Everything began to turn around, grow giddy in a dark
whirlwind of shouts, howls, whistles. Something thick and deafening
crept into her ear, beat in her throat, choked her. The floor under
her feet began to shake, giving way. Her legs bent, her body
trembled, burned with pain, grew heavy, and staggered powerless.
But her eyes were not extinguished, and they saw many other eyes
which flashed and gleamed with the bold sharp fire known to her,
with the fire dear to her heart.
She was pushed somewhere into a door.
She snatched her hand away from the gendarmes and caught hold of
the doorpost.
"You will not drown the truth in seas of blood----"
They struck her hand.
"You heap up only malice on yourself, you unwise ones! It will fall
on you----"
Somebody seized her neck and began to choke her. There was a rattle
in her throat.
"You poor, sorry creatures----"
End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Mother, by Maxim Gorky
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