"
She was silent, letting her eyes wander about the room.
"Sometimes it seems to me that they'll insult Pasha--scoff at him.
'Ah, you peasant!' they'll say. 'You son of a peasant! What's this
mess you've cooked up?' And Pasha, proud as he is, he'll answer
them so----! Or Andrey will laugh at them--and all the comrades
there are hot-headed and honest. So I can't help thinking that
something will suddenly happen. One of them will lose his patience,
the others will support him, and the sentence will be so severe--
you'll never see them again."
Nikolay was silent, pulling his beard glumly as the mother continued:
"It's impossible to drive this thought from my head. The trial is
terrible to me. When they'll begin to take everything apart and
weigh it--it's awful! It's not the sentence that's terrible, but
the trial--I can't express it." She felt that Nikolay didn't
understand her fear; and his inability to comprehend kept her from
further analysis of her timidities, which, however, only increased
and broadened during the three following days. Finally, on the day
of the trial, she carried into the hall of the session a heavy dark
load that bent her back and neck.
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