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.
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