Words were spoken in plenty, but they referred only
to common matters. The relatives spoke of linen and clothes, and
begged the comrades to take care of their health, and not to provoke
the authorities uselessly.
"Everybody, brother, will grow weary, both we and they," said
Samoylov to his son.
And Bukin's brother, waving his hand, assured the younger brother:
"Merely justice, and nothing else! That they cannot admit."
The younger Bukin answered:
"You look out for the starling. I love him."
"Come back home, and you'll find him in perfect trim."
"I've nothing to do there."
And Sizov held his nephew's hand, and slowly said:
"So, Fedor; so you've started on your trip. So."
Fedya bent over, and whispered something in his ear, smiling
roguishly. The convoy soldier also smiled; but he immediately
assumed a stern expression, and shouted, "Go!"
The mother spoke to Pavel, like the others, about the same things,
about clothes, about his health, yet her breast was choked by a
hundred questions concerning Sasha, concerning himself, and herself.
Underneath all these emotions an almost burdensome feeling was
slowly growing of the fullness of her love for her son--a strained
desire to please him, to be near to his heart.
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