PART II
CHAPTER I
The day passed in a motley blur of recollections, in a depressing
state of exhaustion, which tightly clutched at the mother's body and
soul. The faces of the young men flashed before her mental vision,
the banner blazed, the songs clamored at her ear, the little officer
skipped about, a gray stain before her eyes, and through the
whirlwind of the procession she saw the gleam of Pavel's bronzed
face and the smiling sky-blue eyes of Andrey.
She walked up and down the room, sat at the window, looked out into
the street, and walked away again with lowered eyebrows. Every now
and then she started, and looked about in an aimless search for
something. She drank water, but could not slake her thirst, nor
quench the smoldering fire of anguish and injury in her bosom.
The day was chopped in two. It began full of meaning and content,
but now it dribbled away into a dismal waste, which stretched before
her endlessly. The question swung to and fro in her barren, perplexed
mind:
"What now?"
Korsunova came in. Waving her hands, she shouted, wept, and went
into raptures; stamped her feet, suggested this and that, made
promises, and threw out threats against somebody.
Pages:
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305