It
pleased her to hear the sharp comments leveled against the authorities.
She saw therein her son's influence.
Leaving the factory, she passed the remainder of the day at Marya's
house, assisting her in her work, and listening to her chatter.
Late in the evening she returned home and found it bare, chilly and
disagreeable. She moved about from corner to corner, unable to find
a resting place, and not knowing what to do with herself. Night was
fast approaching, and she grew worried, because Yegor Ivanovich had
not yet come and brought her the literature which he had promised.
Behind the window, gray, heavy flakes of spring snow fluttered and
settled softly and noiselessly upon the pane. Sliding down and
melting, they left a watery track in their course. The mother
thought of her son.
A cautious rap was heard. She rushed to the door, lifted the latch,
and admitted Sashenka. She had not seen her for a long while, and
the first thing that caught her eye was the girl's unnatural stoutness.
"Good evening!" she said, happy to have a visitor at such a time,
to relieve her solitude for a part of the night. "You haven't been
around for a long while! Were you away?"
"No, I was in prison," replied the girl, smiling, "with Nikolay
Ivanovich.
Pages:
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144