"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.
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