es
were fixed on something that had already fallen into the past, had
departed from her along with Andrey and Pavel. She was unable to weep.
Her heart was dried up, her lips, too, were dry, and her mouth was
parched. Her hands shook, and a cold, fine shiver ran down her back,
setting her skin aquiver.

In the evening the gendarmes came. She met them without surprise and
without fear. They entered noisily, with a peculiarly jaunty air, and
with a look of gayety and satisfaction in their faces. The
yellow-faced officer said, displaying his teeth:

"Well, how are you? The third time I have the honor, eh?"

She was silent, passing her dry tongue along her lips. The officer
talked a great deal, delivering a homily to her. The mother realized
what pleasure he derived from his words. But they did not reach her;
they did not disturb her; they were like the insistent chirp of a
cricket. It was only when he said: "It's your own fault, little
mother, that you weren't able to inspire your son with reverence for
God and the Czar," that she answered dully, standing at the door and
looking at him: "Yes, our children are our judges. They visit just
punishment upon us for abandoning them on such a road."

"Wha-at?" shouted the officer. "Louder!"

"I say, the children are our judges," the mother repeated with a sigh.

He said something quickly and angrily, but his words buzzed around her
without touching her. Marya Korsunova was a witness. She stood beside
the mother, but did not look at her; and when the officer turned to her
with a question, she invariably answered with a hasty, low bow: "I
don't know, your Honor. I am just a simple, ignorant woman. I make my
living by peddling, stupid as I am, and I know nothing."

"Shut up, then!" commanded the officer.

She was ordered to search Vlasova. She blinked her eyes, then opened
them wide on the officer, and said in fright:

"I can't, your Honor!"

The officer stamped his feet and began to shout. Marya lowered her
eyes, and pleaded with the mother softly:

"Well, what can be done? You have to submit, Pelagueya Nilovna."

As she searched and felt the mother's dress, the blood mounting to her
face, she murmured:

"Oh, the dogs!"

"What are you jabbering about there?" the officer cried rudely, looking
into the corner where she was making the search.

"It's about women's affairs, your Honor," mumbled Marya, terrorized.

On his order to sign the search w