such hot truth that it will scald the
village, that the people will even rush to their death."

He raised his hand, and laying emphasis on each word, he said hoarsely:

"Let death make amends for death. That is, die so that the people
should arise to life again. And let thousands die in order that hosts
of people all over the earth may arise to life again. That's it! It's
easy to die--but let the people rise to life again! That's a different
thing! Let them rise up in rebellion!"

The mother brought in the samovar, looking askance at Rybin. His
strong, heavy words oppressed her. Something in him reminded her of
her husband. He, too, showed his teeth, waved his hands, and rolled up
his sleeves; in him, too, there was that impatient wrath, impatient but
dumb. Rybin was not dumb; he was not silent; he spoke, and therefore
was less terrible.

"That's necessary," said Pavel, nodding his head. "We need a newspaper
for the villages, too. Give us material, and we'll print you a
newspaper."

The mother looked at her son with a smile, and shook her head. She had
quietly put on her wraps and now went out of the house.

"Yes, do it. We'll give you everything. Write as simply as possible,
so that even calves could understand," Rybin cried. Then, suddenly
stepping back from Pavel, he said, as he shook his head:

"Ah, me, if I were a Jew! The Jew, my dear boy, is the most believing
man in the world! Isaiah, the prophet, or Job, the patient, believed
more strongly than Christ's apostles. They could say words to make a
man's hair stand on end. But the apostles, you see, Pavel, couldn't.
The prophets believed not in the church, but in themselves; they had
their God in themselves. The apostles--they built churches; and the
church is law. Man must believe in himself, not in law. Man carries
the truth of God in his soul; he is not a police captain on earth, nor
a slave! All the laws are in myself."

The kitchen door opened, and somebody walked in.

"It's Yefim," said Rybin, looking into the kitchen. "Come here, Yefim.
As for you, Pavel, think! Think a whole lot. There is a great deal to
think about. This is Yefim. And this man's name is Pavel. I told you
about him."

A light-haired, broad-faced young fellow in a short fur overcoat, well
built and evidently strong, stood before Pavel, holding his cap in both
hands and looking at him from the corners of his gray eyes.

"How do you do?" he said hoarsely