d sounds of women's irritated, weary voices cut
the air.

Life in the little house of the Vlasovs flowed on monotonously, but
more calmly and undisturbed than before, and somewhat different from
everywhere else in the suburb.

The house stood at the edge of the village, by a low but steep and
muddy declivity. A third of the house was occupied by the kitchen and
a small room used for the mother's bedroom, separated from the kitchen
by a partition reaching partially to the ceiling. The other two thirds
formed a square room with two windows. In one corner stood Pavel's
bed, in front a table and two benches. Some chairs, a washstand with a
small looking-glass over it, a trunk with clothes, a clock on the wall,
and two ikons--this was the entire outfit of the household.

Pavel tried to live like the rest. He did all a young lad should
do--bought himself an accordion, a shirt with a starched front, a
loud-colored necktie, overshoes, and a cane. Externally he became like
all the other youths of his age. He went to evening parties and
learned to dance a quadrille and a polka. On holidays he came home
drunk, and always suffered greatly from the effects of liquor. In the
morning his head ached, he was tormented by heartburns, his face was
pale and dull.

Once his mother asked him:

"Well, did you have a good time yesterday?"

He answered dismally and with irritation:

"Oh, dreary as a graveyard! Everybody is like a machine. I'd better
go fishing or buy myself a gun."

He worked faithfully, without intermission and without incurring fines.
He was taciturn, and his eyes, blue and large like his mother's, looked
out discontentedly. He did not buy a gun, nor did he go a-fishing; but
he gradually began to avoid the beaten path trodden by all. His
attendance at parties became less and less frequent, and although he
went out somewhere on holidays, he always returned home sober. His
mother watched him unobtrusively but closely, and saw the tawny face of
her son grow keener and keener, and his eyes more serious. She noticed
that his lips were compressed in a peculiar manner, imparting an odd
expression of austerity to his face. It seemed as if he were always
angry at something or as if a canker gnawed at him. At first his
friends came to visit him, but never finding him at home, they remained
away.

The mother was glad to see her son turning out different from all the
other factory youth; but a feeling of anx