She always
spoke in a tone of command.
"We are going away," she continued. "I'll return soon. Give Yegor
a tablespoon of this medicine."
"Very well," said the mother.
"And don't let him speak." She walked away, taking Nikolay with her.
"Admirable woman!" said Yegor with a sigh. "Magnificent woman! You
ought to be working with her, granny. You see, she gets very much
worn out. It's she that does all the printing for us."
"Don't speak. Here, you'd better take this medicine," the mother
said gently.
He swallowed the medicine and continued, for some reason screwing
up one eye:
"I'll die all the same, even if I don't speak."
He looked into the mother's face with his other eye, and his lips
slowly formed themselves into a smile. The mother bent her head, a
sharp sensation of pity bringing tears into her eyes.
"Never mind, granny. It's natural. The pleasure of living carries
with it the obligation to die."
The mother put her hand on his, and again said softly:
"Keep quiet, please!"
He shut his eyes as if listening to the rattle in his breast, and
went on stubbornly.
"It's senseless to keep quiet, granny. What'll I gain by keeping
quiet? A few superfluous seconds of agony.
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