"Run, run!" whispered the mother, treading impatiently. Her ears
were humming. Loud shouts were wafted to her. There on the wall
appeared a third head. She clasped her hands in faintness. A
light-haired head, without a beard, shook as if it wanted to tear
itself away, but it suddenly disappeared behind the wall. The
shouts came louder and louder, more and more boisterous. The wind
scattered the thin trills of the whistles through the air. Mikhail
walked along the wall--there! he was already beyond it, and
traversed the open space between the prison and the houses of the
city. It seemed to her as if he were walking very, very slowly,
that he raised his head to no purpose. "Everyone who sees his face
will remember it forever," and she whispered, "Faster! faster!"
Behind the wall of the prison something slammed, the thin sound of
broken glass was heard. One of the soldiers, planting his feet
firmly on the ground, drew the horse to him, and the horse jumped.
The other one, his fist at his mouth, shouted something in the
direction of the prison, and as he shouted he turned his head
sidewise, with his ear cocked.
All attention, the mother turned her head in all directions, her
eyes seeing everything, believing nothing.
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