Vyesovshchikov, the Gusevs,
and Samoylov have been standing at the factory gates all the time,
and have been making speeches. Most of the people went back from
the factory, and returned home. Let's go! It's just time! It's
ten o'clock already."
"I'm going!" said Pavel decidedly.
"You'll see," Fedya assured them, "the whole factory will rise up
after dinner."
And he hurried away, followed by the quiet words of the mother:
"Burning like a wax candle in the wind."
She rose and went into the kitchen to dress.
"Where are you going, mother?"
"With you," she said.
Andrey looked at Pavel pulling his mustache. Pavel arranged his
hair with a quick gesture, and went to his mother.
"Mother, I will not tell you anything; and don't you tell me
anything, either. Right, mother?"
"All right, all right! God bless you!" she murmured.
When she went out and heard the holiday hum of the people's voices--
an anxious and expectant hum--when she saw everywhere, at the gates
and windows, crowds of people staring at Andrey and her son, a blur
quivered before her eyes, changes from a transparent green to a
muddy gray.
People greeted them--there was something peculiar in their greetings.
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