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Gorky, Maksim, 1868-1936

"Mother"

You will see it is the true, the right road.
With such persons the people may travel. Such persons will not be
reconciled to small achievements; they will not stop until they will
vanquish all deceit, all evil and greed. They will not fold their
hands until the people are welded into one soul, until the people
will say in one voice: 'I am the ruler, and I myself will make
the laws equal for all.'"
She ceased from exhaustion, and looked about. Her words would not
be wasted here, she felt assured. The silence lasted for a minute,
while the peasants regarded her as if expecting more. Pyotr stood
in the middle of the hut, his hands clasped behind his back, his
eyes screwed up, a smile quivering on his freckled face. Stepan was
leaning one hand on the table; with his neck and entire body forward,
he seemed still to be listening. A shadow on his face gave it more
finish. His wife, sitting beside the mother, bent over, her elbows
on her knees, and studied her feet.
"That's how it is," whispered Pyotr, and carefully sat on the bench,
shaking his head.
Stepan slowly straightened himself, looked at his wife, and threw
his hands in the air, as if grasping for something.


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