They took different
sides of the street, and it was amusing to the mother to see how
Vyesovshchikov strode along heavily, with bent head, his legs
getting tangled in the long flaps of his russet-colored coat, his
hat falling over his nose. In one of the deserted streets, Sashenka
met them, and the mother, taking leave of Vyesovshchikov with a nod
of her head, turned toward home with a sigh of relief.
"And Pasha is in prison with Andriusha!" she thought sadly.
Nikolay met her with an anxious exclamation:
"You know that Yegor is in a very bad way, very bad! He was taken to
the hospital. Liudmila was here. She asks you to come to her there."
"At the hospital?"
Adjusting his eyeglasses with a nervous gesture, Nikolay helped her
on with her jacket and pressed her hand in a dry, hot grasp. His
voice was low and tremulous. "Yes. Take this package with you.
Have you disposed of Vyesovshchikov all right?"
"Yes, all right."
"I'll come to Yegor, too!"
The mother's head was in a whirl with fatigue, and Nikolay's emotion
aroused in her a sad premonition of the drama's end.
"So he's dying--he's dying!" The dark thought knocked at her brain
heavily and dully.
Pages:
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405