Why not? Only my home is very poor!"
"Never mind; I'm not used to luxury," the mother answered uncalculatingly.
"You can stay with me overnight," the peasant repeated, measuring
her with a searching glance.
It had already grown dark, and in the twilight his eyes shone cold,
his face seemed very pale. The mother looked around, and as if
dropping under distress, she said in an undertone:
"Then I'll go at once, and you'll take my valise."
"All right!" He shrugged his shoulders, again folded his coat
and said softly:
"There goes the wagon!"
In a few moments, after the crowd had begun to disperse, Rybin
appeared again on the steps of the town hall. His hands were bound;
his head and face were wrapped up in a gray cloth, and he was pushed
into a waiting wagon.
"Farewell, good people!" his voice rang out in the cold evening
twilight. "Search for the truth. Guard it! Believe the man who
will bring you the clean word; cherish him. Don't spare yourselves
in the cause of truth!"
"Silence, you dog!" shouted the voice of the police commissioner.
"Policeman, start the horses up, you fool!"
"What have you to be sorry for? What sort of life have you?"
The wagon started.
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