"I'll tell
you how it happened."
"Don't!" she whispered, looking at him with tears in her eyes.
"Don't, Andriusha! It isn't our business. It's God's affair!"
Pavel came up to him slowly, looking at his comrade with moist eyes.
He was pale, and his lips trembled. With a strange smile he said
softly and slowly:
"Come, give me your hand, Andrey. I want to shake hands with you.
Upon my word, I understand how hard it is for you!"
"Wait!" said the Little Russian without looking at them, shaking
his head, and tearing himself away from their grasp. When he
succeeded in freeing his right hand from the mother's, Pavel caught
it, pressing it vigorously and wringing it.
"And you mean to tell me you killed that man?" said the mother.
"No, YOU didn't do it! If I saw it with my own eyes I wouldn't
believe it."
"Stop, Andrey! Mother is right. This thing is beyond our judgment."
With one hand pressing Andrey's, Pavel laid the other on his
shoulder, as if wishing to stop the tremor in his tall body.
The Little Russian bent his head down toward him, and said in
a broken, mournful voice:
"I didn't want to do it, you know, Pavel. It happened when you
walked ahead, and I remained behind with Ivan Gusev.
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