I have no time
to pay visits. You'll write a leaflet about the affair at the
cemetery, won't you?"
"Of course!"
The mother rose quietly and walked into the kitchen.
"Where are you going, Nilovna?" Nikolay stopped her with solicitude.
"Sofya can get along by herself."
She looked at him and started and smiled strangely.
"I'm all covered with blood."
While changing her dress she once again thought of the calmness of
these people, of their ability to recover from the horrible, an
ability which clearly testified to their manly readiness to meet
any demand made on them for work in the cause of truth. This
thought, steadying the mother, drove fear from her heart.
When she returned to the room where the sick man lay, she heard
Sofya say, as she bent over him:
"That's nonsense, comrade!"
"Yes, I'll incommode you," he said faintly.
"You keep still. That's better for you."
The mother stood back of Sofya, and puffing her hand on her shoulders
peered with a smile into the face of the sick man. She related how
he had raved in the presence of the cabman and frightened her by his
lack of caution. Ivan heard her; his eyes turned feverishly, he
smacked his lips, and at times exclaimed in a confused low voice:
"Oh, what a fool I am!"
"We'll leave you here," Sofya said, straightening out the blanket.
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