But that's all we
do, really; truly all we do."
"And what are you, a student?"
"No. I'm a village teacher. My father was superintendent in a mill
in Vyatka, and I became a teacher. But I began to give books to the
peasants in the village, and was put in prison for it. When I came
out of prison I became clerk in a bookstore, but not behaving
carefully enough I got myself into prison again, and was then exiled
to Archangel. There I also got into trouble with the governor, and
they sent me to the White Sea coast, where I lived for five years."
His talk sounded calm and even in the bright room flooded with
sunlight. The mother had already heard many such stories; but she
could never understand why they were related with such composure,
why no blame was laid on anybody for the suffering the people had
gone through, why these sufferings were regarded as so inevitable.
"My sister is coming to-day," he announced.
"Is she married?"
"She's a widow. Her husband was exiled to Siberia; but he escaped,
caught a severe cold on the way, and died abroad two years ago."
"Is she younger than you?"
"Six years older. I owe a great deal to her. Wait, and you'll
hear how she plays.
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