonets!" came the piercing order from the front. + +The bayonets curved in the air, and glittered sharply; then fell +and stretched out to confront the banner. + +"Ma-arch!" + +"They're coming!" said the lame man, and thrusting his hands into +his pockets made a long step to one side. + +The mother, without blinking, looked on. The gray line of soldiers +tossed to and fro, and spread out over the entire width of the +street. It moved on evenly, coolly, carrying in front of itself a +fine-toothed comb of sparkling bayonets. Then it came to a stand. +The mother took long steps to get nearer to her son. She saw how +Andrey strode ahead of Pavel and fenced him off with his long body. +"Get alongside of me!" Pavel shouted sharply. Andrey was singing, +his hands clasped behind his back, his head uplifted. Pavel pushed +him with his shoulder, and again cried: + +"At my side! Let the banner be in front!" + +"Disperse!" called a little officer in a thin voice, brandishing +a white saber. He lifted his feet high, and without bending his +knees struck his soles on the ground irritably. The high polish +on his boots caught the eyes of the mother. + +To one side and somewhat behind him walked a tall, clean-shaven man, +with a thick, gray mustache. He wore a long gray overcoat with a +red underlining, and yellow stripes on his trousers. His gait was +heavy, and like the Little Russian, he clasped his hands behind his +back. He regarded Pavel, raising his thick gray eyebrows. + +The mother seemed to be looking into infinity. At each breath her +breast was ready to burst with a loud cry. It choked her, but for +some reason she restrained it. Her hands clutched at her bosom. +She staggered from repeated thrusts. She walked onward without +thought, almost without consciousness. She felt that behind her +the crowd was getting thinner; a cold wind had blown on them and +scattered them like autumn leaves. + +The men around the red banner moved closer and closer together. +The faces of the soldiers were clearly seen across the entire width +of the street, monstrously flattened, stretched out in a dirty +yellowish band. In it were unevenly set variously colored eyes, +and in front the sharp bayonets glittered crudely. Directed against +the breasts of the people, although not yet touching them, they +drove them apart, pushing one man after the other away from the +crowd and breaking it up. + +Behind her the mother heard the trampling noise of those who were +running away. Suppressed, excited voices cried: + +"Disperse, boys!" + +"Vlasov, run!" + +"Back, Pavel!" + +"Drop the banner, Pavel!" Vyesovshchikov said glumly. "Give it to +me! I'll hide it!" + +He grabbed the pole with his hand; the flag rocked backward. + +"Let go!" thundered Pavel. + +Nikolay drew his hand back as if it had been burned. The song died +away. Some persons crowded solidly around Pavel; but he cut through +to the front. A sudden silence fell. + +Around the banner some twenty men were grouped, not more, but they +stood firmly. The mother felt drawn to them by awe and by a +confused desire to say something to them. + +"Take this thing away from him, lieutenant." The even voice of the +tall old man was heard. He pointed to the banner. A little officer +jumped up to Pavel, snatched at the flag pole, and shouted shrilly: + +"Drop it!" + +The red flag trembled in the air, moving to the right and to the +left, then rose again. The little officer jumped back and sat down. +Nikolay darted by the mother, shaking his outstretched fist. + +"Seize them!" the old man roared, stamping his feet. A few soldiers +jumped to the front, one of them flourishing the butt end of his +gun. The banner trembled, dropped, and disappeared in a gray mass +of soldiers. + +"Oh!" somebody groaned aloud. And the mother yelled like a wild +animal. But the clear voice of Pavel answered her from out of the +crowd of soldiers: + +"Good-by, mother! Good-by, dear!" + +"He's alive! He remembered!" were the two strokes at the mother's heart. + +"Good-by, mother dear!" came from Andrey. + +Waving her bands, she raised herself on tiptoe, and tried to see +them. There was the round face of Andrey above the soldiers' heads. +He was smiling and bowing to her. + +"Oh, my dear ones! Andriusha! Pasha!" she shouted. + +"Good-by, comrades!" they called from among the soldiers. + +A broken, manifold echo responded to them. It resounded from the +windows and the roofs. + +The mother felt some one pushing her breast. Through the mist in +her eyes she saw the little officer. His face was red and strained, +and he was shouting to her: + +"Clear out of here, old woman!" + +She looked down on him, and at his feet saw the flag pole broken in +two parts, a piece of red cloth on one of them. She bent down and +picked it up. The officer snatched it out of her hands, threw it +aside, and shouted again, stamping his feet: + +"Clear out of here, I tell you!" + +A song sprang up and floated from among the soldiers: + + "Arise, awake, you workingmen!" + +Everything was whirling, rocking, trembling. A thick, alarming +noise, resembling the dull hum of telegraph wires, filled the air. +The officer jumped back, screaming angrily: + +"Stop the singing, Sergeant Kraynov!" + +The mother staggered to the fragment of the pole, which he had +thrown down, and picked it up again. + +"Gag them!" + +The song became confused, trembled, expired. Somebody took the mother +by the shoulders, turned her around, and shoved her from the back. + +"Go, go! Clear the street!" shouted the officer. + +About ten paces from her, the mother again saw a thick crowd of +people. They were howling, grumbling, whistling, as they backed +down the street. The yards were drawing in a number of them. + +"Go, you devil!" a young soldier with a big mustache shouted right +into the mother's ear. He brushed against her and shoved her onto +the sidewalk. She moved away, leaning on the flag pole. She went +quickly and lightly, but her legs bent under her. In order not to +fall she clung to walls and fences. People in front were falling back +alongside of her, and behind her were soldiers, shouting: "Go, go!" + +The soldiers got ahead of her; she stopped and looked around. Down +the end of the street she saw them again scattered in a thin chain, +blocking the entrance to the square, which was empty. Farther down +were more gray figures slowly moving against the people. She wanted +to go back; but uncalculatingly went forward again, and came to a +narrow, empty by-street into which she turned. She stopped again. +She sighed painfully, and listened. Somewhere ahead she heard the +hum of voices. Leaning on the pole she resumed her walk. Her +eyebrows moved up and down, and she suddenly broke into a sweat; her +lips quivered; she waved her hands, and certain words flashed up in +her heart like sparks, kindling in her a strong, stubborn desire to +speak them, to shout them. + +The by-street turned abruptly to the left; and around the corner the +mother saw a large, dense crowd of people. Somebody's voice was +speaking loudly and firmly: + +"They don't go to meet the bayonets from sheer audacity. Remember that!" + +"Just look at them. Soldiers advance against them, and they stand +before them without fear. Y-yes!" + +"Think of Pasha Vlasov!" + +"And how about the Little Russian?" + +"Hands behind his back and smiling, the devil!" + +"My dear ones! My people!" the mother shouted, pushing into the crowd. +They cleared the way for her respectfully. Somebody laughed: + +"Look at her with the flag in her hand!" + +"Shut up!" said another man sternly. + +The mother with a broad sweep of her arms cried out: + +"Listen for the sake of Christ! You are all dear people, you are +all good people. Open up your hearts. Look around without fear, +without terror. Our children are going into the world. Our children +are going, our blood is going for the truth; with honesty in their +hearts they open the gates of the new road--a straight, wide road +for all. For all of you, for the sake of your young ones, they have +devoted themselves to the sacred cause. They seek the sun of new +days that shall always be bright. They want another life, the life +of truth and justice, of goodness for all." + +Her heart was rent asunder, her breast contracted, her throat was +hot and dry. Deep inside of her, words were being born, words of a +great, all-embracing love. They burned her tongue, moving it more +powerfully and more freely. She saw that the people were listening +to her words. All were silent. She felt that they were thinking as +they surrounded her closely; and the desire grew in her, now a clear +desire, to drive these people to follow her son, to follow Andrey, +to follow all those who had fallen into the soldiers' hands, all +those who were left entirely alone, all those who were abandoned. +Looking at the sullen, attentive faces around her, she resumed with +soft force: + +"Our children are going in the world toward happiness. They went +for the sake of all, and for Christ's truth--against all with which +our malicious, false, avaricious ones have captured, tied, and +crushed us. My dear ones--why it is for you that our young blood +rose--for all the people, for all the world, for all the workingmen, +they went! Then don't go away from them, don't renounce, don't forsake +them, don't leave your children on a lonely path--they went just for +the purpose of showing you all the path to truth, to take all on that +path! Pity yourselves! Love them! Understand the children's hearts. +Believe your sons' hearts; they have brought forth the truth; it +burns in them; they perish for it. Believe them!" + +Her voice broke down, she staggered, her strength gone. Somebody +seized her under the arms. + +"She is speaking God's words!" a man shouted hoarsely and excitedly. +"God's words, good people! Listen to her!" + +Another man said in pity of her: + +"Look how she's hurting herself!" + +"She's not hurting herself, but hitting us, fools, understand that!" +was the reproachful reply. + +A high-pitched, quavering voice rose up over the crowd: + +"Oh, people of the true faith! My Mitya, pure soul, what has he +done? He went after his dear comrades. She speaks truth--why did +we forsake our children? What harm have they done us?" + +The mother trembled at these words and replied with tears. + +"Go home, Nilovna! Go, mother! You're all worn out," said Sizov loudly. + +He was pale, his disheveled beard shook. Suddenly knitting his +brows he threw a stern glance about him on all, drew himself up to +his full height, and said distinctly: + +"My son Matvey was crushed in the factory. You know it! But were +he alive, I myself would have sent him into the lines of those-- +along with them. I myself would have told him: 'Go you, too, +Matvey! That's the right cause, that's the honest cause!'" + +He stopped abruptly, and a sullen silence fell on all, in the +powerful grip of something huge and new, but something that no +longer frightened them. Sizov lifted his hand, shook it, and +continued: + +"It's an old man who is speaking to you. You know me! I've been +working here thirty-nine years, and I've been alive fifty-three +years. To-day they've arrested my nephew, a pure and intelligent +boy. He, too, was in the front, side by side with Vlasov; right at +the banner." Sizov made a motion with his hand, shrank together, +and said as he took the mother's hand: "This woman spoke the truth. +Our children want to live honorably, according to reason, and we +have abandoned them; we walked away, yes! Go, Nilovna!" + +"My dear ones!" she said, looking at them all with tearful eyes. +"The life is for our children and the earth is for them." + +"Go, Nilovna, take this staff and lean upon it!" said Sizov, giving +her the fragment of the flag pole. + +All looked at the mother with sadness and respect. A hum of +sympathy accompanied her. Sizov silently put the people out of her +way, and they silently moved aside, obeying a blind impulse to +follow her. They walked after her slowly, exchanging brief, subdued +remarks on the way. Arrived at the gate of her house, she turned to +them, leaning on the fragment of the flag pole, and bowed in gratitude. + +"Thank you!" she said softly. And recalling the thought which she +fancied had been born in her heart, she said: "Our Lord Jesus Christ +would not have been, either, if people had not perished for his sake." + +The crowd looked at her in silence. + +She bowed to the people again, and went into her house, and Sizov, +drooping his head, went in with her. + +The people stood at the gates and talked. Then they began to depart +slowly and quietly. + + + + + +PART II + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The day passed in a motley blur of recollections, in a depressing +state of exhaustion, which tightly clutched at the mother's body and +soul. The faces of the young men flashed before her mental vision, +the banner blazed, the songs clamored at her ear, the little officer +skipped about, a gray stain before her eyes, and through the +whirlwind of the procession she saw the gleam of Pavel's bronzed +face and the smiling sky-blue eyes of Andrey. + +She walked up and down the room, sat at the window, looked out into +the street, and walked away again with lowered eyebrows. Every now +and then she started, and looked about in an aimless search for +something. She drank water, but could not slake her thirst, nor +quench the smoldering fire of anguish and injury in her bosom. +The day was chopped in two. It began full of meaning and content, +but now it dribbled away into a dismal waste, which stretched before +her endlessly. The question swung to and fro in her barren, perplexed +mind: + +"What now?" + +Korsunova came in. Waving her hands, she shouted, wept, and went +into raptures; stamped her feet, suggested this and that, made +promises, and threw out threats against somebody. All this failed +to impress the mother. + +"Aha!" she heard the squeaking voice of Marya. "So the people have +been stirred up! At last the whole factory has arisen! All have arisen!" + +"Yes, yes!" said the mother in a low voice, shaking her head. Her +eyes were fixed on something that had already fallen into the past, +had departed from her along with Andrey and Pavel. She was unable +to weep. Her heart was dried up, her lips, too, were dry, and her +mouth was parched. Her hands shook, and a cold, fine shiver ran +down her back, setting her skin aquiver. + +In the evening the gendarmes came. She met them without surprise +and without fear. They entered noisily, with a peculiarly jaunty +air, and with a look of gayety and satisfaction in their faces. The +yellow-faced officer said, displaying his teeth: + +"Well, how are you? The third time I have the honor, eh?" + +She was silent, passing her dry tongue along her lips. The officer +talked a great deal, delivering a homily to her. The mother realized +what pleasure he derived from his words. But they did not reach her; +they did not disturb her; they were like the insistent chirp of a +cricket. It was only when he said: "It's your own fault, little +mother, that you weren't able to inspire your son with reverence +for God and the Czar," that she answered dully, standing at the door +and looking at him: "Yes, our children are our judges. They visit +just punishment upon us for abandoning them on such a road." + +"Wha-at?" shouted the officer. "Louder!" + +"I say, the children are our judges," the mother repeated with a sigh. + +He said something quickly and angrily, but his words buzzed around her +without touching her. Marya Korsunova was a witness. She stood beside +the mother, but did not look at her; and when the officer turned to her +with a question, she invariably answered with a hasty, low bow: "I +don't know, your Honor. I am just a simple, ignorant woman. I make +my living by peddling, stupid as I am, and I know nothing." + +"Shut up, then!" commanded the officer. + +She was ordered to search Vlasova. She blinked her eyes, then +opened them wide on the officer, and said in fright: + +"I can't, your Honor!" + +The officer stamped his feet and began to shout. Marya lowered her +eyes, and pleaded with the mother softly: + +"Well, what can be done? You have to submit, Pelagueya Nilovna." + +As she searched and felt the mother's dress, the blood mounting to +her face, she murmured: + +"Oh, the dogs!" + +"What are you jabbering about there?" the officer cried rudely, +looking into the corner where she was making the search. + +"It's about women's affairs, your Honor," mumbled Marya, terrorized. + +On his order to sign the search warrant the mother, with unskilled +hand, traced on the paper in printed shining letters: + +"Pelagueya Nilovna, widow of a workingman." + +They went away, and the mother remained standing at the window. +With her hands folded over her breast, she gazed into vacancy +without winking, her eyebrows raised. Her lips were compressed, +her jaws so tightly set that her teeth began to pain her. The oil +burned down in the lamp, the light flared up for a moment, and then +went out. She blew on it, and remained in the dark. She felt no +malice, she harbored no sense of injury in her heart. A dark, cold +cloud of melancholy settled on her breast, and impeded the beating +of her heart. Her mind was a void. She stood at the window a long +time; her feet and eyes grew weary. She heard Marya stop at the +window, and shout: "Are you asleep, Pelagueya? You unfortunate, +suffering woman, sleep! They abuse everybody, the heretics!" At +last she dropped into bed without undressing, and quickly fell into +a heavy sleep, as if she had plunged into a deep abyss. + +She dreamed she saw a yellow sandy mound beyond the marsh on the +road to the city. At the edge, which descended perpendicularly to +the ditch, from which sand was being taken, stood Pavel singing +softly and sonorously with the voice of Andrey: + +"Rise up, awake, you workingmen!" + +She walked past the mound along the road to the city, and putting +her hand to her forehead looked at her son. His figure was clearly +and sharply outlined against the sky. She could not make up her +mind to go up to him. She was ashamed because she was pregnant. +And she held an infant in her arms, besides. She walked farther on. +Children were playing ball in the field. There were many of them, +and the ball was a red one. The infant threw himself forward out of +her arms toward them, and began to cry aloud. She gave him the +breast, and turned back. Now soldiers were already at the mound, +and they turned the bayonets against her. She ran quickly to the +church standing in the middle of the field, the white, light church +that seemed to be constructed out of clouds, and was immeasurably +high. A funeral was going on there. The coffin was wide, black, +and tightly covered with a lid. The priest and deacon walked around +in white canonicals and sang: + +"Christ has arisen from the dead." + +The deacon carried the incense, bowed to her, and smiled. His hair +was glaringly red, and his face jovial, like Samoylov's. From the +top of the dome broad sunbeams descended to the ground. In both +choirs the boys sang softly: + +"Christ has arisen from the dead." + +"Arrest them!" the priest suddenly cried, standing up in the middle +of the church. His vestments vanished from his body, and a gray, +stern mustache appeared on his face. All the people started to run, +and the deacon, flinging the censer aside, rushed forward, seizing +his head in his hands like the Little Russian. The mother dropped +the infant on the ground at the feet of the people. They ran to the +side of her, timidly regarding the naked little body. She fell on +her knees and shouted to them: "Don't abandon the child! Take it +with you!" + +"Christ has arisen from the dead," the Little Russian sang, holding +his hands behind his back, and smiling. He bent down, took the +child, and put it on the wagon loaded with timber, at the side of +which Nikolay was walking slowly, shaking with laughter. He said: + +"They have given me hard work." + +The street was muddy, the people thrust their faces from the windows +of the houses, and whistled, shouted, waved their hands. The day +was clear, the sun shone brightly, and there was not a single shadow +anywhere. + +"Sing, mother!" said the Little Russian. "Oh, what a life!" + +And he sang, drowning all the other sounds with his kind, laughing +voice. The mother walked behind him, and complained: + +"Why does he make fun of me?" + +But suddenly she stumbled and fell in a bottomless abyss. Fearful +shrieks met her in her descent. + +She awoke, shivering and yet perspiring. She put her ear, as it +were, to her own breast, and marveled at the emptiness that +prevailed there. The whistle blew insistently. From its sound she +realized that it was already the second summons. The room was all +in disorder; the books and clothes lay about in confusion; +everything was turned upside down, and dirt was trampled over the +entire floor. + +She arose, and without washing or praying began to set the room in +order. In the kitchen she caught sight of the stick with the piece +of red cloth. She seized it angrily, and was about to throw it away +under the oven, but instead, with a sigh, removed the remnant of the +flag from the pole, folded it carefully, and put it in her pocket. +Then she began to wash the windows with cold water, next the floor, +and finally herself; then dressed herself and prepared the samovar. +She sat down at the window in the kitchen, and once more the question +came to her: + +"What now? What am I to do now?" + +Recollecting that she had not yet said her prayers, she walked up +to the images, and after standing before them for a few seconds, +she sat down again. Her heart was empty. + +The pendulum, which always beat with an energy seeming to say: "I +must get to the goal! I must get to the goal!" slackened its hasty +ticking. The flies buzzed irresolutely, as if pondering a certain +plan of action. + +Suddenly she recalled a picture she had once seen in the days of +her youth. In the old park of the Zansaylovs, there was a large +pond densely overgrown with water lilies. One gray day in the fall, +while walking along the pond, she had seen a boat in the middle of +it. The pond was dark and calm, and the boat seemed glued to the +black water, thickly strewn with yellow leaves. Profound sadness +and a vague sense of misfortune were wafted from that boat without a +rower and without oars, standing alone and motionless out there on +the dull water amid the dead leaves. The mother had stood a long +time at the edge of the pond meditating as to who had pushed the +boat from the shore and why. Now it seemed to her that she herself +was like that boat, which at the time had reminded her of a coffin +waiting for its dead. In the evening of the same day she had +learned that the wife of one of Zansaylov's clerks had been drowned +in the pond--a little woman with black disheveled hair, who always +walked at a brisk gait. + +The mother passed her hands over her eyes as if to rub her +reminiscences away, and her thoughts fluttered like a varicolored +ribbon. Overcome by her impressions of the day before, she sat for +a long time, her eyes fixed upon the cup of tea grown cold. Gradually +the desire came to see some wise, simple person, speak to him, and +ask him many things. + +As if in answer to her wish, Nikolay Ivanovich came in after dinner. +When she saw him, however, she was suddenly seized with alarm, and +failed to respond to his greeting. + +"Oh, my friend," she said softly, "there was no use for you to come +here. If they arrest you here, too, then that will be the end of +Pasha altogether. It's very careless of you! They'll take you +without fail if they see you here." + +He clasped her hand tightly, adjusted his glasses on his nose, and +bending his face close to her, explained to her in haste: + +"I made an agreement with Pavel and Andrey, that if they were +arrested, I must see that you move over to the city the very next +day." He spoke kindly, but with a troubled air. "Did they make a +search in your house?" + +"They did. They rummaged, searched, and nosed around. Those people +have no shame, no conscience!" exclaimed the mother indignantly. + +"What do they need shame for?" said Nikolay with a shrug of his +shoulders, and explained to her the necessity of her going to the city. + +His friendly, solicitous talk moved and agitated her. She looked +at him with a pale smile, and wondered at the kindly feeling of +confidence he inspired in her. + +"If Pasha wants it, and I'll be no inconvenience to you----" + +"Don't be uneasy on that score. I live all alone; my sister comes +over only rarely." + +"I'm not going to eat my head off for nothing," she said, thinking aloud. + +"If you want to work, you'll find something to do." Her conception +of work was now indissolubly connected with the work that her son, +Andrey, and their comrades were doing. She moved a little toward +Nikolay, and looking in his eyes, asked: + +"Yes? You say work will be found for me?" + +"My household is a small one, I am a bachelor----" + +"I'm not talking about that, not about housework," she said quietly. +"I mean world work." + +And she heaved a melancholy sigh, stung and repelled by his failure +to understand her. He rose, and bending toward her, with a smile in +his nearsighted eyes, he said thoughtfully, "You'll find a place for +yourself in the work world, too, if you want it." + +Her mind quickly formulated the simple and clear thought: "Once I +was able to help Pavel; perhaps I will succeed again. The greater +the number of those who work for his cause, the clearer will his +truth come out before the people." + +But these thoughts did not fully express the whole force and +complexity of her desire. + +"What could I do?" she asked quietly. + +He thought a while, and then began to explain the technical details +of the revolutionary work. Among other things, he said: + +"If, when you go to see Pavel in prison, you tried to find out from +him the address of the peasant who asked for a newspaper----" + +"I know it!" exclaimed the mother in delight. "I know where they +are, and who they are. Give me the papers, I'll deliver them. I'll +find the peasants, and do everything just as you say. Who will +think that I carry illegal books? I carried books to the factory. +I smuggled in more than a hundred pounds, Heaven be praised!" + +The desire came upon her to travel along the road, through forests +and villages, with a birch-bark sack over her shoulders, and a +staff in her hand. + +"Now, you dear, dear man, you just arrange it for me, arrange it so +that I can work in this movement. I'll go everywhere for you! I'll +keep going summer and winter, down to my very grave, a pilgrim for +the sake of truth. Why, isn't that a splendid lot for a woman like +me? The wanderer's life is a good life. He goes about through the +world, he has nothing, he needs nothing except bread, no one abuses +him, and so quietly, unnoticed, he roves over the earth. And so +I'll go, too; I'll go to Andrey, to Pasha, wherever they live." + +She was seized with sadness when she saw herself homeless, begging +for alms, in the name of Christ, at the windows of the village cottages. + +Nikolay took her hand gently, and stroked it with his warm hand. +Then, looking at the watch, he said: + +"We'll speak about that later. You are taking a dangerous burden +upon your shoulders. You must consider very carefully what you +intend doing." + +"My dear man, what have I to consider? What have I to live for +if not for this cause? Of what use am I to anybody? A tree grows, +it gives shade; it's split into wood, and it warms people. Even +a mere dumb tree is helpful to life, and I am a human being. The +children, the best blood of man, the best there is of our hearts, +give up their liberty and their lives, perish without pity for +themselves! And I, a mother--am I to stand by and do nothing?" + +The picture of her son marching at the head of the crowd with the +banner in his hands flashed before her mind. + +"Why should I lie idle when my son gives up his life for the sake +of truth? I know now--I know that he is working for the truth. +It's the fifth year now that I live beside the woodpile. My heart +has melted and begun to burn. I understand what you are striving +for. I see what a burden you all carry on your shoulders. Take me +to you, too, for the sake of Christ, that I may be able to help +my son! Take me to you!" + +Nikolay's face grew pale; he heaved a deep sigh, and smiling, said, +looking at her with sympathetic attention: + +"This is the first time I've heard such words." + +"What can I say?" she replied, shaking her head sadly, and spreading +her hands in a gesture of impotence. "If I had the words to express +my mother's heart--" She arose, lifted by the power that waxed in +her breast, intoxicated her, and gave her the words to express her +indignation. "Then many and many a one would weep, and even the +wicked, the men without conscience would tremble! I would make them +taste gall, even as they made Christ drink of the cup of bitterness, +and as they now do our children. They have bruised a mother's heart!" + +Nikolay rose, and pulling his little beard with trembling fingers, +he said slowly in an unfamiliar tone of voice: + +"Some day you will speak to them, I think!" + +He started, looked at his watch again, and asked in a hurry: + +"So it's settled? You'll come over to me in the city?" + +She silently nodded her head. + +"When? Try to do it as soon as possible." And he added in a tender +voice: "I'll be anxious for you; yes, indeed!" + +She looked at him in surprise. What was she to him? With bent +head, smiling in embarrassment, he stood before her, dressed in a +simple black jacket, stooping, nearsighted. + +"Have you money?" he asked, dropping his eyes. + +"No." + +He quickly whipped his purse out of his pocket, opened it, and +handed it to her. + +"Here, please take some." + +She smiled involuntarily, and shaking her head, observed: + +"Everything about all of you is different from other people. Even +money has no value for you. People do anything to get money; they +kill their souls for it. But for you money is so many little pieces +of paper, little bits of copper. You seem to keep it by you just +out of kindness to people." + +Nikolay Ivanovich laughed softly. + +"It's an awfully bothersome article, money is. Both to take it +and to give it is embarrassing." + +He caught her hand, pressed it warmly, and asked again: + +"So you will try to come soon, won't you?" + +And he walked away quietly, as was his wont. + +She got herself ready to go to him on the fourth day after his +visit. When the cart with her two trunks rolled out of the village +into the open country, she turned her head back, and suddenly had +the feeling that she was leaving the place forever--the place where +she had passed the darkest and most burdensome period of her life, +the place where that other varied life had begun, in which the next +day swallowed up the day before, and each was filled by an abundance +of new sorrows and new joys, new thoughts and new feelings. + +The factory spread itself like a huge, clumsy, dark-red, spider, +raising its lofty smokestacks high up into the sky. The small +one-storied houses pressed against it, gray, flattened out on the +soot-covered ground, and crowded up in close clusters on the edge +of the marsh. They looked sorrowfully at one another with their +little dull windows. Above them rose the church, also dark red +like the factory. The belfry, it seemed to her, was lower than +the factory chimneys. + +The mother sighed, and adjusted the collar of her dress, which +choked her. She felt sad, but it was a dry sadness like the dust +of the hot day. + +"Gee!" mumbled the driver, shaking the reins over the horse. He was +a bow-legged man of uncertain height, with sparse, faded hair on his +face and head, and faded eyes. Swinging from side to side he walked +alongside the wagon. It was evidently a matter of indifference to +him whether he went to the right or the left. + +"Gee!" he called in a colorless voice, with a comical forward stride +of his crooked legs clothed in heavy boots, to which clods of mud +were clinging. The mother looked around. The country was as bleak +and dreary as her soul. + +"You'll never escape want, no matter where you go, auntie," the +driver said dully. "There's no road leading away from poverty; +all roads lead to it, and none out of it." + +Shaking its head dejectedly the horse sank its feet heavily into the +deep sun-dried sand, which crackled softly under its tread. The +rickety wagon creaked for lack of greasing. + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Nikolay Ivanovich lived on a quiet, deserted street, in a little +green wing annexed to a black two-storied structure swollen with +age. In front of the wing was a thickly grown little garden, and +branches of lilac bushes, acacias, and silvery young poplars looked +benignly and freshly into the windows of the three rooms occupied by +Nikolay. It was quiet and tidy in his place. The shadows trembled +mutely on the floor, shelves closely set with books stretched across +the walls, and portraits of stern, serious persons hung over them. + +"Do you think you'll find it convenient here?" asked Nikolay, +leading the mother into a little room with one window giving on the +garden and another on the grass-grown yard. In this room, too, the +walls were lined with bookcases and bookshelves. + +"I'd rather be in the kitchen," she said. "The little kitchen is +bright and clean." + +It seemed to her that he grew rather frightened. And when she +yielded to his awkward and embarrassed persuasions to take the +room, he immediately cheered up. + +There was a peculiar atmosphere pervading all the three rooms. It +was easy and pleasant to breathe in them; but one's voice involuntarily +dropped a note in the wish not to speak aloud and intrude upon the +peaceful thoughtfulness of the people who sent down a concentrated +look from the walls. + +"The flowers need watering," said the mother, feeling the earth in +the flowerpots in the windows. + +"Yes, yes," said the master guiltily. "I love them very much, but +I have no time to take care of them." + +The mother noticed that Nikolay walked about in his own comfortable +quarters just as carefully and as noiselessly as if he were a +stranger, and as if all that surrounded him were remote from him. +He would pick up and examine some small article, such as a bust, +bring it close to his face, and scrutinize it minutely, adjusting +his glasses with the thin finger of his right hand, and screwing up +his eyes. He had the appearance of just having entered the rooms +for the first time, and everything seemed as unfamiliar and strange +to him as to the mother. Consequently, the mother at once felt +herself at home. She followed Nikolay, observing where each thing +stood, and inquiring about his ways and habits of life. He answered +with the guilty air of a man who knows he is all the time doing +things as they ought not to be done, but cannot help himself. + +After she had watered the flowers and arranged the sheets of music +scattered in disorder over the piano, she looked at the samovar, +and remarked, "It needs polishing." + +Nikolay ran his finger over the dull metal, then stuck the finger +close to his nose. He looked at the mother so seriously that she +could not restrain a good-natured smile. + +When she lay down to sleep and thought of the day just past, she +raised her head from the pillow in astonishment and looked around. +For the first time in her life she was in the house of a stranger, +and she did not experience the least constraint. Her mind dwelt +solicitously on Nikolay. She had a distinct desire to do the best +she could for him, and to introduce more warmth into his lonely life. +She was stirred and affected by his embarrassed awkwardness and droll +ignorance, and smiled to herself with a sigh. Then her thoughts +leaped to her son and to Andrey. She recalled the high-pitched, +sparkling voice of Fedya, and gradually the whole day of the first +of May unrolled itself before her, clothed in new sounds, reflecting +new thoughts. The trials of the day were peculiar as the day itself. +They did not bring her head to the ground as with the dull, stunning +blow of the fist. They stabbed the heart with a thousand pricks, and +called forth in her a quiet wrath, opening her eyes and straightening +her backbone. + +"Children go in the world," she thought as she listened to the +unfamiliar nocturnal sounds of the city. They crept through the +open window like a sigh from afar, stirring the leaves in the garden +and faintly expiring in the room. + +Early in the morning she polished up the samovar, made a fire in it, +and filled it with water, and noiselessly placed the dishes on the +table. Then she sat down in the kitchen and waited for Nikolay to +rise. Presently she heard him cough. He appeared at the door, +holding his glasses in one hand, the other hand at his throat. She +responded to his greeting, and brought the samovar into the room. He +began to wash himself, splashing the water on the floor, dropping the +soap and his toothbrush, and grumbling in dissatisfaction at himself. + +When they sat down to drink tea, he said to the mother: + +"I am employed in the Zemstvo board--a very sad occupation. I see +the way our peasants are going to ruin." + +And smiling he repeated guiltily: "It's literally so--I see! +People go hungry, they lie down in their graves prematurely, starved +to death, children are born feeble and sick, and drop like flies in +autumn--we know all this, we know the causes of this wretchedness, +and for observing it we receive a good salary. But that's all we +do, really; truly all we do." + +"And what are you, a student?" + +"No. I'm a village teacher. My father was superintendent in a mill +in Vyatka, and I became a teacher. But I began to give books to the +peasants in the village, and was put in prison for it. When I came +out of prison I became clerk in a bookstore, but not behaving +carefully enough I got myself into prison again, and was then exiled +to Archangel. There I also got into trouble with the governor, and +they sent me to the White Sea coast, where I lived for five years." + +His talk sounded calm and even in the bright room flooded with +sunlight. The mother had already heard many such stories; but she +could never understand why they were related with such composure, +why no blame was laid on anybody for the suffering the people had +gone through, why these sufferings were regarded as so inevitable. + +"My sister is coming to-day," he announced. + +"Is she married?" + +"She's a widow. Her husband was exiled to Siberia; but he escaped, +caught a severe cold on the way, and died abroad two years ago." + +"Is she younger than you?" + +"Six years older. I owe a great deal to her. Wait, and you'll +hear how she plays. That's her piano. There are a whole lot of +her things here, my books----" + +"Where does she live?" + +"Everywhere," he answered with a smile. "Wherever a brave soul is +needed, there's where you'll find her." + +"Also in this movement?" + +"Yes, of course." + +He soon left to go to work, and the mother fell to thinking of +"that movement" for which the people worked, day in, day out, +calmly and resolutely. When confronting them she seemed to stand +before a mountain looming in the dark. + +About noon a tall, well-built lady came. When the mother opened the +door for her she threw a little yellow valise on the floor, and +quickly seizing Vlasova's hand, asked: + +"Are you the mother of Pavel Mikhaylovich?" + +"Yes, I am," the mother replied, embarrassed by the lady's rich appearance. + +"That's the way I imagined you," said the lady, removing her hat in +front of the mirror. "We have been friends of Pavel Mikhaylovich a +long time. He spoke about you often." + +Her voice was somewhat dull, and she spoke slowly; but her movements +were quick and vigorous. Her large, limpid gray eyes smiled +youthfully; on her temples, however, thin radiate wrinkles were +already limned, and silver hairs glistened over her ears. + +"I'm hungry; can I have a cup of coffee?" + +"I'll make it for you at once." The mother took down the coffee +apparatus from the shelf and quietly asked: + +"DID Pasha speak about me?" + +"Yes, indeed, a great deal." The lady took out a little leather +cigarette case, lighted a cigarette, and inquired: "You're +extremely uneasy about him, aren't you?" + +The mother smiled, watching the blue, quivering flame of the spirit +lamp. Her embarrassment at the presence of the lady vanished in the +depths of her joy. + +"So he talks about me, my dear son!" she thought. + +"You asked me whether I'm uneasy? Of course, it's not easy for me. +But it would have been worse some time ago; now I know that he's not +alone, and that even I am not alone." Looking into the lady's face, +she asked: "What is your name?" + +"Sofya," the lady answered, and began to speak in a businesslike way. +"The most important thing is that they should not stay in prison long, +but that the trial should come off very soon. The moment they are +exiled, we'll arrange an escape for Pavel Mikhaylovich. There's +nothing for him to do in Siberia, and he's indispensable here." + +The mother incredulously regarded Sofya, who was searching about for +a place into which to drop her cigarette stump, and finally threw it +in a flowerpot. + +"That'll spoil the flowers," the mother remarked mechanically. + +"Excuse me," said Sofya simply. "Nikolay always tells me the same +thing." She picked up the stump and threw it out of the window. +The mother looked at her in embarrassment, and said guiltily: + +"You must excuse me. I said it without thinking. Is it in my place +to teach you?" + +"Why not? Why not teach me, if I'm a sloven?" Sofya calmly queried +with a shrug. "I know it; but I always forget--the worse for me. +It's an ugly habit--to throw cigarette stumps any and everywhere, +and to litter up places with ashes--particularly in a woman. +Cleanliness in a room is the result of work, and all work ought to +be respected. Is the coffee ready? Thank you! Why one cup? Won't +you have any?" Suddenly seizing the mother by the shoulder, she +drew her to herself, and looking into her eyes asked in surprise: +"Why, are you embarrassed?" + +The mother answered with a smile: + +"I just blamed you for throwing the cigarette stump away--does that +look as if I were embarrassed?" Her surprise was unconcealed. "I +came to your house only yesterday, but I behave as if I were at +home, and as if I had known you a long time. I'm afraid of nothing; +I say anything. I even find fault." + +"That's the way it ought to be." + +"My head's in a whirl. I seem to be a stranger to myself. Formerly +I didn't dare speak out from my heart until I'd been with a person a +long, long time. And now my heart is always open, and I at once say +things I wouldn't have dreamed of before, and a lot of things, too." +Sofya lit another cigarette, turning the kind glance of her gray +eyes on the mother. "Yes, you speak of arranging an escape. But +how will he be able to live as a fugitive?" The mother finally gave +expression to the thought that was agitating her. + +"That's a trifle," Sofya remarked, pouring out a cup of coffee for +herself. "He'll live as scores of other fugitives live. I just met +one, and saw him off. Another very valuable man, who worked for the +movement in the south. He was exiled for five years, but remained +only three and a half months. That's why I look such a grande dame. +Do you think I always dress this way? I can't bear this fine toggery, +this sumptuous rustle. A human being is simple by nature, and should +dress simply--beautifully but simply." + +The mother looked at her fixedly, smiled, and shaking her head +meditatively said: + +"No, it seems that day, the first of May, has changed me. I feel +awkward somehow or other, as if I were walking on two roads at the +same time. At one moment I understand everything; the next moment I +am plunged into a mist. Here are you! I see you a lady; you occupy +yourself with this movement, you know Pasha, and you esteem him. +Thank you!" + +"Why, you ought to be thanked!" Sofya laughed. + +"I? I didn't teach him about the movement," the mother said with a +sigh. "As I speak now," she continued stubbornly, "everything seems +simple and near. Then, all of a sudden, I cannot understand this +simplicity. Again, I'm calm. In a second I grow fearful, because I +AM calm. I always used to be afraid, my whole life long; but now +that there's a great deal to be afraid of, I have very little fear. +Why is it? I cannot understand." She stopped, at a loss for words. +Sofya looked at her seriously, and waited; but seeing that the +mother was agitated, unable to find the expression she wanted, she +herself took up the conversation. + +"A time will come when you'll understand everything. The chief +thing that gives a person power and faith in himself is when he +begins to love a certain cause with all his heart, and knows it is +a good cause of use to everybody. There IS such a love. There's +everything. There's no human being too mean to love. But it's time +for me to be getting out of all this magnificence." + +Putting the stump of her cigarette in the saucer, she shook her +head. Her golden hair fell back in thick waves. She walked away +smiling. The mother followed her with her eyes, sighed, and looked +around. Her thoughts came to a halt, and in a half-drowsy, +oppressive condition of quiet, she began to get the dishes together. + +At four o'clock Nikolay appeared. Then they dined. Sofya, laughing +at times, told how she met and concealed the fugitive, how she +feared the spies, and saw one in every person she met, and how +comically the fugitive conducted himself. Something in her tone +reminded the mother of the boasting of a workingman who had +completed a difficult piece of work to his own satisfaction. She +was now dressed in a flowing, dove-colored robe, which fell from her +shoulders to her feet in warm waves. The effect was soft and +noiseless. She appeared to be taller in this dress; her eyes seemed +darker, and her movements less nervous. + +"Now, Sofya," said Nikolay after dinner, "here's another job for +you. You know we undertook to publish a newspaper for the village. +But our connection with the people there was broken, thanks to the +latest arrests. No one but Pelagueya Nilovna can show us the man +who will undertake the distribution of the newspapers. You go with +her. Do it as soon as possible." + +"Very well," said Sofya. "We'll go, Pelagueya Nilovna." + +"Yes, we'll go." + +"Is it far?" + +"About fifty miles." + +"Splendid! And now I'm going to play a little. Do you mind +listening to music, Pelagueya Nilovna?" + +"Don't bother about me. Act as if I weren't here," said the mother, +seating herself in the corner of the sofa. She saw that the brother +and the sister went on with their affairs without giving heed to her; +yet, at the same time, she seemed involuntarily to mix in their +conversation, imperceptibly drawn into it by them. + +"Listen to this, Nikolay. It's by Grieg. I brought it to-day. +Shut the window." + +She opened the piano, and struck the keys lightly with her left +hand. The strings sang out a thick, juicy melody. Another note, +breathing a deep, full breath, joined itself to the first, and +together they formed a vast fullness of sound that trembled beneath +its own weight. Strange, limpid notes rang out from under the +fingers of her right hand, and darted off in an alarming flight, +swaying and rocking and beating against one another like a swarm of +frightened birds. And in the dark background the low notes sang in +measured, harmonious cadence like the waves of the sea exhausted by +the storm. Some one cried out, a loud, agitated, woeful cry of +rebellion, questioned and appealed in impotent anguish, and, losing +hope, grew silent; and then again sang his rueful plaints, now +resonant and clear, now subdued and dejected. In response to this +song came the thick waves of dark sound, broad and resonant, +indifferent and hopeless. They drowned by their depth and force the +swarm of ringing wails; questions, appeals, groans blended in the +alarming song. At times the music seemed to take a desperate upward +flight, sobbing and lamenting, and again precipitated itself, crept +low, swung hither and thither on the dense, vibratory current of +bass notes, foundered, and disappeared in them; and once more +breaking through to an even cadence, in a hopeless, calm rumble, it +grew in volume, pealed forth, and melted and dissolved in the broad +flourish of humid notes--which continued to sigh with equal force +and calmness, never wearying. + +At first the sounds failed to touch the mother. They were +incomprehensible to her, nothing but a ringing chaos. Her ear +could not gather a melody from the intricate mass of notes. Half +asleep she looked at Nikolay sitting with his feet crossed under +him at the other end of the long sofa, and at the severe profile +of Sofya with her head enveloped in a mass of golden hair. The +sun shone into the room. A single ray, trembling pensively, at +first lighted up her hair and shoulder, then settled upon the keys +of the piano, and quivered under the pressure of her fingers. The +branches of the acacia rocked to and fro outside the window. The +room became music-filled, and unawares to her, the mother's heart +was stirred. Three notes of nearly the same pitch, resonant as the +voice of Fedya Mazin, sparkled in the stream of sounds, like three +silvery fish in a brook. At times another note united with these +in a simple song, which enfolded the heart in a kind yet sad caress. +She began to watch for them, to await their warble, and she heard +only their music, distinguished from the tumultuous chaos of sound, +to which her ears gradually became deaf. + +And for some reason there rose before her out of the obscure depths +of her past, wrongs long forgotten. + +Once her husband came home late, extremely intoxicated. He grasped +her hand, threw her from the bed to the floor, kicked her in the +side with his foot, and said: + +"Get out! I'm sick of you! Get out!" + +In order to protect herself from his blows, she quickly gathered +her two-year-old son into her arms, and kneeling covered herself +with his body as with a shield. He cried, struggled in her arms, +frightened, naked, and warm. + +"Get out!" bellowed her husband. + +She jumped to her feet, rushed into the kitchen, threw a jacket +over her shoulders, wrapped the baby in a shawl, and silently, +without outcries or complaints, barefoot, in nothing but a shirt +under her jacket, walked out into the street. It was in the month +of May, and the night was fresh. The cold, damp dust of the street +stuck to her feet, and got between her toes. The child wept and +struggled. She opened her breast, pressed her son to her body, and +pursued by fear walked down the street, quietly lulling the baby. + +It began to grow light. She was afraid and ashamed lest some one +come out on the street and see her half naked. She turned toward +the marsh, and sat down on the ground under a thick group of aspens. +She sat there for a long time, embraced by the night, motionless, +looking into the darkness with wide-open eyes, and timidly wailing +a lullaby--a lullaby for her baby, which had fallen asleep, and a +lullaby for her outraged heart. + +A gray bird darted over her head, and flew far away. It awakened +her, and brought her to her feet. Then, shivering with cold, she +walked home to confront the horror of blows and new insults. + +For the last time a heavy and resonant chord heaved a deep breath, +indifferent and cold; it sighed and died away. + +Sofya turned around, and asked her brother softly: + +"Did you like it?" + +"Very much," he said, nodding his head. "Very much." + +Sofya looked at the mother's face, but said nothing. + +"They say," said Nikolay thoughtfully, throwing himself deeper +back on the sofa, "that you should listen to music without thinking. +But I can't." + +"Nor can I," said Sofya, striking a melodious chord. + +"I listened, and it seemed to me that people were putting their +questions to nature, that they grieved and groaned, and protested +angrily, and shouted, 'Why?' Nature does not answer, but goes on +calmly creating, incessantly, forever. In her silence is heard her +answer: 'I do not know.'" + +The mother listened to Nikolay's quiet words without understanding +them, and without desiring to understand. Her bosom echoed with her +reminiscences, and she wanted more music. Side by side with her +memories the thought unfolded itself before her: "Here live people, +a brother and sister, in friendship; they live peacefully and calmly +--they have music and books--they don't swear at each other--they +don't drink whisky--they don't quarrel for a relish--they have no +desire to insult each other, the way all the people at the bottom do." + +Sofya quickly lighted a cigarette; she smoked almost without intermission. + +"This used to be the favorite piece of Kostya," she said, as a veil +of smoke quickly enveloped her. She again struck a low mournful +chord. "How I used to love to play for him! You remember how well +he translated music into language?" She paused and smiled. "How +sensitive he was! What fine feelings he had--so responsive to +everything--so fully a man!" + +"She must be recalling memories of her husband," the mother noted, +"and she smiles!" + +"How much happiness that man gave me!" said Sofya in a low voice, +accompanying her words with light sounds on the keys. "What a +capacity he had for living! He was always aglow with joy, buoyant, +childlike joy!" + +"Childlike," repeated the mother to herself, and shook her head as +if agreeing with something. + +"Ye-es," said Nikolay, pulling his beard, "his soul was always singing." + +"When I played this piece for him the first time, he put it in these +words." Sofya turned her face to her brother, and slowly stretched +out her arms. Encircled with blue streaks of smoke, she spoke in a +low, rapturous voice. "In a barren sea of the far north, under the +gray canopy of the cold heavens, stands a lonely black island, an +unpeopled rock, covered with ice; the smoothly polished shore +descends abruptly into the gray, foaming billows. The transparently +blue blocks of ice inhospitably float on the shaking cold water and +press against the dark rock of the island. Their knocking resounds +mournfully in the dead stillness of the barren sea. They have been +floating a long time on the bottomless depths, and the waves +splashing about them have quietly borne them toward the lonely rock +in the midst of the sea. The sound is grewsome as they break +against the shore and against one another, sadly inquiring: 'Why?'" + +Sofya flung away the cigarette she had begun to smoke, turned to the +piano, and again began to play the ringing plaints, the plaints of +the lonely blocks of ice by the shore of the barren island in the +sea of the far north. + +The mother was overcome with unendurable sadness as she listened to +the simple sketch. It blended strangely with her past, into which +her recollections kept boring deeper and deeper. + +"In music one can hear everything," said Nikolay quietly. + +Sofya turned toward the mother, and asked: + +"Do you mind my noise?" + +The mother was unable to restrain her slight irritation. + +"I told you not to pay any attention to me. I sit here and listen +and think about myself." + +"No, you ought to understand," said Sofya. "A woman can't help +understanding music, especially when in grief." + +She struck the keys powerfully, and a loud shout went forth, as if +some one had suddenly heard horrible news, which pierced him to the +heart, and wrenched from him this troubled sound. Young voices +trembled in affright, people rushed about in haste, pellmell. Again +a loud, angry voice shouted out, drowning all other sounds. Apparently +a catastrophe had occurred, in which the chief source of pain was +an affront offered to some one. It evoked not complaints, but wrath. +Then some kindly and powerful person appeared, who began to sing, +just like Andrey, a simple beautiful song, a song of exhortation +and summons to himself. The voices of the bass notes grumbled in +a dull, offended tone. + +Sofya played a long time. The music disquieted the mother, and +aroused in her a desire to ask of what it was speaking. Indistinct +sensations and thoughts passed through her mind in quick succession. +Sadness and anxiety gave place to moments of calm joy. A swarm of +unseen birds seemed to be flying about in the room, penetrating +everywhere, touching the heart with caressing wings, soothing and at +the same time alarming it. The feelings in the mother's breast +could not be fixed in words. They emboldened her heart with +perplexed hopes, they fondled it in a fresh and firm embrace. + +A kindly impulse came to her to say something good both to these two +persons and to all people in general. She smiled softly, +intoxicated by the music, feeling herself capable of doing work +helpful to the brother and sister. Her eyes roved about in search +of something to do for them. She saw nothing but to walk out into +the kitchen quietly, and prepare the samovar. But this did not +satisfy her desire. It struggled stubbornly in her breast, and as +she poured out the tea she began to speak excitedly with an agitated +smile. She seemed to bestow the words as a warm caress impartially +on Sofya and Nikolay and on herself. + +"We people at the bottom feel everything; but it is hard for us to +speak out our hearts. Our thoughts float about in us. We are +ashamed because, although we understand, we are not able to express +them; and often from shame we are angry at our thoughts, and at +those who inspire them. We drive them away from ourselves. For +life, you see, is so troublesome. From all sides we get blows and +beatings; we want rest, and there come the thoughts that rouse our +souls and demand things of us." + +Nikolay listened, and nodded his head, rubbing his eyeglasses +briskly, while Sofya looked at her, her large eyes wide open and the +forgotten cigarette burning to ashes. She sat half turned from the +piano, supple and shapely, at times touching the keys lightly with +the slender fingers of her right hand. The pensive chord blended +delicately with the speech of the mother, as she quickly invested +her new feelings and thoughts in simple, hearty words. + +"Now I am able to say something about myself, about my people, +because I understand life. I began to understand it when I was +able to make comparisons. Before that time there was nobody to +compare myself with. In our state, you see, all lead the same +life, and now that I see how others live, I look back at my life, +and the recollection is hard and bitter. But it is impossible to +return, and even if you could, you wouldn't find your youth again. +And I think I understand a great deal. Here, I am looking at you, +and I recollect all your people whom I've seen." She lowered her +voice and continued: "Maybe I don't say things right, and I needn't +say them, because you know them yourself; but I'm just speaking for +myself. You at once set me alongside of you. You don't need anything +of me; you can't make use of me; you can't get any enjoyment out of +me, I know it. And day after day my heart grows, thank God! It +grows in goodness, and I wish good for everybody. This is my thanks +that I'm saying to you." Tears of happy gratitude affected her voice, +and looking at them with a smile in her eyes, she went on: "I want to +open my heart before you, so that you may see how I wish your welfare." + +"We see it," said Nikolay in a low voice. "You're making a holiday +for us." + +"What do you think I imagined?" the mother asked with a smile and +lowering her voice. "I imagined I found a treasure, and became +rich, and I could endow everybody. Maybe it's only my stupidity +that's run away with me." + +"Don't speak like that," said Sofya seriously. "You mustn't be ashamed." + +The mother began to speak again, telling Sofya and Nikolay of +herself, her poor life, her wrongs, and patient sufferings. +Suddenly she stopped in her narrative. It seemed to her that she +was turning aside, away from herself, and speaking about somebody +else. In simple words, without malice, with a sad smile on her +lips, she drew the monotonous gray sketch of sorrowful days. She +enumerated the beatings she had received from her husband; and +herself marveled at the trifling causes that led to them and her own +inability to avert them. + +The brother and sister listened to her in attentive silence, impressed +by the deep significance of the unadorned story of a human being, +who was regarded as cattle are regarded, and who, without a murmur, +for a long time felt herself to be that which she was held to be. +It seemed to them as if thousands, nay millions, of lives spoke +through her mouth. Her existence had been commonplace and simple; +but such is the simple, ordinary existence of multitudes, and her +story, assuming ever larger proportions in their eyes, took on the +significance of a symbol. Nikolay, his elbows on the table, and +his head leaning on his hands, looked at her through his glasses +without moving, his eyes screwed up intently. Sofya flung herself +back on her chair. Sometimes she trembled, and at times muttered +to herself, shaking her head in disapproval. Her face grew paler. +Her eyes deepened. + +"Once I thought myself unhappy. My life seemed a fever," said +Sofya, inclining her head. "That was when I was in exile. It was +in a small district town. There was nothing to do, nothing to think +about except myself. I swept all my misfortunes together into one +heap, and weighed them, from lack of anything better to do. Then I +quarreled with my father, whom I loved. I was expelled from the +gymnasium, and insulted--the prison, the treachery of a comrade near +to me, the arrest of my husband, again prison and exile, the death +of my husband. But all my misfortunes, and ten times their number, +are not worth a month of your life, Pelagueya Nilovna. Your torture +continued daily through years. From where do the people draw their +power to suffer?" + +"They get used to it," responded the mother with a sigh. + +"I thought I knew that life," said Nikolay softly. "But when I +hear it spoken of--not when my books, not when my incomplete +impressions speak about it, but she herself with a living tongue-- +it is horrible. And the details are horrible, the inanities, the +seconds of which the years are made." + +The conversation sped along, thoughtfully and quietly. It branched +out and embraced the whole of common life on all sides. The mother +became absorbed in her recollections. From her dim past she drew to +light each daily wrong, and gave a massive picture of the huge, dumb +horror in which her youth had been sunk. Finally she said: + +"Oh! How I've been chattering to you! It's time for you to rest. +I'll never be able to tell you all." + +The brother and sister took leave of her in silence. Nikolay seemed +to the mother to bow lower to her than ever before and to press her +hand more firmly. Sofya accompanied her to her room, and stopping +at the door said softly: "Now rest. I hope you have a good night." + +Her voice blew a warm breath on the mother, and her gray eyes +embraced the mother's face in a caress. She took Sofya's hand and +pressing it in hers, answered: "Thank you! You are good people." + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Three days passed in incessant conversations with Sofya and Nikolay. +The mother continued to recount tales of the past, which stubbornly +arose from the depths of her awakened soul, and disturbed even +herself. Her past demanded an explanation. The attention with +which the brother and sister listened to her opened her heart more +and more widely, freeing her from the narrow, dark cage of her +former life. + +On the fourth day, early in the morning, she and Sofya appeared +before Nikolay as burgher women, poorly clad in worn chintz skirts +and blouses, with birchbark sacks on their shoulders, and canes in +their hands. This costume reduced Sofya's height and gave a yet +sterner appearance to her pale face. + +"You look as if you had walked about monasteries all your life," +observed Nikolay on taking leave of his sister, and pressed her hand +warmly. The mother again remarked the simplicity and calmness of +their relation to each other. It was hard for her to get used to +it. No kissing, no affectionate words passed between them; but they +behaved so sincerely, so amicably and solicitously toward each +other. In the life she had been accustomed to, people kissed a +great deal and uttered many sentimental words, but always bit at one +another like hungry dogs. + +The women walked down the street in silence, reached the open +country, and strode on side by side along the wide beaten road +between a double row of birches. + +"Won't you get tired?" the mother asked. + +"Do you think I haven't done much walking? All this is an old +story to me." + +With a merry smile, as if speaking of some glorious childhood +frolics, Sofya began to tell the mother of her revolutionary work. +She had had to live under a changed name, use counterfeit documents, +disguise herself in various costumes in order to hide from spies, +carry hundreds and hundreds of pounds of illegal books through +various cities, arrange escapes for comrades in exile, and escort +them abroad. She had had a printing press fixed up in her quarters, +and when on learning of it the gendarmes appeared to make a search, +she succeeded in a minute's time before their arrival in dressing +as a servant, and walking out of the house just as her guests were +entering at the gate. She met them there. Without an outer wrap, +a light kerchief on her head, a tin kerosene can in her hand, she +traversed the city from one end to the other in the biting cold of +a winter's day. Another time she had just arrived in a strange city +to pay a visit to friends. When she was already on the stairs +leading to their quarters, she noticed that a search was being +conducted in their apartments. To turn back was too late. Without +a second's hesitation she boldly rang the bell at the door of a +lower floor, and walked in with her traveling bag to unknown people. +She frankly explained the position she was in. + +"You can hand me over to the gendarmes if you want to; but I don't +think you will," she said confidently. + +The people were greatly frightened, and did not sleep the whole +night. Every minute they expected the sound of the gendarmes +knocking at the door. Nevertheless, they could not make up their +minds to deliver her over to them, and the next morning they had a +hearty laugh with her over the gendarmes. + +And once, dressed as a nun, she traveled in the same railroad coach, +in fact, sat on the very same seat, with a spy, then in search of her. +He boasted of his skill, and told her how he was conducting his +search. He was certain she was riding on the same train as himself, +in a second-class coach; but at every stop, after walking out, he +came back saying: "Not to be seen. She must have gone to bed. +They, too, get tired. Their life is a hard one, just like ours." + +The mother listening to her stories laughed, and regarded her +affectionately. Tall and dry, Sofya strode along the road lightly +and firmly, at an even gait. In her walk, her words, and the very +sound of her voice--although a bit dull, it was yet bold--in all her +straight and stolid figure, there was much of robust strength, +jovial daring, and thirst for space and freedom. Her eyes looked at +everything with a youthful glance. She constantly spied something +that gladdened her heart with childlike joy. + +"See what a splendid pine!" she exclaimed, pointing out a tree +to the mother. + +The mother looked and stopped. It was a pine neither higher nor +thicker than others. + +"Ye-es, ye-es, a good tree," she said, smiling. + +"Do you hear? A lark!" Sofya raised her head, and looked into +the blue expanse of the sky for the merry songster. Her gray eyes +flashed with a fond glance, and her body seemed to rise from the +ground to meet the music ringing from an unseen source in the +far-distant height. At times bending over, she plucked a field +flower, and with light touches of her slender, agile fingers, she +fondly stroked the quivering petals and hummed quietly and prettily. + +Over them burned the kindly spring sun. The blue depths flashed +softly. At the sides of the road stretched a dark pine forest. The +fields were verdant, birds sang, and the thick, resinous atmosphere +stroked the face warmly and tenderly. + +All this moved the mother's heart nearer to the woman with the +bright eyes and the bright soul; and, trying to keep even pace with +her, she involuntarily pressed close to Sofya, as if desiring to +draw into herself her hearty boldness and freshness. + +"How young you are!" the mother sighed. + +"I'm thirty-two years old already!" + +Vlasova smiled. "I'm not talking about that. To judge by your +face, one would say you're older; but one wonders that your eyes, +your voice are so fresh, so springlike, as if you were a young girl. +Your life is so bard and troubled, yet your heart is smiling." + +"The heart is smiling," repeated Sofya thoughtfully. "How well you +speak--simple and good. A hard life, you say? But I don't feel +that it is hard, and I cannot imagine a better, a more interesting +life than this." + +"What pleases me more than anything else is to see how you all know +the roads to a human being's heart. Everything in a person opens +itself out to you without fear or caution--just so, all of itself, +the heart throws itself open to meet you. I'm thinking of all of +you. You overcome the evil in the world--overcome it absolutely." + +"We shall be victorious, because we are with the working people," +said Sofya with assurance. "Our power to work, our faith in the +victory of truth we obtain from you, from the people; and the people +is the inexhaustible source of spiritual and physical strength. In +the people are vested all possibilities, and with them everything is +attainable. It's necessary only to arouse their consciousness, +their soul, the great soul of a child, who is not given the liberty +to grow." She spoke softly and simply, and looked pensively before +her down the winding depths of the road, where a bright haze was +quivering. + +Sofya's words awakened a complex feeling in the mother's heart. For +some reason she felt sorry for her. Her pity, however, was not +offensive; not bred of familiarity. She marveled that here was a +lady walking on foot and carrying a dangerous burden on her back. + +"Who's going to reward you for your labors?" + +Sofya answered the mother's thought with pride: + +"We are already rewarded for everything. We have found a life that +satisfies us; we live broadly and fully, with all the power of our +souls. What else can we desire?" + +Filling their lungs with the aromatic air, they paced along, not +swiftly, but at a good, round gait. The mother felt she was on a +pilgrimage. She recollected her childhood, the fine joy with which +she used to leave the village on holidays to go to a distant +monastery, where there was a wonder-working icon. + +Sometimes Sofya would hum some new unfamiliar songs about the sky +and about love, or suddenly she would begin to recite poems about +the fields and forests and the Volga. The mother listened, a smile +on her swinging her head to the measure of the tune or involuntarily +yielding to the music. Her breast was pervaded by a soft, melancholy +warmth, like the atmosphere in a little old garden on a summer night. + +On the third day they arrived at the village, and the mother inquired +of a peasant at work in the field where the tar works were. Soon +they were descending a steep woody path, on which the exposed roots +of the trees formed steps through a small, round glade, which was +choked up with coal and chips of wood caked with tar. + +Outside a shack built of poles and branches, at a table formed +simply of three unplaned boards laid on a trestle stuck firmly into +the ground, sat Rybin, all blackened, his shirt open at his breast, +Yefim, and two other young men. They were just dining. Rybin was +the first to notice the women. Shading his eyes with his hand, he +waited in silence. + +"How do you do, brother Mikhail?" shouted the mother from afar. + +He arose and leisurely walked to meet them. When he recognized +the mother, he stopped and smiled and stroked his beard with his +black hand. + +"We are on a pilgrimage," said the mother, approaching him. "And so +I thought I would stop in and see my brother. This is my friend Anna." + +Proud of her resourcefulness she looked askance at Sofya's serious, +stern face. + +"How are you?" said Rybin, smiling grimly. He shook her hand, +bowed to Sofya, and continued: "Don't lie. This isn't the city. +No need of lies. These are all our own people, good people." + +Yefim, sitting at the table, looked sharply at the pilgrims, and +whispered something to his comrades. When the women walked up to +the table, he arose and silently bowed to them. His comrades didn't +stir, seeming to take no notice of the guests. + +"We live here like monks," said Rybin, tapping the mother lightly +on the shoulder. "No one comes to us; our master is not in the +village; the mistress was taken to the hospital. And now I'm a sort +of superintendent. Sit down at the table. Maybe you're hungry. +Yefim, bring some milk." + +Without hurrying, Yefim walked into the shack. The travelers +removed the sacks from their shoulders, and one of the men, a +tall, lank fellow, rose from the table to help them. Another +one, resting his elbows thoughtfully on the table, looked at them, +scratching his head and quietly humming a song. + +The pungent odor of the fresh tar blended with the stifling smell +of decaying leaves dizzied the newcomers. + +"This fellow is Yakob," said Rybin, pointing to the tall man, "and +that one Ignaty. Well, how's your son?" + +"He's in prison," the mother sighed. + +"In prison again? He likes it, I suppose." + +Ignaty stopped humming; Yakob took the staff from the mother's hand, +and said: + +"Sit down, little mother." + +"Yes, why don't you sit down?" Rybin extended the invitation to Sofya. + +She sat down on the stump of a tree, scrutinizing Rybin seriously +and attentively. + +"When did they take him?" asked Rybin, sitting down opposite the +mother, and shaking his head. "You've bad luck, Nilovna." + +"Oh, well!" + +"You're getting used to it?" + +"I'm not used to it, but I see it's not to be helped." + +"That's right. Well, tell us the story." + +Yefim brought a pitcher of milk, took a cup from the table, rinsed it +with water, and after filling it shoved it across the table to Sofya. +He moved about noiselessly, listening to the mother's narrative. +When the mother had concluded her short account, all were silent +for a moment, looking at one another. Ignaty, sitting at the table, +drew a pattern with his nails on the boards. Yefim stood behind +Rybin, resting his elbows on his shoulders. Yakob leaned against +the trunk of a tree, his hands folded over his chest, his head +inclined. Sofya observed the peasants from the corner of her eye. + +"Yes," Rybin drawled sullenly. "That's the course of action they've +decided on--to go out openly." + +"If we were to arrange such a parade here," said Yefim, with a surly +smile, "they'd hack the peasants to death." + +"They certainly would," Ignaty assented, nodding his head. "No, +I'll go to the factory. It's better there." + +"You say Pavel's going to be tried?" asked Rybin. + +"Yes. They've decided on a trial." + +"Well, what'll he get? Have you heard?" + +"Hard labor, or exile to Siberia for life," answered the mother +softly. The three young men simultaneously turned their look on +her, and Rybin, lowering his head, asked slowly: + +"And when he got this affair up, did he know what was in store for him?" + +"I don't know. I suppose he did." + +"He did," said Sofya aloud. + +All were silent, motionless, as if congealed by one cold thought. + +"So," continued Rybin slowly and gravely. "I, too, think he knew. +A serious man looks before he leaps. There, boys, you see, the man +knew that he might be struck with a bayonet, or exiled to hard labor; +but he went. He felt it was necessary for him to go, and he went. +If his mother had lain across his path, he would have stepped over +her body and gone his way. Wouldn't he have stepped over you, Nilovna?" + +"He would," said the mother shuddering and looking around. She +heaved a heavy sigh. Sofya silently stroked her hand. + +"There's a man for you!" said Rybin in a subdued voice, his dark +eyes roving about the company. They all became silent again. The +thin rays of the sun trembled like golden ribbons in the thick, +odorous atmosphere. Somewhere a crow cawed with bold assurance. +The mother looked around, troubled by her recollections of the first +of May, and grieving for her son and Andrey. + +Broken barrels lay about in confusion in the small, crowded glade. +Uprooted stumps stretched out their dead, scraggy roots, and chips +of wood littered the ground. Dense oaks and birches encircled the +clearing, and drooped over it slightly on all sides as if desiring +to sweep away and destroy this offensive rubbish and dirt. + +Suddenly Yakob moved forward from the tree, stepped to one side, +stopped, and shaking his head observed dryly: + +"So, when we're in the army with Yefim, it's on such men as Pavel +Mikhaylovich that they'll set us." + +"Against whom did you think they'd make you go?" retorted Rybin +glumly. "They choke us with our own hands. That's where the +jugglery comes in." + +"I'll join the army all the same," announced Yefim obstinately. + +"Who's trying to dissuade you?" exclaimed Ignaty. "Go!" He looked +Yefim straight in the face, and said with a smile: "If you're going +to shoot at me, aim at the head. Don't just wound me; kill me at once." + +"I hear what you're saying," Yefim replied sharply. + +"Listen, boys," said Rybin, letting his glance stray about the little +assembly with a deliberate, grave gesture of his raised hand. "Here's +a woman," pointing to the mother, "whose son is surely done for now." + +"Why are you saying this?" the mother asked in a low, sorrowful voice. + +"It's necessary," he answered sullenly. "It's necessary that your +hair shouldn't turn gray in vain, that your heart shouldn't ache for +nothing. Behold, boys! She's lost her son, but what of it? Has it +killed her? Nilovna, did you bring books?" + +The mother looked at him, and after a pause said: + +"I did." + +"That's it," said Rybin, striking the table with the palm of his hand. +"I knew it at once when I saw you. Why need you have come here, if +not for that?" He again measured the young men with his eyes, and +continued, solemnly knitting his eyebrows: "Do you see? They thrust +the son out of the ranks, and the mother drops into his place." + +He suddenly struck the table with both hands, and straightening +himself said with an air that seemed to augur ill: + +"Those----" --here he flung out a terrible oath-- "those people +don't know what their blind hands are sowing. They WILL know when +our power is complete and we begin to mow down their cursed grass. +They'll know it then!" + +The mother was frightened. She looked at him, and saw that Mikhail's +face had changed greatly. He had grown thinner; his beard was +roughened, and his cheek bones seemed to have sharpened. The bluish +whites of his eyes were threaded with thin red fibers, as if he had +gone without sleep for a long time. His nose, less fleshy than +formerly, had acquired a rapacious crook. His open, tar-saturated +collar, attached to a shirt that had once been red, exposed his dry +collar bones and the thick black hair on his breast. About his whole +figure there was something more tragic than before. Red sparks +seemed to fly from his inflamed eyes and light the lean, dark face +with the fire of unconquerable, melancholy rage. Sofya paled and +was silent, her gaze riveted on the peasant. Ignaty shook his head +and screwed up his eyes, and Yakob, standing at the wall again, +angrily tore splinters from the boards with his blackened fingers. +Yefim, behind the mother, slowly paced up and down along the length +of the table. + +"The other day," continued Rybin, "a government official called me +up, and, says he, 'You blackguard, what did you say to the priest?' +'Why am I a blackguard?' I say. 'I earn my bread in the sweat of my +brow, and I don't do anything bad to people.' That's what I said. +He bawled out at me, and hit me in the face. For three days and +three nights I sat in the lockup." Rybin grew infuriated. "That's +the way you speak to the people, is it?" he cried. "Don't expect +pardon, you devils. My wrong will be avenged, if not by me, then by +another, if not on you, then on your children. Remember! The greed +in your breasts has harrowed the people with iron claws. You have +sowed malice; don't expect mercy!" + +The wrath in Rybin seethed and bubbled; his voice shook with sounds +that frightened the mother. + +"And what had I said to the priest?" he continued in a lighter tone. +"After the village assembly he sits with the peasants in the street, +and tells them something. 'The people are a flock,' says he, 'and +they always need a shepherd.' And I joke. 'If,' I say, 'they make +the fox the chief in the forest, there'll be lots of feathers but no +birds.' He looks at me sidewise and speaks about how the people +ought to be patient and pray more to God to give them the power to +be patient. And I say that the people pray, but evidently God has +no time, because he doesn't listen to them. The priest begins to +cavil with me as to what prayers I pray. I tell him I use one +prayer, like all the people, 'O Lord, teach the masters to carry +bricks, eat stones, and spit wood.' He wouldn't even let me finish +my sentence. --Are you a lady?" Rybin asked Sofya, suddenly +breaking off his story. + +"Why do you think I'm a lady?" she asked quickly, startled by the +unexpectedness of his question. + +"Why?" laughed Rybin. "That's the star under which you were born. +That's why. You think a chintz kerchief can conceal the blot of the +nobleman from the eyes of the people? We'll recognize a priest even +if he's wrapped in sackcloth. Here, for instance, you put your +elbows on a wet table, and you started and frowned. Besides, your +back is too straight for a working woman." + +Fearing he would insult Sofya with his heavy voice and his raillery, +the mother said quickly and sternly: + +"She's my friend, Mikhail Ivanovich. She's a good woman. Working +in this movement has turned her hair gray. You're not very----" + +Rybin fetched a deep breath. + +"Why, was what I said insulting?" + +Sofya looked at him dryly and queried: + +"You wanted to say something to me?" + +"I? Not long ago a new man came here, a cousin of Yakob. He's +sick with consumption; but he's learned a thing or two. Shall +we call him?" + +"Call him! Why not?" answered Sofya. + +Rybin looked at her, screwing up his eyes. + +"Yefim," he said in a lowered voice, "you go over to him, and tell +him to come here in the evening." + +Yefim went into the shack to get his cap; then silently, without +looking at anybody, he walked off at a leisurely pace and +disappeared in the woods. Rybin nodded his bead in the direction he +was going, saying dully: + +"He's suffering torments. He's stubborn. He has to go into the +army, he and Yakob, here. Yakob simply says, 'I can't.' And that +fellow can't either; but he wants to; he has an object in view. He +thinks he can stir the soldiers. My opinion is, you can't break +through a wall with your forehead. Bayonets in their hands, off +they go--where? They don't see--they're going against themselves. +Yes, he's suffering. And Ignaty worries him uselessly." + +"No, not at all!" said Ignaty. He knit his eyebrows, and kept his +eyes turned away from Rybin. "They'll change him, and he'll become +just like all the other soldiers." + +"No, hardly," Rybin answered meditatively. "But, of course, it's +better to run away from the army. Russia is large. Where will you +find the fellow? He gets himself a passport, and goes from village +to village." + +"That's what I'm going to do, too," remarked Yakob, tapping his foot +with a chip of wood. "Once you've made up your mind to go against +the government, go straight." + +The conversation dropped off. The bees and wasps circled busily +around humming in the stifling atmosphere. The birds chirped, and +somewhere at a distance a song was heard straying through the +fields. After a pause Rybin said: + +"Well, we've got to get to work. Do you want to rest? There are +boards inside the shanty. Pick up some dry leaves for them, Yakob. +And you, mother, give us the books. Where are they?" + +The mother and Sofya began to untie their sacks. Rybin bent down +over them, and said with satisfaction: + +"That's it! Well, well--not a few, I see. Have you been in this +business a long time? What's your name?" he turned toward Sofya. + +"Anna Ivanovna. Twelve years. Why?" + +"Nothing." + +"Have you been in prison?" + +"I have." + +He was silent, taking a pile of books in his hand, and said to her, +showing his teeth: + +"Don't take offense at the way I speak. A peasant and a nobleman +are like tar and water. It's hard for them to mix. They jump away +from each other." + +"I'm not a lady. I'm a human being," Sofya retorted with a quiet laugh. + +"That may be. It's hard for me to believe it; but they say it happens. +They say that a dog was once a wolf. Now I'll hide these books." + +Ignaty and Yakob walked up to him, and both stretched out their hands. + +"Give us some." + +"Are they all the same?" Rybin asked of Sofya. + +"No, they're different. There's a newspaper here, too." + +"Oh!" + +The three men quickly walked into the shack. + +"The peasant is on fire," said the mother in a low voice, looking +after Rybin thoughtfully. + +"Yes," answered Sofya. "I've never seen such a face as his--such a +martyrlike face. Let's go inside, too. I want to look at them." + +When the women reached the door they found the men already engrossed +in the newspapers. Ignaty was sitting on the board, the newspaper +spread on his knees, and his fingers run through his hair. He +raised his head, gave the women a rapid glance, and bent over his +paper again. Rybin was standing to let the ray of sun that penetrated +a chink in the roof fall on his paper. He moved his lips as he read. +Ignaty read kneeling, with his breast against the edge of the board. + +Sofya felt the eagerness of the men for the word of truth. Her face +brightened with a joyful smile. Walking carefully over to a corner, +she sat down next to the mother, her arm on the mother's shoulder, +and gazed about silently. + +"Uncle Mikhail, they're rough on us peasants," muttered Yakob +without turning. + +Rybin looked around at him, and answered with a smile: + +"For love of us. He who loves does not insult, no matter what he says." + +Ignaty drew a deep breath, raised his head, smiled satirically, and +closing his eyes said with a scowl: + +"Here it says: 'The peasant has ceased to be a human being.' Of +course he has." Over his simple, open face glided a shadow of offense. +"Well, try to wear my skin for a day or so, and turn around in it, +and then we'll see what you'll be like, you wiseacre, you!" + +"I'm going to lie down," said the mother quietly. "I got tired, +after all. My head is going around. And you?" she asked Sofya. + +"I don't want to." + +The mother stretched herself on the board and soon fell asleep. +Sofya sat over her looking at the people reading. When the bees +buzzed about the mother's face, she solicitously drove them away. + +Rybin came up and asked: + +"Is she asleep?" + +"Yes." + +He was silent for a moment, looked fixedly at the calm sleeping face, +and said softly: + +"She is probably the first mother who has followed in the footsteps +of her son--the first." + +"Let's not disturb her; let's go away," suggested Sofya. + +"Well, we have to work. I'd like to have a chat with you; but we'll +put it off until evening. Come, boys." + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +The three men walked away, leaving Sofya in the cabin. Then from +a distance came the sound of the ax blows, the echo straying through +the foliage. In a half-dreamy condition of repose, intoxicated with +the spicy odor of the forest, Sofya sat just outside the door, +humming a song, and watching the approach of evening, which gradually +enfolded the forest. Her gray eyes smiled softly at some one. The +reddening rays of the sun fell more and more aslant. The busy +chirping of the birds died away. The forest darkened, and seemed +to grow denser. The trees moved in more closely about the choked-up +glade, and gave it a more friendly embrace, covering it with shadows. +Cows were lowing in the distance. The tar men came, all four together, +content that the work was ended. + +Awakened by their voices the mother walked out from the cabin, +yawning and smiling. Rybin was calmer and less gloomy. The surplus +of his excitement was drowned in exhaustion. + +"Ignaty," he said, "let's have our tea. We do housekeeping here by +turns. To-day Ignaty provides us with food and drink." + +"To-day I'd be glad to yield my turn," remarked Ignaty, gathering up +pieces of wood and branches for an open-air fire. + +"We're all interested in our guests," said Yefim, sitting down by +Sofya's side. + +"I'll help you," said Yakob softly. + +He brought out a big loaf of bread baked in hot ashes, and began +to cut it and place the pieces on the table. + +"Listen!" exclaimed Yefim. "Do you hear that cough?" + +Rybin listened, and nodded. + +"Yes, he's coming," he said to Sofya. "The witness is coming. I +would lead him through cities, put him in public squares, for the +people to hear him. He always says the same thing. But everybody +ought to hear it." + +The shadows grew closer, the twilight thickened, and the voices +sounded softer. Sofya and the mother watched the actions of the +peasants. They all moved slowly and heavily with a strange sort +of cautiousness. They, too, constantly followed the women with +their eyes, listening attentively to their conversation. + +A tall, stooping man came out of the woods into the glade, and +walked slowly, firmly supporting himself on a cane. His heavy, +raucous breathing was audible. + +"There is Savely!" exclaimed Yakob. + +"Here I am," said the man hoarsely. He stopped, and began to cough. + +A shabby coat hung over him down to his very heels. From under his +round, crumpled hat straggled thin, limp tufts of dry, straight, +yellowish hair. His light, sparse beard grew unevenly upon his +yellow, bony face; his mouth stood half-open; his eyes were sunk +deep beneath his forehead, and glittered feverishly in their dark +hollows. + +When Rybin introduced him to Sofya he said to her: + +"I heard you brought books for the people." + +"I did." + +"Thank you in the name of the people. They themselves cannot yet +understand the book of truth. They cannot yet thank; so I, who +have learned to understand it, render you thanks in their behalf." +He breathed quickly, with short, eager breaths, strangely drawing in +the air through his dry lips. His voice broke. The bony fingers of +his feeble hands crept along his breast trying to button his coat. + +"It's bad for you to be in the woods so late; it's damp and close +here," remarked Sofya. + +"Nothing is good for me any more," he answered, out of breath. +"Only death!" + +It was painful to listen to him. His entire figure inspired a +futile pity that recognized its own powerlessness, and gave way +to a sullen feeling of discomfort. + +The wood pile blazed up; everything round about trembled and shook; +the scorched shadows flung themselves into the woods in fright. The +round face of Ignaty with its inflated cheeks shone over the fire. +The flames died down, and the air began to smell of smoke. Again +the trees seemed to draw close and unite with the mist on the glade, +listening in strained attention to the hoarse words of the sick man. + +"But as a witness of the crime, I can still bring good to the people. +Look at me! I'm twenty-eight years old; but I'm dying. About ten +years ago I could lift five hundred pounds on my shoulders without an +effort. With such strength I thought I could go on for seventy years +without dropping into the grave, and I've lived for only ten years, +and can't go on any more. The masters have robbed me; they've torn +forty years of my life from me; they've stolen forty years from me." + +"There, that's his song," said Rybin dully. + +The fire blazed up again, but now it was stronger and more vivid. +Again the shadows leaped into the woods, and again darted back to +the fire, quivering about it in a mute, astonished dance. The wood +crackled, and the leaves of the trees rustled softly. Alarmed by +the waves of the heated atmosphere, the merry, vivacious tongues of +fire, yellow and red, in sportive embrace, soared aloft, sowing +sparks. The burning leaves flew, and the stars in the sky smiled to +the sparks, luring them up to themselves. + +"That's not MY song. Thousands of people sing it. But they sing +it to themselves, not realizing what a salutary lesson their +unfortunate lives hold for all. How many men, tormented to death by +work, miserable cripples, maimed, die silently from hunger! It is +necessary to shout it aloud, brothers, it is necessary to shout it +aloud!" He fell into a fit of coughing, bending and all a-shiver. + +"Why?" asked Yefim. "My misery is my own affair. Just look at my joy." + +"Don't interrupt," Rybin admonished. + +"You yourself said a man mustn't boast of his misfortune," observed +Yefim with a frown. + +"That's a different thing. Savely's misfortune is a general affair, +not merely his own. It's very different," said Rybin solemnly. "Here +you have a man who has gone down to the depths and been suffocated. +Now he shouts to the world, 'Look out, don't go there!'" + +Yakob put a pail of cider on the table, dropped a bundle of green +branches, and said to the sick man: + +"Come, Savely, I've brought you some milk." + +Savely shook his head in declination, but Yakob took him under the +arm, lifted him, and made him walk to the table. + +"Listen," said Sofya softly to Rybin. She was troubled and reproached +him. "Why did you invite him here? He may die any minute." + +"He may," retorted Rybin. "Let him die among people. That's easier +than to die alone. In the meantime let him speak. He lost his life +for trifles. Let him suffer a little longer for the sake of the +people. It's all right!" + +"You seem to take particular delight in it," exclaimed Sofya. + +"It's the masters who take pleasure in Christ as he groans on the +cross. But what we want is to learn from a man, and make you learn +something, too." + +At the table the sick man began to speak again: + +"They destroy lives with work. What for? They rob men of their +lives. What for, I ask? My master--I lost my life in the textile +mill of Nefidov--my master presented one prima donna with a golden +wash basin. Every one of her toilet articles was gold. That basin +holds my life-blood, my very life. That's for what my life went! A +man killed me with work in order to comfort his mistress with my +blood. He bought her a gold wash basin with my blood." + +"Man is created in the image of God," said Yefim, smiling. "And +that's the use to which they put the image. Fine!" + +"Well, then don't be silent!" exclaimed Rybin, striking his palm on +the table. + +"Don't suffer it," added Yakob softly. + +Ignaty laughed. The mother observed that all three spoke little, +but listened with the insatiable attention of hungry souls, and +every time that Rybin spoke they looked into his face with watchful +eyes. Savely's talk produced a strange, sharp smile on their faces. +No feeling of pity for the sick man was to be detected in their manner. + +Bending toward Sofya the mother whispered: + +"Is it possible that what he says is true?" + +Sofya answered aloud: + +"Yes, it's true. The newspapers tell about such gifts. It happened +in Moscow." + +"And the man wasn't executed for it?" asked Rybin dully. "But he +should have been executed, he should have been led out before the +people and torn to pieces. His vile, dirty flesh should have been +thrown to the dogs. The people will perform great executions when +once they arise. They'll shed much blood to wash away their wrongs. +This blood is theirs; it has been drained from their veins; they +are its masters." + +"It's cold," said the sick man. Yakob helped him to rise, and led +him to the fire. + +The wood pile burned evenly and glaringly, and the faceless shadows +quivered around it. Savely sat down on a stump, and stretched his +dry, transparent hands toward the fire, coughing. Rybin nodded his +head to one side, and said to Sofya in an undertone: + +"That's sharper than books. That ought to be known. When they tear +a workingman's hand in a machine or kill him, you can understand-- +the workingman himself is at fault. But in a case like this, when +they suck a man's blood out of him and throw him away like a carcass +--that can't be explained in any way. I can comprehend every +murder; but torturing for mere sport I can't comprehend. And why do +they torture the people? To what purpose do they torture us all? +For fun, for mere amusement, so that they can live pleasantly on the +earth; so that they can buy everything with the blood of the people, a +prima donna, horses, silver knives, golden dishes, expensive toys for +their children. YOU work, work, work, work more and more, and I'LL +hoard money by your labor and give my mistress a golden wash basin." + +The mother listened, looked, and once again, before her in the +darkness, stretched the bright streak of the road that Pavel was +going, and all those with whom he walked. + +When they had concluded their supper, they sat around the fire, +which consumed the wood quickly. Behind them hung the darkness, +embracing forest and sky. The sick man with wide-open eyes looked +into the fire, coughed incessantly, and shivered all over. The +remnants of his life seemed to be tearing themselves from his bosom +impatiently, hastening to forsake the dry body, drained by sickness. + +"Maybe you'd better go into the shanty, Savely?" Yakob asked, +bending over him. + +"Why?" he answered with an effort. "I'll sit here. I haven't much +time left to stay with people, very little time." He paused, let +his eyes rove about the entire group, then with a pale smile, +continued: "I feel good when I'm with you. I look at you, and +think, 'Maybe you will avenge the wrongs of all who were robbed, +of all the people destroyed because of greed.'" + +No one replied, and he soon fell into a doze, his head limply hanging +over his chest. Rybin looked at him, and said in a dull voice: + +"He comes to us, sits here, and always speaks of the same thing, of +this mockery of man. This is his entire soul; he feels nothing else." + +"What more do you want?" said the mother thoughtfully. "If people +are killed by the thousands day after day working so that their +masters may throw money away for sport, what else do you want?" + +"It's endlessly wearying to listen to him," said Ignaty in a low +voice. "When you hear this sort of thing once, you never forget it, +and he keeps harping on it all the time." + +"But everything is crowded into this one thing. It's his entire +life, remember," remarked Rybin sullenly. + +The sick man turned, opened his eyes, and lay down on the ground. +Yakob rose noiselessly, walked into the cabin, brought out two +short overcoats, and wrapped them about his cousin. Then he sat +down beside Sofya. + +The merry, ruddy face of the fire smiled irritatingly as it +illumined the dark figures about it; and the voices blended +mournfully with the soft rustle and crackle of the flames. + +Sofya began to tell about the universal struggle of the people for the +right to life, about the conflicts of the German peasants in the olden +times, about the misfortunes of the Irish, about the great exploits +of the workingmen of France in their frequent battling for freedom. + +In the forest clothed in the velvet of night, in the little glade +bounded by the dumb trees, before the sportive face of the fire, the +events that shook the world rose to life again; one nation of the +earth after the other passed in review, drained of its blood, +exhausted by combats; the names of the great soldiers for freedom +and truth were recalled. + +The somewhat dull voice of the woman seemed to echo softly from the +remoteness of the past. It aroused hope, it carried conviction; and +the company listened in silence to its music, to the great story of +their brethren in spirit. They looked into her face, lean and pale, +and smiled in response to the smile of her gray eyes. Before them +the cause of all the people of the world, the endless war for +freedom and equality, became more vivid and assumed a greater +holiness. They saw their desires and thoughts in the distance, +overhung with the dark, bloody curtain of the past, amid strangers +unknown to them; and inwardly, both in mind and heart, they became +united with the world, seeing in it friends even in olden times, +friends who had unanimously resolved to obtain right upon the earth, +and had consecrated their resolve with measureless suffering, and +shed rivers of their own blood. With this blood, mankind dedicated +itself to a new life, bright and cheerful. A feeling arose and grew +of the spiritual nearness of each unto each. A new heart was born +on the earth, full of hot striving to embrace all and to unite all +in itself. + +"A day is coming when the workingmen of all countries will raise +their heads, and firmly declare, 'Enough! We want no more of this +life.'" Sofya's low but powerful voice rang with assurance. "And +then the fantastic power of those who are mighty by their greed will +crumble; the earth will vanish from under their feet, and their +support will be gone." + +"That's how it will be," said Rybin, bending his head. "Don't pity +yourselves, and you will conquer everything." + +The men listened in silence, motionless, endeavoring in no way to +break the even flow of the narrative, fearing to cut the bright +thread that bound them to the world. Only occasionally some one +would carefully put a piece of wood in the fire, and when a stream +of sparks and smoke rose from the pile he would drive them away from +the woman with a wave of his hand. + +Once Yakob rose and said: + +"Wait a moment, please." He ran into the shack and brought out +wraps. With Ignaty's help he folded them about the shoulders and +feet of the women. + +And again Sofya spoke, picturing the day of victory, inspiring +people with faith in their power, arousing in them a consciousness +of their oneness with all who give away their lives to barren toil +for the amusement of the satiated. + +At break of dawn, exhausted, she grew silent, and smiling she looked +around at the thoughtful, illumined faces. + +"It's time for us to go," said the mother. + +"Yes, it's time," said Sofya wearily. + +Some one breathed a noisy sigh. + +"I am sorry you're going," said Rybin in an unusually mild tone. +"You speak well. This great cause will unite people. When you know +that millions want the same as you do, your heart becomes better, +and in goodness there is great power." + +"You offer goodness, and get the stake in return," said Yefim with +a low laugh, and quickly jumped to his feet. "But they ought to go, +Uncle Mikhail, before anybody sees them. We'll distribute the books +among the people; the authorities will begin to wonder where they came +from; then some one will remember having seen the pilgrims here." + +"Well, thank you, mother, for your trouble," said Rybin, interrupting +Yefim. "I always think of Pavel when I look at you, and you've +gone the right way." + +He stood before the mother, softened, with a broad, good-natured +smile on his face. The atmosphere was raw, but he wore only one +shirt, his collar was unbuttoned, and his breast was bared low. The +mother looked at his large figure, and smiling also, advised: + +"You'd better put on something; it's cold." + +"There's a fire inside of me." + +The three young men standing at the burning pile conversed in a low +voice. At their feet the sick man lay as if dead, covered with the +short fur coats. The sky paled, the shadows dissolved, the leaves +shivered softly, awaiting the sun. + +"Well, then, we must say good-by," said Rybin, pressing Sofya's +hand. "How are you to be found in the city?" + +"You must look for me," said the mother. + +The young men in a close group walked up to Sofya, and silently +pressed her hand with awkward kindness. In each of them was evident +grateful and friendly satisfaction, though they attempted to conceal +the feeling which apparently embarrassed them by its novelty. +Smiling with eyes dry with the sleepless night, they looked in +silence into Sofya's eyes, shifting from one foot to the other. + +"Won't you drink some milk before you go?" asked Yakob. + +"Is there any?" queried Yefim. + +"There's a little." + +Ignaty, stroking his hair in confusion, announced: + +"No, there isn't; I spilled it." + +All three laughed. They spoke about milk, but the mother and Sofya +felt that they were thinking of something else, and without words +were wishing them well. This touched Sofya, and produced in her, +too, embarrassment and modest reserve, which prevented her from +saying anything more than a quiet and warm "Thank you, comrades." + +They exchanged glances, as if the word "comrade" had given them a +mild shock. The dull cough of the sick man was heard. The embers +of the burning woodpile died out. + +"Good-by," the peasants said in subdued tones; and the sad word rang +in the women's ears a long time. + +They walked without haste, in the twilight of the dawn, along the +wood path. The mother striding behind Sofya said: + +"All this is good, just as in a dream--so good! People want to know +the truth, my dear; yes, they want to know the truth. It's like +being in a church on the morning of a great holiday, when the priest +has not yet arrived, and it's dark and quiet; then it's raw, and the +people are already gathering. Here the candles are lighted before +the images, and there the lamps are lighted; and little by little, +they drive away the darkness, illumining the House of God." + +"True," answered Sofya. "Only here the House of God is the whole earth." + +"The whole earth," the mother repeated, shaking her head thoughtfully. +"It's so good that it's hard to believe." + +They walked and talked about Rybin, about the sick man, about the +young peasants who were so attentively silent, and who so awkwardly +but eloquently expressed a feeling of grateful friendship by little +attentions to the women. They came out into the open field; the sun +rose to meet them. As yet invisible, he spread out over the sky a +transparent fan of rosy rays, and the dewdrops in the grass +glittered with the many-colored gems of brave spring joy. The birds +awoke fresh from their slumber, vivifying the morning with their +merry, impetuous voices. The crows flew about croaking, and +flapping their wings heavily. The black rooks jumped about in the +winter wheat, conversing in abrupt accents. Somewhere the orioles +whistled mournfully, a note of alarm in their song. The larks sang, +soaring up to meet the sun. The distance opened up, the nocturnal +shadows lifting from the hills. + +"Sometimes a man will speak and speak to you, and you won't +understand him until he succeeds in telling you some simple word; +and this one word will suddenly lighten up everything," the mother +said thoughtfully. "There's that sick man, for instance; I've heard +and known myself how the workingmen in the factories and everywhere +are squeezed; but you get used to it from childhood on, and it +doesn't touch your heart much. But he suddenly tells you such an +outrageous, vile thing! O Lord! Can it be that people give their +whole lives away to work in order that the masters may permit +themselves pleasure? That's without justification." + +The thoughts of the mother were arrested by this fact. Its dull, +impudent gleam threw light upon a series of similar facts, at one +time known to her, but now forgotten. + +"It's evident that they are satiated with everything. I know one +country officer who compelled the peasants to salute his horse when +it was led through the village; and he arrested everyone who failed +to salute it. Now, what need had he of that? It's impossible to +understand." After a pause she sighed: "The poor people are stupid +from poverty, and the rich from greed." + +Sofya began to hum a song bold as the morning. + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The life of Nilovna flowed on with strange placidity. This calmness +sometimes astonished her. There was her son immured in prison. She +knew that a severe sentence awaited him, yet every time the idea of +it came to her mind her thoughts strayed to Andrey, Fedya, and an +endless series of other people she had never seen, but only heard +of. The figure of her son appeared to her absorbing all the people +into his own destiny. The contemplative feeling aroused in her +involuntarily and unnoticeably diverted her inward gaze away from +him to all sides. Like thin, uneven rays it touched upon everything, +tried to throw light everywhere, and make one picture of the whole. +Her mind was hindered from dwelling upon some one thing. + +Sofya soon went off somewhere, and reappeared in about five days, +merry and vivacious. Then, in a few hours, she vanished again, and +returned within a couple of weeks. It seemed as if she were borne +along in life in wide circles. + +Nikolay, always occupied, lived a monotonous, methodical existence. +At eight o'clock in the morning he drank tea, read the newspapers, +and recounted the news to the mother. He repeated the speeches of +the merchants in the Douma without malice, and clearly depicted the +life in the city. + +Listening to him the mother saw with transparent dearness the +mechanism of this life pitilessly grinding the people in the +millstones of money. At nine o'clock he went off to the office. + +She tidied the rooms, prepared dinner, washed herself, put on a +clean dress, and then sat in her room to examine the pictures and +the books. She had already learned to read, but the effort of +reading quickly exhausted her; and she ceased to understand the +meaning of the words. But the pictures were a constant astonishment +to her. They opened up before her a clear, almost tangible world of +new and marvelous things. Huge cities arose before her, beautiful +structures, machines, ships, monuments, and infinite wealth, created +by the people, overwhelming the mind by the variety of nature's +products. Life widened endlessly; each day brought some new, huge +wonders. The awakened hungry soul of the woman was more and more +strongly aroused to the multitude of riches in the world, its +countless beauties. She especially loved to look through the great +folios of the zoological atlas, and although the text was written in +a foreign language, it gave her the clearest conception of the +beauty, wealth, and vastness of the earth. + +"It's an immense world," she said to Nikolay at dinner. + +"Yes, and yet the people are crowded for space." + +The insects, particularly the butterflies, astonished her most. + +"What beauty, Nikolay Ivanovich," she observed. "And how much of +this fascinating beauty there is everywhere, but all covered up +from us; it all flies by without our seeing it. People toss about, +they know nothing, they are unable to take delight in anything, they +have no inclination for it. How many could take happiness to +themselves if they knew how rich the earth is, how many wonderful +things live in it!" + +Nikolay listened to her raptures, smiled, and brought her new +illustrated books. + +In the evening visitors often gathered in his house--Alexey +Vasilyevich, a handsome man, pale-faced, black-bearded, sedate, +and taciturn; Roman Petrovich, a pimply, round-headed individual +always smacking his lips regretfully; Ivan Danilovich, a short, lean +fellow with a pointed beard and thin hair, impetuous, vociferous, +and sharp as an awl, and Yegor, always joking with his comrades +about his sickness. Sometimes other people were present who had +come from various distant cities. The long conversations always +turned on one and the same thing, on the working people of the world. +The comrades discussed the workingmen, got into arguments about them, +became heated, waved their hands, and drank much tea; while Nikolay, +in the noise of the conversation, silently composed proclamations. +Then he read them to the comrades, who copied them on the spot in +printed letters. The mother carefully collected the pieces of the +torn, rough copies, and burned them. + +She poured, out tea for them, and wondered at the warmth with which +they discussed life and the workingpeople, the means whereby to sow +truth among them the sooner and the better, and how to elevate their +spirit. These problems were always agitating the comrades; their +lives revolved about them. Often they angrily disagreed, blamed one +another for something, got offended, and again discussed. + +The mother felt that she knew the life of the workingmen better than +these people, and saw more clearly than they the enormity of the +task they assumed. She could look upon them with the somewhat +melancholy indulgence of a grown-up person toward children who play +man and wife without understanding the drama of the relation. + +Sometimes Sashenka came. She never stayed long, and always spoke +in a businesslike way without smiling. She did not once fail to +ask on leaving how Pavel Mikhaylovich was. + +"Is he well?" she would ask. + +"Thank God! So, so. He's in good spirits." + +"Give him my regards," the girl would request, and then disappear. + +Sometimes the mother complained to Sashenka because Pavel was +detained so long and no date was yet set for his trial. Sashenka +looked gloomy, and maintained silence, her fingers twitching. +Nilovna was tempted to say to her: "My dear girl, why, I know you +love him, I know." But Sashenka's austere face, her compressed +lips, and her dry, businesslike manner, which seemed to betoken a +desire for silence as soon as possible, forbade any demonstration +of sentiment. With a sigh the mother mutely clasped the hand that +the girl extended to her, and thought: "My unhappy girl!" + +Once Natasha came. She showed great delight at seeing the mother, +kissed her, and among other things announced to her quietly, as if +she had just thought of the thing: + +"My mother died. Poor woman, she's dead!" She wiped her eyes with +a rapid gesture of her hands, and continued: "I'm sorry for her. +She was not yet fifty. She had a long life before her still. But +when you look at it from the other side you can't help thinking +that death is easier than such a life--always alone, a stranger to +everybody, needed by no one, scared by the shouts of my father. +Can you call that living? People live waiting for something good, +and she had nothing to expect except insults." + +"You're right, Natasha," said the mother musingly. "People live +expecting some good, and if there's nothing to expect, what sort +of a life is it?" Kindly stroking Natasha's hand, she asked: "So +you're alone now?" + +"Alone!" the girl rejoined lightly. + +The mother was silent, then suddenly remarked with a smile: + +"Never mind! A good person does not live alone. People will always +attach themselves to a good person." + +Natasha was now a teacher in a little town where there was a textile +mill, and Nilovna occasionally procured illegal books, proclamations, +and newspapers for her. The distribution of literature, in fact, +became the mother's occupation. Several times a month, dressed as +a nun or as a peddler of laces or small linen articles, as a rich +merchant's wife or a religious pilgrim, she rode or walked about +with a sack on her back, or a valise in her hand. Everywhere, in +the train, in the steamers, in hotels and inns, she behaved simply +and unobtrusively. She was the first to enter into conversations +with strangers, fearlessly drawing attention to herself by her kind, +sociable talk and the confident manner of an experienced person who +has seen and heard much. + +She liked to speak to people, liked to listen to their stories of +life, their complaints, their perplexities, and lamentations. Her +heart was bathed in joy each time she noticed in anybody poignant +discontent with life, that discontent which, protesting against the +blows of fate, earnestly seeks to find an answer to its questions. +Before her the picture of human life unrolled itself ever wider and +more varicolored, that restless, anxious life passed in the struggle +to fill the stomach. Everywhere she clearly saw the coarse, bare +striving, insolent in its openness, deceiving man, robbing him, +pressing out of him as much sap as possible, draining him of his +very lifeblood. She realized that there was plenty of everything +upon earth, but that the people were in want, and lived half +starved, surrounded by inexhaustible wealth. In the cities stood +churches filled with gold and silver, not needed by God, and at the +entrance to the churches shivered the beggars vainly awaiting a +little copper coin to be thrust into their hands. Formerly she had +seen this, too--rich churches, priestly vestments sewed with gold +threads, and the hovels of the poor, their ignominious rags. But at +that time the thing had seemed natural; now the contrast was +irreconcilable and insulting to the poor, to whom, she knew, the +churches were both nearer and more necessary than to the rich. + +From the pictures and stories of Christ, she knew also that he was +a friend of the poor, that he dressed simply. But in the churches, +where poverty came to him for consolation, she saw him nailed to +the cross with insolent gold, she saw silks and satins flaunting +in the fact of want. The words of Rybin occurred to her: "They +have mutilated even our God for us, they have turned everything in +their hands against us. In the churches they set up a scarecrow +before us. They have dressed God up in falsehood and calumny; +they have distorted His face in order to destroy our souls!" + +Without being herself aware of it, she prayed less; yet, at the same +time, she meditated more and more upon Christ and the people who, +without mentioning his name, as though ignorant of him, lived, it +seemed to her, according to his will, and, like him, regarded the +earth as the kingdom of the poor, and wanted to divide all the +wealth of the earth among the poor. Her reflections grew in her +soul, deepening and embracing everything she saw and heard. They +grew and assumed the bright aspect of a prayer, suffusing an even +glow over the entire dark world, the whole of life, and all people. + +And it seemed to her that Christ himself, whom she had always loved +with a perplexed love, with a complicated feeling in which fear was +closely bound up with hope, and joyful emotion with melancholy, now +came nearer to her, and was different from what he had been. His +position was loftier, and he was more clearly visible to her. His +aspect turned brighter and more cheerful. Now his eyes smiled on +her with assurance, and with a live inward power, as if he had in +reality risen to life for mankind, washed and vivified by the hot +blood lavishly shed in his name. Yet those who had lost their blood +modestly refrained from mentioning the name of the unfortunate +friend of the people. + +The mother always returned to Nikolay from her travels delightfully +exhilarated by what she had seen and heard on the road, bold and +satisfied with the work she had accomplished. + +"It's good to go everywhere, and to see much," she said to Nikolay +in the evening. "You understand how life is arranged. They brush +the people aside and fling them to the edge. The people, hurt and +wounded, keep moving about, even though they don't want to, and +though they keep thinking: 'What for? Why do they drive us away? +Why must we go hungry when there is so much of everything? And +how much intellect there is everywhere! Nevertheless, we must remain +in stupidity and darkness. And where is He, the merciful God, in +whose eyes there are no rich nor poor, but all are children dear to +His heart.' The people are gradually revolting against this life. +They feel that untruth will stifle them if they don't take thought +of themselves." + +And in her leisure hours she sat down to the books, and again looked +over the pictures, each time finding something new, ever widening +the panorama of life before her eyes, unfolding the beauties of +nature and the vigorous creative capacity of man. Nikolay often +found her poring over the pictures. He would smile and always tell +her something wonderful. Struck by man's daring, she would ask him +incredulously, "Is it possible?" + +Quietly, with unshakable confidence in the truth of his prophecies, +Nikolay peered with his kind eyes through his glasses into the +mother's face, and told her stories of the future. + +"There is no measure to the desires of man; and his power is +inexhaustible," he said. "But the world, after all, is still very +slow in acquiring spiritual wealth. Because nowadays everyone +desiring to free himself from dependence is compelled to hoard, +not knowledge but money. However, when the people will have +exterminated greed and will have freed themselves from the bondage +of enslaving labor--" + +She listened to him with strained attention. Though she but rarely +understood the meaning of his words, yet the calm faith animating +them penetrated her more and more deeply. + +"There are extremely few free men in the world--that's its +misfortune," he said. + +This the mother understood. She knew men who had emancipated +themselves from greed and evil; she understood that if there were +more such people, the dark, incomprehensible, and awful face of +life would become more kindly and simple, better and brighter. + +"A man must perforce be cruel," said Nikolay dismally. + +The mother nodded her head in confirmation. She recalled the +sayings of the Little Russian. + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Once Nikolay, usually so punctual, came from his work much later than +was his wont, and said, excitedly rubbing his hands: "Do you know, +Nilovna, to-day at the visiting hour one of our comrades disappeared +from prison? But we have not succeeded in finding out who." + +The mother's body swayed, overpowered by excitement. She sat down +on a chair and asked with forced quiet: + +"Maybe it's Pasha?" + +"Possibly. But the question is how to find him, how to help him +keep in concealment. Just now I was walking about the streets to +see if I couldn't detect him. It was a stupid thing of me to do, +but I had to do something. I'm going out again." + +"I'll go, too," said the mother, rising. + +"You go to Yegor, and see if he doesn't know anything about it," +Nikolay suggested, and quickly walked away. + +She threw a kerchief on her head, and, seized with hope, swiftly +sped along the streets. Her eyes dimmed and her heart beat faster. +Her head drooped; she saw nothing about her. It was hot. The +mother lost breath, and when she reached the stairway leading to +Yegor's quarters, she stopped, too faint to proceed farther. She +turned around and uttered an amazed, low cry, closing her eyes for +a second. It seemed to her that Nikolay Vyesovshchikov was standing +at the gate, his hands thrust into his pockets, regarding her with +a smile. But when she looked again nobody was there. + +"I imagined I saw him," she said to herself, slowly walking up +the steps and listening. She caught the sound of slow steps, and +stopping at a turn in the stairway she bent over to look below; +and again saw the face smiling up at her. + +"Nikolay! Nikolay!" she whispered, and ran meet him. Her heart, +stung by disappointment, ached for her son. + +"Go, go!" he answered in an undertone, waving his hand. + +She quickly ran up the stairs, walked into Yegor's room, and found +him lying on the sofa. She gasped in a whisper: + +"Nikolay is out of prison!" + +"Which Nikolay?" asked Yegor, raising his head from the pillow. +"There are two there." + +"Vyesovshchikov. He's coming here!" + +"Fine! But I can't rise to meet him." + +Vyesovshchikov had already come into the room. He locked the door +after him, and taking off his hat laughed quietly, stroking his +hair. Yegor raised himself on his elbows. + +"Please, signor, make yourself at home," he said with a nod. + +Without saying anything, a broad smile on his face, Nikolay walked +up to the mother and grasped her hand. + +"If I had not seen you I might as well have returned to prison. +I know nobody in the city. If I had gone to the suburbs they would +have seized me at once. So I walked about, and thought what a fool +I was--why had I escaped? Suddenly I see Nilovna running; off I am, +after you." + +"How did you make your escape?" + +Vyesovshchikov sat down awkwardly on the edge of the sofa and +pressed Yegor's hand. + +"I don't know how," he said in an embarrassed manner. "Simply a +chance. I was taking my airing, and the prisoners began to beat +the overseer of the jail. There's one overseer there who was +expelled from the gendarmerie for stealing. He's a spy, an informer, +and tortures the life out of everybody. They gave him a drubbing, +there was a hubbub, the overseers got frightened and blew their +whistles. I noticed the gates open. I walked up and saw an open +square and the city. It drew me forward and I went away without +haste, as if in sleep. I walked a little and bethought myself: +'Where am I to go?' I looked around and the gates of the prison +were already closed. I began to feel awkward. I was sorry for +the comrades in general. It was stupid somehow. I hadn't thought +of going away." + +"Hm!" said Yegor. "Why, sir, you should have turned back, respectfully +knocked at the prison door, and begged for admission. 'Excuse me,' +you should have said, 'I was tempted; but here I am.'" + +"Yes," continued Nikolay, smiling; "that would have been stupid, too, +I understand. But for all that, it's not nice to the other comrades. +I walk away without saying anything to anybody. Well, I kept on +going, and I came across a child's funeral. I followed the hearse +with my head bent down, looking at nobody. I sat down in the cemetery +and enjoyed the fresh air. One thought came into my head----" + +"One?" asked Yegor. Fetching breath, he added: "I suppose it won't +feel crowded there." + +Vyesovshchikov laughed without taking offense, and shook his head. + +"Well, my brain's not so empty now as it used to be. And you, Yegor +Ivanovich, still sick?" + +"Each one does what he can. No one has a right to interfere with +him." Yegor evaded an answer; he coughed hoarsely. "Continue." + +"Then I went to a public museum. I walked about there, looked +around, and kept thinking all the time: 'Where am I to go next?' +I even began to get angry with myself. Besides, I got dreadfully +hungry. I walked into the street and kept on trotting. I felt +very down in the mouth. And then I saw police officers looking at +everybody closely. 'Well,' thinks I to myself, 'with my face I'll +arrive at God's judgment seat pretty soon.' Suddenly Nilovna came +running opposite me. I turned about, and off I went after her. +That's all." + +"And I didn't even see you," said the mother guiltily. + +"The comrades are probably uneasy about me. They must be wondering +where I am," said Nikolay, scratching his head. + +"Aren't you sorry for the officials? I guess they're uneasy, too," +teased Yegor. He moved heavily on the sofa, and said seriously and +solicitously: "However, jokes aside, we must hide you--by no means +as easy as pleasant. If I could get up--" His breath gave out. +He clapped his hand to his breast, and with a weak movement began +to rub it. + +"You've gotten very sick, Yegor Ivanovich," said Nikolay gloomily, +drooping his head. The mother sighed and cast an anxious glance +about the little, crowded room. + +"That's my own affair. Granny, you ask about Pavel. No reason to +feign indifference," said Yegor. + +Vyesovshchikov smiled broadly. + +"Pavel's all right; he's strong; he's like an elder among us; he +converses with the officials and gives commands; he's respected. +There's good reason for it." + +Vlasova nodded her head, listening, and looked sidewise at the +swollen, bluish face of Yegor, congealed to immobility, devoid of +expression. It seemed strangely flat, only the eyes flashed with +animation and cheerfulness. + +"I wish you'd give me something to eat. I'm frightfully hungry," +Nikolay cried out unexpectedly, and smiled sheepishly. + +"Granny, there's bread on the shelf--give it to him. Then go out +in the corridor, to the second door on the left, and knock. A woman +will open it, and you'll tell her to snatch up everything she has +to eat and come here." + +"Why everything?" protested Nikolay. + +"Don't get excited. It's not much--maybe nothing at all." + +The mother went out and rapped at the door. She strained her ears +for an answering sound, while thinking of Yegor with dread and +grief. He was dying, she knew. + +"Who is it?" somebody asked on the other side of the door. + +"It's from Yegor Ivanovich," the mother whispered. "He asked you +to come to him." + +"I'll come at once," the woman answered without opening the door. +The mother waited a moment, and knocked again. This time the door +opened quickly, and a tall woman wearing glasses stepped out into +the hall, rapidly tidying the ruffled sleeves of her waist. She +asked the mother harshly: + +"What do you want?" + +"I'm from Yegor Ivanovich." + +"Aha! Come! Oh, yes, I know you!" the woman exclaimed in a low +voice. "How do you do? It's dark here." + +Nilovna looked at her and remembered that this woman had come to +Nikolay's home on rare occasions. + +"All comrades!" flashed through her mind. + +The woman compelled Nilovna to walk in front. + +"Is he feeling bad?" + +"Yes; he's lying down. He asked you to bring something to eat." + +"Well, he doesn't need anything to eat." + +When they walked into Yegor's room they were met by the words: + +"I'm preparing to join my forefathers, my friend. Liudmila Vasilyevna, +this man walked away from prison without the permission of the +authorities--a bit of shameless audacity. Before all, feed him, then +hide him somewhere for a day or two." + +The woman nodded her head and looked carefully at the sick man's face. + +"Stop your chattering, Yegor," she said sternly. "You know it's bad +for you. You ought to have sent for me at once, as soon as they +came. And I see you didn't take your medicine. What do you mean by +such negligence? You yourself say it's easier for you to breathe +after a dose. Comrade, come to my place. They'll soon call for +Yegor from the hospital." + +"So I'm to go to the hospital, after all?" asked Yegor, puckering +up his face. + +"Yes, I'll be there with you." + +"There, too?" + +"Hush!" + +As she talked she adjusted the blanket on Yegor's breast, looked +fixedly at Nikolay, and with her eyes measured the quantity of +medicine in the bottle. She spoke evenly, not loud, but in a +resonant voice. Her movements were easy, her face was pale, with +large blue circles around her eyes. Her black eyebrows almost met +at the bridge of the nose, deepening the setting of her dark, stern +eyes. Her face did not please the mother; it seemed haughty in its +sternness and immobility, and her eyes were rayless. She always +spoke in a tone of command. + +"We are going away," she continued. "I'll return soon. Give Yegor +a tablespoon of this medicine." + +"Very well," said the mother. + +"And don't let him speak." She walked away, taking Nikolay with her. + +"Admirable woman!" said Yegor with a sigh. "Magnificent woman! You +ought to be working with her, granny. You see, she gets very much +worn out. It's she that does all the printing for us." + +"Don't speak. Here, you'd better take this medicine," the mother +said gently. + +He swallowed the medicine and continued, for some reason screwing +up one eye: + +"I'll die all the same, even if I don't speak." + +He looked into the mother's face with his other eye, and his lips +slowly formed themselves into a smile. The mother bent her head, a +sharp sensation of pity bringing tears into her eyes. + +"Never mind, granny. It's natural. The pleasure of living carries +with it the obligation to die." + +The mother put her hand on his, and again said softly: + +"Keep quiet, please!" + +He shut his eyes as if listening to the rattle in his breast, and +went on stubbornly. + +"It's senseless to keep quiet, granny. What'll I gain by keeping +quiet? A few superfluous seconds of agony. And I'll lose the great +pleasure of chattering with a good person. I think that in the next +world there aren't such good people as here." + +The mother uneasily interrupted him. + +"The lady will come, and she'll scold me because you talk." + +"She's no lady. She's a revolutionist, the daughter of a village +scribe, a teacher. She is sure to scold you anyhow, granny. She +scolds everybody always." And, slowly moving his lips with an +effort, Yegor began to relate the life history of his neighbor. +His eyes smiled. The mother saw that he was bantering her purposely. +As she regarded his face, covered with a moist blueness, she thought +distressfully that he was near to death. + +Liudmila entered, and carefully closing the door after her, said, +turning to Vlasova: + +"Your friend ought to change his clothes without fail, and leave here +as soon as possible. So go at once; get him some clothes, and bring +them here. I'm sorry Sofya's not here. Hiding people is her specialty." + +"She's coming to-morrow," remarked Vlasova, throwing her shawl over +her shoulders. Every time she was given a commission the strong +desire seized her to accomplish it promptly and well, and she was +unable to think of anything but the task before her. Now, lowering +her brows with an air of preoccupation, she asked zealously: + +"How should we dress him, do you think?" + +"It's all the same. It's night, you know." + +"At night it's worse. There are less people on the street, and the +police spy around more; and, you know, he's rather awkward." + +Yegor laughed hoarsely. + +"You're a young girl yet, granny." + +"May I visit you in the hospital?" + +He nodded his head, coughing. Liudmila glanced at the mother with +her dark eyes and suggested: + +"Do you want to take turns with me in attending him? Yes? Very +well. And now go quickly." + +She vigorously seized Vlasova by the hand, with perfect good nature, +however, and led her out of the door. + +"You mustn't be offended," she said softly, "because I dismiss you so +abruptly. I know it's rude; but it's harmful for him to speak, and +I still have hopes of his recovery." She pressed her hands together +until the bones cracked. Her eyelids drooped wearily over her eyes. + +The explanation disturbed the mother. She murmured: + +"Don't talk that way. The idea! Who thought of rudeness? I'm +going; good-by." + +"Look out for the spies!" whispered the woman. + +"I know," the mother answered with some pride. + +She stopped for a minute outside the gate to look around sharply +under the pretext of adjusting her kerchief. She was already able +to distinguish spies in a street crowd almost immediately. She +recognized the exaggerated carelessness of their gait, their +strained attempt to be free in their gestures, the expression of +tedium on their faces, the wary, guilty glimmer of their restless, +unpleasantly sharp gaze badly hidden behind their feigned candor. + +This time she did not notice any familiar faces, and walked along +the street without hastening. She took a cab, and gave orders to +be driven to the market place. When buying the clothes for Nikolay +she bargained vigorously with the salespeople, all the while scolding +at her drunken husband whom she had to dress anew every month. The +tradespeople paid little attention to her talk, but she herself was +greatly pleased with her ruse. On the road she had calculated that +the police would, of course, understand the necessity for Nikolay to +change his clothes, and would send spies to the market. With such +naive precautions, she returned to Yegor's quarters; then she had to +escort Nikolay to the outskirts of the city. They took different +sides of the street, and it was amusing to the mother to see how +Vyesovshchikov strode along heavily, with bent head, his legs +getting tangled in the long flaps of his russet-colored coat, his +hat falling over his nose. In one of the deserted streets, Sashenka +met them, and the mother, taking leave of Vyesovshchikov with a nod +of her head, turned toward home with a sigh of relief. + +"And Pasha is in prison with Andriusha!" she thought sadly. + +Nikolay met her with an anxious exclamation: + +"You know that Yegor is in a very bad way, very bad! He was taken to +the hospital. Liudmila was here. She asks you to come to her there." + +"At the hospital?" + +Adjusting his eyeglasses with a nervous gesture, Nikolay helped her +on with her jacket and pressed her hand in a dry, hot grasp. His +voice was low and tremulous. "Yes. Take this package with you. +Have you disposed of Vyesovshchikov all right?" + +"Yes, all right." + +"I'll come to Yegor, too!" + +The mother's head was in a whirl with fatigue, and Nikolay's emotion +aroused in her a sad premonition of the drama's end. + +"So he's dying--he's dying!" The dark thought knocked at her brain +heavily and dully. + +But when she entered the bright, tidy little room of the hospital +and saw Yegor sitting on the pallet propped against the wide bosom +of the pillow, and heard him laugh with zest, she was at once +relieved. She paused at the door, smiling, and listened to Yegor +talk with the physician in a hoarse but lively voice. + +"A cure is a reform." + +"Don't talk nonsense!" the physician cried officiously in a thin voice. + +"And I'm a revolutionist! I detest reforms!" + +The physician, thoughtfully pulling his beard, felt the dropsical +swelling on Yegor's face. The mother knew him well. He was Ivan +Danilovich, one of the close comrades of Nikolay. She walked up to +Yegor, who thrust forth his tongue by way of welcome to her. The +physician turned around. + +"Ah, Nilovna! How are you? Sit down. What have you in your hand?" + +"It must be books." + +"He mustn't read." + +"The doctor wants to make an idiot of me," Yegor complained. + +"Keep quiet!" the physician commanded, and began to write in a +little book. + +The short, heavy breaths, accompanied by rattling in his throat, +fairly tore themselves from Yegor's breast, and his face became +covered with thin perspiration. Slowly raising his swollen hand, he +wiped his forehead with the palm. The strange immobility of his +swollen cheeks denaturalized his broad, good face, all the features +of which disappeared under the dead, bluish mask. Only his eyes, +deeply sunk beneath the swellings, looked out clear and smiling +benevolently. + +"Oh, Science, I'm tired! May I lie down?" + +"No, you mayn't." + +"But I'm going to lie down after you go." + +"Nilovna, please don't let him. It's bad for him." + +The mother nodded. The physician hurried off with short steps. +Yegor threw back his head, closed his eyes and sank into a torpor, +motionless save for the twitching of his fingers. The white walls +of the little room seemed to radiate a dry coldness and a pale, +faceless sadness. Through the large window peered the tufted tops +of the lime trees, amid whose dark, dusty foliage yellow stains +were blazing, the cold touches of approaching autumn. + +"Death is coming to me slowly, reluctantly," said Yegor without +moving and without opening his eyes. "He seems to be a little +sorry for me. I was such a fine, sociable chap." + +"You'd better keep quiet, Yegor Ivanovich!" the mother bade, quietly +stroking his hand. + +"Wait, granny, I'll be silent soon." + +Losing breath every once in a while, enunciating the words with a +mighty effort, he continued his talk, interrupted by long spells +of faintness. + +"It's splendid to have you with me. It's pleasant to see your face, +granny, and your eyes so alert, and your naivete. 'How will it +end?' I ask myself. It's sad to think that the prison, exile, and +all sorts of vile outrages await you as everybody else. Are you +afraid of prison?" + +"No," answered the mother softly. + +"But after all the prison is a mean place. It's the prison that +knocked me up. To tell you the truth, I don't want to die." + +"Maybe you won't die yet," the mother was about to say, but a look +at his face froze the words on her lips. + +"If I hadn't gotten sick I could have worked yet, not badly; but if +you can't work there's nothing to live for, and it's stupid to live." + +"That's true, but it's no consolation." Andrey's words flashed into +the mother's mind, and she heaved a deep sigh. She was greatly +fatigued by the day, and hungry. The monotonous, humid, hoarse +whisper of the sick man filled the room and crept helplessly along +the smooth, cold, shining walls. At the windows the dark tops of +the lime trees trembled quietly. It was growing dusk, and Yegor's +face on the pillow turned dark. + +"How bad I feel," he said. He closed his eyes and became silent. +The mother listened to his breathing, looked around, and sat for a +few minutes motionless, seized by a cold sensation of sadness. +Finally she dozed off. + +The muffled sound of a door being carefully shut awakened her, and +she saw the kind, open eyes of Yegor. + +"I fell asleep; excuse me," she said quietly. + +"And you excuse me," he answered, also quietly. At the door was +heard a rustle and Liudmila's voice. + +"They sit in the darkness and whisper. Where is the knob?" + +The room trembled and suddenly became filled with a white, unfriendly +light. In the middle of the room stood Liudmila, all black, tall, +straight, and serious. Yegor transferred his glance to her, and +making a great effort to move his body, raised his hand to his breast. + +"What's the matter?" exclaimed Liudmila, running up to him. He +looked at the mother with fixed eyes, and now they seemed large +and strangely bright. + +"Wait!" he whispered. + +Opening his mouth wide, he raised his head and stretched his hand +forward. The mother carefully held it up and caught her breath as +she looked into his face. With a convulsive and powerful movement +of his neck he flung his head back, and said aloud: + +"Give me air!" + +A quiver ran through his body; his head dropped limply on his +shoulder, and in his wide open eyes the cold light of the lamp +burning over the bed was reflected dully. + +"My darling!" whispered the mother, firmly pressing his hand, +which suddenly grew heavy. + +Liudmila slowly walked away from the bed, stopped at the window +and stared into space. + +"He's dead!" she said in an unusually loud voice unfamiliar to +Vlasova. She bent down, put her elbows on the window sill, and +repeated in dry, startled tones: "He's dead! He died calmly, like +a man, without complaint." And suddenly, as if struck a blow on +the head, she dropped faintly on her knees, covered her face, and +gave vent to dull, stifled groans. + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The mother folded Yegor's hands over his breast and adjusted his +head, which was strangely warm, on the pillow. Then silently wiping +her eyes, she went to Liudmila, bent over her, and quietly stroked +her thick hair. The woman slowly turned around to her, her dull +eyes widened in a sickly way. She rose to her feet, and with +trembling lips whispered: + +"I've known him for a long time. We were in exile together. We +went there together on foot, we sat in prison together; at times it +was intolerable, disgusting; many fell in spirit." + +Her dry, loud groans stuck in her throat. She overcame them with an +effort, and bringing her face nearer to the mother's she continued +in a quick whisper, moaning without tears: + +"Yet he was unconquerably jolly. He joked and laughed, and covered +up his suffering in a manly way, always striving to encourage the +weak. He was always good, alert, kind. There, in Siberia, idleness +depraves people, and often calls forth ugly feelings toward life. +How he mastered such feelings! What a comrade he was! If you only +knew. His own life was hard and tormented; but I know that nobody +ever heard him complain, not a soul--never! Here was I, nearer to +him than others. I'm greatly indebted to his heart, to his mind. +He gave me all he could of it; and though exhausted, he never asked +either kindness or attention in return." + +She walked up to Yegor, bent down and kissed him. Her voice was +husky as she said mournfully: + +"Comrade, my dear, dear friend, I thank you with all my heart! +Good-by. I shall work as you worked--unassailed by doubt--all my +life--good-by!" + +The dry, sharp groans shook her body, and gasping for breath she +laid her head on the bed at Yegor's feet. The mother wept silent +tears which seared her cheeks. For some reason she tried to restrain +them. She wanted to fondle Liudmila, and wanted to speak about +Yegor with words of love and grief. She looked through her tears +at his swollen face, at his eyes calmly covered by his drooping +eyelids as in sleep, and at his dark lips set in a light, serene +smile. It was quiet, and a bleak brightness pervaded the room. + +Ivan Danilovich entered, as always, with short, hasty steps. He +suddenly stopped in the middle of the room, and thrust his hands +into his pockets with a quick gesture. + +"Did it happen long ago?" His voice was loud and nervous. + +Neither woman replied. He quietly swung about, and wiping his +forehead went to Yegor, pressed his hand, and stepped to one side. + +"It's not strange--with his heart. It might have happened six months ago." + +His voice, high-pitched and jarringly loud for the occasion, +suddenly broke off. Leaning his back against the wall, he twisted +his beard with nimble fingers, and winking his eyes, rapidly looked +at the group by the bed. + +"One more!" he muttered. + +Liudmila rose and walked over to the window. The mother raised her +head and glanced around with a sigh. A minute afterwards they all +three stood at the open window, pressing close against one another, +and looked at the dusky face of the autumn night. On the black tops +of the trees glittered the stars, endlessly deepening the distance +of the sky. + +Liudmila took the mother by the hand, and silently pressed her head +to her shoulders. The physician nervously bit his lips and wiped +his eyeglasses with his handkerchief. In the stillness beyond the +window the nocturnal noise of the city heaved wearily, and cold air +blew on their faces and shoulders. Liudmila trembled; the mother +saw tears running down her cheeks. From the corridor of the +hospital floated confused, dismal sounds. The three stood +motionless at the window, looking silently into the darkness. + +The mother felt herself not needed, and carefully freeing her hand, +went to the door, bowing to Yegor. + +"Are you going?" the physician asked softly without looking around. + +"Yes." + +In the street she thought with pity of Liudmila, remembering her +scant tears. She couldn't even have a good cry. Then she pictured +to herself Liudmila and the physician in the extremely light white +room, the dead eyes of Yegor behind them. A compassion for all +people oppressed her. She sighed heavily, and hastened her pace, +driven along by her tumultuous feelings. + +"I must hurry," she thought in obedience to a sad but encouraging +power that jostled her from within. + +The whole of the following day the mother was busy with preparations +for the funeral. In the evening when she, Nikolay, and Sofya were +drinking tea, quietly talking about Yegor, Sashenka appeared, +strangely brimming over with good spirits, her cheeks brilliantly +red, her eyes beaming happily. She seemed to be filled with some +joyous hope. Her animation contrasted sharply with the mournful +gloom of the others. The discordant note disturbed them and dazzled +them like a fire that suddenly flashes in the darkness. Nikolay +thoughtfully struck his fingers on the table and smiled quietly. + +"You're not like yourself to-day, Sasha." + +"Perhaps," she laughed happily. + +The mother looked at her in mute remonstrance, and Sofya observed +in a tone of admonishment: + +"And we were talking about Yegor Ivanovich." + +"What a wonderful fellow, isn't he?" she exclaimed. "Modest, proof +against doubt, he probably never yielded to sorrow. I have never +seen him without a joke on his lips; and what a worker! He is an +artist of the revolution, a great master, who skillfully manipulates +revolutionary thoughts. With what simplicity and power he always +draws his pictures of falsehood, violence and untruth! And what a +capacity he has for tempering the horrible with his gay humor which +does not diminish the force of facts but only the more brightly +illumines his inner thought! Always droll! I am greatly indebted +to him, and I shall never forget his merry eyes, his fun. And I +shall always feel the effect of his ideas upon me in the time of my +doubts--I love him!" + +She spoke in a moderated voice, with a melancholy smile in her eyes. +But the incomprehensible fire of her gaze was not extinguished; her +exultation was apparent to everybody. + +People love their own feelings--sometimes the very feelings that are +harmful to them--are enamored of them, and often derive keen pleasure +even from grief, a pleasure that corrodes the heart. Nikolay, the +mother, and Sofya were unwilling to let the sorrowful mood produced +by the death of their comrade give way to the joy brought in by Sasha. +Unconsciously defending their melancholy right to feed on their +sadness, they tried to impose their feelings on the girl. + +"And now he's dead," announced Sofya, watching her carefully. + +Sasha glanced around quickly, with a questioning look. She knit +her eyebrows and lowered her head. She was silent for a short time, +smoothing her hair with slow strokes of her hand. + +"He's dead?" She again cast a searching glance into their faces. +"It's hard for me to reconcile myself to the idea." + +"But it's a fact," said Nikolay with a smile. + +Sasha arose, walked up and down the room, and suddenly stopping, +said in a strange voice: + +"What does 'to die' signify? What died? Did my respect for Yegor +die? My love for him, a comrade? The memory of his mind's labor? +Did that labor die? Did all our impressions of him as of a hero +disappear without leaving a trace? Did all this die? This best in +him will never die out of me, I know. It seems to me we're in too +great a hurry to say of a man 'he's dead.' That's the reason we too +soon forget that a man never dies if we don't wish our impressions +of his manhood, his self-denying toil for the triumph of truth and +happiness to disappear. We forget that everything should always be +alive in living hearts. Don't be in a hurry to bury the eternally +alive, the ever luminous, along with a man's body. The church is +destroyed, but God is immortal." + +Carried away by her emotions she sat down, leaning her elbows on +the table, and continued more thoughtfully in a lower voice, looking +smilingly through mist-covered eyes at the faces of the comrades: + +"Maybe I'm talking nonsense. But life intoxicates me by its wonderful +complexity, by the variety of its phenomena, which at times seem like +a miracle to me. Perhaps we are too sparing in the expenditure of our +feelings. We live a great deal in our thoughts, and that spoils us +to a certain extent. We estimate, but we don't feel." + +"Did anything good happen to you?" asked Sofya with a smile. + +"Yes," said Sasha, nodding her head. "I had a whole night's talk +with Vyesovshchikov. I didn't use to like him. He seemed rude and +dull. Undoubtedly that's what he was. A dark, immovable irritation +at everybody lived in him. He always used to place himself, as it +were, like a dead weight in the center of things, and wrathfully +say, 'I, I, I.' There was something bourgeois in this, low, and +exasperating." She smiled, and again took in everybody with her +burning look. + +"Now he says: 'Comrades'--and you ought to hear how he says it, +with what a stirring, tender love. He has grown marvelously simple +and open-hearted, and possessed with a desire to work. He has found +himself, he has measured his power, and knows what he is not. But +the main thing is, a true comradely feeling has been born in him, a +broad, loving comradeship, which smiles in the face of every +difficulty in life." + +Vlasova listened to Sasha attentively. She was glad to see this girl, +always so stern, now softened, cheerful, and happy. Yet from some +deeps of her soul arose the jealous thought: "And how about Pasha?" + +"He's entirely absorbed in thoughts of the comrades," continued Sasha. +"And do you know of what he assures me? Of the necessity of arranging +an escape for them. He says it's a very simple, easy matter." + +Sofya raised her head, and said animatedly: + +"And what do YOU think, Sasha? Is it feasible?" + +The mother trembled as she set a cup of tea on the table. Sasha +knit her brows, her animation gone from her. After a moment's +silence, she said in a serious voice, but smiling in joyous confusion: + +"HE'S convinced. If everything is really as he says, we ought to +try. It's our duty." She blushed, dropped into a chair, and lapsed +into silence. + +"My dear, dear girl!" the mother thought, smiling. Sofya also +smiled, and Nikolay, looking tenderly into Sasha's face, laughed +quietly. The girl raised her head with a stern glance for all. +Then she paled, and her eyes flashed, and she said dryly, the +offense she felt evident in her voice: + +"You're laughing. I understand you. You consider me personally +interested in the case, don't you?" + +"Why, Sasha?" asked Sofya, rising and going over to her. + +Agitated, pale, the girl continued: + +"But I decline. I'll not take any part in deciding the question +if you consider it." + +"Stop, Sasha," said Nikolay calmly. + +The mother understood the girl. She went to her and kissed her +silently on her head. Sasha seized her hand, leaned her cheek on +it, and raised her reddened face, looking into the mother's eyes, +troubled and happy. The mother silently stroked her hair. She +felt sad at heart. Sofya seated herself at Sasha's side, her arm +over her shoulder, and said, smiling into the girl's eyes: + +"You're a strange person." + +"Yes, I think I've grown foolish," Sasha acknowledged. "But I +don't like shadows." + +"That'll do," said Nikolay seriously, but immediately followed up the +admonition by the businesslike remark: "There can't be two opinions +as to the escape, if it's possible to arrange it. But before +everything, we must know whether the comrades in prison want it." + +Sasha drooped her head. Sofya, lighting a cigarette, looked at +her brother, and with a broad sweep of her arm dropped the match +in a corner. + +"How is it possible they should not want it?" asked the mother +with a sigh. Sofya nodded to her, smiling, and walked over to the +window. The mother could not understand the failure of the others +to respond, and looked at them in perplexity. She wanted so much +to hear more about the possibility of an escape. + +"I must see Vyesovshchikov," said Nikolay. + +"All right. To-morrow I'll tell you when and where," replied Sasha. + +"What is he going to do?" asked Sofya, pacing through the room. + +"It's been decided to make him compositor in a new printing place. +Until then he'll stay with the forester." + +Sasha's brow lowered. Her face assumed its usual severe expression. +Her voice sounded caustic. Nikolay walked up to the mother, who was +washing cups, and said to her: + +"You'll see Pasha day after to-morrow. Hand him a note when you're +there. Do you understand? We must know." + +"I understand. I understand," the mother answered quickly. "I'll +deliver it to him all right. That's my business." + +"I'm going," Sasha announced, and silently shook hands with +everybody. She strode away, straight and dry-eyed, with a +peculiarly heavy tread. + +"Poor girl!" said Sofya softly. + +"Ye-es," Nikolay drawled. Sofya put her hand on the mother's +shoulder and gave her a gentle little shake as she sat in the chair. + +"Would you love such a daughter?" and Sofya looked into the mother's face. + +"Oh! If I could see them together, if only for one day!" exclaimed +Nilovna, ready to weep. + +"Yes, a bit of happiness is good for everybody." + +"But there are no people who want only a bit of happiness," remarked +Nikolay; "and when there's much of it, it becomes cheap." + +Sofya sat herself at the piano, and began to play something +low and doleful. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The next morning a number of men and women stood at the gate of the +hospital waiting for the coffin of their comrade to be carried out +to the street. Spies watchfully circled about, their ears alert to +catch each sound, noting faces, manners, and words. From the other +side of the street a group of policemen with revolvers at their +belts looked on. The impudence of the spies, the mocking smiles of +the police ready to show their power, were strong provocatives to +the crowd. Some joked to cover their excitement; others looked down +on the ground sullenly, trying not to notice the affronts; still +others, unable to restrain their wrath, laughed in sarcasm at the +government, which feared people armed with nothing but words. The +pale blue sky of autumn gleamed upon the round, gray paving stones +of the streets, strewn with yellow leaves, which the wind kept +whirling about under the people's feet. + +The mother stood in the crowd. She looked around at the familiar +faces and thought with sadness: "There aren't many of you, not many." + +The gate opened, and the coffin, decorated with wreaths tied with +red ribbons, was carried out. The people, as if inspired with one +will, silently raised their hats. A tall officer of police with a +thick black mustache on a red face unceremoniously jostled his way +through the crowd, followed by the soldiers, whose heavy boots +trampled loudly on the stones. They made a cordon around the +coffin, and the officer said in a hoarse, commanding voice: + +"Remove the ribbons, please!" + +The men and women pressed closely about him. They called to him, +waving their hands excitedly and trying to push past one another. +The mother caught the flash of pale, agitated countenances, some +of them with quivering lips and tears. + +"Down with violence!" a young voice shouted nervously. But the +lonely outcry was lost in the general clamor. + +The mother also felt bitterness in her heart. She turned in +indignation to her neighbor, a poorly dressed young man. + +"They don't permit a man's comrades even to bury him as they want +to. What do they mean by it?" + +The hubbub increased and hostility waxed strong. The coffin rocked +over the heads of the people. The silken rustling of the ribbons +fluttering in the wind about the heads and faces of the carriers +could be heard amid the noise of the strife. + +The mother was seized with a shuddering dread of the possible +collision, and she quickly spoke in an undertone to her neighbors +on the right and on the left: + +"Why not let them have their way if they're like that? The comrades +ought to yield and remove the ribbons. What else can they do?" + +A loud, sharp voice subdued all the other noises: + +"We demand not to be disturbed in accompanying on his last journey +one whom you tortured to death!" + +Somebody--apparently a girl--sang out in a high, piping voice: + + "In mortal strife your victims fell." + +"Remove the ribbons, please, Yakovlev! Cut them off!" A saber +was heard issuing from its scabbard. The mother closed her eyes, +awaiting shouts; but it grew quieter. + +The people growled like wolves at bay; then silently drooping their +heads, crushed by the consciousness of impotence, they moved forward, +filling the street with the noise of their tramping. Before them +swayed the stripped cover of the coffin with the crumpled wreaths, +and swinging from side to side rode the mounted police. The mother +walked on the pavement; she was unable to see the coffin through the +dense crowd surrounding it, which imperceptibly grew and filled the +whole breadth of the street. Back of the crowd also rose the gray +figures of the mounted police; at their sides, holding their hands +on their sabers, marched the policemen on foot, and everywhere were +the sharp eyes of the spies, familiar to the mother, carefully +scanning the faces of the people. + +"Good-by, comrade, good-by!" plaintively sang two beautiful voices. + +"Don't!" a shout was heard. "We will be silent, comrades-- +for the present." + +The shout was stern and imposing; it carried an assuring threat, +and it subdued the crowd. The sad songs broke off; the talking +became lower; only the noise of heavy tramping on the stones filled +the street with its dull, even sound. Over the heads of the people, +into the transparent sky, and through the air it rose like the first +peal of distant thunder. People silently bore grief and revolt in +their breasts. Was it possible to carry on the war for freedom +peacefully? A vain illusion! Hatred of violence, love of freedom +blazed up and burned the last remnants of the illusion to ashes in +the hearts that still cherished it. The steps became heavier, heads +were raised, eyes looked cold and firm, and feeling, outstripping +thought, brought forth resolve. The cold wind, waxing stronger and +stronger, carried an unfriendly cloud of dust and street litter in +front of the people. It, blew through their garments and their +hair, blinded their eyes and struck against their breasts. + +The mother was pained by these silent funerals without priests and +heart-oppressing chants, with thoughtful faces, frowning brows, and +the heavy tramp of the feet. Her slowly circling thoughts +formulated her impression in the melancholy phrase: + +"There are not many of you who stand up for the truth, not many; +and yet they fear you, they fear you!" + +Her head bent, she strode along without looking around. It seemed +to her that they were burying, not Yegor, but something else unknown +and incomprehensible to her. + +At the cemetery the procession for a long time moved in and out +along the narrow paths amid the tombs until an open space was +reached, which was sprinkled with wretched little crosses. The +people gathered about the graves in silence. This austere silence +of the living among the dead promised something strange, which +caused the mother's heart to tremble and sink with expectation. +The wind whistled and sighed among the graves. The flowers trembled +on the lid of the coffin. + +The police, stretching out in a line, assumed an attitude of guard, +their eyes on their captain. A tall, long-haired, black-browed, +pale young man without a hat stood over the fresh grave. At the +same time the hoarse voice of the captain was heard: + +"Ladies and gentlemen!" + +"Comrades!" began the black-browed man sonorously. + +"Permit me!" shouted the police captain. "In pursuance of the order +of the chief of police I announce to you that I cannot permit a speech!" + +"I will say only a few words," the young man said calmly. "Comrades! +Over the grave of our teacher and friend let us vow in silence never +to forget his will; let each one of us continue without ceasing to +dig the grave for the source of our country's misfortune, the evil +power that crushes it--the autocracy!" + +"Arrest him!" shouted the police captain. But his voice was drowned +in the confused outburst of shouts. + +"Down with the autocracy!" + +The police rushed through the crowd toward the orator, who, closely +surrounded on all sides, shouted, waving his hand: + +"Long live liberty! We will live and die for it!" + +The mother shut her eyes in momentary fear. The boisterous tempest +of confused sounds deafened her. The earth rocked under her feet; +terror impeded her breathing. The startling whistles of the +policemen pierced the air. The rude, commanding voice of the +captain was heard; the women cried hysterically. The wooden fences +cracked, and the heavy tread of many feet sounded dully on the dry +ground. A sonorous voice, subduing all the other voices, blared +like a war trumpet: + +"Comrades! Calm yourselves! Have more respect for yourselves! +Let me go! Comrades, I insist, let me go!" + +The mother looked up, and uttered a low exclamation. A blind impulse +carried her forward with outstretched hands. Not far from her, on +a worn path between the graves, the policemen were surrounding the +long-haired man and repelling the crowd that fell upon them from all +sides. The unsheathed bayonets flashed white and cold in the air, +flying over the heads of the people, and falling quickly again with +a spiteful hiss. Broken bits of the fence were brandished; the +baleful shouts of the struggling people rose wildly. + +The young man lifted his pale face, and his firm, calm voice sounded +above the storm of irritated outcries: + +"Comrades! Why do you spend your strength? Our task is to arm the heads." + +He conquered. Throwing away their sticks, the people dropped out +of the throng one after the other; and the mother pushed forward. +She saw how Nikolay, with his hat fallen back on his neck, thrust +aside the people, intoxicated with the commotion, and heard his +reproachful voice: + +"Have you lost your senses? Calm yourselves!" + +It seemed to her that one of his hands was red. + +"Nikolay Ivanovich, go away!" she shouted, rushing toward him. + +"Where are you going? They'll strike you there!" + +She stopped. Seizing her by the shoulder, Sofya stood at her side, +hatless, her jacket open, her other hand grasping a young, light-haired +man, almost a boy. He held his hands to his bruised face, and he +muttered with tremulous lips: "Let me go! It's nothing." + +"Take care of him! Take him home to us! Here's a handkerchief. +Bandage his face!" Sofya gave the rapid orders, and putting his +hand into the mother's ran away, saying: + +"Get out of this place quickly, else they'll arrest you!" + +The people scattered all over the cemetery. After them the +policemen strode heavily among the graves, clumsily entangling +themselves in the flaps of their military coats, cursing, and +brandishing their bayonets. + +"Let's hurry!" said the mother, wiping the boy's face with the +handkerchief. "What's your name?" + +"Ivan." Blood spurted from his mouth. "Don't be worried; I don't +feel hurt. He hit me over the head with the handle of his saber, +and I gave him such a blow with a stick that he howled," the boy +concluded, shaking his blood-stained fist. "Wait--it'll be different. +We'll choke you without a fight, when we arise, all the working people." + +"Quick--hurry!" The mother urged him on, walking swiftly toward the +little wicket gate. It seemed to her that there, behind the fence +in the field, the police were lying in wait for them, ready to +pounce on them and beat them as soon as they went out. But on +carefully opening the gate, and looking out over the field clothed +in the gray garb of autumn dusk, its stillness and solitude at once +gave her composure. + +"Let me bandage your face." + +"Never mind. I'm not ashamed to be seen with it as it is. The +fight was honorable--he hit me--I hit him----" + +The mother hurriedly bandaged his wound. The sight of fresh, +flowing blood filled her breast with terror and pity. Its humid +warmth on her fingers sent a cold, fine tremor through her body. +Then, holding his hand, she silently and quickly conducted the +wounded youth through the field. Freeing his mouth of the bandage, +he said with a smile: + +"But where are you taking me, comrade? I can go by myself." + +But the mother perceived that he was reeling with faintness, that +his legs were unsteady, and his hands twitched. He spoke to her +in a weak voice, and questioned her without waiting for an answer: + +"I'm a tinsmith, and who are you? There were three of us in Yegor +Ivanovich's circle--three tinsmiths--and there were twelve men in +all. We loved him very much--may he have eternal life!--although +I don't believe in God--it's they, the dogs, that dupe us with God, +so that we should obey the authorities and suffer life patiently +without kicking." + +In one of the streets the mother hailed a cab and put Ivan into it. +She whispered, "Now be silent," and carefully wrapped his face up +in the handkerchief. He raised his hand to his face, but was no +longer able to free his mouth. His hand fell feebly on his knees; +nevertheless he continued to mutter through the bandages: + +"I won't forget those blows; I'll score them against you, my dear sirs! +With Yegor there was another student, Titovich, who taught us political +economy--he was a very stern, tedious fellow--he was arrested." + +The mother, drawing the boy to her, put his head on her bosom in +order to muffle his voice. It was not necessary, however, for he +suddenly grew heavy and silent. In awful fear, she looked about +sidewise out of the corners of her eyes. She felt that the policemen +would issue from some corner, would see Ivan's bandaged head, would +seize him and kill him. + +"Been drinking?" asked the driver, turning on the box with a +benignant smile. + +"Pretty full." + +"Your son?" + +"Yes, a shoemaker. I'm a cook." + +Shaking the whip over the horse, the driver again turned, and +continued in a lowered voice: + +"I heard there was a row in the cemetery just now. You see, they +were burying one of the politicals, one of those who are against the +authorities. They have a crow to pick with the authorities. He was +buried by fellows like him, his friends, it must be; and they up and +begin to shout: 'Down with the authorities! They ruin the people.' +The police began to beat them. It's said some were hewed down and +killed. But the police got it, too." He was silent, shaking his +head as if afflicted by some sorrow, and uttered in a strange voice: +"They don't even let the dead alone; they even bother people in +their graves." + +The cab rattled over the stones. Ivan's head jostled softly against +the mother's bosom. The driver, sitting half-turned from his horse, +mumbled thoughtfully: + +"The people are beginning to boil. Every now and then some disorder +crops out. Yes! Last night the gendarmes came to our neighbors, +and kept up an ado till morning, and in the morning they led away +a blacksmith. It's said they'll take him to the river at night and +drown him. And the blacksmith--well--he was a wise man--he understood +a great deal--and to understand, it seems, is forbidden. He used +to come to us and say: 'What sort of life is the cabman's life?' +'It's true,' we say, 'the life of a cabman is worse than a dog's.'" + +"Stop!" the mother said. + +Ivan awoke from the shock of the sudden halt, and groaned softly. + +"It shook him up!" remarked the driver. "Oh, whisky, whisky!" + +Ivan shifted his feet about with difficulty. His whole body +swaying, he walked through the entrance, and said: + +"Nothing--comrade, I can get along." + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Sofya was already at home when they reached the house. She met the +mother with a cigarette in her teeth. She was somewhat ruffled, +but, as usual, bold and assured of manner. Putting the wounded man +on the sofa, she deftly unbound his head, giving orders and screwing +up her eyes from the smoke of her cigarette. + +"Ivan Danilovich!" she called out. "He's been brought here. You +are tired, Nilovna. You've had enough fright, haven't, you? Well, +rest now. Nikolay, quick, give Nilovna some tea and a glass of port." + +Dizzied by her experience, the mother breathing heavily and feeling +a sickly pricking in her breast, said: "Don't bother about me." + +But her entire anxious being begged for attention and kindnesses. + +From the next room entered Nikolay with a bandaged hand, and the +doctor, Ivan Danilovich, all disheveled, his hair standing on end +like the spines of a hedgehog. He quickly stepped to Ivan, bent +over him, and said: + +"Water, Sofya Ivanovich, more water, clean linen strips, and cotton." + +The mother walked toward the kitchen; but Nikolay took her by the +arm with his left hand, and led her into the dining room. + +"He didn't speak to you; he was speaking to Sofya. You've had +enough suffering, my dear woman, haven't you?" + +The mother met Nikolay's fixed, sympathetic glance, and, pressing +his head, exclaimed with a groan she could not restrain: + +"Oh, my darling, how fearful it was! They mowed the comrades down! +They mowed them down!" + +"I saw it," said Nikolay, giving her a glass of wine, and nodding +his head. "Both sides grew a little heated. But don't be uneasy; +they used the flats of their swords, and it seems only one was +seriously wounded. I saw him struck, and I myself carried him out +of the crowd." + +His face and voice, and the warmth and brightness of the room +quieted Vlasova. Looking gratefully at him, she asked: + +"Did they hit you, too?" + +"It seems to me that I myself through carelessness knocked my hand +against something and tore off the skin. Drink some tea. The +weather is cold and you're dressed lightly." + +She stretched out her hand for the cup and saw that her fingers were +stained with dark clots of blood. She instinctively dropped her +hands on her knees. Her skirt was damp. Ivan Danilovich came in in +his vest, his shirt sleeves rolled up, and in response to Nikolay's +mute question, said in his thin voice: + +"The wound on his face is slight. His skull, however, is fractured, +but not very badly. He's a strong fellow, but he's lost a lot of +blood. We'll take him over to the hospital." + +"Why? Let him stay here!" exclaimed Nikolay. + +"To-day he may; and--well--to-morrow, too; but after that it'll be +more convenient for us to have him at the hospital. I have no time +to pay visits. You'll write a leaflet about the affair at the +cemetery, won't you?" + +"Of course!" + +The mother rose quietly and walked into the kitchen. + +"Where are you going, Nilovna?" Nikolay stopped her with solicitude. +"Sofya can get along by herself." + +She looked at him and started and smiled strangely. + +"I'm all covered with blood." + +While changing her dress she once again thought of the calmness of +these people, of their ability to recover from the horrible, an +ability which clearly testified to their manly readiness to meet +any demand made on them for work in the cause of truth. This +thought, steadying the mother, drove fear from her heart. + +When she returned to the room where the sick man lay, she heard +Sofya say, as she bent over him: + +"That's nonsense, comrade!" + +"Yes, I'll incommode you," he said faintly. + +"You keep still. That's better for you." + +The mother stood back of Sofya, and puffing her hand on her shoulders +peered with a smile into the face of the sick man. She related how +he had raved in the presence of the cabman and frightened her by his +lack of caution. Ivan heard her; his eyes turned feverishly, he +smacked his lips, and at times exclaimed in a confused low voice: +"Oh, what a fool I am!" + +"We'll leave you here," Sofya said, straightening out the blanket. "Rest." + +The mother and Sofya went to the dining room and conversed there in +subdued voices about the events of the day. They already regarded +the drama of the burial as something remote, and looked with assurance +toward the future in deliberating on the work of the morrow. Their +faces wore a weary expression, but their thoughts were bold. + +They spoke of their dissatisfaction with themselves. Nervously +moving in his chair and gesticulating animatedly the physician, +dulling his thin, sharp voice with an effort, said: + +"Propaganda! propaganda! There's too little of it now. The young +workingmen are right. We must extend the field of agitation. The +workingmen are right, I say." + +Nikolay answered somberly: + +"From everywhere come complaints of not enough literature, and +we still cannot get a good printing establishment. Liudmila is +wearing herself out. She'll get sick if we don't see that she +gets assistance." + +"And Vyesovshchikov?" asked Sofya. + +"He cannot live in the city. He won't be able to go to work until +he can enter the new printing establishment. And one man is still +needed for it." + +"Won't I do?" the mother asked quietly. + +All three looked at her in silence for a short while. + +"No, it's too hard for you, Nilovna," said Nikolay. "You'll have to +live outside the city and stop your visits to Pavel, and in general----" + +With a sigh the mother said: + +"For Pasha it won't be a great loss. And so far as I am concerned +these visits, too, are a torment; they tear out my heart. I'm not +allowed to speak of anything; I stand opposite my son like a fool. +And they look into my mouth and wait to see something come out that +oughtn't." + +Sofya groped for the mother's hand under the table and pressed it +warmly with her thin fingers. Nikolay looked at the mother fixedly +while explaining to her that she would have to serve in the new +printing establishment as a protection to the workers. + +"I understand," she said. "I'll be a cook. I'll be able to do it; +I can imagine what's needed." + +"How persistent you are!" remarked Sofya. + +The events of the last few days had exhausted the mother; and now as +she heard of the possibility of living outside the city, away from +its bustle, she greedily grasped at the chance. + +But Nikolay changed the subject of conversation. + +"What are you thinking about, Ivan?" He turned to the physician. + +Raising his head from the table, the physician answered sullenly: + +"There are too few of us. That's what I'm thinking of. We positively +must begin to work more energetically, and we must persuade Pavel and +Andrey to escape. They are both too invaluable to be sitting there idle." + +Nikolay lowered his brows and shook his head in doubt, darting a +glance at the mother. + +As she realized the embarrassment they must feel in speaking of her +son in her presence, she walked out into her own room. + +There, lying in bed with open eyes, the murmur of low talking in her +ears, she gave herself up to anxious thoughts. She wanted to see +her son at liberty, but at the same time the idea of freeing him +frightened her. She felt that the struggle around her was growing +keener and that a sharp collision was threatening. The silent +patience of the people was wearing away, yielding to a strained +expectation of something new. The excitement was growing perceptibly. +Bitter words were tossed about. Something novel and stirring was +wafted from all quarters; every proclamation evoked lively discussions +in the market place, in the shops, among servants, among workingmen. +Every arrest aroused a timid, uncomprehending, and sometimes unconscious +sympathy when judgment regarding the causes of the arrest was expressed. +She heard the words that had once frightened her--riot, socialism, +politics--uttered more and more frequently among the simple folk, +though accompanied by derision. However, behind their ridicule it +was impossible to conceal an eagerness to understand, mingled with +fear and hope, with hatred of the masters and threats against them. + +Agitation disturbed the settled, dark life of the people in slow but +wide circles. Dormant thoughts awoke, and men were shaken from their +usual forced calm attitude toward daily events. All this the mother +saw more clearly than others, because she, better than they, knew the +dismal, dead face of existence; she stood nearer to it, and now saw +upon it the wrinkles of hesitation and turmoil, the vague hunger for +the new. She both rejoiced over the change and feared it. She +rejoiced because she regarded this as the cause of her son; she feared +because she knew that if he emerged from prison he would stand at +the head of all, in the most dangerous place, and--he would perish. + +She often felt great thoughts needful to everybody stirring in her +bosom, but scarcely ever was able to make them live in words; and +they oppressed her heart with a dumb, heavy sadness. Sometimes the +image of her son grew before her until it assumed the proportions of +a giant in the old fairy tales. He united within himself all the +honest thoughts she had heard spoken, all the people that she liked, +everything heroic of which she knew. Then, moved with delight in +him, she exulted in quiet rapture. An indistinct hope filled her. +"Everything will be well--everything!" Her love, the love of a +mother, was fanned into a flame, a veritable pain to her heart. +Then the motherly affection hindered the growth of the broader human +feeling, burned it; and in place of a great sentiment a small, +dismal thought beat faint-heartedly in the gray ashes of alarm: +"He will perish; he will fall!" + +Late that night the mother sank into a heavy sleep, but rose early, +her bones stiff, her head aching. At mid-day she was sitting in the +prison office opposite Pavel and looking through a mist in her eyes +at his bearded, swarthy face. She was watching for a chance to +deliver to him the note she held tightly in her hand. + +"I am well and all are well," said Pavel in a moderated voice. +"And how are you?" + +"So so. Yegor Ivanovich died," she said mechanically. + +"Yes?" exclaimed Pavel, and dropped his head. + +"At the funeral the police got up a fight and arrested one man," +the mother continued in her simple-hearted way. + +The thin-lipped assistant overseer of the prison jumped from his +chair and mumbled quickly: + +"Cut that out; it's forbidden! Why don't you understand? You know +politics are prohibited." + +The mother also rose from her chair, and as if failing to comprehend +him, she said guiltily: + +"I wasn't discussing politics. I was telling about a fight--and +they did fight; that's true. They even broke one fellow's head." + +"All the same, please keep quiet--that is to say, keep quiet about +everything that doesn't concern you personally--your family; in +general, your home." + +Aware that his speech was confused, he sat down in his chair and +arranged papers. + +"I'm responsible for what you say," he said sadly and wearily. + +The mother looked around and quickly thrust the note into Pavel's +hand. She breathed a deep sigh of relief. + +"I don't know what to speak about." + +Pavel smiled: + +"I don't know either." + +"Then why pay visits?" said the overseer excitedly. "They have +nothing to say, but they come here anyhow and bother me." + +"Will the trial take place soon?" asked the mother after a pause. + +"The procurator was here the other day, and he said it will come off soon." + +"You've been in prison half a year already!" + +They spoke to each other about matters of no significance to either. +The mother saw Pavel's eyes look into her face softly and lovingly. +Even and calm as before, he had not changed, save that his wrists +were whiter, and his beard, grown long, made him look older. The +mother experienced a strong desire to do something pleasant for +him--tell him about Vyesovshchikov, for instance. So, without +changing her tone, she continued in the same voice in which she +spoke of the needless and uninteresting things. + +"I saw your godchild." Pavel fixed a silent questioning look on her +eyes. She tapped her fingers on her cheeks to picture to him the +pockmarked face of Vyesovshchikov. + +"He's all right! The boy is alive and well. He'll soon get his +position--you remember how he always asked for hard work?" + +Pavel understood, and gratefully nodded his head. "Why, of course +I remember!" he answered, with a cheery smile in his eyes. + +"Very well!" the mother uttered in a satisfied tone, content with +herself and moved by his joy. + +On parting with her he held her hand in a firm clasp. + +"Thank you, mamma!" The joyous feeling of hearty nearness to him +mounted to her head like a strong drink. Powerless to answer in +words, she merely pressed his hand. + +At home she found Sasha. The girl usually came to Nilovna on the +days when the mother had visited Pavel. + +"Well, how is he?" + +"He's well." + +"Did you hand him the note?" + +"Of course! I stuck it into his hands very cleverly." + +"Did he read it?" + +"On the spot? How could he?" + +"Oh, yes; I forgot! Let us wait another week, one week longer. +Do you think he'll agree to it?" + +"I don't know--I think he will," the mother deliberated. "Why +shouldn't he if he can do so without danger?" + +Sasha shook her head. + +"Do you know what the sick man is allowed to eat? He's asked for +some food." + +"Anything at all. I'll get him something at once." The mother +walked into the kitchen, slowly followed by Sasha. + +"Can I help you?" + +"Thank you! Why should you?" + +The mother bent at the oven to get a pot. The girl said in a low +voice: + +"Wait!" + +Her face paled, her eyes opened sadly and her quivering lips +whispered hotly with an effort: + +"I want to beg you--I know he will not agree--try to persuade him. +He's needed. Tell him he's essential, absolutely necessary for the +cause--tell him I fear he'll get sick. You see the date of the trial +hasn't been set yet, and six months have already passed--I beg of you!" + +It was apparent that she spoke with difficulty. She stood up straight, +in a tense attitude, and looked aside. Her voice sounded uneven, +like the snapping of a taut string. Her eyelids drooping wearily, +she bit her lips, and the fingers of her compressed hand cracked. + +The mother was ruffled by her outburst; but she understood it, and +a sad emotion took possession of her. Softly embracing Sasha, she +answered: + +"My dear, he will never listen to anybody except himself--never!" + +For a short while they were both silent in a close embrace. Then +Sasha carefully removed the mother's hands from her shoulders. + +"Yes, you're right," she said in a tremble. "It's all stupidity and +nerves. One gets so tired." And, suddenly growing serious, she +concluded: "Anyway, let's give the sick man something to eat." + +In an instant she was sitting at Ivan's bed, kindly and solicitously +inquiring, "Does your head ache badly?" + +"Not very. Only everything is muddled up, and I'm weak," answered +Ivan in embarrassment. He pulled the blanket up to his chin, and +screwed up his eyes as if dazzled by too brilliant a light. +Noticing that she embarrassed him by her presence and that he could +not make up his mind to eat, Sasha rose and walked away. Then Ivan +sat up in bed and looked at the door through which she had left. + +"Be-au-tiful!" he murmured. + +His eyes were bright and merry; his teeth fine and compact; his +young voice was not yet steady as an adult's. + +"How old are you?" the mother asked thoughtfully. + +"Seventeen years." + +"Where are your parents?" + +"In the village. I've been here since I was ten years old. I got +through school and came here. And what is your name, comrade?" + +This word, when applied to her, always brought a smile to the +mother's face and touched her. + +"Why do you want to know?" + +The youth, after an embarrassed pause, explained: + +"You see, a student of our circle, that is, a fellow who used to +read to us, told us about Pavel's mother--a workingman, you know-- +and about the first of May demonstration." + +She nodded her head and pricked up her ears. + +"He was the first one who openly displayed the banner of our party," +the youth declared with pride--a pride which found a response in +the mother's heart. + +"I wasn't present; we were then thinking of making our own demonstration +here in the city, but it fizzled out; we were too few of us then. +But this year we will--you'll see!" + +He choked from agitation, having a foretaste of the future event. +Then waving his spoon in the air, he continued: + +"So Vlasova--the mother, as I was telling you--she, too, got into +the party after that. They say she's a wonder of an old woman." + +The mother smiled broadly. It was pleasant for her to hear the +boy's enthusiastic praise--pleasant, yet embarrassing. She even +had to restrain herself from telling him that she was Vlasova, and +she thought sadly, in derision of herself: "Oh, you old fool!" + +"Eat more! Get well sooner for the sake of the cause!" She burst +out all of a sudden, in agitation, bending toward him: "It awaits +powerful young hands, clean hearts, honest minds. It lives by these +forces! With them it holds aloof everything evil, everything mean!" + +The door opened, admitting a cold, damp, autumn draught. Sofya +entered, bold, a smile on her face, reddened by the cold. + +"Upon my word, the spies are as attentive to me as a bridegroom +to a rich bride! I must leave this place. Well, how are you, +Vanya? All right? How's Pavel, Nilovna? What! is Sasha here?" + +Lighting a cigarette, she showered questions without waiting for +answers, caressing the mother and the youth with merry glances of +her gray eyes. The mother looked at her and smiled inwardly. "What +good people I'm among!" she thought. She bent over Ivan again and +gave him back his kindness twofold: + +"Get well! Now I must give you wine." She rose and walked into +the dining room, where Sofya was saying to Sasha: + +"She has three hundred copies prepared already. She'll kill herself +working so hard. There's heroism for you! Unseen, unnoticed, it +finds its reward and its praise in itself. Do you know, Sasha, +it's the greatest happiness to live among such people, to be their +comrade, to work with them?" + +"Yes," answered the girl softly. + +In the evening at tea Sofya said to the mother: + +"Nilovna, you have to go to the village again." + +"Well, what of it? When?" + +"It would be good if you could go to-morrow. Can you?" + +"Yes." + +"Ride there," advised Nikolay. "Hire post horses, and please take +a different route from before--across the district of Nikolsk." +Nikolay's somber expression was alarming. + +"The way by Nikolsk is long, and it's expensive if you hire horses." + +"You see, I'm against this expedition in general. It's already +begun to be unquiet there--some arrests have been made, a teacher +was taken. Rybin escaped, that's certain. But we must be more +careful. We ought to have waited a little while still." + +"That can't be avoided," said Nilovna. + +Sofya, tapping her fingers on the table, remarked: + +"It's important for us to keep spreading literature all the time. +You're not afraid to go, are you, Nilovna?" + +The mother felt offended. "When have I ever been afraid? I was +without fear even the first time. And now all of a sudden--" She +drooped her head. Each time she was asked whether she was afraid, +whether the thing was convenient for her, whether she could do this +or that--she detected an appeal to her which placed her apart from +the comrades, who seemed to behave differently toward her than +toward one another. Moreover, when fuller days came, although at +first disquieted by the commotion, by the rapidity of events, she +soon grew accustomed to the bustle and responded, as it were, to the +jolts she received from her impressions. She became filled with a +zealous greed for work. This was her condition to-day; and, therefore, +Sofya's question was all the more displeasing to her. + +"There's no use for you to ask me whether or not I'm afraid and +various other things," she sighed. "I've nothing to be afraid of. +Those people are afraid who have something. What have I? Only a +son. I used to be afraid for him, and I used to fear torture for +his sake. And if there is no torture--well, then?" + +"Are you offended?" exclaimed Sofya. + +"No. Only you don't ask each other whether you're afraid." + +Nikolay removed his glasses, adjusted them to his nose again, and +looked fixedly at his sister's face. The embarrassed silence that +followed disturbed the mother. She rose guiltily from her seat, +wishing to say something to them, but Sofya stroked her hand, and +said quietly: + +"Forgive me! I won't do it any more." + +The mother had to laugh, and in a few minutes the three were +speaking busily and amicably about the trip to the village. + + + +CHAPTER X + + +The next day, early in the morning, the mother was seated in the +post chaise, jolting along the road washed by the autumn rain. A +damp wind blew on her face, the mud splashed, and the coachman on +the box, half-turned toward her, complained in a meditative snuffle: + +"I say to him--my brother, that is--let's go halves. We began to +divide"--he suddenly whipped the left horse and shouted angrily: +"Well, well, play, your mother is a witch." + +The stout autumn crows strode with a businesslike air through the +bare fields. The wind whistled coldly, and the birds caught its +buffets on their backs. It blew their feathers apart, and even +lifted them off their feet, and, yielding to its force, they lazily +flapped their wings and flew to a new spot. + +"But he cheated me; I see I have nothing----" + +The mother listened to the coachman's words as in a dream. A dumb +thought grew in her heart. Memory brought before her a long series +of events through which she had lived in the last years. On an +examination of each event, she found she had actively participated +in it. Formerly, life used to happen somewhere in the distance, +remote from where she was, uncertain for whom and for what. Now, +many things were accomplished before her eyes, with her help. The +result in her was a confused feeling, compounded of distrust of +herself, complacency, perplexity, and sadness. + +The scenery about her seemed to be slowly moving. Gray clouds +floated in the sky, chasing each other heavily; wet trees flashed +along the sides of the road, swinging their bare tops; little hills +appeared and swam asunder. The whole turbid day seemed to be +hastening to meet the sun--to be seeking it. + +The drawling voice of the coachman, the sound of the bells, the +humid rustle and whistle of the wind, blended in a trembling, +tortuous stream, which flowed on with a monotonous force, and +roused the wind. + +"The rich man feels crowded, even in Paradise. That's the way it +is. Once he begins to oppress, the government authorities are his +friends," quoth the coachman, swaying on his seat. + +While unhitching the horses at the station he said to the mother +in a hopeless voice: + +"If you gave me only enough for a drink----" + +She gave him a coin, and tossing it in the palm of his hand, he +informed her in the same hopeless tone: + +"I'll take a drink for three coppers, and buy myself bread for two." + +In the afternoon the mother, shaken up by the ride and chilled, +reached the large village of Nikolsk. She went to a tavern and +asked for tea. After placing her heavy valise under the bench, she +sat at a window and looked out into an open square, covered with +yellow, trampled grass, and into the town hall, a long, old building +with an overhanging roof. Swine were straggling about in the square, +and on the steps of the town hail sat a bald, thin-bearded peasant +smoking a pipe. The clouds swam overhead in dark masses, and piled +up, one absorbing the other. It was dark, gloomy, and tedious. +Life seemed to be in hiding. + +Suddenly the village sergeant galloped up to the square, stopped his +sorrel at the steps of the town hall, and waving his whip in the +air, shouted to the peasant. The shouts rattled against the window +panes, but the words were indistinguishable. The peasant rose and +stretched his hand, pointing to something. The sergeant jumped to +the ground, reeled, threw the reins to the peasant, and seizing the +rails with his hands, lifted himself heavily up the steps, and +disappeared behind the doors of the town hall. + +Quiet reigned again. Only the horse struck the soft earth with the +iron of his shoes. + +A girl came into the room. A short yellow braid lay on her neck, +her face was round, and her eyes kind. She bit her lips with the +effort of carrying a ragged-edged tray, with dishes, in her +outstretched hands. She bowed, nodding her head. + +"How do you do, my good girl?" said the mother kindly. + +"How do you do?" + +Putting the plates and the china dishes on the table, she announced +with animation: + +"They've just caught a thief. They're bringing him here." + +"Indeed? What sort of a thief?" + +"I don't know." + +"What did he do?" + +"I don't know. I only heard that they caught him. The watchman +of the town hall ran off for the police commissioner, and shouted: +'They've caught him. They're bringing him here.'" + +The mother looked through the window. Peasants gathered in the +square; some walked slowly, some quickly, while buttoning their +overcoats. They stopped at the steps of the town hall, and all +looked to the left. It was strangely quiet. The girl also went to +the window to see the street, and then silently ran from the room, +banging the door after her. The mother trembled, pushed her valise +farther under the bench, and throwing her shawl over her head, +hurried to the door. She had to restrain a sudden, incomprehensible +desire to run. + +When she walked up the steps of the town hall a sharp cold struck +her face and breast. She lost breath, and her legs stiffened. +There, in the middle of the square, walked Rybin! His hands were +bound behind his back, and on each side of him a policeman, +rhythmically striking the ground with his club. At the steps stood +a crowd waiting in silence. + +Unconscious of the bearing of the thing, the mother's gaze was, +riveted on Rybin. He said something; she heard his voice, but +the words did not reach the dark emptiness of her heart. + +She recovered her senses, and took a deep breath. A peasant with +a broad light beard was standing at the steps looking fixedly into +her face with his, blue eyes. Coughing and rubbing her throat with +her hands, weak with fear, she asked him with an effort: + +"What's the matter?" + +"Well, look." The peasant turned away. Another peasant came up +to her side. + +"Oh, thief! How horrible you look!" shouted a woman's voice. + +The policemen stepped in front of the crowd, which increased in size. +Rybin's voice sounded thick: + +"Peasants, I'm not a thief; I don't steal; I don't set things on +fire. I only fight against falsehood. That's why they seized me. +Have you heard of the true books in which the truth is written about +our peasant life? Well, it's because of these writings that I +suffer. It's I who distributed them among the people." + +The crowd surrounded Rybin more closely. His voice steadied the mother. + +"Did you hear?" said a peasant in a low voice, nudging a blue-eyed +neighbor, who did not answer but raised his head and again looked +into the mother's face. The other peasant also looked at her. He +was younger than he of the blue eyes, with a dark, sparse beard, +and a lean freckled face. Then both of them turned away to the +side of the steps. + +"They're afraid," the mother involuntarily noted. Her attention +grew keener. From the elevation of the stoop she clearly saw the +dark face of Rybin, distinguished the hot gleam of his eyes. She +wanted that he, too, should see her, and raised herself on tiptoe +and craned her neck. + +The people looked at him sullenly, distrustfully, and were silent. +Only in the rear of the crowd subdued conversation was heard. + +"Peasants!" said Rybin aloud, in a peculiar full voice. "Believe +these papers! I shall now, perhaps, get death on account of them. +The authorities beat me, they tortured me, they wanted to find out +from where I got them, and they're going to beat me more. For in +these writings the truth is laid down. An honest world and the +truth ought to be dearer to us than bread. That's what I say." + +"Why is he doing this?" softly exclaimed one of the peasants near +the steps. He of the blue eyes answered: + +"Now it's all the same. He won't escape death, anyhow. And a man +can't die twice." + +The sergeant suddenly appeared on the steps of the town hall, +roaring in a drunken voice: + +"What is this crowd? Who's the fellow speaking?" + +Suddenly precipitating himself down the steps, he seized Rybin by +the hair, and pulled his head backward and forward. "Is it you +speaking, you damned scoundrel? Is it you?" + +The crowd, giving way, still maintained silence. The mother, in +impotent grief, bowed her head; one of the peasants sighed. Rybin +spoke again: + +"There! Look, good people!" + +"Silence!" and the sergeant struck his face. + +Rybin reeled. + +"They bind a man's hands and then torment him, and do with him +whatever they please." + +"Policemen, take him! Disperse, people!" The sergeant, jumping and +swinging in front of Rybin, struck him in his face, breast, and stomach. + +"Don't beat him!" some one shouted dully. + +"Why do you beat him?" another voice upheld the first. + +"Lazy, good-for-nothing beast!" + +"Come!" said the blue-eyed peasant, motioning with his head; and +without hastening, the two walked toward the town hall, accompanied +by a kind look from the mother. She sighed with relief. The +sergeant again ran heavily up the steps, and shaking his fists in +menace, bawled from his height vehemently: + +"Bring him here, officers, I say! I say----" + +"Don't!" a strong voice resounded in the crowd, and the mother knew +it came from the blue-eyed peasant. "Boys! don't permit it! They'll +take him in there and beat him to death, and then they'll say we +killed him. Don't permit it!" + +"Peasants!" the powerful voice of Rybin roared, drowning the shouts +of the sergeant. "Don't you understand your life? Don't you +understand how they rob you--how they cheat you--how they drink your +blood? You keep everything up; everything rests on you; you are all +the power that is at the bottom of everything on earth--its whole +power. And what rights have you? You have the right to starve-- +it's your only right!" + +"He's speaking the truth, I tell YOU!" + +Some men shouted: + +"Call the commissioner of police! Where is the commissioner of police?" + +"The sergeant has ridden away for him!" + +"It's not our business to call the authorities!" + +The noise increased as the crowd grew louder and louder. + +"Speak! We won't let them beat you!" + +"Officers, untie his hands!" + +"No, brothers; that's not necessary!" + +"Untie him!" + +"Look out you don't do something you'll, be sorry for!" + +"I am sorry for my hands!" Rybin said evenly and resonantly, making +himself heard above all the other voices. "I'll not escape, peasants. +I cannot hide from my truth; it lives inside of me!" + +Several men walked away from the crowd, formed different circles, +and with earnest faces and shaking their heads carried on +conversations. Some smiled. More and more people came running +up--excited, bearing marks of having dressed quickly. They seethed +like black foam about Rybin, and he rocked to and fro in their midst. +Raising his hands over his head and shaking them, he called into +the crowd, which responded now by loud shouts, now by silent, greedy +attention, to the unfamiliar, daring words: + +"Thank you, good people! Thank you! I stood up for you, for your +lives!" He wiped his beard and again raised his blood-covered hand. +"There's my blood! It flows for the sake of truth!" + +The mother, without considering, walked down the steps, but immediately +returned, since on the ground she couldn't see Mikhail, hidden by +the close-packed crowd. Something indistinctly joyous trembled in +her bosom and warmed it. + +"Peasants! Keep your eyes open for those writings; read them. +Don't believe the authorities and the priests when they tell you +those people who carry truth to us are godless rioters. The truth +travels over the earth secretly; it seeks a nest among the people. +To the authorities it's like a knife in the fire. They cannot accept +it. It will cut them and burn them. Truth is your good friend and +a sworn enemy of the authorities--that's why it hides itself." + +"That's so; he's speaking the gospel!" shouted the blue-eyed peasant. + +"Ah, brother! You will perish--and soon, too!" + +"Who betrayed you?" + +"The priest!" said one of the police. + +Two peasants gave vent to hard oaths. + +"Look out, boys!" a somewhat subdued cry was heard in warning. + +The commissioner of police walked into the crowd--a tall, compact +man, with a round, red face. His cap was cocked to one side; his +mustache with one end turned up the other drooping made his face +seem crooked, and it was disfigured by a dull, dead grin. His left +hand held a saber, his right waved broadly in the air. His heavy, +firm tramp was audible. The crowd gave way before him. Something +sullen and crushed appeared in their faces, and the noise died away +as if it had sunk into the ground. + +"What's the trouble?" asked the police commissioner, stopping in +front of Rybin and measuring him with his eyes. "Why are his hands +not bound? Officers, why? Bind them!" His voice was high and +resonant, but colorless. + +"They were tied, but the people unbound them," answered one of +the policemen. + +"The people! What people?" The police commissioner looked at the +crowd standing in a half-circle before him. In the same monotonous, +blank voice, neither elevating nor lowering it, he continued: +"Who are the people?" + +With a back stroke he thrust the handle of his saber against the +breast of the blue-eyed peasant. + +"Are you the people, Chumakov? Well, who else? You, Mishin?" and +he pulled somebody's beard with his right hand. + +"Disperse, you curs!" + +Neither his voice nor face displayed the least agitation or threat. +He spoke mechanically, with a dead calm, and with even movements of +his strong, long hands, pushed the people back. The semicircle +before him widened. Heads drooped, faces were turned aside. + +"Well," he addressed the policeman, "what's the matter with you? +Bind him!" He uttered a cynical oath and again looked at Rybin, +and said nonchalantly: "Your hands behind your back, you!" + +"I don't want my hands to be bound," said Rybin. "I'm not going +to run away, and I'm not fighting. Why should my hands be bound?" + +"What?" exclaimed the police commissioner, striding up to him. + +"It's enough that you torture the people, you beasts!" continued +Rybin in an elevated voice. "The red day will soon come for you, +too. You'll be paid back for everything." + +The police commissioner stood before him, his mustached upper lip +twitching. Then he drew back a step, and with a whistling voice +sang out in surprise: + +"Um! you damned scoundrel! Wha-at? What do you mean by your words? +People, you say? A-a----" + +Suddenly he dealt Rybin a quick, sharp blow in the face. + +"You won't kill the truth with your fist!" shouted Rybin, drawing +on him. "And you have no right to beat me, you dog!" + +"I won't dare, I suppose?" the police commissioner drawled. + +Again he waved his hand, aiming at Rybin's head; Rybin ducked; +the blow missed, and the police commissioner almost toppled over. +Some one in the crowd gave a jeering snort, and the angry shout +of Mikhail was heard: + +"Don't you dare to beat me, I say, you infernal devil! I'm no +weaker than you! Look out!" + +The police commissioner looked around. The people shut down on him +in a narrower circle, advancing sullenly. + +"Nikita!" the police commissioner called out, looking around. +"Nikita, hey!" A squat peasant in a short fur overcoat emerged +from the crowd. He looked on the ground, with his large disheveled +head drooping. + +"Nikita," the police commissioner said deliberately, twirling his +mustache, "give him a box on the ear--a good one!" + +The peasant stepped forward, stopped in front of Rybin and raised his +hand. Staring him straight in the face, Rybin stammered out heavily: + +"Now look, people, how the beasts choke you with your own hands! +Look! Look! Think! Why does he want to beat me--why? I ask." + +The peasant raised his hand and lazily struck Mikhail's face. + +"Ah, Nikita! don't forget God!" subdued shouts came from the crowd. + +"Strike, I say!" shouted the police commissioner, pushing the +peasant on the back of his neck. + +The peasant stepped aside, and inclining his head, said sullenly: + +"I won't do it again." + +"What?" The face of the police commissioner quivered. He stamped +his feet, and, cursing, suddenly flung himself upon Rybin. The blow +whizzed through the air; Rybin staggered and waved his arms; with +the second blow the police commissioner felled him to the ground, +and, jumping around with a growl, he began to kick him on his breast, +his side, and his head. + +The crowd set up a hostile hum, rocked, and advanced upon the police +commissioner. He noticed it and jumped away, snatching his saber +from its scabbard. + +"So that's what you're up to! You're rioting, are you?" + +His voice trembled and broke; it had grown husky. And he lost his +composure along with his voice. He drew his shoulders up about his +head, bent over, and turning his blank, bright eyes on all sides, he +fell back, carefully feeling the ground behind him with his feet. +As he withdrew he shouted hoarsely in great excitement: + +"All right; take him! I'm leaving! But now, do you know, you cursed +dogs, that he is a political criminal; that he is going against our +Czar; that he stirs up riots--do you know it?--against the Emperor, +the Czar? And you protect him; you, too, are rebels. Aha--a----" + +Without budging, without moving her eyes, the strength of reason +gone from her, the mother stood as if in a heavy sleep, overwhelmed +by fear and pity. The outraged, sullen, wrathful shouts of the +people buzzed like bees in her head. + +"If he has done something wrong, lead him to court." + +"And don't beat him!" + +"Forgive him, your Honor!" + +"Now, really, what does it mean? Without any law whatever!" + +"Why, is it possible? If they begin to beat everybody that way, +what'll happen then?" + +"The devils! Our torturers!" + +The people fell into two groups--the one surrounding the police +commissioner shouted and exhorted him; the other, less numerous, +remained about the beaten man, humming and sullen. Several men +lifted him from the ground. The policemen again wanted to bind +his bands. + +"Wait a little while, you devils!" the people shouted. + +Rybin wiped the blood from his face and beard and looked about in +silence. His gaze glided by the face of the mother. She started, +stretched herself out to him, and instinctively waved her hand. He +turned away; but in a few minutes his eyes again rested on her face. +It seemed to her that he straightened himself and raised his head, +that his blood-covered cheeks quivered. + +"Did he recognize me? I wonder if he did?" + +She nodded her head to him and started with a sorrowful, painful +joy. But the next moment she saw that the blue-eyed peasant was +standing near him and also looking at her. His gaze awakened her +to the consciousness of the risk she was running. + +"What am I doing? They'll take me, too." + +The peasant said something to Rybin, who shook his head. + +"Never mind!" he exclaimed, his voice tremulous, but clear and bold. +"I'm not alone in the world. They'll not capture all the truth. +In the place where I was the memory of me will remain. That's it! +Even though they destroy the nest, aren't there more friends and +comrades there?" + +"He's saying this for me," the mother decided quickly. + +"The people will build other nests for the truth; and a day will +come when the eagles will fly from them into freedom. The people +will emancipate themselves." + +A woman brought a pail of water and, wailing and groaning, began +to wash Rybin's face. Her thin, piteous voice mixed with Mikhail's +words and hindered the mother from understanding them. A throng +of peasants came up with the police commissioner in front of them. +Some one shouted aloud: + +"Come; I'm going to make an arrest! Who's next?" + +Then the voice of the police commissioner was heard. It had changed-- +mortification now evident in its altered tone. + +"I may strike you, but you mayn't strike me. Don't you dare, you dunce!" + +"Is that so? And who are you, pray? A god?" + +A confused but subdued clamor drowned Rybin's voice. + +"Don't argue, uncle. You're up against the authorities." + +"Don't be angry, your Honor. The man's out of his wits." + +"Keep still, you funny fellow!" + +"Here, they'll soon take you to the city!" + +"There's more law there!" + +The shouts of the crowd sounded pacificatory, entreating; they +blended into a thick, indistinct babel, in which there was something +hopeless and pitiful. The policemen led Rybin up the steps of the +town hall and disappeared with him behind the doors. People began +to depart in a hurry. The mother saw the blue-eyed peasant go +across the square and look at her sidewise. Her legs trembled under +her knees. A dismal feeling of impotence and loneliness gnawed at +her heart sickeningly. + +"I mustn't go away," she thought. "I mustn't!" and holding on to +the rails firmly, she waited. + +The police commissioner walked up the steps of the town hall and +said in a rebuking voice, which had assumed its former blankness +and soullessness: + +"You're fools, you damned scoundrels! You don't understand a thing, +and poke your noses into an affair like this--a government affair. +Cattle! You ought to thank me, fall on your knees before me for my +goodness! If I were to say so, you would all be put to hard labor." + +About a score of peasants stood with bared heads and listened in +silence. It began to grow dusk; the clouds lowered. The blue-eyed +peasant walked up to the steps, and said with a sigh: + +"That's the kind of business we have here!" + +"Ye-es," the mother rejoined quietly. + +He looked at her with an open gaze. + +"What's your occupation?" he asked after a pause. + +"I buy lace from the women, and linen, too." + +The peasant slowly stroked his beard. Then looking up at the town +hall he said gloomily and softly: + +"You won't, find anything of that kind here." + +The mother looked down on him, and waited for a more suitable moment +to depart for the tavern. The peasant's face was thoughtful and +handsome and his eyes were sad. Broad-shouldered and tall, he was +dressed in a patched-up coat, in a clean chintz shirt, and reddish +homespun trousers. His feet were stockingless. + +The mother for some reason drew a sigh of relief, and suddenly +obeying an impulse from within, yielding to an instinct that got +the better of her reason, she surprised herself by asking him: + +"Can I stay in your house overnight?" + +At the question everything in her muscles, her bones, tightened +stiffly. She straightened herself, holding her breath, and fixed +her eyes on the peasant. Pricking thoughts quickly flashed through +her mind: "I'll ruin everybody--Nikolay Ivanovich, Sonyushka--I'll +not see Pasha for a long time--they'll kill him----" + +Looking on the ground, the peasant answered deliberately, folding +his coat over his breast: + +"Stay overnight? Yes, you can. Why not? Only my home is very poor!" + +"Never mind; I'm not used to luxury," the mother answered uncalculatingly. + +"You can stay with me overnight," the peasant repeated, measuring +her with a searching glance. + +It had already grown dark, and in the twilight his eyes shone cold, +his face seemed very pale. The mother looked around, and as if +dropping under distress, she said in an undertone: + +"Then I'll go at once, and you'll take my valise." + +"All right!" He shrugged his shoulders, again folded his coat +and said softly: + +"There goes the wagon!" + +In a few moments, after the crowd had begun to disperse, Rybin +appeared again on the steps of the town hall. His hands were bound; +his head and face were wrapped up in a gray cloth, and he was pushed +into a waiting wagon. + +"Farewell, good people!" his voice rang out in the cold evening +twilight. "Search for the truth. Guard it! Believe the man who +will bring you the clean word; cherish him. Don't spare yourselves +in the cause of truth!" + +"Silence, you dog!" shouted the voice of the police commissioner. +"Policeman, start the horses up, you fool!" + +"What have you to be sorry for? What sort of life have you?" + +The wagon started. Sitting in it with a policeman on either side, +Rybin shouted dully: + +"For the sake of what are you perishing--in hunger? Strive for +freedom--it'll give you bread and--truth. Farewell, good people!" + +The hasty rumble of the wheels, the tramp of the horses, the shout +of the police officer, enveloped his speech and muffled it. + +"It's done!" said the peasant, shaking his head. "You wait at the +station a little while, and I'll come soon." + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +The mother went to the room in the tavern, sat herself at the table +in front of the samovar, took a piece of bread in her hand, looked +at it, and slowly put it back on the plate. She was not hungry; the +feeling in her breast rose again and flushed her with nausea. She +grew faint and dizzy; the blood was sucked from her heart. Before +her stood the face of the blue-eyed peasant. It was a face that +expressed nothing and failed to arouse confidence. For some reason +the mother did not want to tell herself in so many words that he +would betray her. The suspicion lay deep in her breast--a dead +weight, dull and motionless. + +"He scented me!" she thought idly and faintly. "He noticed--he +guessed." Further than this her thoughts would not go, and she +sank into an oppressive despondency. The nausea, the spiritless +stillness beyond the window that replaced the noise, disclosed +something huge, but subdued, something frightening, which sharpened +her feeling of solitude, her consciousness of powerlessness, and +filled her heart with ashen gloom. + +The young girl came in and stopped at the door. + +"Shall I bring you an omelette?" + +"No, thank you, I don't want it; the shouts frightened me." + +The girl walked up to the table and began to speak excitedly in +hasty, terror-stricken tones: + +"How the police commissioner beat him! I stood near and could see. +All his teeth were broken. He spit out and his teeth fell on the +ground. The blood came thick--thick and dark. You couldn't see his +eyes at all; they were swollen up. He's a tar man. The sergeant is +in there in our place drunk, but he keeps on calling for whisky. +They say there was a whole band of them, and that this bearded man +was their elder, the hetman. Three were captured and one escaped. +They seized a teacher, too; he was also with them. They don't +believe in God, and they try to persuade others to rob all the +churches. That's the kind of people they are; and our peasants, +some of them pitied him--that fellow--and others say they should +have settled him for good and all. We have such mean peasants here! +Oh, my! oh, my!" + +The mother, by giving the girl's disconnected, rapid talk her fixed +attention, tried to stifle her uneasiness, to dissipate her dismal +forebodings. As for the girl, she must have rejoiced in an auditor. +Her words fairly choked her and she babbled on in lowered voice with +greater and greater animation: + +"Papa says it all comes from the poor crop. This is the second year +we've had a bad harvest. The people are exhausted. That's the +reason we have such peasants springing up now. What a shame! You +ought to hear them shout and fight at the village assemblies. The +other day when Vosynkov was sold out for arrears he dealt the +starosta (bailiff) a cracking blow on the face. 'There are my +arrears for you!' he says." + +Heavy steps were heard at the door. The mother rose to her feet +with difficulty. The blue-eyed peasant came in, and taking off +his hat asked: + +"Where is the baggage?" + +He lifted the valise lightly, shook it, and said: + +"Why, it's empty! Marya, show the guest the way to my house," and +he walked off without looking around. + +"Are you going to stay here overnight?" asked the girl. + +"Yes. I'm after lace; I buy lace." + +"They don't make lace here. They make lace in Tinkov and in +Daryina, but not among us." + +"I'm going there to-morrow; I'm tired." + +On paying for the tea she made the girl very happy by handing her +three kopecks. On the road the girl's feet splashed quickly in the mud. + +"If you want to, I'll run over to Daryina, and I'll tell the women +to bring their lace here. That'll save your going there. It's +about eight miles." + +"That's not necessary, my dear." + +The cold air refreshed the mother as she stepped along beside the +girl. A resolution slowly formulated itself in her mind--confused, +but fraught with a promise. She wished to hasten its growth, and +asked herself persistently: "How shall I behave? Suppose I come +straight out with the truth?" + +It was dark, damp, and cold. The windows of the peasants' huts shone +dimly with a motionless reddish light; the cattle lowed drowsily in +the stillness, and short halloos reverberated through the fields. +The village was clothed in darkness and an oppressive melancholy. + +"Here!" said the girl, "you've chosen a poor lodging for yourself. +This peasant is very poor." She opened the door and shouted briskly +into the hut: "Aunt Tatyana, a lodger has come!" She ran away, +her "Good-by!" flying back from the darkness. + +The mother stopped at the threshold and peered about with her palm +above her eyes. The hut was very small, but its cleanness and +neatness caught the eye at once. From behind the stove a young +woman bowed silently and disappeared. On a table in a corner toward +the front of the room burned a lamp. The master of the hut sat at +the table, tapping his fingers on its edge. He fixed his glance on +the mother's eyes. + +"Come in!" he said, after a deliberate pause. + +"Tatyana, go call Pyotr. Quick!" + +The woman hastened away without looking at her guest. The mother +seated herself on the bench opposite the peasant and looked around-- +her valise was not in sight. An oppressive stillness filled the hut, +broken only by the scarcely audible sputtering of the lamplight. +The face of the peasant, preoccupied and gloomy wavered in vague +outline before the eyes of the mother, and for some reason caused +her dismal annoyance. + +"Well, why doesn't he say something? Quick!" + +"Where's my valise?" Her loud, stern question coming suddenly was +a surprise to herself. The peasant shrugged his shoulders and +thoughtfully gave the indefinite answer: + +"It's safe." He lowered his voice and continued gloomily: "Just +now, in front of the girl, I said on purpose that it was empty. +No, it's not empty. It's very heavily loaded." + +"Well, what of it?" + +The peasant rose, approached her, bent over her, and whispered: +"Do you know that man?" + +The mother started, but answered firmly: + +"I do." + +Her laconic reply, as it were, kindled a light within her which +rendered everything outside clear. She sighed in relief. Shifting +her position on the bench, she settled herself more firmly on it, +while the peasant laughed broadly. + +"I guessed it--when you made the sign--and he, too. I asked him, +whispering in his ear, whether he knows the woman standing on the steps." + +"And what did he say?" + +"He? He says 'there are a great many of us.' Yes--'there are a +great many of us,' he says." + +The peasant looked into the eyes of his guest questioningly, and, +smiling again, he continued: + +"He's a man of great force, he is brave, he speaks straight out. +They beat him, and he keeps on his own way." + +The peasant's uncertain, weak voice, his unfinished, but clear face, +his open eyes, inspired the mother with more and more confidence. +Instead of alarm and despondency, a sharp, shooting pity for Rybin +filled her bosom. Overwhelmed by her feelings, unable to restrain +herself, she suddenly burst out in bitter malice: + +"Robbers, bigots!" and she broke into sobs. + +The peasant walked away from her, sullenly nodding his head. + +"The authorities have hired a whole lot of assistants to do their +dirty work for them. Yes, yes." He turned abruptly toward the +mother again and said softly: "Here's what I guessed--that you have +papers in the valise. Is that true?" + +"Yes," answered the mother simply, wiping away her tears. "I was +bringing them to him." + +He lowered his brows, gathered his beard into his hand, and looking +on the floor was silent for a time. + +"The papers reached us, too; some books, also. We need them all. +They are so true. I can do very little reading myself, but I have +a friend--he can. My wife also reads to me." The peasant pondered +for a moment. "Now, then, what are you going to do with them-- +with the valise?" + +The mother looked at him. + +"I'll leave it to you." + +He was not surprised, did not protest, but only said curtly, "To us," +and nodded his head in assent. He let go of his beard, but continued +to comb it with his fingers as he sat down. + +With inexorable, stubborn persistency the mother's memory held up +before her eyes the scene of Rybin's torture. His image extinguished +all thoughts in her mind. The pain and injury she felt for the man +obscured every other sensation. Forgotten was the valise with the +books and newspapers. She had feelings only for Rybin. Tears flowed +constantly; her face was gloomy; but her voice did not tremble when +she said to her host: + +"They rob a man, they choke him, they trample him in the mud--the +accursed! And when he says, 'What are you doing, you godless men?' +they beat and torture him." + +"Power," returned the peasant. "They have great power." + +"From where do they get it?" exclaimed the mother, thoroughly +aroused. "From us, from the people--they get everything from us." + +"Ye-es," drawled the peasant. "It's a wheel." He bent his head toward +the door, listening attentively. "They're coming," he said softly. + +"Who?" + +"Our people, I suppose." + +His wife entered. A freckled peasant, stooping, strode into the +hut after her. He threw his cap into a corner, and quickly went +up to their host. + +"Well?" + +The host nodded in confirmation. + +"Stepan," said the wife, standing at the oven, "maybe our guest +wants to eat something." + +"No, thank you, my dear." + +The freckled peasant moved toward the mother and said quietly, +in a broken voice: + +"Now, then, permit me to introduce myself to you. My name is Pyotr +Yegorov Ryabinin, nicknamed Shilo--the Awl. I understand something +about your affairs. I can read and write. I'm no fool, so to speak." +He grasped the hand the mother extended to him, and wringing it, +turned to the master of the house. + +"There, Stepan, see, Varvara Nikolayevna is a good lady, true. But +in regard to all this, she says it is nonsense, nothing but dreams. +Boys and different students, she says, muddle the people's mind with +absurdities. However, you saw just now a sober, steady man, as he +ought to be, a peasant, arrested. Now, here is she, an elderly +woman, and as to be seen, not of blue blood. Don't be offended-- +what's your station in life?" + +He spoke quickly and distinctly, without taking breath. His little +beard shook nervously, and his dark eyes, which he screwed up, +rapidly scanned the mother's face and figure. Ragged, crumpled, his +hair disheveled, he seemed just to have come from a fight, in which +he had vanquished his opponent, and still to be flushed with the joy +of victory. He pleased the mother with his sprightliness and his +simple talk, which at once went straight to the point. She gave him +a kind look as she answered his question. He once more shook her +hand vigorously, and laughed softly. + +"You see, Stepan, it's a clean business, an excellent business. I +told you so. This is the way it is: the people, so to speak, are +beginning to take things into their own hands. And as to the lady-- +she won't tell you the truth; it's harmful to her. I respect her, +I must say; she's a good person, and wishes us well--well, a little +bit, and provided it won't harm her any. But the people want to go +straight, and they fear no loss and no harm--you see ?--all life is +harmful to them; they have no place to turn to; they have nothing +all around except 'Stop!' which is shouted at them from all sides." + +"I see," said Stepan, nodding and immediately adding: "She's uneasy +about her baggage." + +Pyotr gave the mother a shrewd wink, and again reassured her: + +"Don't be uneasy; it's all right. Everything will be all right, +mother. Your valise is in my house. Just now when he told me about +you--that you also participate in this work and that you know that +man--I said to him: 'Take care, Stepan! In such a serious business +you must keep your mouth shut.' Well, and you, too, mother, seem to +have scented us when we stood near you. The faces of honest people +can be told at once. Not many of them walk the streets, to speak +frankly. Your valise is in my house." He sat down alongside of her +and looked entreatingly into her eyes. "If you wish to empty it +we'll help you, with pleasure. We need books." + +"She wants to give us everything," remarked Stepan. + +"First rate, mother! We'll find a place for all of it." He jumped +to his feet, burst into a laugh, and quickly pacing up and down the +room said contentedly: "The matter is perfectly simple: in one +place it snaps, and in another it is tied up. Very well! And the +newspaper, mother, is a good one, and does its work--it peels the +people's eyes open; it's unpleasant to the masters. I do carpentry +work for a lady about five miles from here--a good woman, I must +admit. She gives me various books, sometimes very simple books. +I read them over--I might as well fall asleep. In general we're +thankful to her. But I showed her one book and a number of a +newspaper; she was somewhat offended. 'Drop it, Pyotr!' she said. +'Yes, this,' she says, 'is the work of senseless youngsters; from +such a business your troubles can only increase; prison and Siberia +for this,' she says." + +He grew abruptly silent, reflected for a moment, and asked: "Tell +me, mother, this man--is he a relative of yours?" + +"A stranger." + +Pyotr threw his head back and laughed noiselessly, very well +satisfied with something. To the mother, however, it seemed the +very next instant that, in reference to Rybin, the word "stranger" +was not in place; it jarred upon her. + +"I'm not a relative of his; but I've known him for a long time, and +I look up to him as to an elder brother." + +She was pained and displeased not to find the word she wanted, and +she could not suppress a quiet groan. A sad stillness pervaded the +hut. Pyotr leaned his head upon one shoulder; his little beard, +narrow and sharp, stuck out comically on one side, and gave his +shadow swinging on the wall the appearance of a man sticking out his +tongue teasingly. Stepan sat with his elbows on the table, and beat +a tattoo on the boards. His wife stood at the oven without stirring; +the mother felt her look riveted upon herself and often glanced at the +woman's face--oval, swarthy, with a straight nose, and a chin cut off +short; her dark and thick eyebrows joined sternly, her eyelids drooped, +and from under them her greenish eyes shone sharply and intently. + +"A friend, that is to say," said Pyotr quietly. "He has character, +indeed he has; he esteems himself highly, as he ought to; he has put +a high price on himself, as he ought to. There's a man, Tatyana! +You say----" + +"Is he married?" Tatyana interposed, and compressed the thin lips +of her small mouth. + +"He's a widower," answered the mother sadly. + +"That's why he's so brave," remarked Tatyana. Her utterance was low +and difficult. "A married man like him wouldn't go--he'd be afraid." + +"And I? I'm married and everything, and yet--" exclaimed Pyotr. + +"Enough!" she said without looking at him and twisting her lips. +"Well, what are you? You only talk a whole lot, and on rare +occasions you read a book. It doesn't do people much good for you +and Stepan to whisper to each other on the corners." + +"Why, sister, many people hear me," quietly retorted the peasant, +offended. "I act as a sort of yeast here. It isn't fair in you +to speak that way." + +Stepan looked at his wife silently and again drooped his head. + +"And why should a peasant marry?" asked Tatyana. "He needs a +worker, they say. What work?" + +"You haven't enough? You want more?" Stepan interjected dully. + +"But what sense is there in the work we do? We go half-hungry from +day to day anyhow. Children are born; there's no time to look after +them on account of the work that doesn't give us bread." She walked +up to the mother, sat down next to her, and spoke on stubbornly, no +plaint nor mourning in her voice. "I had two children; one, when he +was two years old, was boiled to death in hot water; the other was +born dead--from this thrice-accursed work. Such a happy life! I +say a peasant has no business to marry. He only binds his hands. +If he were free he would work up to a system of life needed by +everybody. He would come out directly and openly for the truth. +Am I right, mother?" + +"You are. You're right, my dear. Otherwise we can't conquer life." + +"Have you a husband?" + +"He died. I have a son." + +"And where is he? Does he live with you?" + +"He's in prison." The mother suddenly felt a calm pride in these +words, usually painful to her. "This is the second time--all +because he came to understand God's truth and sowed it openly +without sparing himself. He's a young man, handsome, intelligent; +he planned a newspaper, and gave Mikhail Ivanovich a start on his +way, although he's only half of Mikhail's age. Now they're going +to try my son for all this, and sentence him; and he'll escape from +Siberia and continue with his work." + +Her pride waxed as she spoke. It created the image of a hero, and +demanded expression in words. The mother needed an offset-- +something fine and bright--to balance the gloomy incident she had +witnessed that day, with its senseless horror and shameless cruelty. +Instinctively yielding to this demand of a healthy soul, she reached +out for everything she had seen that was pure and shining and heaped +it into one dazzling, cleansing fire. + +"Many such people have already been born, more and more are being +born, and they will all stand up for the freedom of the people, +for the truth, to the very end of their lives." + +She forgot precaution, and although she did not mention names, she +told everything known to her of the secret work for the emancipation +of the people from the chains of greed. In depicting the personalities +she put all her force into her words, all the abundance of love +awakened in her so late by her rousing experiences. And she herself +became warmly enamored of the images rising up in her memory, illumined +and beautified by her feeling. + +"The common cause advances throughout the world in all the cities. +There's no measuring the power of the good people. It keeps growing +and growing, and it will grow until the hour of our victory, until +the resurrection of truth." + +Her voice flowed on evenly, the words came to her readily, and she +quickly strung them, like bright, varicolored beads, on strong +threads of her desire to cleanse her heart of the blood and filth +of that day. She saw that the three people were as if rooted to +the spot where her speech found them, and that they looked at her +without stirring. She heard the intermittent breathing of the woman +sitting by her side, and all this magnified the power of her faith +in what she said, and in what she promised these people. + +"All those who have a hard life, whom want and injustice crush--it's +the rich and the servitors of the rich who have overpowered them. +The whole people ought to go out to meet those who perish in the +dungeons for them, and endure mortal torture. Without gain to +themselves they show where the road to happiness for all people +lies. They frankly admit it is a hard road, and they force no one +to follow them. But once you take your position by their side you +will never leave them. You will see it is the true, the right road. +With such persons the people may travel. Such persons will not be +reconciled to small achievements; they will not stop until they will +vanquish all deceit, all evil and greed. They will not fold their +hands until the people are welded into one soul, until the people +will say in one voice: 'I am the ruler, and I myself will make +the laws equal for all.'" + +She ceased from exhaustion, and looked about. Her words would not +be wasted here, she felt assured. The silence lasted for a minute, +while the peasants regarded her as if expecting more. Pyotr stood +in the middle of the hut, his hands clasped behind his back, his +eyes screwed up, a smile quivering on his freckled face. Stepan was +leaning one hand on the table; with his neck and entire body forward, +he seemed still to be listening. A shadow on his face gave it more +finish. His wife, sitting beside the mother, bent over, her elbows +on her knees, and studied her feet. + +"That's how it is," whispered Pyotr, and carefully sat on the bench, +shaking his head. + +Stepan slowly straightened himself, looked at his wife, and threw +his hands in the air, as if grasping for something. + +"If a man takes up this work," he began thoughtfully in a moderated +voice, "then his entire soul is needed." + +Pyotr timidly assented: + +"Yes, he mustn't look back." + +"The work has spread very widely," continued Stepan. + +"Over the whole earth," added Pyotr. + +They both spoke like men walking in darkness, groping for the way +with their feet. The mother leaned against the wall, and throwing +back her head listened to their careful utterances. Tatyana arose, +looked around, and sat down again. Her green eyes gleamed dryly as +she looked into the peasants' faces with dissatisfaction and contempt. + +"It seems you've been through a lot of misery," she said, suddenly +turning to the mother. + +"I have." + +"You speak well. You draw--you draw the heart after your talk. +It makes me think, it makes me think, 'God! If I could only take +a peep at such people and at life through a chink!' How does one +live? What life has one? The life of sheep. Here am I; I can +read and write; I read books, I think a whole lot. Sometimes I +don't even sleep the entire night because I think. And what sense +is there in it? If I don't think, my existence is a purposeless +existence; and if I do, it is also purposeless. And everything +seems purposeless. There are the peasants, who work and tremble +over a piece of bread for their homes, and they have nothing. It +hurts them, enrages them; they drink, fight, and work again--work, +work, work. But what comes of it? Nothing." + +She spoke with scorn in her eyes and in her voice, which was low and +even, but at times broke off like a taut thread overstrained. The +peasants were silent,, the wind glided by the window panes, buzzed +through the straw of the roofs, and at times whined softly down the +chimney. A dog barked, and occasional drops of rain pattered on the +window. Suddenly the light flared in the lamp, dimmed, but in a +second sprang up again even and bright. + +"I listened to your talk, and I see what people live for now. It's +so strange--I hear you, and I think, 'Why, I know all this.' And +yet, until you said it, I hadn't heard such things, and I had no +such thoughts. Yes." + +"I think we ought to take something to eat, and put out the lamp," +said Stepan, somberly and slowly. "People will notice that at the +Chumakovs' the light burned late. It's nothing for us, but, it +might turn out bad for the guest." + +Tatyana arose and walked to the oven. + +"Ye-es," Pyotr said softly, with a smile. "Now, friend, keep your +ears pricked. When the papers appear among the people----" + +"I'm not speaking of myself. If they arrest me, it's no great matter." + +The wife came up to the table and asked Stepan to make room. + +He arose and watched her spread the table as he stood to one side. + +"The price of fellows of our kind is a nickel a bundle, a hundred +in a bundle," he said with a smile. + +The mother suddenly pitied him. He now pleased her more. + +"You don't judge right, host," she said. "A man mustn't agree to +the price put upon him by people from the outside, who need nothing +of him except his blood. You, knowing yourself within, must put +your own estimate on yourself--your price, not for your enemies, +but for your friends." + +"What friends have we?" the peasant exclaimed softly. "Up to the +first piece of bread." + +"And I say that the people have friends." + +"Yes, they have, but not here--that's the trouble," Stepan deliberated. + +"Well, then create them here." + +Stepan reflected a while. "We'll try." + +"Sit down at the table," Tatyana invited her. + +At supper, Pyotr, who had been subdued by the talk of the mother and +appeared to be at a loss, began to speak again with animation: + +"Mother, you ought to get out of here as soon as possible, to escape +notice. Go to the next station, not to the city--hire the post horses." + +"Why? I'm going to see her off!" said Stepan. + +"You mustn't. In case anything happens and they ask you whether +she slept in your house--'She did.' 'When did she go?' 'I saw her +off.' 'Aha! You did? Please come to prison!' Do you understand? +And no one ought to be in a hurry to get into prison; everybody's +turn will come. 'Even the Czar will die,' as the saying goes. But +the other way: she simply spent the night in your house, hired +horses, and went away. And what of it? Somebody passing through the +village sleeps with somebody in the village. There's nothing in that." + +"Where did you learn to be afraid, Pyotr?" Tatyana scoffed. + +"A man must know everything, friend!" Pyotr exclaimed, striking his +knee--"know how to fear, know how to be brave. You remember how a +policeman lashed Vaganov for that newspaper? Now you'll not persuade +Vaganov for any amount of money to take a book in his hand. Yes; +you believe me, mother, I'm a sharp fellow for every sort of a trick +--everybody knows it. I'm going to scatter these books and papers +for you in the best shape and form, as much as you please. Of course, +the people here are not educated; they've been intimidated. However, +the times squeeze a man and wide open go his eyes, 'What's the matter?' +And the book answers him in a perfectly simple way: 'That's what's +the matter--Think! Unite! Nothing else is left for you to do!' +There are examples of men who can't read or write and can understand +more than the educated ones--especially if the educated ones have +their stomachs full. I go about here everywhere; I see much. Well? +It's possible to live; but you want brains and a lot of cleverness +in order not to sit down in the cesspool at once. The authorities, +too, smell a rat, as though a cold wind were blowing on them from +the peasants. They see the peasant smiles very little, and altogether +is not very kindly disposed and wants to disaccustom himself to the +authorities. The other day in Smolyakov, a village not far from here, +they came to extort the taxes; and your peasants got stubborn and +flew into a passion. The police commissioner said straight out: +'Oh, you damned scoundrels! why, this is disobedience to the Czar!' +There was one little peasant there, Spivakin, and says he: 'Off +with you to the evil mother with your Czar! What kind of a Czar +is he if he pulls the last shirt off your body?' That's how far +it went, mother. Of course, they snatched Spivakin off to prison. +But the word remained, and even the little boys know it. It lives! +It shouts! And perhaps in our days the word is worth more than a +man. People are stupefied and deadened by their absorption in +breadwinning. Yes." + +Pyotr did not eat, but kept on talking in a quick whisper, his dark, +roguish eyes gleaming merrily. He lavishly scattered before the +mother innumerable little observations on the village life--they +rolled from him like copper coins from a full purse. + +Stepan several times reminded him: "Why don't you eat?" Pyotr +would then seize a piece of bread and a spoon and fall to talking +and sputtering again like a goldfinch. Finally, after the meal, he +jumped to his feet and announced: + +"Well, it's time for me to go home. Good-by, mother!" and he shook +her hand and nodded his head. "Maybe we shall never see each other +again. I must say to you that all this is very good--to meet you +and hear your speeches--very good! Is there anything in your valise +beside the printed matter? A shawl? Excellent! A shawl, remember, +Stepan. He'll bring you the valise at once. Come, Stepan. Good-by. +I wish everything good to you." + +After he had gone the crawling sound of the roaches became audible +in the hut, the blowing of the wind over the roof and its knocking +against the door in the chimney. A fine rain dripped monotonously +on the window. Tatyana prepared a bed for the mother on the bench +with clothing brought from the oven and the storeroom. + +"A lively man!" remarked the mother. + +The hostess looked at her sidewise. + +"A light fellow," she answered. "He rattles on and rattles on; +you can't but hear the rattling at a great distance." + +"And how is your husband?" asked the mother. + +"So so. A good peasant; he doesn't drink; we live peacefully. +So so. Only he has a weak character." She straightened herself, +and after a pause asked: + +"Why, what is it that's wanted nowadays? What's wanted is that the +people should be stirred up to revolt. Of course! Everybody thinks +about it, but privately, for himself. And what's necessary is that he +should speak out aloud. Some one person must be the first to decide +to do it." She sat down on the bench and suddenly asked: "Tell me, +do young ladies also occupy themselves with this? Do they go about +with the workingmen and read? Aren't they squeamish and afraid?" She +listened attentively to the mother's reply and fetched a deep sigh; +then drooping her eyelids and inclining her head, she said: "In one +book I read the words 'senseless life.' I understood them very well +at once. I know such a life. Thoughts there are, but they're not +connected, and they stray like stupid sheep without a shepherd. They +stray and stray, with no one to bring them together. There's no +understanding in people of what must be done. That's what a +senseless life is. I'd like to run away from it without even looking +around--such a severe pang one suffers when one understands something!" + +The mother perceived the pang in the dry gleam of the woman's green eyes, +in her wizened face, in her voice. She wanted to pet and soothe her. + +"You understand, my dear, what to do----" + +Tatyana interrupted her softly: + +"A person must be able-- The bed's ready for you. Lie down and sleep." + +She went over to the oven and remained standing there erect, in +silence, sternly centered in herself. The mother lay down without +undressing. She began to feel the weariness in her bones and +groaned softly. Tatyana walked up to the table, extinguished the +lamp, and when darkness descended on the hut she resumed speech in +her low, even voice, which seemed to erase something from the flat +face of the oppressive darkness. + +"You do not pray? I, too, think there is no God, there are no miracles. +All these things were contrived to frighten us, to make us stupid." + +The mother turned about on the bench uneasily; the dense darkness +looked straight at her from the window, and the scarcely audible +crawling of the roaches persistently disturbed the quiet. She began +to speak almost in a whisper and fearfully: + +"In regard to God, I don't know; but I do believe in Christ, in +the Little Father. I believe in his words, 'Love thy neighbor as +thyself.' Yes, I believe in them." And suddenly she asked in +perplexity: "But if there is a God, why did He withdraw his good +power from us? Why did He allow the division of people into two +worlds? Why, if He is merciful, does He permit human torture--the +mockery of one man by another, all kinds of evil and beastliness?" + +Tatyana was silent. In the darkness the mother saw the faint +outline of her straight figure--gray on the black background. She +stood motionless. The mother closed her eyes in anguish. Then +the groaning, cold voice sullenly broke in upon the stillness again: + +"The death of my children I will never forgive, neither God nor man-- +I will never forgive--NEVER!" + +Nilovna uneasily rose from her bed; her heart understood the mightiness +of the pain that evoked such words. + +"You are young; you will still have children," she said kindly. + +The woman did not answer immediately. Then she whispered: + +"No, no. I'm spoiled. The doctor says I'll never be able to have +a child again." + +A mouse ran across the floor, something cracked--a flash of sound +flaring up in the noiselessness. The autumn rain again rustled on +the thatch like light thin fingers running over the roof. Large +drops of water dismally fell to the ground, marking the slow course +of the autumn night. Hollow steps on the street, then on the porch, +awoke the mother from a heavy slumber. The door opened carefully. + +"Tatyana!" came the low call. "Are you in bed already?" + +"No." + +"Is she asleep?" + +"It seems she is." + +A light flared up, trembled, and sank into the darkness. + +The peasant walked over to the mother's bed, adjusted the sheepskin +over her, and wrapped up her feet. The attention touched the mother +in its simplicity. She closed her eyes again and smiled. Stepan +undressed in silence, crept up to the loft, and all became quiet. + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The mother lay motionless, with ears strained in the drowsy +stillness, and before her in the darkness wavered Rybin's face +covered with blood. In the loft a dry whisper could be heard. + +"You see what sort of people go into this work? Even elderly people +who have drunk the cup of misery to the bottom, who have worked, and +for whom it is time to rest. And there they are! But you are young, +sensible! Ah, Stepan!" + +The thick, moist voice of the peasant responded: + +"Such an affair--you mustn't take it up without thinking over it. +Just wait a little while!" + +"I've heard you say so before." The sounds dropped, and rose again. +The voice of Stepan rang out: + +"You must do it this way--at first you must take each peasant aside +and speak to him by himself--for instance, to Makov Alesha, a lively +man--can read and write--was wronged by the police; Shorin Sergey, +also a sensible peasant; Knyazev, an honest, bold man, and that'll +do to begin with. Then we'll get a group together, we look about +us--yes. We must learn how to find her; and we ourselves must take +a look at the people about whom she spoke. I'll shoulder my ax and +go off to the city myself, making out I'm going there to earn money +by splitting wood. You must proceed carefully in this matter. She's +right when she says that the price a man has is according to his own +estimate of himself--and this is an affair in which you must set a +high value on yourself when once you take it up. There's that +peasant! See! You can put him even before God, not to speak of +before a police commissioner. He won't yield. He stands for his own +firmly--up to his knees in it. And Nikita, why his honor was suddenly +pricked--a marvel? No. If the people will set out in a friendly +way to do something together, they'll draw everybody after them." + +"Friendly! They beat a man in front of your eyes, and you stand +with your mouths wide open." + +"You just wait a little while. He ought to thank God we didn't beat +him ourselves, that man. Yes, indeed. Sometimes the authorities +compel you to beat, and you do beat. Maybe you weep inside yourself +with pity, but still you beat. People don't dare to decline from +beastliness--they'll be killed themselves for it. They command you, +'Be what I want you to be--a wolf, a pig'--but to be a man is +prohibited. And a bold man they'll get rid of--send to the next +world. No. You must contrive for many to get bold at once, and +for all to arise suddenly." + +He whispered for a long time, now lowering his voice so that the +mother scarcely could hear, and now bursting forth powerfully. +Then the woman would stop him. "S-sh, you'll wake her." + +The mother fell into a heavy dreamless sleep. + +Tatyana awakened her in the early twilight, when the dusk still +peered through the window with blank eyes, and when brazen sounds +of the church bell floated and melted over the village in the gray, +cold stillness. + +"I have prepared the samovar. Take some tea or you'll be cold if +you go out immediately after getting up." + +Stepan, combing his tangled beard, asked the mother solicitously +how to find her in the city. To-day the peasant's face seemed +more finished to her. While they drank tea he remarked, smiling: + +"How wonderfully things happen!" + +"What?" asked Tatyana. + +"Why, this acquaintance--so simply." + +The mother said thoughtfully, but confidently: + +"In this affair there's a marvelous simplicity in everything." + +The host and hostess restrained themselves from demonstrativeness +in parting with her; they were sparing of words, but lavish in little +attentions for her comfort. + +Sitting in the post, the mother reflected that this peasant would +begin to work carefully, noiselessly, like a mole, without cease, +and that at his side the discontented voice of his wife would always +sound, and the dry burning gleam in her green eyes would never die +out of her so long as she cherished the revengeful wolfish anguish +of a mother for lost children. + +The mother recalled Rybin--his blood, his face, his burning eyes, +his words. Her heart was compressed again with a bitter feeling +of impotence; and along the entire road to the city the powerful +figure of black-bearded Mikhail with his torn shirt, his hands +bound behind his back, his disheveled head, clothed in wrath and +faith in his truth, stood out before her on the drab background of +the gray day. And as she regarded the figure, she thought of the +numberless villages timidly pressed to the ground; of the people, +faint-heartedly and secretly awaiting the coming of truth; and of +the thousands of people who senselessly and silently work their +whole lifetime without awaiting the coming of anything. + +Life represented itself to her as an unplowed, hilly field which +mutely awaits the workers and promises a harvest to free and honest +hands: "Fertilize me with seeds of reason and truth; I will return +them to you a hundredfold." + +When from afar she saw the roofs and spires of the city, a warm joy +animated and eased her perturbed, worn heart. The preoccupied faces +of those people flashed up in her memory who, from day to day, +without cease, in perfect confidence kindle the fire of thought +and scatter the sparks over the whole earth. Her soul was flooded +by the serene desire to give these people her entire force, and-- +doubly the love of a mother, awakened and animated by their thoughts. + +At home Nikolay opened the door for the mother. He was disheveled +and held a book in his hand. + +"Already?" he exclaimed joyfully. "You've returned very quickly. +Well, I'm glad, very glad." + +His eyes blinked kindly and briskly behind his glasses. He quickly +helped her off with her wraps, and said with an affectionate smile: + +"And here in my place, as you see, there was a search last night. +And I wondered what the reason for it could possibly be--whether +something hadn't happened to you. But you were not arrested. If +they had arrested you they wouldn't have let me go either." + +He led her into the dining room, and continued with animation: +"However, they suggested that I should be discharged from my +position. That doesn't distress me. I was sick, anyway, of +counting the number of horseless peasants, and ashamed to receive +money for it, too; for the money actually comes from them. It +would have been awkward for me to leave the position of my own +accord. I am under obligations to the comrades in regard to work. +And now the matter has found its own solution. I'm satisfied!" + +The mother sat down and looked around. One would have supposed +that some powerful man in a stupid fit of insolence had knocked +the walls of the house from the outside until everything inside +had been jolted down. The portraits were scattered on the floor; +the wall paper was torn away and stuck out in tufts; a board was +pulled out of the flooring; a window sill was ripped away; the +floor by the oven was strewn with ashes. The mother shook her +head at the sight of this familiar picture. + +"They wanted to show that they don't get money for nothing," +remarked Nikolay. + +On the table stood a cold samovar, unwashed dishes, sausages, and +cheese on paper, along with plates, crumbs of bread, books, and +coals from the samovar. The mother smiled. Nikolay also laughed +in embarrassment, following the look of her eyes. + +"It was I who didn't waste time in completing the picture of the +upset. But never mind, Nilovna, never mind! I think they're going +to come again. That's the reason I didn't pick it all up. Well, +how was your trip?" + +The mother started at the question. Rybin arose before her; she felt +guilty at not having told of him immediately. Bending over a chair, +she moved up to Nikolay and began her narrative. She tried to preserve +her calm in order not to omit something as a result of excitement. + +"They caught him!" + +A quiver shot across Nikolay's face. + +"They did? How?" + +The mother stopped his questions with a gesture of her hand, and +continued as if she were sitting before the very face of justice +and bringing in a complaint regarding the torture of a man. Nikolay +threw himself back in his chair, grew pale, and listened, biting +his lips. He slowly removed his glasses, put them on the table, +and ran his hand over his face as if wiping away invisible cobwebs. +The mother had never seen him wear so austere an expression. + +When she concluded he arose, and for a minute paced the floor in +silence, his fists thrust deep into his pockets. Conquering his +agitation he looked almost calmly with a hard gleam in his eyes +into the face of the mother, which was covered with silent tears. + +"Nilovna, we mustn't waste time! Let us try, dear comrade, to take +ourselves in hand." Then he remarked through his teeth: + +"He must be a remarkable fellow--such nobility! It'll be hard for +him in prison. Men like him feel unhappy there." Stepping in front +of the mother he exclaimed in a ringing voice: "Of course, all the +commissioners and sergeants are nothings. They are sticks in the +hands of a clever villain, a trainer of animals. But I would kill +an animal for allowing itself to be turned into a brute!" He +restrained his excitement, which, however, made itself felt to the +mother's perceptions. Again he strode through the room, and spoke +in wrath: "See what horror! A gang of stupid people, protesting +their pernicious power over the people, beat, stifle, oppress +everybody. Savagery grows apace; cruelty becomes the law of life. +A whole nation is depraved. Think of it! One part beats and turns +brute; from immunity to punishment, sickens itself with a voluptuous +greed of torture--that disgusting disease of slaves licensed to +display all the power of slavish feelings and cattle habits. Others +are poisoned with the desire for vengeance. Still others, beaten +down to stupidity, become dumb and blind. They deprave the nation, +the whole nation!" He stopped, leaning his elbows against the +doorpost. He clasped his head in both hands, and was silent, +his teeth set. + +"You involuntarily turn a beast yourself in this beastly life!" + +Smiling sadly, he walked up to her, and bending over her asked, +pressing her hand: "Where is your valise?" + +"In the kitchen." + +"A spy is standing at our gate. We won't be able to get such a big +mass of papers out of the way unnoticed. There's no place to hide +them in and I think they'll come again to-night. I don't want you +to be arrested. So, however sorry we may be for the lost labor, +let's burn the papers." + +"What?" + +"Everything in the valise!" + +She finally understood; and though sad, her pride in her success +brought a complacent smile to her face. + +"There's nothing in it--no leaflets." With gradually increasing +animation she told how she had placed them in the hands of sympathetic +peasants after Rybin's departure. Nikolay listened, at first with +an uneasy frown, then in surprise, and finally exclaimed, interrupting +her story: + +"Say, that's capital! Nilovna, do you know--" He stammered, +embarrassed, and pressing her hand, exclaimed quietly: "You touch +me so by your faith in people, by your faith in the cause of their +emancipation! You have such a good soul! I simply love you as I +didn't love my own mother!" + +Embracing his neck, she burst into happy sobs, and pressed his head +to her lips. + +"Maybe," he muttered, agitated and embarrassed by the newness of +his feeling, "maybe I'm speaking nonsense; but, upon my honest word, +you are a beautiful person, Nilovna--yes!" + +"My darling, I love you, too; and I love you all with my whole soul, +every drop of my blood!" she said, choking with a wave of hot joy. + +The two voices blended into one throbbing speech, subdued and +pulsating with the great feeling that was seizing the people. + +"Such a large, soft power is in you; it draws the heart toward you +imperceptibly. How brightly you describe people! How well you see them!" + +"I see your life; I understand it, my dear!" + +"One loves you. And it's such a marvelous thing to love a person-- +it's so good, you know!" + +"It is you, you who raise the people from the dead to life again; +you!" the mother whispered hotly, stroking his head. "My dear, I +think I see there's much work for you, much patience needed. Your +power must not be wasted. It's so necessary for life. Listen to what +else happened: there was a woman there, the wife of that man----" + +Nikolay sat near her, his happy face bent aside in embarrassment, +and stroked his hair. But soon he turned around again, and looking +at the mother, listened greedily to her simple and clear story. + +"A miracle! Every possibility of your getting into prison and +suddenly-- Yes, it's evident that the peasants, too, are beginning +to stir. After all, it's natural. We ought to get special people +for the villages. People! We haven't enough--nowhere. Life demands +hundreds of hands!" + +"Now, if Pasha could be free--and Andriusha," said the mother softly. +Nikolay looked at her and drooped his head. + +"You see, Nilovna, it'll be hard for you to hear; but I'll say it, +anyway--I know Pavel well; he won't leave prison. He wants to be +tried; he wants to rise in all his height. He won't give up a +trial, and he needn't either. He will escape from Siberia." + +The mother sighed and answered softly: + +"Well, he knows what's best for the cause." + +Nikolay quickly jumped to his feet, suddenly seized with joy again. + +"Thank you, Nilovna! I've just lived through a magnificent moment-- +maybe the best moment of my life. Thank you! Now, come, let's give +each other a good, strong kiss!" + +They embraced, looking into each other's eyes. And they gave each +other firm, comradely kisses. + +"That's good!" he said softly. + +The mother unclasped her hands from about his neck and laughed +quietly and happily. + +"Um!" said Nikolay the next minute. "If your peasant there would +hurry up and come here! You see, we must be sure to write a leaflet +about Rybin for the village. It won't hurt him once he's come out +so boldly, and it will help the cause. I'll surely do it to-day. +Liudmila will print it quickly. But then arises the question--how +will it get to the village?" + +"I'll take it!" + +"No, thank you!" Nikolay exclaimed quietly. "I'm wondering whether +Vyesovshchikov won't do for it. Shall I speak to him?" + +"Yes; suppose you try and instruct him." + +"What'll I do then?" + +"Don't worry!" + +Nikolay sat down to write, while the mother put the table in order, +from time to time casting a look at him. She saw how his pen +trembled in his hand. It traveled along the paper in straight +lines. Sometimes the skin on his neck quivered; he threw back his +head and shut his eyes. All this moved her. + +"Execute them!" she muttered under her breath. "Don't pity the villains!" + +"There! It's ready!" he said, rising. "Hide the paper somewhere on your +body. But know that when the gendarmes come they'll search you, too!" + +"The dogs take them!" she answered calmly. + +In the evening Dr. Ivan Danilovich came. + +"What's gotten into the authorities all of a sudden?" he said, +running about the room. "There were seven searches last night. +Where's the patient?" + +"He left yesterday. To-day, you see, Saturday, he reads to working +people. He couldn't bring it over himself to omit the reading." + +"That's stupid--to sit at readings with a fractured skull!" + +"I tried to prove it to him, but unsuccessfully." + +"He wanted to do a bit of boasting before the comrades," observed +the mother. "Look! I've already shed my blood!" + +The physician looked at her, made a fierce face, and said with set teeth: + +"Ugh! ugh! you bloodthirsty person!" + +"Well, Ivan, you've nothing to do here, and we're expecting guests. +Go away! Nilovna, give him the paper." + +"Another paper?" + +"There, take it and give it to the printer." + +"I've taken it; I'll deliver it. Is that all?" + +"That's all. There's a spy at the gate." + +"I noticed. At my door, too. Good-by! Good-by, you fierce woman! +And do you know, friends, a squabble in a cemetery is a fine thing +after all! The whole city's talking about it. It stirs the people +up and compels them to think. Your article on that subject was +excellent, and it came in time. I always said that a good fight +is better than a bad peace." + +"All right. Go away now!" + +"You're polite! Let's shake hands, Nilovna. And that fellow-- +he certainly behaved stupidly. Do you know where he lives?" + +Nikolay gave him the address. + +"I must go to him to-morrow. He's a fine fellow, eh?" + +"Very!" + +"We must keep him alive; he has good brains. It's from just such +fellows that the real proletarian intellectuals ought to grow up-- +men to take our places when we leave for the region where evidently +there are no class antagonisms. But, after all, who knows?" + +"You've taken to chattering, Ivan." + +"I feel happy, that's why. Well, I'm going! So you're expecting +prison? I hope you get a good rest there!" + +"Thank you, I'm not tired!" + +The mother listened to their conversation. Their solicitude in +regard to the workingmen was pleasant to her; and, as always, the +calm activity of these people which did not forsake them even before +the gates of the prison, astonished her. + +After the physician left, Nikolay and the mother conversed quietly +while awaiting their evening visitors. Then Nikolay told her at +length of his comrades living in exile; of those who had already +escaped and continued their work under assumed names. The bare +walls of the room echoed the low sounds of his voice, as if listening +in incredulous amazement to the stories of modest heroes who +disinterestedly devoted all their powers to the great cause of liberty. + +A shadow kindly enveloped the woman, warming her heart with love +for the unseen people, who in her imagination united into one huge +person, full of inexhaustible, manly force. This giant slowly but +incessantly strides over the earth, cleansing it, laying bare before +the eyes of the people the simple and clear truth of life--the great +truth that raises humanity from the dead, welcomes all equally, and +promises all alike freedom from greed, from wickedness, and +falsehood, the three monsters which enslaved and intimidated the +whole world. The image evoked in the mother's soul a feeling +similar to that with which she used to stand before an ikon. After +she had offered her joyful, grateful prayer, the day had then seemed +lighter than the other days of her life. Now she forgot those days. +But the feeling left by them had broadened, had become brighter and +better, had grown more deeply into her soul. It was more keenly +alive and burned more luminously. + +"But the gendarmes aren't coming!" Nikolay exclaimed suddenly, +interrupting his story. + +The mother looked at him, and after a pause answered in vexation: + +"Oh, well, let them go to the dogs!" + +"Of course! But it's time for you to go to bed, Nilovna. You must +be desperately tired. You're wonderfully strong, I must say. So much +commotion and disturbance, and you live through it all so lightly. +Only your hair is turning gray very quickly. Now go and rest." + +They pressed each other's hand and parted. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +The mother fell quickly into a calm sleep, and rose early in the +morning, awakened by a subdued tap at the kitchen door. The knock +was incessant and patiently persistent. It was still dark and +quiet, and the rapping broke in alarmingly on the stillness. +Dressing herself rapidly, she walked out into the kitchen, and +standing at the door asked: + +"Who's there?" + +"I," answered an unfamiliar voice. + +"Who?" + +"Open." The quiet word was spoken in entreaty. + +The mother lifted the hook, pushed the door with her foot, and +Ignaty entered, saying cheerfully: + +"Well, so I'm not mistaken. I'm at the right place." + +He was spattered with mud up to his belt. His face was gray, his +eyes fallen. + +"We've gotten into trouble in our place," he whispered, locking +the door behind him. + +"I know it." + +The reply astonished the young man. He blinked and asked: + +"How? Where from?" + +She explained in a few rapid words, and asked: + +"Did they take the other comrades, too?" + +"They weren't there. They had gone off to be recruited. Five +were captured, including Rybin." + +He snuffled and said, smiling: + +"And I was left over. I guess they're looking for me. Let them +look. I'm not going back there again, not for anything. There +are other people there yet, some seven young men and a girl. Never +mind! They're all reliable." + +"How did you find this place?" The mother smiled. + +The door from the room opened quietly. + +"I?" Seating himself on a bench and looking around, Ignaty exclaimed: +"They crawled up at night, straight to the tar works. Well, a minute +before they came the forester ran up to us and knocked on the window. +'Look out, boys,' says he, 'they're coming on you.'" + +He laughed softly, wiped his face with the flap of his coat, and +continued: + +"Well, they can't stun Uncle Mikhail even with a hammer. At once +he says to me, 'Ignaty, run away to the city, quick! You remember +the elderly woman.' And he himself writes a note. 'There, go! +Good-by, brother.' He pushed me in the back. I flung out of the +hut. I scrambled along on all fours through the bushes, and I hear +them coming. There must have been a lot of them. You could hear +the rustling on all sides, the devils--like a moose around the tar +works. I lay in the bushes. They passed by me. Then I rose and +off I went; and for two nights and a whole day I walked without +stopping. My feet'll ache for a week." + +He was evidently satisfied with himself. A smile shone in his hazel +eyes. His full red lips quivered. + +"I'll set you up with some tea soon. You wash yourself while I get +the samovar ready." + +"I'll give you the note." He raised his leg with difficulty, and +frowning and groaning put his foot on the bench and began to untie +the leg wrappings. + +"I got frightened. 'Well,' thinks I, 'I'm a goner.'" + +Nikolay appeared at the door. Ignaty in embarrassment dropped his +foot to the floor and wanted to rise, but staggered and fell heavily +on the bench, catching himself with his hands. + +"You sit still!" exclaimed the mother. + +"How do you do, comrade?" said Nikolay, screwing up his eyes +good-naturedly and nodding his head. "Allow me, I'll help you." + +Kneeling on the floor in front of the peasant, he quickly unwound +the dirty, damp wrappings. + +"Well!" the fellow exclaimed quietly, pulling back his foot and +blinking in astonishment. He regarded the mother, who said, without +paying attention to his look: + +"His legs ought to be rubbed down with alcohol." + +"Of course!" said Nikolay. + +Ignaty snorted in embarrassment. Nikolay found the note, straightened +it out, looked at it, and handed the gray, crumpled piece of paper +to the mother. + +"For you." + +"Read it." + +"'Mother, don't let the affair go without your attention. Tell +the tall lady not to forget to have them write more for our cause, +I beg of you. Good-by. Rybin.'" + +"My darling!" said the mother sadly. "They've already seized him by +the throat, and he----" + +Nikolay slowly dropped his hand holding the note. + +"That's magnificent!" he said slowly and respectfully. "It both +touches and teaches." + +Ignaty looked at them, and quietly shook his bared feet with his +dirty hands. The mother, covering her tearful face, walked up to +him with a basin of water, sat down on the floor, and stretched out +her hands to his feet. But he quickly thrust them under the bench, +exclaiming in fright: + +"What are you going to do?" + +"Give me your foot, quick!" + +"I'll bring the alcohol at once," said Nikolay. + +The young man shoved his foot still farther under the bench and mumbled: + +"What ARE you going to do? It's not proper." + +Then the mother silently unbared his other foot. Ignaty's round +face lengthened in amazement. He looked around helplessly with +his wide-open eyes. + +"Why, it's going to tickle me!" + +"You'll be able to bear it," answered the mother, beginning to wash +his feet. + +Ignaty snorted aloud, and moving his neck awkwardly looked down +at her, comically drooping his under lip. + +"And do you know," she said tremulously, "that they beat Mikhail +Ivanovich?" + +"What?" the peasant exclaimed in fright. + +"Yes; he had been beaten when they led him to the village, and in +Nikolsk the sergeant beat him, the police commissioner beat him in +the face and kicked him till he bled." The mother became silent, +overwhelmed by her recollections. + +"They can do it," said the peasant, lowering his brows sullenly. +His shoulders shook. "That is, I fear them like the devils. And +the peasants--didn't the peasants beat him?" + +"One beat him. The police commissioner ordered him to. All the +others were so so--they even took his part. 'You mustn't beat him!' +they said." + +"Um! Yes, yes! The peasants are beginning to realize where a man +stands, and for what he stands." + +"There are sensible people there, too." + +"Where can't you find sensible people? Necessity! They're everywhere; +but it's hard to get at them. They hide themselves in chinks and +crevices, and suck their hearts out each one for himself. Their +resolution isn't strong enough to make them gather into a group." + +Nikolay brought a bottle of alcohol, put coals in the samovar, and +walked away silently. Ignaty accompanied him with a curious look. + +"A gentleman?" + +"In this business there are no masters; they're all comrades!" + +"It's strange to me," said Ignaty with a skeptical but embarrassed smile. + +"What's strange?" + +"This: at one end they beat you in the face; at the other they wash +your feet. Is there a middle of any kind?" + +The door of the room was flung open and Nikolay, standing on the +threshold, said: + +"And in the middle stand the people who lick the hands of those who +beat you in the face and suck the blood of those whose faces are +beaten. That's the middle!" + +Ignaty looked at him respectfully, and after a pause said: "That's it!" + +The mother sighed. "Mikhail Ivanovich also always used to say, +'That's it!' like an ax blow." + +"Nilovna, you're evidently tired. Permit me--I----" + +The peasant pulled his feet uneasily. + +"That'll do;" said the mother, rising. "Well, Ignaty, now wash yourself." + +The young man arose, shifted his feet about, and stepped firmly +on the floor. + +"They seem like new feet. Thank you! Many, many thanks!" + +He drew a wry face, his lips trembled, and his eyes reddened. After +a pause, during which he regarded the basin of black water, he +whispered softly: + +"I don't even know how to thank you!" + +Then they sat down to the table to drink tea. And Ignaty soberly began: + +"I was the distributor of literature, a very strong fellow at walking. +Uncle Mikhail gave me the job. 'Distribute!' says he; 'and if you +get caught you're alone.'" + +"Do many people read?" asked Nikolay. + +"All who can. Even some of the rich read. Of course, they don't +get it from us. They'd clap us right into chains if they did! They +understand that this is a slipknot for them in all ages." + +"Why a slipknot?" + +"What else!" exclaimed Ignaty in amazement. "Why, the peasants are +themselves going to take the land from everyone else. They'll wash +it out with their blood from under the gentry and the rich; that is +to say, they themselves are going to divide it, and divide it so +that there won't be masters or workingmen anymore. How then? +What's the use of getting into a scrap if not for that?" + +Ignaty even seemed to be offended. He looked at Nikolay +mistrustfully and skeptically. Nikolay smiled. + +"Don't get angry," said the mother jokingly. + +Nikolay thoughtfully exclaimed: + +"How shall we get the leaflets about Rybin's arrest to the village?" +Ignaty grew attentive. + +"I'll speak to Vyesovshchikov to-day." + +"Is there a leaflet already?" asked Ignaty. + +"Yes." + +"Give it to me. I'll take it." Ignaty rubbed his hands at the +suggestion, his eyes flashing. "I know where and how. Let me." + +The mother laughed quietly, without looking at him. + +"Why, you're tired and afraid, and you said you'd never go there again!" + +Ignaty smacked his lips and stroked his curly hair with his broad palm. + +"I'm tired; I'll rest; and of course I'm afraid!" His manner was +businesslike and calm. "They beat a man until the blood comes, as +you yourself say--then who wants to be mutilated? But I'll pull +through somehow at night. Never mind! Give me the leaflets; this +evening I'll get on the go." He was silent, thought a while, his +eyebrows working. "I'll go to the forest; I'll hide the literature, +and then I'll notify our fellows: 'Go get it.' That's better. If +I myself should distribute them I might fall into the hands of the +police, and it would be a pity for the leaflets. You must act +carefully here. There are not many such leaflets!" + +"And how about your fear?" the mother observed again with a smile. +This curly-haired, robust fellow put her into a good humor by his +sincerity, which sounded in his every word, and shone from his +round, determined face. + +"Fear is fear, and business is business!" he answered with a grin. +"Why are you laughing at me, eh? You, too! Why, isn't it natural +to be afraid in this matter? Well, and if it's necessary a man'll +go into a fire. Such an affair, it requires it." + +"Ah, you, my child!" + +Ignaty, embarrassed, smiled. "Well, there you are--child!" he said. + +Nikolay began to speak, all the time looking good-naturedly with +screwed-up eyes at the young peasant. + +"You're not going there!" + +"Then what'll I do? Where am I to be?" Ignaty asked uneasily. + +"Another fellow will go in place of you. And you'll tell him in +detail what to do and how to do it." + +"All right!" said Ignaty. But his consent was not given at once, +and then only reluctantly. + +"And for you we'll obtain a good passport and make you a forester." + +The young fellow quickly threw back his head and asked uneasily: + +"But if the peasants come there for wood, or there--in general-- +what'll I do? Bind them? That doesn't suit me." + +The mother laughed, and Nikolay, too. This again confused and +vexed Ignaty. + +"Don't be uneasy!" Nikolay soothed him. "You won't have to bind +peasants. You trust us." + +"Well, well," said Ignaty, set at ease, smiling at Nikolay with +confidence and merriness in his eyes. "If you could get me to +the factory. There, they say, the fellows are mighty smart." + +A fire seemed to be ever burning in his broad chest, unsteady as +yet, not confident in its own power. It flashed brightly in his +eyes, forced out from within; but suddenly it would nearly expire +in fright and flicker behind the smoke of perplexed alarm and +embarrassment. + +The mother rose from behind the table, and looking through the +window reflected: + +"Ah, life! Five times in the day you laugh and five times you weep. +All right. Well, are you through, Ignaty? Go to bed and sleep." + +"But I don't want to." + +"Go on, go on!" + +"You're stern in this place. Thank you for the tea, for the sugar, +for the kindness." + +Lying down in the mother's bed he mumbled, scratching his head: + +"Now everything'll smell of tar in your place. Ah, it's all for +nothing all this--plain coddling! I don't want to sleep. You're +good people, yes. It's more than I can understand--as if I'd gotten +a hundred thousand miles away from the village--how he hit it off +about the middle--and in the middle are the people who lick the +hands--of those who beat the faces--um, yes." + +And suddenly he gave a loud short snore and dropped off to sleep, +with eyebrows raised high and half-open mouth. + + +Late at night he sat in a little room of a basement at a table +opposite Vyesovshchikov. He said in a subdued tone, knitting his brows: + +"On the middle window, four times." + +"Four." + +"At first three times like this"--he counted aloud as he tapped thrice +on the table with his forefinger. "Then waiting a little, once again." + +"I understand." + +"A red-haired peasant will open the door for you, and will ask you +for the midwife. You'll tell him, 'Yes, from the boss.' Nothing +else. He'll understand your business." + +They sat with heads bent toward each other, both robust fellows, +conversing in half tones. The mother, with her arms folded on her +bosom, stood at the table looking at them. All the secret tricks +and passwords compelled her to smile inwardly as she thought, "Mere +children still." + +A lamp burned on the wall, illuminating a dark spot of dampness and +pictures from journals. On the floor old pails were lying around, +fragments of slate iron. A large, bright star out in the high +darkness shone into the window. The odor of mildew, paint, and damp +earth filled the room. + +Ignaty was dressed in a thick autumn overcoat of shaggy material. +It pleased him; the mother observed how he stroked it admiringly +with the palm of his hand, how he looked at himself, clumsily +turning his powerful neck. Her bosom beat tenderly with, "My dears, +my children, my own." + +"There!" said Ignaty, rising. "You'll remember, then? First you +go to Muratov and ask for grandfather." + +"I remember." + +But Ignaty was still distrustful of Nikolay's memory, and reiterated +all the instructions, words, and signs, and finally extended his +hand to him, saying: + +"That's all now. Good-by, comrade. Give my regards to them. I'm +alive and strong. The people there are good--you'll see." He cast +a satisfied glance down at himself, stroked the overcoat, and asked +the mother, "Shall I go?" + +"Can you find the way?" + +"Yes. Good-by, then, dear comrades." + +He walked off, raising his shoulders high, thrusting out his chest, +with his new hat cocked to one side, and his hands deep in his +pockets in most dignified fashion. On his forehead and temples his +bright, boyish curls danced gayly. + +"There, now, I have work, too," said Vyesovshchikov, going over to +the mother quietly. "I'm bored already--jumped out of prison--what +for? My only occupation is hiding--and there I was learning. Pavel +so pressed your brains--it was one pure delight. And Andrey, too, +polished us fellows zealously. Well, Nilovna, did you hear how they +decided in regard to the escape? Will they arrange it?" + +"They'll find out day after to-morrow," she repeated, sighing +involuntarily. "One day still--day after to-morrow." + +Laying his heavy hand on her shoulder, and bringing his face close +to hers, Nikolay said animatedly: + +"You tell them, the older ones there--they'll listen to you. Why, +it's very easy. You just see for yourself. There's the wall of the +prison near the lamp-post; opposite is an empty lot, on the left +the cemetery, on the right the streets--the city. The lamplighter +goes to the lamppost; by day he cleans the lamp; he puts the ladder +against the wall, climbs up, screws hooks for a rope ladder onto the +top of the wall, lets the rope ladder down into the prison yard, and +off he goes. There inside the walls they know the time when this +will be done, and will ask the criminals to arrange an uproar, or +they'll arrange it themselves, and those who need it will go up the +ladder over the wall--one, two, it's done. And they calmly proceed +to the city because the chase throws itself first of all on the +vacant lot and the cemetery." + +He gesticulated rapidly in front of the mother's face, drawing his +plan, the details of which were clear, simple, and clever. She had +known him as a clumsy fellow, and it was strange to her to see the +pockmarked face with the high cheek bones, usually so gloomy, now +lively and alert. The narrow gray eyes, formerly harsh and cold, +looking at the world sullenly with malice and distrust, seemed to +be chiseled anew, assuming an oval form and shining with an even, +warm light that convinced and moved the mother. + +"You think of it--by day, without fail by day. To whom would it +occur that a prisoner would make up his mind to escape by day in +the eyes of the whole prison?" + +"And they'll shoot him down," the woman said trembling. + +"Who? There are no soldiers, and the overseers of the prison use +their revolvers to drive nails in." + +"Why, it's very simple--all this." + +"And you'll see it'll all come out all right. No. You speak to +them. I have everything prepared already--the rope ladder, the +screw hooks; I spoke to my host, he'll be the lamplighter." + +Somebody stirred noisily at the door and coughed, and iron clanked. + +"There he is!" exclaimed Nikolay. + +At the open door a tin bathtub was thrust in, and a hoarse voice said: + +"Get in, you devil." + +Then a round, gray, hatless head appeared. It had protruding eyes +and a mustache, and wore a good-natured expression. Nikolay helped +the man in with the tub. A tall, stooping figure strode through the +door. The man coughed, his shaven cheeks puffing up; he spat out +and greeted hoarsely: + +"Good health to you!" + +"There! Ask him!" + +"Me? What about?" + +"About the escape." + +"Ah, ah!" said the host, wiping his mustache with black fingers. + +"There, Yakob Vasilyevich! She doesn't believe it's a simple matter!" + +"Hm! she doesn't believe! Not to believe means not to want to +believe. You and I want to, and so we believe." The old man +suddenly bent over and coughed hoarsely, rubbed his breast for a +long time, while he stood in the middle of the room panting for +breath and scanning the mother with wide-open eyes. + +"I'm not the one to decide, Nikolay." + +"But, mother, you talk with them. Tell them everything is ready. +Ah, if I could only see them! I'd force them!" He threw out his +hands with a broad gesture and pressed them together as if embracing +something firmly, and his voice rang with hot feeling that astounded +the mother by its power. + +"Hm! what a fellow you are!" she thought; but said aloud: "It's for +Pasha and the comrades to decide." + +Nikolay thoughtfully inclined his head. + +"Who's this Pasha?" asked the host, seating himself. + +"My son." + +"What's the family?" + +"Vlasov." + +He nodded his head, got his tobacco pouch, whipped out his pipe and +filled it with tobacco. He spoke brokenly: + +"I've heard of him. My nephew knows him. He, too, is in prison-- +my nephew Yevchenko. Have you heard of him? And my family is Godun. +They'll soon shut all the young people in prison, and then there'll +be plenty and comfort for us old folks. The gendarme assures me that +my nephew will even be sent to Siberia. They'll exile him--the dogs!" + +Lighting his pipe, he turned to Nikolay, spitting frequently on the floor: + +"So she doesn't want to? Well, that's her affair! A person is free +to feel as he wants to. Are you tired of sitting in prison? Go. +Are you tired of going? Sit. They robbed you? Keep still. They +beat you? Bear it. They have killed you? Stay dead. That's +certain. And I'll carry off Savka; I'll carry him off!" His curt, +barking phrases, full of good-natured irony, perplexed the mother. +But his last words aroused envy in her. + +While walking along the street in the face of a cold wind and rain; +she thought of Nikolay, "What a man he's become! Think of it!" And +remembering Godun, she almost prayerfully reflected, "It seems I'm +not the only one who lives for the new. It's a big fire if it so +cleanses and burns all who see it." Then she thought of her son, +"If he only agreed!" + +On Sunday, taking leave of Pavel in the waiting room of the prison, +she felt a little lump of paper in her hand. She started as if it +burned her skin, and cast a look of question and entreaty into her +son's face. But she found no answer there. Pavel's blue eyes +smiled with the usual composed smile familiar to her. + +"Good-by!" she sighed. + +The son again put out his hand to her, and a certain kindness and +tenderness for her quivered on his face. "Good-by, mamma!" + +She waited without letting go of his hand. "Don't be uneasy-- +don't be angry," he said. + +These words and the stubborn folds between his brows answered her +question. "Well, what do you mean?" she muttered, drooping her +head. "What of it?" And she quickly walked away without looking +at him, in order not to betray her feelings by the tears in her eyes +and the quiver of her lips. On the road she thought that the bones +of the hand which had pressed her son's hand ached and grew heavy, +as if she had been struck on the shoulder. + +At home, after thrusting the note into Nikolay's hand, she stood +before him, and waited while he smoothed out the tight little roll. +She felt a tremor of hope again; but Nikolay said: + +"Of course, this is what he writes: 'We will not go away, comrade; +we cannot, not one of us. We should lose respect for ourselves. +Take into consideration the peasant recently arrested. He has +merited your solicitude; he deserves that you expend much time and +energy on him. It's very hard for him here--daily collisions with +the authorities. He's already had the twenty-four hours of the dark +cell. They torture him to death. We all intercede for him. Soothe +and be kind to my mother; tell her; she'll understand all. Pavel.'" + +The mother straightened herself easily, and proudly tossed her head. + +"Well, what is there to tell me?" she said firmly. "I understand-- +they want to go straight at the authorities again--'there! condemn +the truth!'" + +Nikolay quickly turned aside, took out his handkerchief, blew his +nose aloud, and mumbled: "I've caught a cold, you see!" Covering +his eyes with his hands, under the pretext of adjusting his glasses, +he paced up and down the room, and said: "We shouldn't have been +successful anyway." + +"Never mind; let the trial come off!" said the mother frowning. + +"Here, I've received a letter from a comrade in St. Petersburg----" + +"He can escape from Siberia, too, can't he?" + +"Of course! The comrade writes: 'The trial is appointed for the +near future; the sentence is certain--exile for everybody!' You +see, these petty cheats convert their court into the most trivial +comedy. You understand? Sentence is pronounced in St. Petersburg +before the trial." + +"Stop!" the mother said resolutely. "You needn't comfort me or +explain to me. Pasha won't do what isn't right--he won't torture +himself for nothing." She paused to catch breath. "Nor will he +torture others, and he loves me, yes. You see, he thinks of me. +'Explain to her,' he writes; 'soothe her and comfort her,' eh?" + +Her heart beat quickly but boldly, and her head whirled slightly +from excitement. + +"Your son's a splendid man! I respect and love him very much." + +"I tell you what--let's think of something in regard to Rybin," +she suggested. + +She wanted to do something forthwith--go somewhere, walk till she +dropped from exhaustion, and then fall asleep, content with the +day's work. + +"Yes--very well!" said Nikolay, pacing through the room. "Why not? +We ought to have Sashenka here!" + +"She'll be here soon. She always comes on my visiting day to Pasha." + +Thoughtfully drooping his head, biting his lips and twisting his +beard, Nikolay sat on the sofa by the mother's side. + +"I'm sorry my sister isn't here. She ought to occupy herself with +Rybin's case." + +"It would be well to arrange it at once, while Pasha is there. It +would be pleasant for him." + +The bell rang. They looked at each other. + +"That's Sasha," Nikolay whispered. + +"How will you tell her?" the mother whispered back. + +"Yes--um!--it's hard!" + +"I pity her very much." + +The bell rang again, not so loud, as if the person on the other side +of the door had also fallen to thinking and hesitated. Nikolay and +the mother rose simultaneously, but at the kitchen door Nikolay +turned aside. + +"You'd better do it," he said. + +"He's not willing?" the girl asked the moment the mother opened the door. + +"No." + +"I knew it!" Sasha's face paled. She unbuttoned her coat, fastened +two buttons again, then tried to remove her coat, unsuccessfully, of +course. "Dreadful weather--rain, wind; it's disgusting! Is he well?" + +"Yes." + +"Well and happy; always the same, and only this--" Her tone was +disconsolate, and she regarded her hands. + +"He writes that Rybin ought to be freed." The mother kept her eyes +turned from the girl. + +"Yes? It seems to me we ought to make use of this plan." + +"I think so, too," said Nikolay, appearing at the door. "How do +you do, Sasha?" + +The girl asked, extending her hand to him: + +"What's the question about? Aren't all agreed that the plan is +practicable? I know they are." + +"And who'll organize it? Everybody's occupied." + +"Give it to me," said Sasha, quickly jumping to her feet. "I have time!" + +"Take it. But you must ask others." + +"Very well, I will. I'll go at once." + +She began to button up her coat again with sure, thin fingers. + +"You ought to rest a little," the mother advised. + +Sasha smiled and answered in a softer voice: + +"Don't worry about me. I'm not tired." And silently pressing their +hands, she left once more, cold and stern. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +The mother and Nikolay, walking up to the window, watched the girl +pass through the yard and disappear beyond the gate. Nikolay +whistled quietly, sat down at the table and began to write. + +"She'll occupy herself with this affair, and it'll be easier for +her," the mother reflected. + +"Yes, of course!" responded Nikolay, and turning around to the +mother with a kind smile on his face, asked: "And how about you, +Nilovna--did this cup of bitterness escape you? Did you never know +the pangs for a beloved person?" + +"Well!" exclaimed the mother with a wave of her hand. "What sort +of a pang? The fear they had whether they won't marry me off to +this man or that man?" + +"And you liked no one?" + +She thought a little, and answered: + +"I don't recall, my dear! How can it be that I didn't like anybody? +I suppose there was somebody I was fond of, but I don't remember." + +She looked at him, and concluded simply, with sad composure: "My +husband beat me a lot; and everything that was before him was +effaced from my soul." + +Nikolay turned back to the table; the mother walked out of the room +for a minute. On her return Nikolay looked at her kindly and began to +speak softly and lovingly. His reminiscences stroked her like a caress. + +"And I, you see, was like Sashenka. I loved a girl: a marvelous +being, a wonder, a--guiding star; she was gentle and bright for me. +I met her about twenty years ago, and from that time on I loved her. +And I love her now, too, to speak the truth. I love her all so-- +with my whole soul--gratefully--forever!" + +Standing by his side the mother saw his eyes lighted from within by +a clear, warm light. His hands folded over the back of the chair, +and his head leaning on them, he looked into the distance; his whole +body, lean and slender, but powerful, seemed to strive upward, like +the stalk of a plant toward the sun. + +"Why didn't you marry? You should have!" + +"Oh, she's been married five years!" + +"And before that--what was the matter? Didn't she love you?" + +He thought a while, and answered: + +"Yes, apparently she loved me; I'm certain she did. But, you see, +it was always this way: I was in prison, she was free; I was free, +she was in prison or in exile. That's very much like Sasha's position, +really. Finally they exiled her to Siberia for ten years. I wanted +to follow her, but I was ashamed and she was ashamed, and I remained +here. Then she met another man--a comrade of mine, a very good +fellow, and they escaped together. Now they live abroad. Yes----" + +Nikolay took off his glasses, wiped them, held them up to the light +and began to wipe them again. + +"Ah, you, my dear!" the mother exclaimed lovingly, shaking her head. +She was sorry for him; at the same time something compelled her to +smile a warm, motherly smile. He changed his pose, took the pen in +his hand, and said, punctuating the rhythm of his speed with waves +of his hand: + +"Family life always diminishes the energy of a revolutionist. +Children must be maintained in security, and there's the need to +work a great deal for one's bread. The revolutionist ought without +cease to develop every iota of his energy; he must deepen and +broaden it; but this demands time. He must always be at the head, +because we--the workingmen--are called by the logic of history to +destroy the old world, to create the new life; and if we stop, if we +yield to exhaustion, or are attracted by the possibility of a little +immediate conquest, it's bad--it's almost treachery to the cause. +No revolutionist can adhere closely to an individual--walk through +life side by side with another individual--without distorting his +faith; and we must never forget that our aim is not little +conquests, but only complete victory!" + +His voice became firm, his face paled, and his eyes kindled with the +force that characterized him. The bell sounded again. It was +Liudmila. She wore an overcoat too light for the season, her cheeks +were purple with the cold. Removing her torn overshoes, she said in +a vexed voice: + +"The date of the trial is appointed--in a week!" + +"Really?" shouted Nikolay from the room. + +The mother quickly walked up to him, not understanding whether +fright or joy agitated her. Liudmila, keeping step with her, said, +with irony in her low voice: + +"Yes, really! The assistant prosecuting attorney, Shostak, just +now brought the incriminating acts. In the court they say, quite +openly, that the sentence has already been fixed. What does it +mean? Do the authorities fear that the judges will deal too +mercifully with the enemies of the government? Having so long and +so assiduously kept corrupting their servants, is the government +still unassured of their readiness to be scoundrels?" + +Liudmila sat on the sofa, rubbing her lean cheeks with her palms; +her dull eyes burned contemptuous scorn, and her voice filled with +growing wrath. + +"You waste your powder for nothing, Liudmila!" Nikolay tried to +soothe her. "They don't hear you." + +"Some day I'll compel them to hear me!" + +The black circles under her eyes trembled and threw an ominous +shadow on her face. She bit her lips. + +"You go against me--that's your right; I'm your enemy. But in +defending your power don't corrupt people; don't compel me to have +instinctive contempt for them; don't dare to poison my soul with +your cynicism!" + +Nikolay looked at her through his glasses, and screwing up his eyes, +shook his head sadly. But she continued to speak as if those whom +she detested stood before her. The mother listened with strained +attention, understanding nothing, and instinctively repeating to +herself one and the same words, "The trial--the trial will come off +in a week!" + +She could not picture to herself what it would be like; how the +judges would behave toward Pavel. Her thoughts muddled her brain, +covered her eyes with a gray mist, and plunged her into something +sticky, viscid, chilling and paining her body. The feeling grew, +entered her blood, took possession of her heart, and weighed it +down heavily, poisoning in it all that was alive and bold. + +Thus, in a cloud of perplexity and despondency under the load of +painful expectations, she lived through one day, and a second day; +but on the third day Sasha appeared and said to Nikolay: + +"Everything is ready--to-day, in an hour!" + +"Everything ready? So soon?" He was astonished. + +"Why shouldn't everything be ready? The only thing I had to do was +to get a hiding place and clothes for Rybin. All the rest Godun +took on himself. Rybin will have to go through only one ward of the +city. Vyesovshchikov will meet him on the street, all disguised, of +course. He'll throw an overcoat over him, give him a hat, and show +him the way. I'll wait for him, change his clothes and lead him off." + +"Not bad! And who's this Godun?" + +"You've seen him! You gave talks to the locksmiths in his place." + +"Oh, I remember! A droll old man." + +"He's a soldier who served his time--a roofer, a man of little +education, but with an inexhaustible fund of hatred for every kind +of violence and for all men of violence. A bit of a philosopher!" + +The mother listened in silence to her, and something indistinct +slowly dawned upon her. + +"Godun wants to free his nephew--you remember him? You liked +Yevchenko, a blacksmith, quite a dude." Nikolay nodded his head. +"Godun has arranged everything all right. But I'm beginning to +doubt his success. The passages in the prison are used by all the +inmates, and I think when the prisoners see the ladder many will +want to run--" She closed her eyes and was silent for a while. +The mother moved nearer to her. "They'll hinder one another." + +They all three stood before the window, the mother behind Nikolay +and Sasha. Their rapid conversation roused in her a still stronger +sense of uneasiness and anxiety. + +"I'm going there," the mother said suddenly. + +"Why?" asked Sasha. + +"Don't go, darling! Maybe you'll get caught. You mustn't!" +Nikolay advised. + +The mother looked at them and softly, but persistently, repeated: +"No; I'm going! I'm going!" + +They quickly exchanged glances, and Sasha, shrugging her shoulders, said: + +"Of course--hope is tenacious!" + +Turning to the mother she took her by the hand, leaned her head +on her shoulder, and said in a new, simple voice, near to the +heart of the mother: + +"But I'll tell you after all, mamma, you're waiting in vain--he +won't try to escape!" + +"My dear darling!" exclaimed the mother, pressing Sasha to her +tremulously. "Take me; I won't interfere with you; I don't believe +it is possible--to escape!" + +"She'll go," said the girl simply to Nikolay. + +"That's your affair!" he answered, bowing his head. + +"We mustn't be together, mamma. You go to the garden in the lot. +From there you can see the wall of the prison. But suppose they +ask you what you are doing there?" + +Rejoiced, the mother answered confidently: + +"I'll think of what to say." + +"Don't forget that the overseers of the prison know you," said +Sasha; "and if they see you there----" + +"They won't see me!" the mother laughed softly. + +An hour later she was in the lot by the prison. A sharp wind blew +about her, pulled her dress, and beat against the frozen earth, +rocked the old fence of the garden past which the woman walked, and +rattled against the low wall of the prison; it flung up somebody's +shouts from the court, scattered them in the air, and carried them +up to the sky. There the clouds were racing quickly, little rifts +opening in the blue height. + +Behind the mother lay the city; in front the cemetery; to the right, +about seventy feet from her, the prison. Near the cemetery a soldier +was leading a horse by a rein, and another soldier tramped noisily +alongside him, shouted, whistled, and laughed. There was no one +else near the prison. On the impulse of the moment the mother +walked straight up to them. As she came near she shouted: + +"Soldiers! didn't you see a goat anywhere around here?" + +One of them answered: + +"No." + +She walked slowly past them, toward the fence of the cemetery, +looking slantwise to the right and the back. Suddenly she felt her +feet tremble and grow heavy, as if frozen to the ground. From the +corner of the prison a man came along, walking quickly, like a +lamplighter. He was a stooping man, with a little ladder on his +shoulder. The mother, blinking in fright, quickly glanced at the +soldiers; they were stamping their feet on one spot, and the horse +was running around them. She looked at the ladder--he had already +placed it against the wall and was climbing up without haste. He +waved his hand in the courtyard, quickly let himself down, and +disappeared around the corner. That very second the black head of +Mikhail appeared on the wall, followed by his entire body. Another +head, with a shaggy hat, emerged alongside of his. Two black lumps +rolled to the ground; one disappeared around the corner; Mikhail +straightened himself up and looked about. + +"Run, run!" whispered the mother, treading impatiently. Her ears +were humming. Loud shouts were wafted to her. There on the wall +appeared a third head. She clasped her hands in faintness. A +light-haired head, without a beard, shook as if it wanted to tear +itself away, but it suddenly disappeared behind the wall. The +shouts came louder and louder, more and more boisterous. The wind +scattered the thin trills of the whistles through the air. Mikhail +walked along the wall--there! he was already beyond it, and +traversed the open space between the prison and the houses of the +city. It seemed to her as if he were walking very, very slowly, +that he raised his head to no purpose. "Everyone who sees his face +will remember it forever," and she whispered, "Faster! faster!" +Behind the wall of the prison something slammed, the thin sound of +broken glass was heard. One of the soldiers, planting his feet +firmly on the ground, drew the horse to him, and the horse jumped. +The other one, his fist at his mouth, shouted something in the +direction of the prison, and as he shouted he turned his head +sidewise, with his ear cocked. + +All attention, the mother turned her head in all directions, her +eyes seeing everything, believing nothing. This thing which she +had pictured as terrible and intricate was accomplished with extreme +simplicity and rapidity, and the simpleness of the happenings +stupefied her. Rybin was no longer to be seen--a tall man in a thin +overcoat was walking there--a girl was running along. Three wardens +jumped out from a corner of the prison; they ran side by side, +stretching out their right hands. One of the soldiers rushed in +front of them; the other ran around the horse, unsuccessfully trying +to vault on the refractory animal, which kept jumping about. The +whistles incessantly cut the air, their alarming, desperate shrieks +aroused a consciousness of danger in the woman. Trembling, she +walked along the fence of the cemetery, following the wardens; but +they and the soldiers ran around the other corner of the prison and +disappeared. They were followed at a run by the assistant overseer +of the prison, whom she knew; his coat was unbuttoned. From +somewhere policemen appeared, and people came running. + +The wind whistled, leaped about as if rejoicing, and carried the +broken, confused shouts to the mother's ears. + +"It stands here all the time." + +"The ladder?" + +"What's the matter with you then? The devil take you!" + +"Arrest the soldiers!" + +"Policeman!" + +Whistles again. This hubbub delighted her and she strode on more +boldly, thinking, "So, it's possible--HE could have done it!" + +But now pain for her son no longer entered her heart without pride +in him also. And only fear for him weighed and oppressed her to +stupefaction as before. + +From the corner of the fence opposite her a constable with a black, +curly beard, and two policemen emerged. + +"Stop!" shouted the constable, breathing heavily. "Did you see-- +a man--with a beard--didn't he run by here?" + +She pointed to the garden and answered calmly: + +"He went that way!" + +"Yegorov, run! Whistle! Is it long ago?" + +"Yes--I should say--about a minute!" + +But the whistle drowned her voice. The constable, without waiting +for an answer, precipitated himself in a gallop along the hillocky +ground, waving his hands in the direction of the garden. After +him, with bent head, and whistling, the policemen darted off. + +The mother nodded her head after them, and, satisfied with herself, +went home. When she walked out of the field into the street a cab +crossed her way. Raising her head she saw in the vehicle a young +man with light mustache and a pale, worn face. He, too, regarded +her. He sat slantwise. It must have been due to his position that +his right shoulder was higher than his left. + +At home Nikolay met her joyously. + +"Alive? How did it go?" + +"It seems everything's been successful!" + +And slowly trying to reinstate all the details in her memory, she +began to tell of the escape. Nikolay, too, was amazed at the success. + +"You see, we're lucky!" said Nikolay, rubbing his hands. "But how +frightened I was on your account only God knows. You know what, +Nilovna, take my friendly advice: don't be afraid of the trial. +The sooner it's over and done with the sooner Pavel will be free. +Believe me. I've already written to my sister to try to think what +can be done for Pavel. Maybe he'll even escape on the road. And +the trial is approximately like this." He began to describe to her +the session of the court. She listened, and understood that he was +afraid of something--that he wanted to inspirit her. + +"Maybe you think I'll say something to the judges?" she suddenly +inquired. "That I'll beg them for something?" + +He jumped up, waved his hands at her, and said in an offended tone: + +"What are you talking about? You're insulting me!" + +"Excuse me, please; excuse me! I really AM afraid--of what I don't know." + +She was silent, letting her eyes wander about the room. + +"Sometimes it seems to me that they'll insult Pasha--scoff at him. +'Ah, you peasant!' they'll say. 'You son of a peasant! What's this +mess you've cooked up?' And Pasha, proud as he is, he'll answer +them so----! Or Andrey will laugh at them--and all the comrades +there are hot-headed and honest. So I can't help thinking that +something will suddenly happen. One of them will lose his patience, +the others will support him, and the sentence will be so severe-- +you'll never see them again." + +Nikolay was silent, pulling his beard glumly as the mother continued: + +"It's impossible to drive this thought from my head. The trial is +terrible to me. When they'll begin to take everything apart and +weigh it--it's awful! It's not the sentence that's terrible, but +the trial--I can't express it." She felt that Nikolay didn't +understand her fear; and his inability to comprehend kept her from +further analysis of her timidities, which, however, only increased +and broadened during the three following days. Finally, on the day +of the trial, she carried into the hall of the session a heavy dark +load that bent her back and neck. + +In the street, acquaintances from the suburbs had greeted her. She +had bowed in silence, rapidly making her way through the dense, +crowd in the corridor of the courthouse. In the hall she was met by +relatives of the defendants, who also spoke to her in undertones. +All the words seemed needless; she didn't understand them. Yet all +the people were sullen, filled with the same mournful feeling which +infected the mother and weighed her down. + +"Let's sit next to each other," suggested Sizov, going to a bench. + +She sat down obediently, settled her dress, and looked around. +Green and crimson specks, with thin yellow threads between, slowly +swam before her eyes. + +"Your son has ruined our Vasya," a woman sitting beside her said quietly. + +"You keep still, Natalya!" Sizov chided her angrily. + +Nilovna looked at the woman; it was the mother of Samoylov. Farther +along sat her husband--bald-headed, bony-faced, dapper, with a +large, bushy, reddish beard which trembled as he sat looking in +front of himself, his eyes screwed up. + +A dull, immobile light entered through the high windows of the hall, +outside of which snow glided and fell lingeringly on the ground. +Between the windows hung a large portrait of the Czar in a massive +frame of glaring gilt. Straight, austere folds of the heavy crimson +window drapery dropped over either side of it. Before the portrait, +across almost the entire breadth of the hall, stretched the table +covered with green cloth. To the right of the wall, behind the +grill, stood two wooden benches; to the left two rows of crimson +armchairs. Attendants with green collars and yellow buttons on +their abdomens ran noiselessly about the hall. A soft whisper +hummed in the turbid atmosphere, and the odor was a composite of +many odors as in a drug shop. All this--the colors, the glitter, +the sounds and odors--pressed on the eyes and invaded the breast +with each inhalation. It forced out live sensations, and filled +the desolate heart with motionless, dismal awe. + +Suddenly one of the people said something aloud. The mother +trembled. All arose; she, too, rose, seizing Sizov's hand. + +In the left corner of the hall a high door opened and an old man +emerged, swinging to and fro. On his gray little face shook white, +sparse whiskers; he wore eyeglasses; the upper lip, which was +shaven, sank into his mouth as by suction; his sharp jawbones and +his chin were supported by the high collar of his uniform; apparently +there was no neck under the collar. He was supported under the arm +from behind by a tall young man with a porcelain face, red and round. +Following him three more men in uniforms embroidered in gold, and +three garbed in civilian wear, moved in slowly. They stirred about +the table for a long time and finally took seats in the armchairs. +When they had sat down, one of them in unbuttoned uniform, with a +sleepy, clean-shaven face, began to say something to the little old +man, moving his puffy lips heavily and soundlessly. The old man +listened, sitting strangely erect and immobile. Behind the glasses +of his pince-nez the mother saw two little colorless specks. + +At the end of the table, at the desk, stood a tall, bald man, who +coughed and shoved papers about. + +The little old man swung forward and began to speak. He pronounced +clearly the first words, but what followed seemed to creep without +sound from his thin, gray lips. + +"I open----" + +"See!" whispered Sizov, nudging the mother softly and arising. + +In the wall behind the grill the door opened, a soldier came out +with a bared saber on his shoulder; behind him appeared Pavel, +Andrey, Fedya Mazin, the two Gusevs, Samoylov, Bukin, Somov, and +five more young men whose names were unknown to the mother. Pavel +smiled kindly; Andrey also, showing his teeth as he nodded to her. +The hall, as it were, became lighter and simpler from their smile; +the strained, unnatural silence was enlivened by their faces and +movements. The greasy glitter of gold on the uniforms dimmed and +softened. A waft of bold assurance, the breath of living power, +reached the mother's heart and roused it. On the benches behind +her, where up to that time the people had been waiting in crushed +silence, a responsive, subdued hum was audible. + +"They're not trembling!" she heard Sizov whisper; and at her right +side Samoylov's mother burst into soft sobs. + +"Silence!" came a stern shout. + +"I warn you beforehand," said the old man, "I shall have to----" + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Pavel and Andrey sat side by side; along with them on the first +bench were Mazin, Samoylov, and the Gusevs. Andrey had shaved his +beard, but his mustache had grown and hung down, and gave his round +head the appearance of a seacow or walrus. Something new lay on his +face; something sharp and biting in the folds about his mouth; +something black in his eyes. On Mazin's upper lip two black streaks +were limned, his face was fuller. Samoylov was just as curly-haired +as before; and Ivan Gusev smiled just as broadly. + +"Ah, Fedka, Fedka!" whispered Sizov, drooping his head. + +The mother felt she could breathe more freely. She heard the +indistinct questions of the old man, which he put without looking +at the prisoners; and his head rested motionless on the collar of +his uniform. She heard the calm, brief answers of her son. It +seemed to her that the oldest judge and his associates could be +neither evil nor cruel people. Looking carefully at their faces +she tried to guess something, softly listening to the growth of a +new hope in her breast. + +The porcelain-faced man read a paper indifferently; his even voice +filled the hall with weariness, and the people, enfolded by it, sat +motionless as if benumbed. Four lawyers softly but animatedly +conversed with the prisoners. They all moved powerfully, briskly, +and called to mind large blackbirds. + +On one side of the old man a judge with small, bleared eyes filled +the armchair with his fat, bloated body. On the other side sat a +stooping man with reddish mustache on his pale face. His head was +wearily thrown on the back of the chair, his eyes, half-closed, he +seemed to be reflecting over something. The face of the prosecuting +attorney was also worn, bored, and unexpectant. Behind the judge +sat the mayor of the city, a portly man, who meditatively stroked +his cheek; the marshal of the nobility, a gray-haired, large-bearded, +ruddy-faced man, with large, kind eyes; and the district elder, +who wore a sleeveless peasant overcoat, and possessed a huge belly +which apparently embarrassed him; he endeavored to cover it with +the folds of his overcoat, but it always slid down and showed again. + +"There are no criminals here and no judges," Pavel's vigorous voice +was heard. "There are only captives here, and conquerors!" + +Silence fell. For a few seconds the mother's ears heard only the thin, +hasty scratch of the pen on the paper and the beating of her own heart. + +The oldest judge also seemed to be listening to something from afar. +His associates stirred. Then he said: + +"Hm! yes--Andrey Nakhodka, do you admit----" + +Somebody whispered, "Rise!" + +Andrey slowly rose, straightened himself, and pulling his mustache +looked at the old man from the corners of his eyes. + +"Yes! To what can I confess myself guilty?" said the Little Russian +in his slow, surging voice, shrugging his shoulders. "I did not +murder nor steal; I simply am not in agreement with an order of +life in which people are compelled to rob and kill one another." + +"Answer briefly--yes or no?" the old man said with an effort, +but distinctly. + +On the benches back of her the mother felt there was animation; the +people began to whisper to one another about something and stirred, +sighing as if freeing themselves from the cobweb spun about them by +the gray words of the porcelain-faced man. + +"Do you hear how they speak?" whispered Sizov. + +"Yes." + +"Fedor Mazin, answer!" + +"I don't want to!" said Fedya clearly, jumping to his feet. His +face reddened with excitation, his eyes sparkled. For some reason +he hid his hands behind his back. + +Sizov groaned softly, and the mother opened her eyes wide in astonishment. + +"I declined a defense--I'm not going to say anything--I don't regard +your court as legal! Who are you? Did the people give you the +right to judge us? No, they did not! I don't know you." He sat +down and concealed his heated face behind Andrey's shoulders. + +The fat judge inclined his head to the old judge and whispered +something. The old judge, pale-faced, raised his eyelids and +slanted his eyes at the prisoners, then extended his hand on the +table, and wrote something in pencil on a piece of paper lying +before him. The district elder swung his head, carefully shifting +his feet, rested his abdomen on his knees, and his hands on his +abdomen. Without moving his head the old judge turned his body to +the red-mustached judge, and began to speak to him quickly. The +red-mustached judge inclined his head to listen. The marshal of +the nobility conversed with the prosecuting attorney; the mayor of +the city listened and smiled, rubbing his cheek. Again the dull +speech of the old judge was heard. All four lawyers listened +attentively. The prisoners exchanged whispers with one another, +and Fedya, smiling in confusion, hid his face. + +"How he cut them off! Straight, downright, better than all!" Sizov +whispered in amazement in the ear of the mother. "Ah, you little boy!" + +The mother smiled in perplexity. The proceedings seemed to be +nothing but the necessary preliminary to something terrible, which +would appear and at once stifle everybody with its cold horror. But +the calm words of Pavel and Andrey had sounded so fearless and firm, +as if uttered in the little house of the suburb, and not in the +presence of the court. Fedya's hot, youthful sally amused her; +something bold and fresh grew up in the hall, and she guessed from +the movement of the people back of her that she was not the only +one who felt this. + +"Your opinion," said the old judge. + +The bald-headed prosecuting attorney arose, and, steadying himself +on the desk with one hand, began to speak rapidly, quoting figures. +In his voice nothing terrible was heard. + +At the same time, however, a sudden dry, shooting attack disturbed +the heart of the mother. It was an uneasy suspicion of something +hostile to her, which did not threaten, did not shout, but unfolded +itself unseen, soundless, intangible. It swung lazily and dully +about the judges, as if enveloping them with an impervious cloud, +through which nothing from the outside could reach them. She looked +at them. They were incomprehensible to her. They were not angry at +Pavel or at Fedya; they did not shout at the young men, as she had +expected; they did not abuse them in words, but put all their +questions reluctantly, with the air of "What's the use?". It cost +them an effort to hear the answers to the end. Apparently they +lacked interest because they knew everything beforehand. + +There before her stood the gendarme, and spoke in a bass voice: + +"Pavel Vlasov was named as the ringleader." + +"And Nakhodka?" asked the fat judge in his lazy undertone. + +"He, too." + +"May I----" + +The old judge asked a question of somebody: + +"You have nothing?" + +All the judges seemed to the mother to be worn out and ill. A +sickened weariness marked their poses and voices, a sickened +weariness and a bored, gray ennui. It was an evident nuisance to +them, all this--the uniforms, the hall, the gendarmes, the lawyers, +the obligation to sit in armchairs, and to put questions concerning +things perforce already known to them. The mother in general was +but little acquainted with the masters; she had scarcely ever seen +them; and now she regarded the faces of the judges as something +altogether new and incomprehensible, deserving pity, however, rather +than inspiring horror. + +The familiar, yellow-faced officer stood before them, and told about +Pavel and Andrey, stretching the words with an air of importance. +The mother involuntarily laughed, and thought: "You don't know +much, my little father." + +And now, as she looked at the people behind the grill, she ceased +to feel dread for them; they did not evoke alarm, pity was not for +them; they one and all called forth in her only admiration and love, +which warmly embraced her heart; the admiration was calm, the love +joyously distinct. There they sat to one side, by the wall, young, +sturdy, scarcely taking any part in the monotonous talk of the +witnesses and judges, or in the disputes of the lawyers with the +prosecuting attorney. They behaved as if the talk did not concern +them in the least. Sometimes somebody would laugh contemptuously, +and say something to the comrades, across whose faces, then, a +sarcastic smile would also quickly pass. Andrey and Pavel conversed +almost the entire time with one of their lawyers, whom the mother had +seen the day before at Nikolay's, and had heard Nikolay address as +comrade. Mazin, brisker and more animated than the others, listened +to the conversation. Now and then Samoylov said something to Ivan +Gusev; and the mother noticed that each time Ivan gave a slight +elbow nudge to a comrade, he could scarcely restrain a laugh; his +face would grow red, his cheeks would puff up, and he would have to +incline his head. He had already sniffed a couple of times, and for +several minutes afterward sat with blown cheeks trying to be serious. +Thus, in each comrade his youth played and sparkled after his fashion, +lightly bursting the restraint he endeavored to put upon its lively +effervescence. She looked, compared, and reflected. She was unable +to understand or express in words her uneasy feeling of hostility. + +Sizov touched her lightly with his elbow; she turned to him, and +found a look of contentment and slight preoccupation on his face. + +"Just see how they've intrenched themselves in their defiance! Fine +stuff in 'em! Eh? Barons, eh? Well, and yet they're going to +be sentenced!" + +The mother listened, unconsciously repeating to herself: + +"Who will pass the sentence? Whom will they sentence?" + +The witnesses spoke quickly, in their colorless voices, the judges +reluctantly and listlessly. Their bloodless, worn-out faces stared +into space unconcernedly. They did not expect to see or hear +anything new. At times the fat judge yawned, covering his smile +with his puffy hand, while the red-mustached judge grew still paler, +and sometimes raised his hand to press his finger tightly on the +bone of his temple, as he looked up to the ceiling with sorrowful, +widened eyes. The prosecuting attorney infrequently scribbled on +his paper, and then resumed his soundless conversation with the +marshal of the nobility, who stroked his gray beard, rolled his +large, beautiful eyes, and smiled, nodding his head with importance. +The city mayor sat with crossed legs, and beat a noiseless tattoo +on his knee, giving the play of his fingers concentrated attention. +The only one who listened to the monotonous murmur of the voices +seemed to be the district elder, who sat with inclined head, +supporting his abdomen on his knees and solicitously holding it up +with his hands. The old judge, deep in his armchair, stuck there +immovably. The proceedings continued to drag on in this way for a +long, long time; and ennui again numbed the people with its heavy, +sticky embrace. + +The mother saw that this large hall was not yet pervaded by that +cold, threatening justice which sternly uncovers the soul, examines +it, and seeing everything estimates its value with incorruptible +eyes, weighing it rigorously with honest hands. Here was nothing to +frighten her by its power or majesty. + +"I declare--" said the old judge clearly, and arose as he crushed +the following words with his thin lips. + +The noise of sighs and low exclamations, of coughing and scraping +of feet, filled the hall as the court retired for a recess. The +prisoners were led away. As they walked out, they nodded their +heads to their relatives and familiars with a smile, and Ivan Gusev +shouted to somebody in a modulated voice: + +"Don't lose courage, Yegor." + +The mother and Sizov walked out into the corridor. + +"Will you go to the tavern with me to take some tea?" the old man +asked her solicitously. "We have an hour and a half's time." + +"I don't want to." + +"Well, then I won't go, either. No, say! What fellows those are! +They act as if they were the only real people, and the rest nothing +at all. They'll all go scot-free, I'm sure. Look at Fedka, eh?" + +Samoylov's father came up to them holding his hat in his hand. +He smiled sullenly and said: + +"My Vasily! He declined a defense, and doesn't want to palaver. +He was the first to have the idea. Yours, Pelagueya, stood for +lawyers; and mine said: 'I don't want one.' And four declined +after him. Hm, ye-es." + +At his side stood his wife. She blinked frequently, and wiped her +nose with the end of her handkerchief. Samoylov took his beard in +his hand, and continued looking at the floor. + +"Now, this is the queer thing about it: you look at them, those +devils, and you think they got up all this at random--they're ruining +themselves for nothing. And suddenly you begin to think: 'And maybe +they're right!' You remember that in the factory more like them +keep on coming, keep on coming. They always get caught; but they're +not destroyed, no more than common fish in the river get destroyed. +No. And again you think, 'And maybe power is with them, too.'" + +"It's hard for us, Stepan Petrov, to understand this affair," said Sizov. + +"It's hard, yes," agreed Samoylov. + +His wife noisily drawing in air through her nose remarked: + +"They're all strong, those imps!" With an unrestrained smile on +her broad, wizened face, she continued: "You, Nilovna, don't be +angry with me because I just now slapped you, when I said that your +son is to blame. A dog can tell who's the more to blame, to tell +you the truth. Look at the gendarmes and the spies, what they said +about our Vasily! He has shown what he can do too!" + +She apparently was proud of her son, perhaps even without understanding +her feeling; but the mother did understand her feeling, and answered +with a kind smile and quiet words: + +"A young heart is always nearer to the truth." + +People rambled about the corridor, gathered into groups, speaking +excitedly and thoughtfully in hollow voices. Scarcely anybody stood +alone; all faces bore evidence of a desire to speak, to ask, to +listen. In the narrow white passageway the people coiled about in +sinuous curves, like dust carried in circles before a powerful wind. +Everybody seemed to be seeking something hard and firm to stand upon. + +The older brother of Bukin, a tall, red-faced fellow, waved his +hands and turned about rapidly in all directions. + +"The district elder Klepanov has no place in this case," he declared aloud. + +"Keep still, Konstantin!" his father, a little old man, tried to +dissuade him, and looked around cautiously. + +"No; I'm going to speak out! There's a rumor afloat about him that +last year he killed a clerk of his on account of the clerk's wife. +What kind of a judge is he? permit me to ask. He lives with the +wife of his clerk--what have you got to say to that? Besides, he's +a well-known thief!" + +"Oh, my little father--Konstantin!" + +"True!" said Samoylov. "True, the court is not a very just one." + +Bukin heard his voice and quickly walked up to him, drawing the whole +crowd after him. Red with excitement, he waved his hands and said: + +"For thievery, for murder, jurymen do the trying. They're common +people, peasants, merchants, if you please; but for going against +the authorities you're tried by the authorities. How's that?" + +"Konstantin! Why are they against the authorities? Ah, you! They----" + +"No, wait! Fedor Mazin said the truth. If you insult me, and I land +you one on your jaw, and you try me for it, of course I'm going to turn +out guilty. But the first offender--who was it? You? Of course, you!" + +The watchman, a gray man with a hooked nose and medals on his chest, +pushed the crowd apart, and said to Bukin, shaking his finger at him: + +"Hey! don't shout! Don't you know where you are? Do you think this +is a saloon?" + +"Permit me, my cavalier, I know where I am. Listen! If I strike +you and you me, and I go and try you, what would you think?" + +"And I'll order you out," said the watchman sternly. + +"Where to? What for?" + +"Into the street, so that you shan't bawl." + +"The chief thing for them is that people should keep their mouths shut." + +"And what do you think?" the old man bawled. Bukin threw out his +hands, and again measuring the public with his eyes, began to speak +in a lower voice: + +"And again--why are the people not permitted to be at the trial, but +only the relatives? If you judge righteously, then judge in front +of everybody. What is there to be afraid of?" + +Samoylov repeated, but this time in a louder tone: + +"The trial is not altogether just, that's true." + +The mother wanted to say to him that she had heard from Nikolay of +the dishonesty of the court; but she had not wholly comprehended +Nikolay, and had forgotten some of his words. While trying to +recall them she moved aside from the people, and noticed that +somebody was looking at her--a young man with a light mustache. +He held his right hand in the pocket of his trousers, which made +his left shoulder seem lower than the right, and this peculiarity +of his figure seemed familiar to the mother. But he turned from her, +and she again lost herself in the endeavor to recollect, and forgot +about him immediately. In a minute, however, her ear was caught by +the low question: + +"This woman on the left?" + +And somebody in a louder voice cheerfully answered: + +"Yes." + +She looked around. The man with the uneven shoulders stood sidewise +toward her, and said something to his neighbor, a black-bearded +fellow with a short overcoat and boots up to his knees. + +Again her memory stirred uneasily, but did not yield any distinct results. + +The watchman opened the door of the hall, and shouted: + +"Relatives, enter; show your tickets!" + +A sullen voice said lazily: + +"Tickets! Like a circus!" + +All the people now showed signs of a dull excitement, an uneasy +passion. They began to behave more freely, and hummed and disputed +with the watchman. + +Sitting down on the bench, Sizov mumbled something to the mother. + +"What is it?" asked the mother. + +"Oh, nothing--the people are fools! They know nothing; they live +groping about and groping about." + +The bellman rang; somebody announced indifferently: + +"The session has begun!" + +Again all arose, and again, in the same order, the judges filed in +and sat down; then the prisoners were led in. + +"Pay attention!" whispered Sizov; "the prosecuting attorney is going +to speak." + +The mother craned her neck and extended her whole body. She yielded +anew to expectation of the horrible. + +Standing sidewise toward the judges, his head turned to them, +leaning his elbow on the desk, the prosecuting attorney sighed, +and abruptly waving his right hand in the air, began to speak: + +The mother could not make out the first words. The prosecuting +attorney's voice was fluent, thick; it sped on unevenly, now a bit +slower, now a bit faster. His words stretched out in a thin line, +like a gray seam; suddenly they burst out quickly and whirled like +a flock of black flies around a piece of sugar. But she did not +find anything horrible in them, nothing threatening. Cold as snow, +gray as ashes, they fell and fell, filling the hall with something +which recalled a slushy day in early autumn. Scant in feeling, +rich in words, the speech seemed not to reach Pavel and his comrade. +Apparently it touched none of them; they all sat there quite composed, +smiling at times as before, and conversed without sound. At times +they frowned to cover up their smiles. + +"He lies!" whispered Sizov. + +She could not have said it. She understood that the prosecuting +attorney charged all the comrades with guilt, not singling out any +one of them. After having spoken about Pavel, he spoke about Fedya, +and having put him side by side with Pavel, he persistently thrust +Bukin up against them. It seemed as if he packed and sewed them +into a sack, piling them up on top of one another. But the external +sense of his words did not satisfy, did not touch, did not frighten +her. She still waited for the horrible, and rigorously sought +something beyond his words--something in his face, his eyes, his +voice, in his white hand, which slowly glided in the air. Something +terrible must be there; she felt it, but it was impalpable; it did +not yield to her consciousness, which again covered her heart with +a dry, pricking dust. + +She looked at the judges. There was no gainsaying that they were +bored at having to listen to this speech. The lifeless, yellow +faces expressed nothing. The sickly, the fat, or the extremely +lean, motionless dead spots all grew dimmer and dimmer in the dull +ennui that filled the hall. The words of the prosecuting attorney +spurted into the air like a haze imperceptible to the eye, growing +and thickening around the judges, enveloping them more closely in +a cloud of dry indifference, of weary waiting. At times one of +them changed his pose; but the lazy movement of the tired body did +not rouse their drowsy souls. The oldest judge did not stir at all; +he was congealed in his erect position, and the gray blots behind +the eyeglasses at times disappeared, seeming to spread over his +whole face. The mother realized this dead indifference, this +unconcern without malice in it, and asked herself in perplexity, +"Are they judging?" + +The question pressed her heart, and gradually squeezed out of it her +expectation of the horrible. It pinched her throat with a sharp +feeling of wrong. + +The speech of the prosecuting attorney snapped off unexpectedly. +He made a few quick, short steps, bowed to the judges, and sat down, +rubbing his hands. The marshal of the nobility nodded his head to +him, rolling his eyes; the city mayor extended his hand, and the +district elder stroked his belly and smiled. + +But the judges apparently were not delighted by the speech, and +did not stir. + +"The scabby devil!" Sizov whispered the oath. + +"Next," said the old judge, bringing the paper to his face, "lawyers +for the defendants, Fedoseyev, Markov, Zagarov." + +The lawyer whom the mother had seen at Nikolay's arose. His face +was broad and good-natured; his little eyes smiled radiantly and +seemed to thrust out from under his eyebrows two sharp blades, which +cut the air like scissors. He spoke without haste, resonantly, +and clearly; but the mother was unable to listen to his speech. +Sizov whispered in her ear: + +"Did you understand what he said? Did you understand? 'People,' +he says, 'are poor, they are all upset, insensate.' Is that Fedor? +He says they don't understand anything; they're savages." + +The feeling of wrong grew, and passed into revolt. Along with the +quick, loud voice of the lawyer, time also passed more quickly. + +"A live, strong man having in his breast a sensitive, honest heart +cannot help rebelling with all his force against this life so full +of open cynicism, corruption, falsehood, and so blunted by vapidity. +The eyes of honest people cannot help seeing such glaring +contradictions----" + +The judge with the green face bent toward the president and whispered +something to him; then the old man said dryly: + +"Please be more careful!" + +"Ha!" Sizov exclaimed softly. + +"Are they judging?" thought the mother, and the word seemed hollow +and empty as an earthen vessel. It seemed to make sport of her +fear of the terrible. + +"They're a sort of dead body," she answered the old man. + +"Don't fear; they're livening up." + +She looked at them, and she actually saw something like a shadow +of uneasiness on the faces of the judges. Another man was already +speaking, a little lawyer with a sharp, pale, satiric face. He +spoke very respectfully: + +"With all due respect, I permit myself to call the attention of the +court to the solid manner of the honorable prosecuting attorney, to +the conduct of the safety department, or, as such people are called +in common parlance, spies----" + +The judge with the green face again began to whisper something to +the president. The prosecuting attorney jumped up. The lawyer +continued without changing his voice: + +"The spy Gyman tells us about the witness: 'I frightened him.' +The prosecuting attorney also, as the court has heard, frightened +witnesses; as a result of which act, at the insistence of the +defense, he called forth a rebuke from the presiding judge." + +The prosecuting attorney began to speak quickly and angrily; the +old judge followed suit; the lawyer listened to them respectfully, +inclining his head. Then he said: + +"I can even change the position of my words if the prosecuting +attorney deems it is not in the right place; but that will not +change the plan of my defense. However, I cannot understand the +excitement of the prosecuting attorney." + +"Go for him!" said Sizov. "Go for him, tooth and nail! Pick him +open down to his soul, wherever that may be!" + +The hall became animated; a fighting passion flared up; the defense +attacked from all sides, provoking and disturbing the judges, +driving away the cold haze that enveloped them, pricking the old +skin of the judges with sharp words. The judges had the air of +moving more closely to one another, or suddenly they would puff and +swell, repulsing the sharp, caustic raps with the mass of their +soft, mellow bodies. They acted as if they feared that the blow of +the opponent might call forth an echo in their empty bosoms, might +shake their resolution, which sprang not from their own will but +from a will strange to them. Feeling this conflict, the people on +the benches back of the mother sighed and whispered. + +But suddenly Pavel arose; tense quiet prevailed. The mother +stretched her entire body forward. + +"A party man, I recognize only the court of my party and will not +speak in my defense. According to the desire of my comrades, I, +too, declined a defense. I will merely try to explain to you what +you don't understand. The prosecuting attorney designated our +coming out under the banner of the Social Democracy as an uprising +against the superior power, and regarded us as nothing but rebels +against the Czar. I must declare to you that to us the Czar is not +the only chain that fetters the body of the country. We are obliged +to tear off only the first and nearest chain from the people." + +The stillness deepened under the sound of the firm voice; it seemed +to widen the space between the walls of the hall. Pavel, by his +words, removed the people to a distance from himself, and thereby +grew in the eyes of the mother. His stony, calm, proud face with +the beard, his high forehead, and blue eyes, somewhat stern, all +became more dazzling and more prominent. + +The judges began to stir heavily and uneasily; the marshal of the +nobility was the first to whisper something to the judge with the +indolent face. The judge nodded his head and turned to the old man; +on the other side of him the sick judge was talking. Rocking back +and forth in the armchair, the old judge spoke to Pavel, but his +voice was drowned in the even, broad current of the young man's speech. + +"We are Socialists! That means we are enemies to private property, +which separates people, arms them against one another, and brings +forth an irreconcilable hostility of interests; brings forth lies +that endeavor to cover up, or to justify, this conflict of interests, +and corrupt all with falsehood, hypocrisy and malice. We maintain +that a society that regards man only as a tool for its enrichment +is anti-human; it is hostile to us; we cannot be reconciled to its +morality; its double-faced and lying cynicism. Its cruel relation to +individuals is repugnant to us. We want to fight, and will fight, +every form of the physical and moral enslavement of man by such a +society; we will fight every measure calculated to disintegrate +society for the gratification of the interests of gain. We are +workers--men by whose labor everything is created, from gigantic +machines to childish toys. We are people devoid of the right to +fight for our human dignity. Everyone strives to utilize us, and +may utilize us, as tools for the attainment of his ends. Now we +want to have as much freedom as will give us the possibility in +time to come to conquer all the power. Our slogan is simple: +'All the power for the people; all the means of production for the +people; work obligatory on all. Down with private property!' You +see, we are not rebels." + +Pavel smiled, and the kindly fire of his blue eyes blazed forth +more brilliantly. + +"Please, more to the point!" said the presiding judge distinctly +and aloud. He turned his chest to Pavel, and regarded him. It +seemed to the mother that his dim left eye began to burn with a +sinister, greedy fire. The look all the judges cast on her son +made her uneasy for him. She fancied that their eyes clung to his +face, stuck to his body, thirsted for his blood, by which they might +reanimate their own worn-out bodies. And he, erect and tall, +standing firmly and vigorously, stretched out his hand to them while +he spoke distinctly: + +"We are revolutionists, and will be such as long as private property +exists, as long as some merely command, and as long as others merely +work. We take stand against the society whose interests you are +bidden to protect as your irreconcilable enemies, and reconciliation +between us is impossible until we shall have been victorious. We +will conquer--we workingmen! Your society is not at all so powerful +as it thinks itself. That very property, for the production and +preservation of which it sacrifices millions of people enslaved by +it--that very force which gives it the power over us--stirs up +discord within its own ranks, destroys them physically and morally. +Property requires extremely great efforts for its protection; and in +reality all of you, our rulers, are greater slaves than we--you are +enslaved spiritually, we only physically. YOU cannot withdraw from +under the weight of your prejudices and habits, the weight which +deadens you spiritually; nothing hinders US from being inwardly free. +The poisons with which you poison us are weaker than the antidote you +unwittingly administer to our consciences. This antidote penetrates +deeper and deeper into the body of workingmen; the flames mount +higher and higher, sucking in the best forces, the spiritual powers, +the healthy elements even from among you. Look! Not one of you +can any longer fight for your power as an ideal! You have already +expended all the arguments capable of guarding you against the +pressure of historic justice. You can create nothing new in the +domain of ideas; you are spiritually barren. Our ideas grow; they +flare up ever more dazzling; they seize hold of the mass of the +people, organizing them for the war of freedom. The consciousness +of their great role unites all the workingmen of the world into +one soul. You have no means whereby to hinder this renovating +process in life except cruelty and cynicism. But your cynicism +is very evident, your cruelty exasperates, and the hands with which +you stifle us to-day will press our hands in comradeship to-morrow. +Your energy, the mechanical energy of the increase of gold, separates +you, too, into groups destined to devour one another. Our energy +is a living power, founded on the ever-growing consciousness of the +solidarity of all workingmen. Everything you do is criminal, for +it is directed toward the enslavement of the people. Our work frees +the world from the delusions and monsters which are produced by your +malice and greed, and which intimidate the people. You have torn +man away from life and disintegrated him. Socialism will unite the +world, rent asunder by you, into one huge whole. And this will be!" + +Pavel stopped for a second, and repeated in a lower tone, with +greater emphasis, "This will be!" + +The judges whispered to one another, making strange grimaces. And +still their greedy looks were fastened on the body of Nilovna's son. +The mother felt that their gaze tarnished this supple, vigorous +body; that they envied its strength, power, freshness. The +prisoners listened attentively to the speech of their comrade; their +faces whitened, their eyes flashed joy. The mother drank in her +son's words, which cut themselves into her memory in regular rows. +The old judge stopped Pavel several times and explained something +to him. Once he even smiled sadly. Pavel listened to him silently, +and again began to speak in an austere but calm voice, compelling +everybody to listen to him, subordinating the will of the judges to +his will. This lasted for a long time. Finally, however, the old +man shouted, extending his hand to Pavel, whose voice in response +flowed on calmly, somewhat sarcastically. + +"I am reaching my conclusion. To insult you personally was not my +desire; on the contrary, as an involuntary witness to this comedy +which you call a court trial, I feel almost compassion for you, I +may say. You are human beings after all; and it is saddening to +see human beings, even our enemies, so shamefully debased in the +service of violence, debased to such a degree that they lose +consciousness of their human dignity." + +He sat down without looking at the judges. + +Andrey, all radiant with joy, pressed his hand firmly; Samoylov, +Mazin, and the rest animatedly stretched toward him. He smiled, +a bit embarrassed by the transport of his comrades. He looked +toward his mother, and nodded his head as if asking, "Is it so?" + +She answered him all a-tremble, all suffused with warm joy. + +"There, now the trial has begun!" whispered Sizov. "How he gave +it to them! Eh, mother?" + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +She silently nodded her head and smiled, satisfied that her son had +spoken so bravely, perhaps still more satisfied that he had finished. +The thought darted through her mind that the speech was likely to +increase the dangers threatening Pavel; but her heart palpitated +with pride, and his words seemed to settle in her bosom. + +Andrey arose, swung his body forward, looked at the judges sidewise, +and said: + +"Gentlemen of the defense----" + +"The court is before you, and not the defense!" observed the judge +of the sickly face angrily and loudly. By Andrey's expression the +mother perceived that he wanted to tease them. His mustache +quivered. A cunning, feline smirk familiar to her lighted up his +eyes. He stroked his head with his long hands, and fetched a breath. + +"Is that so?" he said, swinging his head. "I think not. That you +are not the judges, but only the defendants----" + +"I request you to adhere to what directly pertains to the case," +remarked the old man dryly. + +"To what directly pertains to the case? Very well! I've already +compelled myself to think that you are in reality judges, independent +people, honest----" + +"The court has no need of your characterization." + +"It has no need of SUCH a characterization? Hey? Well, but after +all I'm going to continue. You are men who make no distinction +between your own and strangers. You are free people. Now, here two +parties stand before you; one complains, 'He robbed me and did me up +completely'; and the other answers, 'I have a right to rob and to do +up because I have arms'----" + +"Please don't tell anecdotes." + +"Why, I've heard that old people like anecdotes--naughty ones in +particular." + +"I'll prohibit you from speaking. You may say something about what +directly pertains to the case. Speak, but without buffoonery, +without unbecoming sallies." + +The Little Russian looked at the judges, silently rubbing his head. + +"About what directly pertains to the case?" he asked seriously. +"Yes; but why should I speak to you about what directly pertains +to the case? What you need to know my comrade has told you. The +rest will be told you; the time will come, by others----" + +The old judge rose and declared: + +"I forbid you to speak. Vasily Samoylov!" + +Pressing his lips together firmly the Little Russian dropped down +lazily on the bench, and Samoylov arose alongside of him, shaking +his curly hair. + +"The prosecuting attorney called my comrades and me 'savages,' +'enemies of civilization'----" + +"You must speak only about that which pertains to your case." + +"This pertains to the case. There's nothing which does not pertain +to honest men, and I ask you not to interrupt me. I ask you what +sort of a thing is your civilization?" + +"We are not here for discussions with you. To the point!" said +the old judge, showing his teeth. + +Andrey's demeanor had evidently changed the conduct of the judges; +his words seemed to have wiped something away from them. Stains +appeared on their gray faces. Cold, green sparks burned in their +eyes. Pavel's speech had excited but subdued them; it restrained +their agitation by its force, which involuntarily inspired respect. +The Little Russian broke away this restraint and easily bared what +lay underneath. They looked at Samoylov, and whispered to one +another with strange, wry faces. They also began to move extremely +quickly for them. They gave the impression of desiring to seize +him and howl while torturing his body with voluptuous ecstasy. + +"You rear spies, you deprave women and girls, you put men in the +position which forces them to thievery and murder; you corrupt them +with whisky--international butchery, universal falsehood, depravity, +and savagery--that's your civilization! Yes, we are enemies of +this civilization!" + +"Please!" shouted the old judge, shaking his chin; but Samoylov, +all red, his eyes flashing, also shouted: + +"But we respect and esteem another civilization, the creators of +which you have persecuted, you have allowed to rot in dungeons, +you have driven mad----" + +"I forbid you to speak! Hm-- Fedor Mazin!" + +Little Mazin popped up like a cork from a champagne bottle, and said +in a staccato voice: + +"I--I swear!--I know you have convicted me----" + +He lost breath and paled; his eyes seemed to devour his entire face. +He stretched out his hand and shouted: + +"I--upon my honest word! Wherever you send me--I'll escape--I'll +return--I'll work always--all my life! Upon my honest word!" + +Sizov quacked aloud. The entire public, overcome by the mounting +wave of excitement, hummed strangely and dully. One woman cried, +some one choked and coughed. The gendarmes regarded the prisoners +with dull surprise, the public with a sinister look. The judges +shook, the old man shouted in a thin voice: + +"Ivan Gusev!" + +"I don't want to speak." + +"Vasily Gusev!" + +"Don't want to." + +"Fedor Bukin!" + +The whitish, faded fellow lifted himself heavily, and shaking his +head slowly said in a thick voice: + +"You ought to be ashamed. I am a heavy man, and yet I understand-- +justice!" He raised his hand higher than his head and was silent, +half-closing his eyes as if looking at something at a distance. + +"What is it?" shouted the old judge in excited astonishment, +dropping back in his armchair. + +"Oh, well, what's the use?" + +Bukin sullenly let himself down on the bench. There was something +big and serious in his dark eyes, something somberly reproachful +and naive. Everybody felt it; even the judges listened, as if +waiting for an echo clearer than his words. On the public benches +all commotion died down immediately; only a low weeping swung in +the air. Then the prosecuting attorney, shrugging his shoulders, +grinned and said something to the marshal of the nobility, and +whispers gradually buzzed again excitedly through the hall. + +Weariness enveloped the mother's body with a stifling faintness. +Small drops of perspiration stood on her forehead. Samoylov's +mother stirred on the bench, nudging her with her shoulder and +elbow, and said to her husband in a subdued whisper: + +"How is this, now? Is it possible?" + +"You see, it's possible." + +"But what is going to happen to him, to Vasily?" + +"Keep still. Stop." + +The public was jarred by something it did not understand. All +blinked in perplexity with blinded eyes, as if dazzled by the sudden +blazing up of an object, indistinct in outline, of unknown meaning, +but with horrible drawing power. And since the people did not +comprehend this great thing dawning on them, they contracted its +significance into something small, the meaning of which was, evident +and clear to them. The elder Bukin, therefore, whispered aloud +without constraint: + +"Say, please, why don't they permit them to talk? The prosecuting +attorney can say everything, and as much as he wants to----" + +A functionary stood at the benches, and waving his hands at the +people, said in a half voice: + +"Quiet, quiet!" + +The father of Samoylov threw himself back, and ejaculated broken +words behind his wife's ear: + +"Of course--let us say they are guilty--but you'll let them explain. +What is it they have gone against? Against everything--I wish to +understand--I, too, have my interest." And suddenly: "Pavel says +the truth, hey? I want to understand. Let them speak." + +"Keep still!" exclaimed the functionary, shaking his finger at him. + +Sizov nodded his head sullenly. + +But the mother kept her gaze fastened unwaveringly on the judges, +and saw that they got more and more excited, conversing with one +another in indistinct voices. The sound of their words, cold and +tickling, touched her face, puckering the skin on it, and filling +her mouth with a sickly, disgusting taste. The mother somehow +conceived that they were all speaking of the bodies of her son and +his comrades, their vigorous bare bodies, their muscles, their +youthful limbs full of hot blood, of living force. These bodies +kindled in the judges the sinister, impotent envy of the rich by the +poor, the unwholesome greed felt by wasted and sick people for the +strength of the healthy. Their mouths watered regretfully for these +bodies, capable of working and enriching, of rejoicing and creating. +The youths produced in the old judges the revengeful, painful excitement +of an enfeebled beast which sees the fresh prey, but no longer has +the power to seize it, and howls dismally at its powerlessness. + +This thought, rude and strange, grew more vivid the more attentively +the mother scrutinized the judges. They seemed not to conceal their +excited greed--the impotent vexation of the hungry who at one time +had been able to consume in abundance. To her, a woman and a +mother, to whom after all the body of her son is always dearer than +that in him which is called a soul, to her it was horrible to see +how these sticky, lightless eyes crept over his face, felt his +chest, shoulders, hands, tore at the hot skin, as if seeking the +possibility of taking fire, of warming the blood in their hardened +brains and fatigued muscles--the brains and muscles of people +already half dead, but now to some degree reanimated by the pricks +of greed and envy of a young life that they presumed to sentence and +remove to a distance from themselves. It seemed to her that her +son, too, felt this damp, unpleasant tickling contact, and, +shuddering, looked at her. + +He looked into the mother's face with somewhat fatigued eyes, but +calmly, kindly, and warmly. At times he nodded his head to her, +and smiled--she understood the smile. + +"Now quick!" she said. + +Resting his hand on the table the oldest judge arose. His head sunk +in the collar of his uniform, standing motionless, he began to read +a paper in a droning voice. + +"He's reading the sentence," said Sizov, listening. + +It became quiet again, and everybody looked at the old man, small, +dry, straight, resembling the stick held in his unseen hand. The +other judges also stood up. The district elder inclined his head +on one shoulder, and looked up to the ceiling; the mayor of the +city crossed his hands over his chest; the marshal of the nobility +stroked his beard. The judge with the sickly face, his puffy +neighbor, and the prosecuting attorney regarded the prisoners +sidewise. And behind the judges the Czar in a red military coat, +with an indifferent white face looked down from his portrait over +their heads. On his face some insect was creeping, or a cobweb was +trembling. + +"Exile!" Sizov said with a sigh of relief, dropping back on the +bench. "Well, of course! Thank God! I heard that they were going +to get hard labor. Never mind, mother, that's nothing." + +Fatigued by her thoughts and her immobility, she understood the +joy of the old man, which boldly raised the soul dragged down by +hopelessness. But it didn't enliven her much. + +"Why, I knew it," she answered. + +"But, after all, it's certain now. Who could have told beforehand +what the authorities would do? But Fedya is a fine fellow, dear soul." + +They walked to the grill; the mother shed tears as she pressed the +hand of her son. He and Fedya spoke words, smiled, and joked. All +were excited, but light and cheerful. The women wept; but, like +Vlasova, more from habit than grief. They did not experience the +stunning pain produced by an unexpected blow on the head, but only +the sad consciousness that they must part with the children. But +even this consciousness was dimmed by the impressions of the day. +The fathers and the mothers looked at their children with mingled +sensations, in which the skepticism of parents toward their children +and the habitual sense of the superiority of elders over youth +blended strangely with the feeling of sheer respect for them, with +the persistent melancholy thought that life had now become dull, +and with the curiosity aroused by the young men who so bravely and +fearlessly spoke of the possibility of a new life, which the elders +did not comprehend but which seemed to promise something good. The +very novelty and unusualness of the feeling rendered expression +impossible. Words were spoken in plenty, but they referred only +to common matters. The relatives spoke of linen and clothes, and +begged the comrades to take care of their health, and not to provoke +the authorities uselessly. + +"Everybody, brother, will grow weary, both we and they," said +Samoylov to his son. + +And Bukin's brother, waving his hand, assured the younger brother: + +"Merely justice, and nothing else! That they cannot admit." + +The younger Bukin answered: + +"You look out for the starling. I love him." + +"Come back home, and you'll find him in perfect trim." + +"I've nothing to do there." + +And Sizov held his nephew's hand, and slowly said: + +"So, Fedor; so you've started on your trip. So." + +Fedya bent over, and whispered something in his ear, smiling +roguishly. The convoy soldier also smiled; but he immediately +assumed a stern expression, and shouted, "Go!" + +The mother spoke to Pavel, like the others, about the same things, +about clothes, about his health, yet her breast was choked by a +hundred questions concerning Sasha, concerning himself, and herself. +Underneath all these emotions an almost burdensome feeling was +slowly growing of the fullness of her love for her son--a strained +desire to please him, to be near to his heart. The expectation of +the terrible had died away, leaving behind it only a tremor at the +recollection of the judges, and somewhere in a corner a dark +impersonal thought regarding them. + +"Young people ought to be tried by young judges, and not by old +ones," she said to her son. + +"It would be better to arrange life so that it should not force +people to crime," answered Pavel. + +The mother, seeing the Little Russian converse with everybody and +realizing that he needed affection more than Pavel, spoke to him. +Andrey answered her gratefully, smiling, joking kindly, as always +a bit droll, supple, sinewy. Around her the talk went on, crossing +and intertwining. She heard everything, understood everybody, and +secretly marveled at the vastness of her own heart, which took in +everything with an even joy, and gave back a clear reflection of +it, like a bright image on a deep, placid lake. + +Finally the prisoners were led away. The mother walked out of the +court, and was surprised to see that night already hung over the +city, with the lanterns alight in the streets, and the stars shining +in the sky. Groups composed mainly of young men were crowding near +the courthouse. The snow crunched in the frozen atmosphere; voices +sounded. A man in a gray Caucasian cowl looked into Sizov's face +and asked quickly: + +"What was the sentence?" + +"Exile." + +"For all?" + +"All." + +"Thank you." + +The man walked away. + +"You see," said Sizov. "They inquire." + +Suddenly they were surrounded by about ten men, youths, and girls, +and explanations rained down, attracting still more people. The +mother and Sizov stopped. They were questioned in regard to the +sentence, as to how the prisoners behaved, who delivered the +speeches, and what the speeches were about. All the voices rang +with the same eager curiosity, sincere and warm, which aroused the +desire to satisfy it. + +"People! This is the mother of Pavel Vlasov!" somebody shouted, and +presently all became silent. + +"Permit me to shake your hand." + +Somebody's firm hand pressed the mother's fingers, somebody's voice +said excitedly: + +"Your son will be an example of manhood for all of us." + +"Long live the Russian workingman!" a resonant voice rang out. + +"Long live the proletariat!" + +"Long live the revolution!" + +The shouts grew louder and increased in number, rising up on all +sides. The people ran from every direction, pushing into the crowd +around the mother and Sizov. The whistles of the police leaped +through the air, but did not deafen the shouts. The old man smiled; +and to the mother all this seemed like a pleasant dream. She smilingly +pressed the hands extended to her and bowed, with joyous tears choking +her throat. Near her somebody's clear voice said nervously: + +"Comrades, friends, the autocracy, the monster which devours the +Russian people to-day again gulped into its bottomless, greedy mouth----" + +"However, mother, let's go," said Sizov. And at the same time Sasha +appeared, caught the mother under her arm, and quickly dragged her +away to the other side of the street. + +"Come! They're going to make arrests. What? Exile? To Siberia?" + +"Yes, yes." + +"And how did he speak? I know without your telling me. He was more +powerful than any of the others, and more simple. And of course, +sterner than all the rest. He's sensitive and soft, only he's ashamed +to expose himself. And he's direct, clear, firm, like truth itself. +He's very great, and there's everything in him, everything! But he +often constrains himself for nothing, lest he might hinder the cause. +I know it." Her hot half-whisper, the words of her love, calmed the +mother's agitation, and restored her exhausted strength. + +"When will you go to him?" she asked Sasha, pressing her hand to her +body. Looking confidently before her the girl answered: + +"As soon as I find somebody to take over my work. I have the money +already, but I might go per etappe. You know I am also awaiting a +sentence. Evidently they are going to send me to Siberia, too. I +will then declare that I desire to be exiled to the same locality +that he will be." + +Behind them was heard the voice of Sizov: + +"Then give him regards from me, from Sizov. He will know. I'm +Fedya Mazin's uncle." + +Sasha stopped, turned around, extending her hand. "I'm acquainted +with Fedya. My name is Alexandra." + +"And your patronymic?" + +She looked at him and answered: + +"I have no father." + +"He's dead, you mean?" + +"No, he's alive." Something stubborn, persistent, sounded in the +girl's voice and appeared in her face. "He's a landowner, a chief +of a country district. He robs the peasants and beats them. I +cannot recognize him as my father." + +"S-s-o-o!" Sizov was taken aback. After a pause he said, looking +at the girl sidewise: + +"Well, mother, good-by. I'm going off to the left. Stop in sometimes +for a talk and a glass of tea. Good evening, lady. You're pretty +hard on your father--of course, that's your business." + +"If your son were an ugly man, obnoxious to people, disgusting to +you, wouldn't you say the same about him?" Sasha shouted terribly. + +"Well, I would," the old man answered after some hesitation. + +"That is to say that justice is dearer to you than your son; and to +me it's dearer than my father." + +Sizov smiled, shaking his head; then he said with a sigh: + +"Well, well, you're clever. Good-by. I wish you all good things, +and be better to people. Hey? Well, God be with you. Good-by, +Nilovna. When you see Pavel tell him I heard his speech. I +couldn't understand every bit of it; some things even seemed +horrible; but tell him it's true. They've found the truth, yes." + +He raised his hat, and sedately turned around the corner of the street. + +"He seems to be a good man," remarked Sasha, accompanying him with +a smile of her large eyes. "Such people can be useful to the cause. +It would be good to hide literature with them, for instance." + +It seemed to the mother that to-day the girl's face was softer and +kinder than usual, and hearing her remarks about Sizov, she thought: + +"Always about the cause. Even to-day. It's burned into her heart." + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +At home they sat on the sofa closely pressed together, and the +mother resting in the quiet again began to speak about Sasha's +going to Pavel. Thoughtfully raising her thick eyebrows, the girl +looked into the distance with her large, dreamy eyes. A contemplative +expression rested on her pale face. + +"Then, when children will be born to you, I will come to you and +dandle them. We'll begin to live there no worse than here. Pasha +will find work. He has golden hands." + +"Yes," answered Sasha thoughtfully. "That's good--" And suddenly +starting, as if throwing something away, she began to speak simply +in a modulated voice. "He won't commence to live there. He'll go +away, of course." + +"And how will that be? Suppose, in case of children?" + +"I don't know. We'll see when we are there. In such a case he +oughtn't to reckon with me, and I cannot constrain him. He's free +at any moment. I am his comrade--a wife, of course. But the +conditions of his work are such that for years and years I cannot +regard our bond as a usual one, like that of others. It will be +hard, I know it, to part with him; but, of course, I'll manage to. +He knows that I'm not capable of regarding a man as my possession. +I'm not going to constrain him, no." + +The mother understood her, felt that she believed what she said, +that she was capable of carrying it out; and she was sorry for her. +She embraced her. + +"My dear girl, it will be hard for you." + +Sasha smiled softly, nestling her body up to the mother's. Her +voice sounded mild, but powerful. Red mounted to her face. + +"It's a long time till then; but don't think that I--that it is +hard for me now. I'm making no sacrifices. I know what I'm doing, +I know what I may expect. I'll be happy if I can make him happy. +My aim, my desire is to increase his energy, to give him as much +happiness and love as I can--a great deal. I love him very much +and he me--I know it--what I bring to him, he will give back to me-- +we will enrich each other by all in our power; and, if necessary, +we will part as friends." + +Sasha remained silent for a long time, during which the mother and +the young woman sat in a corner of the room, tightly pressed against +each other, thinking of the man whom they loved. It was quiet, +melancholy, and warm. + +Nikolay entered, exhausted, but brisk. He immediately announced: + +"Well, Sashenka, betake yourself away from here, as long as you are +sound. Two spies have been after me since this morning, and the +attempt at concealment is so evident that it savors of an arrest. +I feel it in my bones--somewhere something has happened. By the +way, here I have the speech of Pavel. It's been decided to publish +it at once. Take it to Liudmila. Pavel spoke well, Nilovna; and +his speech will play a part. Look out for spies, Sasha. Wait a +little while--hide these papers, too. You might give them to Ivan, +for example." + +While he spoke, he vigorously rubbed his frozen hands, and quickly +pulled out the drawers of his table, picking out papers, some of +which he tore up, others he laid aside. His manner was absorbed, +and his appearance all upset. + +"Do you suppose it was long ago that this place was cleared out? +And look at this mass of stuff accumulated already! The devil! +You see, Nilovna, it would be better for you, too, not to sleep +here to-night. It's a sorry spectacle to witness, and they may +arrest you, too. And you'll be needed for carrying Pavel's speech +about from place to place." + +"Hm, what do they want me for? Maybe you're mistaken." + +Nikolay waved his forearm in front of his eyes, and said, with conviction: + +"I have a keen scent. Besides, you can be of great help to Liudmila. +Flee far from evil." + +The possibility of taking a part in the printing of her son's speech +was pleasant to her, and she answered: + +"If so, I'll go. But don't think I'm afraid." + +"Very well. Now, tell me where my valise and my linen are. You've +grabbed up everything into your rapacious hands, and I'm completely +robbed of the possibility of disposing of my own private property. +I'm making complete preparations--this will be unpleasant to them." + +Sasha burned the papers in silence, and carefully mixed their ashes +with the other cinders in the stove. + +"Sasha, go," said Nikolay, putting out his hand to her. "Good-by. +Don't forget books--if anything new and interesting appears. Well, +good-by, dear comrade. Be more careful." + +"Do you think it's for long?" asked Sasha. + +"The devil knows them! Evidently. There's something against me. +Nilovna, are you going with her? It's harder to track two people-- +all right?" + +"I'm going." The mother went to dress herself, and it occurred to +her how little these people who were striving for the freedom of +all cared for their personal freedom. The simplicity and the +businesslike manner of Nikolay in expecting the arrest both astonished +and touched her. She tried to observe his face carefully; she +detected nothing but his air of absorption, overshadowing the usual +kindly soft expression of his eyes. There was no sign of agitation +in this man, dearer to her than the others; he made no fuss. Equally +attentive to all, alike kind to all, always calmly the same, he +seemed to her just as much a stranger as before to everybody and +everything except his cause. He seemed remote, living a secret life +within himself and somewhere ahead of people. Yet she felt that he +resembled her more than any of the others, and she loved him with a +love that was carefully observing and, as it were, did not believe in +itself. Now she felt painfully sorry for him; but she restrained her +feelings, knowing that to show them would disconcert Nikolay, that he +would become, as always under such circumstances, somewhat ridiculous. + +When she returned to the room she found him pressing Sasha's hand +and saying: + +"Admirable! I'm convinced of it. It's very good for him and for +you. A little personal happiness does not do any harm; but--a +little, you know, so as not to make him lose his value. Are you +ready, Nilovna?" He walked up to her, smiling and adjusting his +glasses. "Well, good-by. I want to think that for three months, +four months--well, at most half a year--half a year is a great deal +of a man's life. In half a year one can do a lot of things. Take +care of yourself, please, eh? Come, let's embrace." Lean and thin +he clasped her neck in his powerful arms, looked into her eyes, and +smiled. "It seems to me I've fallen in love with you. I keep +embracing you all the time." + +She was silent, kissing his forehead and cheeks, and her hands +quivered. For fear he might notice it, she unclasped them. + +"Go. Very well. Be careful to-morrow. This is what you should +do--send the boy in the morning--Liudmila has a boy for the purpose-- +let him go to the house porter and ask him whether I'm home or not. +I'll forewarn the porter; he's a good fellow, and I'm a friend of +his. Well, good-by, comrades. I wish you all good." + +On the street Sasha said quietly to the mother: + +"He'll go as simply as this to his death, if necessary. And +apparently he'll hurry up a little in just the same way; when +death stares him in the face he'll adjust his eyeglasses, and +will say 'admirable,' and will die." + +"I love him," whispered the mother. + +"I'm filled with astonishment; but love him--no. I respect him +highly. He's sort of dry, although good and even, if you please, +sometimes soft; but not sufficiently human--it seems to me we're +being followed. Come, let's part. Don't enter Liudmila's place +if you think a spy is after you." + +"I know," said the mother. Sasha, however, persistently added: +"Don't enter. In that case, come to me. Good-by for the present." + +She quickly turned around and walked back. The mother called +"Good-by" after her. + +Within a few minutes she sat all frozen through at the stove in +Liudmila's little room. Her hostess, Liudmila, in a black dress +girded up with a strap, slowly paced up and down the room, filling +it with a rustle and the sound of her commanding voice. A fire +was crackling in the stove and drawing in the air from the room. +The woman's voice sounded evenly. + +"People are a great deal more stupid than bad. They can see only +what's near to them, what it's possible to grasp immediately; but +everything that's near is cheap; what's distant is dear. Why, in +reality, it would be more convenient and pleasanter for all if life +were different, were lighter, and the people were more sensible. +But to attain the distant you must disturb yourself for the +immediate present----" + +Nilovna tried to guess where this woman did her printing. The room +had three windows facing the street; there was a sofa and a bookcase, +a table, chairs, a bed at the wall, in the corner near it a wash +basin, in the other corner a stove; on the walls photographs and +pictures. All was new, solid, clean; and over all the austere +monastic figure of the mistress threw a cold shadow. Something +concealed, something hidden, made itself felt; but where it lurked +was incomprehensible. The mother looked at the doors; through one +of them she had entered from the little antechamber. Near the stove +was another door, narrow and high. + +"I have come to you on business," she said in embarrassment, +noticing that the hostess was regarding her. + +"I know. Nobody comes to me for any other reason." + +Something strange seemed to be in Liudmila's voice. The mother +looked in her face. Liudmila smiled with the corners of her thin +lips, her dull eyes gleamed behind her glasses. Turning her glance +aside, the mother handed her the speech of Pavel. + +"Here. They ask you to print it at once." + +And she began to tell of Nikolay's preparations for the arrest. + +Liudmila silently thrust the manuscript into her belt and sat down +on a chair. A red gleam of the fire was reflected on her spectacles; +its hot smile played on her motionless face. + +"When they come to me I'm going to shoot at them," she said with +determination in her moderated voice. "I have the right to protect +myself against violence; and I must fight with them if I call upon +others to fight. I cannot understand calmness; I don't like it." + +The reflection of the fire glided across her face, and she again +became austere, somewhat haughty. + +"Your life is not very pleasant," the mother thought kindly. + +Liudmila began to read Pavel's speech, at first reluctantly; then +she bent lower and lower over the paper, quickly throwing aside +the pages as she read them. When she had finished she rose, +straightened herself, and walked up to the mother. + +"That's good. That's what I like; although here, too, there's +calmness. But the speech is the sepulchral beat of a drum, and +the drummer is a powerful man." + +She reflected a little while, lowering her head for a minute: + +"I didn't want to speak with you about your son; I have never met +him, and I don't like sad subjects of conversation. I know what +it means to have a near one go into exile. But I want to say to +you, nevertheless, that your son must be a splendid man. He's +young--that's evident; but he is a great soul. It must be good +and terrible to have such a son." + +"Yes, it's good. And now it's no longer terrible." + +Liudmila settled her smoothly combed hair with her tawny hand and +sighed softly. A light, warm shadow trembled on her cheeks, the +shadow of a suppressed smile. + +"We are going to print it. Will you help me?" + +"Of course." + +"I'll set it up quickly. You lie down; you had a hard day; you're +tired. Lie down here on the bed; I'm not going to sleep; and at +night maybe I'll wake you up to help me. When you have lain down, +put out the lamp." + +She threw two logs of wood into the stove, straightened herself, and +passed through the narrow door near the stove, firmly closing it +after her. The mother followed her with her eyes, and began to +undress herself, thinking reluctantly of her hostess: "A stern +person; and yet her heart burns. She can't conceal it. Everyone +loves. If you don't love you can't live." + +Fatigue dizzied her brain; but her soul was strangely calm, and +everything was illumined from within by a soft, kind light which +quietly and evenly filled her breast. She was already acquainted +with this calm; it had come to her after great agitation. At first +it had slightly disturbed her; but now it only broadened her soul, +strengthening it with a certain powerful but impalpable thought. +Before her all the time appeared and disappeared the faces of her +son, Andrey, Nikolay, Sasha. She took delight in them; they passed +by without arousing thought, and only lightly and sadly touching her +heart. Then she extinguished the lamp, lay down in the cold bed, +shriveled up under the bed coverings, and suddenly sank into a +heavy sleep. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +When she opened her eyes the room was filled by the cold, white +glimmer of a clear wintry day. The hostess, with a book in her hand, +lay on the sofa, and smiling unlike herself looked into her face. + +"Oh, father!" the mother exclaimed, for some reason embarrassed. +"Just look! Have I been asleep a long time?" + +"Good morning!" answered Liudmila. "It'll soon be ten o'clock. +Get up and we'll have tea." + +"Why didn't you wake me up?" + +"I wanted to. I walked up to you; but you were so fast asleep and +smiled so in your sleep!" + +With a supple, powerful movement of her whole body she rose from the +sofa, walked up to the bed, bent toward the face of the mother, and in +her dull eyes the mother saw something dear, near, and comprehensible. + +"I was sorry to disturb you. Maybe you were seeing a happy vision." + +"I didn't see anything." + +"All the same--but your smile pleased me. It was so calm, so good-- +so great." Liudmila laughed, and her laugh sounded velvety. "I +thought of you, of your life--your life is a hard one, isn't it?" + +The mother, moving her eyebrows, was silent and thoughtful. + +"Of course it's hard!" exclaimed Liudmila. + +"I don't know," said the mother carefully. "Sometimes it seems sort +of hard; there's so much of all, it's all so serious, marvelous, and +it moves along so quickly, one thing after the other--so quickly----" + +The wave of bold excitement familiar to her overflowed her breast, +filling her heart with images and thoughts. She sat up in bed, +quickly clothing her thoughts in words. + +"It goes, it goes, it goes all to one thing, to one side, and like a +fire, when a house begins to burn, upward! Here it shoots forth, +there it blazes out, ever brighter, ever more powerful. There's a +great deal, of hardship, you know. People suffer; they are beaten, +cruelly beaten; and everyone is oppressed and watched. They hide, +live like monks, and many joys are closed to them; it's very hard. +And when you look at them well you see that the hard things, the +evil and difficult, are around them, on the outside, and not within." + +Liudmila quickly threw up her head, looked at her with a deep, +embracing look. The mother felt that her words did not exhaust +her thoughts, which vexed and offended her. + +"You're not speaking about yourself," said her hostess softly. + +The mother looked at her, arose from the bed, and dressing asked: + +"Not about myself? Yes; you see in this, in all that I live now, +it's hard to think of oneself; how can you withdraw into yourself +when you love this thing, and that thing is dear to you, and you +are afraid for everybody and are sorry for everybody? Everything +crowds into your heart and draws you to all people. How can you +step to one side? It's hard." + +Liudmila laughed, saying softly: + +"And maybe it's not necessary." + +"I don't know whether it's necessary or not; but this I do know--that +people are becoming stronger than life, wiser than life; that's evident." + +Standing in the middle of the room, half-dressed, she fell to +reflecting for a moment. Her real self suddenly appeared not to +exist--the one who lived in anxiety and fear for her son, in thoughts +for the safekeeping of his body. Such a person in herself was no +longer; she had gone off to a great distance, and perhaps was +altogether burned up by the fire of agitation. This had lightened +and cleansed her soul, and had renovated her heart with a new power. +She communed with herself, desiring to take a look into her own +heart, and fearing lest she awaken some anxiety there. + +"What are you thinking about?" Liudmila asked kindly, walking up to her. + +"I don't know." + +The two women were silent, looking at each other. Both smiled; then +Liudmila walked out of the room, saying: + +"What is my samovar doing?" + +The mother looked through the window. A cold, bracing day shone +in the street; her breast, too, shone bright, but hot. She wanted +to speak much about everything, joyfully, with a confused feeling +of gratitude to somebody--she did not know whom--for all that came +into her soul, and lighted it with a ruddy evening light. A desire +to pray, which she had not felt for a long time, arose in her breast. +Somebody's young face came to her memory, somebody's resonant voice +shouted, "That's the mother of Pavel Vlasov!" Sasha's eyes flashed +joyously and tenderly. Rybin's dark, tall figure loomed up, the +bronzed, firm face of her son smiled. Nikolay blinked in embarrassment; +and suddenly everything was stirred with a deep but light breath. + +"Nikolay was right," said Liudmila, entering again. "He must surely +have been arrested. I sent the boy there, as you told me to. He +said policemen are hiding in the yard; he did not see the house +porter; but he saw the policeman who was hiding behind the gates. +And spies are sauntering about; the boy knows them." + +"So?" The mother nodded her head. "Ah, poor fellow!" + +And she sighed, but without sadness, and was quietly surprised at herself. + +"Lately he's been reading a great deal to the city workingmen; and +in general it was time for him to disappear," Liudmila said with a +frown. "The comrades told him to go, but he didn't obey them. I +think that in such cases you must compel and not try to persuade." + +A dark-haired, red-faced boy with beautiful eyes and a hooked nose +appeared in the doorway. + +"Shall I bring in the samovar?" he asked in a ringing voice. + +"Yes, please, Seryozha. This is my pupil; have you never met him before?" + +"No." + +"He used to go to Nikolay sometimes; I sent him." + +Liudmila seemed to the mother to be different to-day--simpler and +nearer to her. In the supple swaying of her stately figure there +was much beauty and power; her sternness had mildened; the circles +under her eyes had grown larger during the night, her face paler +and leaner; her large eyes had deepened. One perceived a strained +exertion in her, a tightly drawn chord in her soul. + +The boy brought in the samovar. + +"Let me introduce you: Seryozha--Pelagueya Nilovna, the mother of +the workingman whom they sentenced yesterday." + +Seryozha bowed silently and pressed the mother's hand. Then he +brought in bread, and sat down to the table. Liudmila persuaded +the mother not to go home until they found out whom the police +were waiting for there. + +"Maybe they are waiting for you. I'm sure they'll examine you." + +"Let them. And if they arrest me, no great harm. Only I'd like +to have Pasha's speech sent off." + +"It's already in type. To-morrow it'll be possible to have it for +the city and the suburb. We'll have some for the districts, too. +Do you know Natasha?" + +"Of course!" + +"Then take it to her." + +The boy read the newspaper, and seemed not to be listening to the +conversation; but at times his eyes looked from the pages of the +newspaper into the face of the mother; and when she met their +animated glance she felt pleased and smiled. She reproached herself +for these smiles. Liudmila again mentioned Nikolay without any +expression of regret for his arrest and, to the mother, it seemed +in perfectly natural tones. The time passed more quickly than on +the other days. When they had done drinking tea it was already +near midday. + +"However!" exclaimed Liudmila, and at the same time a knock at the +door was heard. The boy rose, looked inquiringly at Liudmila, +prettily screwing up his eyes. + +"Open the door, Seryozha. Who do you suppose it is?" And with a +composed gesture she let her hand into the pocket of the skirt, +saying to the mother: "If it is the gendarmes, you, Pelagueya +Nilovna, stand here in this corner, and you, Ser----" + +"I know. The dark passage," the little boy answered softly, disappearing. + +The mother smiled. These preparations did not disturb her; she had +no premonition of a misfortune. + +The little physician walked in. He quickly said: + +"First of all, Nikolay is arrested. Aha! You here, Nilovna? They're +interested in you, too. Weren't you there when he was arrested?" + +"He packed me off, and told me to come here." + +"Hm! I don't think it will be of any use to you. Secondly, last +night several young people made about five hundred hektograph copies +of Pavel's speech--not badly done, plain and clear. They want to +scatter them throughout the city at night. I'm against it. Printed +sheets are better for the city, and the hektograph copies ought to +be sent off somewhere." + +"Here, I'll carry them to Natasha!" the mother exclaimed animatedly. +"Give them to me." + +She was seized with a great desire to sow them broadcast, to spread +Pavel's speech as soon as possible. She would have bestrewn the +whole earth with the words of her son, and she looked into the +doctor's face with eyes ready to beg. + +"The devil knows whether at this time you ought to take up this +matter," the physician said irresolutely, and took out his watch. +"It's now twelve minutes of twelve. The train leaves at 2.05, +arrives there 5.15. You'll get there in the evening, but not +sufficiently late--and that's not the point!" + +"That's not the point," repeated Liudmila, frowning. + +"What then?" asked the mother, drawing up to them. "The point is +to do it well; and I'll do it all right." + +Liudmila looked fixedly at her, and chafing her forehead, remarked: + +"It's dangerous for you." + +"Why?" the mother challenged hotly. + +"That's why!" said the physician quickly and brokenly. "You +disappeared from home an hour before Nikolay's arrest. You went +away to the mill, where you are known as the teacher's aunt; after +your arrival at the mill the naughty leaflets appear. All this +will tie itself into a noose around your neck." + +"They won't notice me there," the mother assured them, warming to +her desire. "When I return they'll arrest me, and ask me where I +was." After a moment's pause she exclaimed: "I know what I'll say. +From there I'll go straight to the suburb; I have a friend there-- +Sizov. So I'll say that I went there straight from the trial; grief +took me there; and he, too, had the same misfortune, his nephew was +sentenced; and I spent the whole time with him. He'll uphold me, +too. Do you see?" + +The mother was aware that they were succumbing to the strength of +her desire, and strove to induce them to give in as quickly as +possible. She spoke more and more persistently, joy arising within +her. And they yielded. + +"Well, go," the physician reluctantly assented. + +Liudmila was silent, pacing thoughtfully up and down the room. Her +face clouded over and her cheeks fell in. The muscles of her neck +stretched noticeably as if her head had suddenly grown heavy; it +involuntarily dropped on her breast. The mother observed this. +The physician's reluctant assent forced a sigh from her. + +"You all take care of me," the mother said, smiling. "You don't take +care of yourselves." And the wave of joy mounted higher and higher. + +"It isn't true. We look out for ourselves. We ought to; and we +very much upbraid those who uselessly waste their power. Ye-es. +Now, this is the way you are to do. You will receive the speeches +at the station." He explained to her how the matter would be +arranged; then looking into her face, he said: "Well, I wish you +success. You're happy, aren't you?" And he walked away still +gloomy and dissatisfied. When the door closed behind him Liudmila +walked up to the mother, smiling quietly. + +"You're a fine woman! I understand you." Taking her by the arm, +she again walked up and down the room. "I have a son, too. He's +already thirteen years old; but he lives with his father. My +husband is an assistant prosecuting attorney. Maybe he's already +prosecuting attorney. And the boy's with him. What is he going +to be? I often think." Her humid, powerful voice trembled. Then +her speech flowed on again thoughtfully and quietly. "He's being +brought up by a professed enemy of those people who are near me, +whom I regard as the best people on earth; and maybe the boy will +grow up to be my enemy. He cannot live with me; I live under a +strange name. I have not seen him for eight years. That's a long +time--eight years!" + +Stopping at the window, she looked up at the pale, bleak sky, and +continued: "If he were with me I would be stronger; I would not +have this wound in my heart, the wound that always pains. And even +if he were dead it would be easier for me--" She paused again, and +added more firmly and loudly: "Then I would know he's merely dead, +but not an enemy of that which is higher than the feeling of a +mother, dearer and more necessary than life." + +"My darling," said the mother quietly, feeling as if something +powerful were burning her heart. + +"Yes, you are happy," Liudmila said with a smile. "It's magnificent +--the mother and the son side by side. It's rare!" + +The mother unexpectedly to herself exclaimed: + +"Yes, it is good!" and as if disclosing a secret, she continued in a +lowered voice: "It is another life. All of you--Nikolay Ivanovich, +all the people of the cause of truth--are also side by side. +Suddenly people have become kin--I understand all--the words I don't +understand; but everything else I understand, everything!" + +"That's how it is," Liudmila said. "That's how." + +The mother put her hand on Liudmila's breast, pressing her; she spoke +almost in a whisper, as if herself meditating upon the words she spoke. + +"Children go through the world; that's what I understand; children +go into the world, over all the earth, from everywhere toward one +thing. The best hearts go; people of honest minds; they relentlessly +attack all evil, all darkness. They go, they trample falsehood with +heavy feet, understanding everything, justifying everybody--justifying +everybody, they go. Young, strong, they carry their power, their +invincible power, all toward one thing--toward justice. They go to +conquer all human misery, they arm themselves to wipe away misfortune +from the face of the earth; they go to subdue what is monstrous, and +they will subdue it. We will kindle a new sun, somebody told me; and +they will kindle it. We will create one heart in life, we will unite +all the severed hearts into one--and they will unite them. We will +cleanse the whole of life--and they will cleanse it." + +She waved her hand toward the sky. + +"There's the sun." + +And she struck her bosom. + +"Here the most glorious heavenly sun of human happiness will be +kindled, and it will light up the earth forever--the whole of it, +and all that live upon it--with the light of love, the love of every +man toward all, and toward everything." + +The words of forgotten prayers recurred to her mind, inspiring a +new faith. She threw them from her heart like sparks. + +"The children walking along the road of truth and reason carry love +to all; and they clothe everything in new skies; they illumine +everything with an incorruptible fire issuing from the depths of the +soul. Thus, a new life comes into being, born of the children's +love for the entire world; and who will extinguish this love--who? +What power is higher than this? Who will subdue it? The earth has +brought it forth; and all life desires its victory--all life. Shed +rivers of blood, nay, seas of blood, you'll never extinguish it." + +She shook herself away from Liudmila, fatigued by her exaltation, +and sat down, breathing heavily. Liudmila also withdrew from her, +noiselessly, carefully, as if afraid of destroying something. With +supple movement she walked about the room and looked in front of her +with the deep gaze of her dim eyes. She seemed still taller, +straighter, and thinner; her lean, stern face wore a concentrated +expression, and her lips were nervously compressed. The stillness +in the room soon calmed the mother, and noticing Liudmila's mood she +asked guiltily and softly: + +"Maybe I said something that wasn't quite right?" + +Liudmila quickly turned around and looked at her as if in fright. + +"It's all right," she said rapidly, stretching out her hand to the +mother as if desiring to arrest something. "But we'll not speak +about it any more. Let it remain as it was said; let it remain. +Yes." And in a calmer tone she continued: "It's time for you to +start soon; it's far." + +"Yes, presently. I'm glad! Oh, how glad I am! If you only knew! +I'm going to carry the word of my son, the word of my blood. Why, +it's like one's own soul!" + +She smiled; but her smile did not find a clear reflection in the +face of Liudmila. The mother felt that Liudmila chilled her joy +by her restraint; and the stubborn desire suddenly arose in her to +pour into that obstinate soul enveloped in misery her own fire, to +burn her, too, let her, too, sound in unison with her own heart full +of joy. She took Liudmila's hands and pressed them powerfully. + +"My dear, how good it is when you know that light for all the people +already exists in life, and that there will be a time when they will +begin to see it, when they will bathe their souls in it, and all, +all, will take fire in its unquenchable flames." + +Her good, large face quivered; her eyes smiled radiantly; and her +eyebrows trembled over them as if pinioning their flash. The great +thoughts intoxicated her; she put into them everything that burned +her heart, everything she had lived through; and she compressed the +thoughts into firm, capacious crystals of luminous words. They grew +up ever more powerful in the autumn heart, illuminated by the +creative force of the spring sun; they blossomed and reddened in it +ever more brightly. + +"Why, this is like a new god that's born to us, the people. +Everything for all; all for everything; the whole of life in one, +and the whole of life for everyone, and everyone for the whole of +life! Thus I understand all of you; it is for this that you are +on this earth, I see. You are in truth comrades all, kinsmen all, +for you are all children of one mother, of truth. Truth has brought +you forth; and by her power you live!" + +Again overcome by the wave of agitation, she stopped, fetched +breath, and spread out her arms as if for an embrace. + +"And if I pronounce to myself that word 'comrades' then I hear with +my heart--they are going! They are going from everywhere, the great +multitude, all to one thing. I hear such a roaring, resonant and +joyous, like the festive peal of the bells of all the churches of +the world." + +She had arrived at what she desired. Liudmila's face flashed in +amazement. Her lips quivered; and one after the other large +transparent tears dropped from her dull eyes and rolled down +her cheeks. + +The mother embraced her vigorously and laughed softly, lightly taking +pride in the victory of her heart. When they took leave of each +other Liudmila looked into the mother's face, and asked her softly: + +"Do you know that it is well with you?" And herself supplied the +answer: "Very well. Like a morning on a high mountain." + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +In the street the frozen atmosphere enveloped her body invigoratingly, +penetrated into her throat, tickled her nose, and for a second +suppressed the breathing in her bosom. The mother stopped and +looked around. Near to her, at the corner of the empty street, +stood a cabman in a shaggy hat; at a slight distance a man was +walking, bent, his head sunk in his shoulders; and in front of +him a soldier was running in a jump, rubbing his ears. + +"The soldier must have been sent to the store," she thought, and +walked off listening with satisfaction to the youthful crunching +of the snow under her feet. She arrived at the station early; her +train was not yet ready; but in the dirty waiting room of the third +class, blackened with smoke, there were numerous people already. +The cold drove in the railroad workmen; cabmen and some poorly +dressed, homeless people came in to warm themselves; there were +passengers, also a few peasants, a stout merchant in a raccoon +overcoat, a priest and his daughter, a pockmarked girl, some five +soldiers, and bustling tradesmen. The men smoked, talked, drank +tea and whisky at the buffet; some one laughed boisterously; a wave +of smoke was wafted overhead; the door squeaked as it opened, the +windows rattled when the door was jammed to; the odor of tobacco, +machine oil, and salt fish thickly beat into the nostrils. + +The mother sat near the entrance and waited. When the door opened +a whiff of fresh air struck her, which was pleasant to her, and +she took in deep breaths. Heavily dressed people came in with +bundles in their hands; they clumsily pushed through the door, +swore, mumbled, threw their things on the bench or on the floor, +shook off the dry rime from the collars of their overcoats and +their sleeves and wiped it off their beards and mustaches, all the +time puffing and blowing. + +A young man entered with a yellow valise in his hand, quickly looked +around, and walked straight to the mother. + +"To Moscow, to your niece?" he asked in a low voice. + +"Yes, to Tanya." + +"Very well." + +He put the valise on the bench near her, quickly whipped out a +cigarette, lighted it, and raising his hat, silently walked toward +the other door. The mother stroked the cold skin of the valise, +leaned her elbows on it, and, satisfied, began again to look around +at the people. In a few moments she arose and walked over to the +other bench, nearer to the exit to the platform. She held the +valise lightly in her hand; it was not large, and she walked with +raised head, scanning the faces that flashed before her. + +One man in a short overcoat and its collar raised jostled against +her and jumped back, silently waving his hand toward his head. +Something familiar about him struck her; she glanced around and saw +that he was looking at her with one eye gleaming out of his collar. +This attentive eye pricked her; the hand in which she held the +valise trembled; she felt a dull pain in her shoulder, and the load +suddenly grew heavy. + +"I've seen him somewhere," she thought, and with the thought +suppressed the unpleasant, confused feeling in her breast. She +would not permit herself to define the cold sensation that already +pressed her heart quietly but powerfully. It grew and rose in her +throat, filling her mouth with a dry, bitter taste, and compelling +her to turn around and look once more. As she turned he carefully +shifted from one foot to the other, standing on the same spot; it +seemed he wanted something, but could not decide what. His right +hand was thrust between the buttons of his coat, the other he kept +in his pocket. On account of this the right shoulder seemed higher +than the left. + +Without hastening, she walked to the bench and sat down carefully, +slowly, as if afraid of tearing something in herself or on herself. +Her memory, aroused by a sharp premonition of misfortune, quickly +presented this man twice to her imagination--once in the field +outside the city, after the escape of Rybin; a second time in the +evening in the court. There at his side stood the constable to +whom she had pointed out the false way taken by Rybin. They knew +her; they were tracking her--this was evident. + +"Am I caught?" she asked, and in the following second answered +herself, starting: "Maybe there is still--" and immediately forcing +herself with a great effort, she said sternly: "I'm caught. No use." + +She looked around, and her thoughts flashed up in sparks and expired +in her brain one after the other. + +"Leave the valise? Go away?" + +But at the same time another spark darted up more glaringly: "How +much will be lost? Drop the son's word in such hands?" + +She pressed the valise to herself trembling. "And to go away with +it? Where? To run?" + +These thoughts seemed to her those of a stranger, somebody from the +outside, who was pushing them on her by main force. They burned +her, and their burns chopped her brain painfully, lashed her heart +like fiery whipcords. They were an insult to the mother; they +seemed to be driving her away from her own self, from Pavel, and +everything which had grown to her heart. She felt that a stubborn, +hostile force oppressed her, squeezed her shoulder and breast, +lowered her stature, plunging her into a fatal fear. The veins on +her temples began to pulsate vigorously, and the roots of her hair +grew warm. + +Then with one great and sharp effort of her heart, which seemed +to shake her entire being, she quenched all these cunning, petty, +feeble little fires, saying sternly to herself: "Enough!" + +She at once began to feel better, and she grew strengthened +altogether, adding: "Don't disgrace your son. Nobody's afraid." + +Several seconds of wavering seemed to have the effect of joining +everything in her; her heart began to beat calmly. + +"What's going to happen now? How will they go about it with me?" +she thought, her senses strung to a keener observation. + +The spy called a station guard, and whispered something to him, +directing his look toward her. The guard glanced at him and moved +back. Another guard came, listened, grinned, and lowered his brows. +He was an old man, coarse-built, gray, unshaven. He nodded his head +to the spy, and walked up to the bench where the mother sat. The +spy quickly disappeared. + +The old man strode leisurely toward the mother, intently thrusting +his angry eyes into the mother's face. She sat farther back on the +bench, trembling. "If they only don't beat me, if they only don't +beat me!" + +He stopped at her side; she raised her eyes to his face. + +"What are you looking at?" he asked in a moderated voice. + +"Nothing." + +"Hm! Thief! So old and yet----" + +It seemed to her that his words struck her face once, twice, rough +and hoarse; they wounded her, as if they tore her cheeks, ripped +out her eyes. + +"I'm not a thief! You lie!" she shouted with all the power of her +chest; and everything before her jumped and began to whirl in a +whirlwind of revolt, intoxicating her heart with the bitterness of +insult. She jerked the valise, and it opened. + +"Look! look! All you people!" she shouted, standing up and waving +the bundle of the proclamations she had quickly seized over her +head. Through the noise in her ears she heard the exclamations of +the people who came running up, and she saw them pouring in quickly +from all directions. + +"What is it?" + +"There's a spy!" + +"What's the matter?" + +"She's a thief, they say!" + +"She?" + +"Would a thief shout?" + +"Such a respectable one! My, my, my!" + +"Whom did they catch?" + +"I'm not a thief," said the mother in a full voice, somewhat calmed +at the sight of the people who pressed closely upon her from all sides. + +"Yesterday they tried the political prisoners; my son was one of +them, Vlasov. He made a speech. Here it is. I'm carrying it to +the people in order that they should read, think about the truth." + +One paper was carefully pulled from her hands. She waved the papers +in the air and flung them into the crowd. + +"She won't get any praise for that, either!" somebody exclaimed +in a frightened voice. + +"Whee-ee-w!" was the response. + +The mother saw that the papers were being snatched up, were being +hidden in breasts and pockets. This again put her firmly on her +feet; more composed than forceful, straining herself to her utmost, +and feeling how agitated pride grew in her raising her high above +the people, how subdued joy flamed up in her, she spoke, snatching +bundles of papers from the valise and throwing them right and left +into some person's quick, greedy hands. + +"For this they sentenced my son and all with him. Do you know? I +will tell you, and you believe the heart of a mother; believe her +gray hair. Yesterday they sentenced them because they carried to +you, to all the people, the honest, sacred truth. How do you live?" + +The crowd grew silent in amazement, and noiselessly increased in +size, pressing closer and closer together, surrounding the woman +with a ring of living bodies. + +"Poverty, hunger, and sickness--that's what work gives to the poor +people. This order of things pushes us to theft and to corruption; +and over us, satiated and calm, live the rich. In order that we +should obey the police, the authorities, the soldiers, all are in +their hands, all are against us, everything is against us. We +perish all our lives day after day in toil, always in filth, in +deceit. And others enjoy themselves and gormandize themselves with +our labor; and they hold us like dogs on chains, in ignorance. We +know nothing, and in terror we fear everything. Our life is night, +a dark night; it is a terrible dream. They have poisoned us with +strong intoxicating poison, and they drink our blood. They glut +themselves to corpulence, to vomiting--the servants of the devil of +greed. Is it not so?" + +"It's so!" came a dull answer. + +Back of the crowd the mother noticed the spy and two gendarmes. +She hastened to give away the last bundles; but when her hand +let itself down into the valise it met another strange hand. + +"Take it, take it all!" she said, bending down. + +A dirty face raised itself to hers, and a low whisper reached her: + +"Whom shall I tell? Whom inform?" + +She did not answer. + +"In order to change this life, in order to free all the people, +to raise them from the dead, as I have been raised, some persons +have already come who secretly saw the truth in life; secretly, +because, you know, no one can say the truth aloud. They hunt you +down, they stifle you; they make you rot in prison, they mutilate +you. Wealth is a force, not a friend to truth. Thus far truth is +the sworn enemy to the power of the rich, an irreconcilable enemy +forever! Our children are carrying the truth into the world. +Bright people, clean people are carrying it to you. Thus far there +are few of them; they are not powerful; but they grow in number +every day. They put their young hearts into free truth, they are +making it an invincible power. Along the route of their hearts +it will enter into our hard life; it will warm us, enliven us, +emancipate us from the oppression of the rich and from all who +have sold their souls. Believe this." + +"Out of the way here!" shouted the gendarmes, pushing the people. +They gave way to the jostling unwillingly, pressed the gendarmes +with their mass, hindered them perhaps without desiring to do so. +The gray-haired woman with the large, honest eyes in her kind face +attracted them powerfully; and those whom life held asunder, whom it +tore from one another, now blended into a whole, warmed by the fire +of the fearless words which, perhaps, they had long been seeking and +thirsting for in their hearts--their hearts insulted and revolted by +the injustice of their severe life. Those who were near stood in +silence. The mother saw their gloomy faces, their frowning brows, +their eyes, and felt their warm breath on her face. + +"Get up on the bench," they said. + +"I'll be arrested immediately. It's not necessary." + +"Speak quicker! They're coming!" + +"Go to meet the honest people. Seek those who advise all the poor +disinherited. Don't be reconciled, comrades, don't! Don't yield +to the power of the powerful. Arise, you working people! you are +the masters of life! All live by your labor; and only for your +labor do they untie your hands. Behold! you are bound, and they +have killed, robbed your soul. Unite with your heart and your mind +into one power. It will overcome everything. You have no friends +except yourselves. That's what their only friends say to the working +people, their friends who go to them and perish on the road to +prison. Not so would dishonest people speak, not so deceivers." + +"Out of the way! Disperse!" the shouts of the gendarmes came nearer +and nearer. There were more of them already; they pushed more +forcibly; and the people in front of the mother swayed, catching +hold of one another. + +"Is that all you have in the valise?" whispered somebody. + +"Take it! Take all!" said the mother aloud, feeling that the words +disposed themselves into a song in her breast, and noticing with +pain that her voice did not hold out, that it was hoarse, trembled, +and broke. + +"The word of my son is the honest word of a workingman, of an unsold +soul. You will recognize its incorruptibility by its boldness. It +is fearless, and if necessary it goes even against itself to meet +the truth. It goes to you, working people, incorruptible, wise, +fearless. Receive it with an open heart, feed on it; it will give +you the power to understand everything, to fight against everything +for the truth, for the freedom of mankind. Receive it, believe it, +go with it toward the happiness of all the people, to a new life +with great joy!" + +She received a blow on the chest; she staggered and fell on the +bench. The gendarmes' hands darted over the heads of the people, +and seizing collars and shoulders, threw them aside, tore off hats, +flung them far away. Everything grew dark and began to whirl before +the eyes of the mother. But overcoming her fatigue, she again +shouted with the remnants of her power: + +"People, gather up your forces into one single force!" + +A large gendarme caught her collar with his red hand and shook her. + +"Keep quiet!" + +The nape of her neck struck the wall; her heart was enveloped for +a second in the stifling smoke of terror; but it blazed forth again +clearly, dispelling the smoke. + +"Go!" said the gendarme. + +"Fear nothing! There are no tortures worse than those which you +endure all your lives!" + +"Silence, I say!" The gendarme took her by the arm and pulled her; +another seized her by the other arm, and taking long steps, they +led her away. + +"There are no tortures more bitter than those which quietly gnaw +at your heart every day, waste your breast, and drain your power." + +The spy came running up, and shaking his fist in her face, shouted: + +"Silence, you old hag!" + +Her eyes widened, sparkled; her jaws quivered. Planting her feet +firmly on the slippery stones of the floor, she shouted, gathering +the last remnants of her strength: + +"The resuscitated soul they will not kill." + +"Dog!" + +The spy struck her face with a short swing of his hand. + +Something black and red blinded her eyes for a second. The salty +taste of blood filled her mouth. + +A clear outburst of shouts animated her: + +"Don't dare to beat her!" + +"Boys!" + +"What is it?" + +"Oh, you scoundrel!" + +"Give it to him!" + +"They will not drown reason in blood; they will not extinguish its truth!" + +She was pushed in the neck and the back, beaten about the shoulders, +on the head. Everything began to turn around, grow giddy in a dark +whirlwind of shouts, howls, whistles. Something thick and deafening +crept into her ear, beat in her throat, choked her. The floor under +her feet began to shake, giving way. Her legs bent, her body +trembled, burned with pain, grew heavy, and staggered powerless. +But her eyes were not extinguished, and they saw many other eyes +which flashed and gleamed with the bold sharp fire known to her, +with the fire dear to her heart. + +She was pushed somewhere into a door. + +She snatched her hand away from the gendarmes and caught hold of +the doorpost. + +"You will not drown the truth in seas of blood----" + +They struck her hand. + +"You heap up only malice on yourself, you unwise ones! It will fall +on you----" + +Somebody seized her neck and began to choke her. There was a rattle +in her throat. + +"You poor, sorry creatures----" + + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Mother, by Maxim Gorky + |