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.
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