Mother

other. Once, in the middle of the week, on a holiday, as

e people here

ople?" s

ur village, and oth

mother, shaking her head. An

is?" cried Pavel res

ith her apron, sh

, but it is t

the room, then halt

you a

ledged. "Those people fro

said in an offended tone, and, it se

age of our fear and frighten us still more. Mark this: as long as people are afr

as he turned from her; "they

egged sadly. "How can I help being afr

r reply, "but I cannot do ot

range people were soon to come to her house. She could not picture them to herself, but it se

himself, put on clean clothes, and when walking out

Let them wait a while. And please don't be a

her seat alm

y. "Maybe you'd better go aw

her. Shaking her head

ll the same

tside the window under her son's feet as he walked away. A dense crust of darkness settled immovably upon the window panes, and

the darkness, stooping and looking about on all sides, strangely attired and silent. Th

kness, and seemed to be searching for something. It came nearer. Suddenly it died away under the window, as if it had entered into the

itself into the room; then a slender, bending body crawled in,

man, in a thick, bass v

r bowed i

not at h

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 fina

arge, gray, protuberant eyes, he crossed his leg

own house, or

tting opposite

rent

fine house,"

here; wait," said

am waiting,"

sparent 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.

hole in your fo

in his eyes; but the woman was offended by the sally. She pressed her

iness is it o

of his whole body

ce, 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

occurred to her that perhaps her son would be displeased with h

y soon. It was my good man, God rest his soul

broad a smile that the ends of his mustache trave

I'm not a

way you spoke was not exactly Russia

aid the guest laughingly. "I am a Lit

you been h

out a month ago. I found some good people, your son and a few oth

the impulse to repay him in some way for his

ike to have a

e answered, raising his shoulders. "I'll

coming of others reca

ly like this one!"

en completely aback by the newcomer in her kitchen-a poorly and lightly dressed girl of medium height, w

I la

e Russian, looking out of the

her of Pavel Vlasov? Good e

r name?" inqui

vna. And

ueya N

e are all

more easily, as if relieved, and

lped her off with her

it c

en, very! The

her wraps, she rubbed her ruddy cheeks briskly with her little hands, red with the cold, and walki

overshoes," the mo

repeated the girl. "I

ther said, bustling and solicitous. "Ready

sionate love of a mother. She was glad to see her; and recalling her guest's bright blue eyes, s

, Nakhodka?" a

ussian. "I was thinking maybe my mother has such

d she wa

real mother. It seems to me that perhaps she may be

think such a

icemen pick her up on the

l," thought the m

d rapidly; and again the sonorous v

s yet. Everyone has a mother, none the less people are bad. For although i

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

ow's that?" she

th his little gray eyes, and wiped his pockmarked,

home?" he a

N

nto the roo

ening, c

sentfully, and was greatly surprised to see Natas

w. He was Yakob, the son of the factory watchman, Somov. The other, with a sharp-feature

wo men, both of whose faces she recogn

t's fine. Thank you!" said Pavel

not knowing how to express her gratitude to him

ponded, removing his coat and

son, by way of jest, had purposely ex

they call illegal pe

swered Pavel, and p

er him and thought to h

chil

nd the guests sitting in a close circle around the table, and Nata

nd why people live so

mselves so bad," put

to see how they

!" mumbled the moth

stopped

mother?" asked Pave

yes of all upon her she explained with emba

d, but the Little Russian said:

y," she commented inwardly. Looking at he

ed Natasha, and then continuing with childish plaintiveness: "Mother dea

moment!" exclaimed

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 ribb

rained her untrain

ch 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

ng 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 br

f the parties he had seized her in a dark porch, and pressing he

you ma

ngers into her flesh, snorted heavily, and breathed his hot, humid

roared. "Ans

med and insulted,

ou fool! I know your kind

door. He let her g

matchmaker to y

he

d her eyes and he

but how they ought to live!" The dull, dissatisf

oborated the red-

ov. "If we are to go forwar

the curly-headed

mother did not understand what they were shouting about. All faces glowed in an aureole of

on account of a woman's

woman looked at all these young men so consideratel

suddenly. And they all grew sile

with the light of reason, so that the people in the dark may see us; we ought to be able t

vshchikov, the red-haired fellow, and the other factory worker, who had come with Pa

talking, Pavel aro

stomachs the onl

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

d a feeling of pride in her son stir

one," said the Little Russian. "We ought to build a bridge across the bog of this rotten l

it's not the time to cure the f

ur bones before we get to fighting!

break up. The first to go were Vyesovshchikov and t

thought, nodding them a

home, Nakhodka?

," answered the

d to her: "Your stockings are too thin for this time of the

a. Woolen stockings scratch,

em so they wo

perplexedly, and her fixed se

good will, it's from my heart, yo

in the same voice, giving her a hasty

ssian, looking into her eyes. His bendin

son. He stood in the ro

his head energetically. "It was fine! But n

r you, too. I'm g

, satisfied and even glowing with a pleasurable agitation. She w

people. The Little Russian is such a hearty fellow. And t

ed Pavel, pacing up

! Ah, so poorly! It doesn't take long to

and owns much property. He drove her out of the house because she got into this movement. She grew up in comfort and

he middle of the room, and looked mute

oing to t

es

she not

id Pavel

ld have stayed here over

een seen here to-morrow morning, an

ous anxieties, looked thoughtful

s dangerous in all this, or illegal. Why,

conduct, and was eager for a confirmation from her son. But

d there's not going to be. And yet the prison

will grant you escape somehow

annot lie to you. We will not escape." He smil

. The wind howled, blowing the snow from the roofs of the little sleeping houses. Striking against the walls and wh

have mercy upon us!

to her heart, and like a moth in the night she seemed to see flutte

ocking 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, th

her muttered again, shuddering with t