The sight of fresh,
flowing blood filled her breast with terror and pity. Its humid
warmth on her fingers sent a cold, fine tremor through her body.
Then, holding his hand, she silently and quickly conducted the
wounded youth through the field. Freeing his mouth of the bandage,
he said with a smile:
"But where are you taking me, comrade? I can go by myself."
But the mother perceived that he was reeling with faintness, that
his legs were unsteady, and his hands twitched. He spoke to her
in a weak voice, and questioned her without waiting for an answer:
"I'm a tinsmith, and who are you? There were three of us in Yegor
Ivanovich's circle--three tinsmiths--and there were twelve men in
all. We loved him very much--may he have eternal life!--although
I don't believe in God--it's they, the dogs, that dupe us with God,
so that we should obey the authorities and suffer life patiently
without kicking."
In one of the streets the mother hailed a cab and put Ivan into it.
She whispered, "Now be silent," and carefully wrapped his face up
in the handkerchief. He raised his hand to his face, but was no
longer able to free his mouth. His hand fell feebly on his knees;
nevertheless he continued to mutter through the bandages:
"I won't forget those blows; I'll score them against you, my dear sirs!
With Yegor there was another student, Titovich, who taught us political
economy--he was a very stern, tedious fellow--he was arrested.
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