In the supple swaying of her stately figure there
was much beauty and power; her sternness had mildened; the circles
under her eyes had grown larger during the night, her face paler
and leaner; her large eyes had deepened. One perceived a strained
exertion in her, a tightly drawn chord in her soul.
The boy brought in the samovar.
"Let me introduce you: Seryozha--Pelagueya Nilovna, the mother of
the workingman whom they sentenced yesterday."
Seryozha bowed silently and pressed the mother's hand. Then he
brought in bread, and sat down to the table. Liudmila persuaded
the mother not to go home until they found out whom the police
were waiting for there.
"Maybe they are waiting for you. I'm sure they'll examine you."
"Let them. And if they arrest me, no great harm. Only I'd like
to have Pasha's speech sent off."
"It's already in type. To-morrow it'll be possible to have it for
the city and the suburb. We'll have some for the districts, too.
Do you know Natasha?"
"Of course!"
"Then take it to her."
The boy read the newspaper, and seemed not to be listening to the
conversation; but at times his eyes looked from the pages of the
newspaper into the face of the mother; and when she met their
animated glance she felt pleased and smiled.
Pages:
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607