Are you tired of sitting in prison? Go.
Are you tired of going? Sit. They robbed you? Keep still. They
beat you? Bear it. They have killed you? Stay dead. That's
certain. And I'll carry off Savka; I'll carry him off!" His curt,
barking phrases, full of good-natured irony, perplexed the mother.
But his last words aroused envy in her.
While walking along the street in the face of a cold wind and rain;
she thought of Nikolay, "What a man he's become! Think of it!" And
remembering Godun, she almost prayerfully reflected, "It seems I'm
not the only one who lives for the new. It's a big fire if it so
cleanses and burns all who see it." Then she thought of her son,
"If he only agreed!"
On Sunday, taking leave of Pavel in the waiting room of the prison,
she felt a little lump of paper in her hand. She started as if it
burned her skin, and cast a look of question and entreaty into her
son's face. But she found no answer there. Pavel's blue eyes
smiled with the usual composed smile familiar to her.
"Good-by!" she sighed.
The son again put out his hand to her, and a certain kindness and
tenderness for her quivered on his face. "Good-by, mamma!"
She waited without letting go of his hand.
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