Quickly turning the
pages of the book Andrey nervously rubbed his lips, twitched his
mustache with his long fingers, and scraped his feet on the floor.
Ticktock, ticktock went the pendulum of the clock; and the wind
moaned as it swept past the window.
Then the mother's low voice was heard:
"Oh, God! How many people there are in the world, and each one
wails in his own way. Where, then, are those who feel rejoiced?"
"Soon there will be such, too, soon!" announced the Little Russian.
CHAPTER XIV
Life flowed on swiftly. The days were diversified and full of
color. Each one brought with it something new, and the new ceased
to alarm the mother. Strangers came to the house in the evening
more and more frequently, and they talked with Andrey in subdued
voices with an engrossed air. Late at night they went out into the
darkness, their collars up, their hats thrust low over their faces,
noiselessly, cautiously. All seemed to feel a feverish excitement,
which they kept under restraint, and had the air of wanting to sing
and laugh if they only had the time. They were all in a perpetual
hurry. All of them--the mocking and the serious, the frank, jovial
youth with effervescing strength, the thoughtful and quiet--all of
them in the eyes of the mother were identical in the persistent
faith that characterized them; and although each had his own peculiar
cast of countenance, for her all their faces blended into one thin,
composed, resolute face with a profound expression in its dark eyes,
kind yet stern, like the look in Christ's eyes on his way to Emmaus.
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