Several men
lifted him from the ground. The policemen again wanted to bind
his bands.
"Wait a little while, you devils!" the people shouted.
Rybin wiped the blood from his face and beard and looked about in
silence. His gaze glided by the face of the mother. She started,
stretched herself out to him, and instinctively waved her hand. He
turned away; but in a few minutes his eyes again rested on her face.
It seemed to her that he straightened himself and raised his head,
that his blood-covered cheeks quivered.
"Did he recognize me? I wonder if he did?"
She nodded her head to him and started with a sorrowful, painful
joy. But the next moment she saw that the blue-eyed peasant was
standing near him and also looking at her. His gaze awakened her
to the consciousness of the risk she was running.
"What am I doing? They'll take me, too."
The peasant said something to Rybin, who shook his head.
"Never mind!" he exclaimed, his voice tremulous, but clear and bold.
"I'm not alone in the world. They'll not capture all the truth.
In the place where I was the memory of me will remain. That's it!
Even though they destroy the nest, aren't there more friends and
comrades there?"
"He's saying this for me," the mother decided quickly.
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