"The procurator was here the other day, and he said it will come off soon."
"You've been in prison half a year already!"
They spoke to each other about matters of no significance to either.
The mother saw Pavel's eyes look into her face softly and lovingly.
Even and calm as before, he had not changed, save that his wrists
were whiter, and his beard, grown long, made him look older. The
mother experienced a strong desire to do something pleasant for
him--tell him about Vyesovshchikov, for instance. So, without
changing her tone, she continued in the same voice in which she
spoke of the needless and uninteresting things.
"I saw your godchild." Pavel fixed a silent questioning look on her
eyes. She tapped her fingers on her cheeks to picture to him the
pockmarked face of Vyesovshchikov.
"He's all right! The boy is alive and well. He'll soon get his
position--you remember how he always asked for hard work?"
Pavel understood, and gratefully nodded his head. "Why, of course
I remember!" he answered, with a cheery smile in his eyes.
"Very well!" the mother uttered in a satisfied tone, content with
herself and moved by his joy.
On parting with her he held her hand in a firm clasp.
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