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.
Pages:
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128