Her eyebrows fluttered
whenever she encountered the shooting glance of his little eyes.
Andrey held his head in his hands; he became restless--he suddenly
laughed, and then abruptly stopped, and began to whistle.
It seemed to the mother that she understood his disquietude.
Nikolay sat at the table without saying anything; and when the
Little Russian addressed a question to him, he answered briefly,
with evident reluctance.
The little room became too narrow and stifling for its two occupants,
and they glanced, now the one, now the other, at their guest.
At length Nikolay rose and said: "I'd like to go to bed. I sat
and sat in prison--suddenly they let me go; I'm off!--I'm tired!"
He went into the kitchen and stirred about for a while. Then a
sudden stillness settled down. The mother listened for a sound,
and whispered to Andrey: "He has something terrible in his mind!"
"Yes, he's hard to understand!" the Little Russian assented, shaking
his head. "But you go to bed, mother, I am going to stay and read
a while."
She went to the corner where the bed was hidden from view by chintz
curtains. Andrey, sitting at the table, for a long while listened
to the warm murmur of her prayers and sighs.
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