"
"Yes, yes. They are so gentle, always smiling. If they should be
told: 'Look here, this man is honest and wise, he is dangerous to us;
hang him!' they would still smile and hang him, and keep on smiling."
"The one who made the search in our place is the better of the two;
he is simpler. You can see at once that he is a dog."
"None of them are human beings; they are used to stun the people
and render them insensible. They are tools, the means wherewith
our kind is rendered more convenient to the state. They themselves
have already been so fixed that they have become convenient
instruments in the hand that governs us. They can do whatever they
are told to do without thought, without asking why it is necessary
to do it."
At last Vlasova got permission to see her son, and one Sunday she
was sitting modestly in a corner of the prison office, a low,
narrow, dingy apartment, where a few more people were sitting and
waiting for permission to see their relatives and friends. Evidently
it was not the first time they were here, for they knew one another
and in a low voice kept up a lazy, languid conversation.
"Have you heard?" said a stout woman with a wizened face and a
traveling bag on her lap.
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