Ignaty's round
face lengthened in amazement. He looked around helplessly with
his wide-open eyes.
"Why, it's going to tickle me!"
"You'll be able to bear it," answered the mother, beginning to wash
his feet.
Ignaty snorted aloud, and moving his neck awkwardly looked down
at her, comically drooping his under lip.
"And do you know," she said tremulously, "that they beat Mikhail
Ivanovich?"
"What?" the peasant exclaimed in fright.
"Yes; he had been beaten when they led him to the village, and in
Nikolsk the sergeant beat him, the police commissioner beat him in
the face and kicked him till he bled." The mother became silent,
overwhelmed by her recollections.
"They can do it," said the peasant, lowering his brows sullenly.
His shoulders shook. "That is, I fear them like the devils. And
the peasants--didn't the peasants beat him?"
"One beat him. The police commissioner ordered him to. All the
others were so so--they even took his part. 'You mustn't beat him!'
they said."
"Um! Yes, yes! The peasants are beginning to realize where a man
stands, and for what he stands."
"There are sensible people there, too."
"Where can't you find sensible people? Necessity! They're everywhere;
but it's hard to get at them.
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