"You go to Yegor, and see if he doesn't know anything about it,"
Nikolay suggested, and quickly walked away.
She threw a kerchief on her head, and, seized with hope, swiftly
sped along the streets. Her eyes dimmed and her heart beat faster.
Her head drooped; she saw nothing about her. It was hot. The
mother lost breath, and when she reached the stairway leading to
Yegor's quarters, she stopped, too faint to proceed farther. She
turned around and uttered an amazed, low cry, closing her eyes for
a second. It seemed to her that Nikolay Vyesovshchikov was standing
at the gate, his hands thrust into his pockets, regarding her with
a smile. But when she looked again nobody was there.
"I imagined I saw him," she said to herself, slowly walking up
the steps and listening. She caught the sound of slow steps, and
stopping at a turn in the stairway she bent over to look below;
and again saw the face smiling up at her.
"Nikolay! Nikolay!" she whispered, and ran meet him. Her heart,
stung by disappointment, ached for her son.
"Go, go!" he answered in an undertone, waving his hand.
She quickly ran up the stairs, walked into Yegor's room, and found
him lying on the sofa.
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