, pale, the girl continued:

"But I decline. I'll not take any part in deciding the question if you
consider it."

"Stop, Sasha," said Nikolay calmly.

The mother understood the girl. She went to her and kissed her
silently on her head. Sasha seized her hand, leaned her cheek on it,
and raised her reddened face, looking into the mother's eyes, troubled
and happy. The mother silently stroked her hair. She felt sad at
heart. Sofya seated herself at Sasha's side, her arm over her
shoulder, and said, smiling into the girl's eyes:

"You're a strange person."

"Yes, I think I've grown foolish," Sasha acknowledged. "But I don't
like shadows."

"That'll do," said Nikolay seriously, but immediately followed up the
admonition by the businesslike remark: "There can't be two opinions as
to the escape, if it's possible to arrange it. But before everything,
we must know whether the comrades in prison want it."

Sasha drooped her head. Sofya, lighting a cigarette, looked at her
brother, and with a broad sweep of her arm dropped the match in a
corner.

"How is it possible they should not want it?" asked the mother with a
sigh. Sofya nodded to her, smiling, and walked over to the window.
The mother could not understand the failure of the others to respond,
and looked at them in perplexity. She wanted so much to hear more
about the possibility of an escape.

"I must see Vyesovshchikov," said Nikolay.

"All right. To-morrow I'll tell you when and where," replied Sasha.

"What is he going to do?" asked Sofya, pacing through the room.

"It's been decided to make him compositor in a new printing place.
Until then he'll stay with the forester."

Sasha's brow lowered. Her face assumed its usual severe expression.
Her voice sounded caustic. Nikolay walked up to the mother, who was
washing cups, and said to her:

"You'll see Pasha day after to-morrow. Hand him a note when you're
there. Do you understand? We must know."

"I understand. I understand," the mother answered quickly. "I'll
deliver it to him all right. That's my business."

"I'm going," Sasha announced, and silently shook hands with everybody.
She strode away, straight and dry-eyed, with a peculiarly heavy tread.

"Poor girl!" said Sofya softly.

"Ye-es," Nikolay drawled. Sofya put her hand on the mother's shoulder
and gave her a gentle little shake as she sat in the chair.

"Would you love such a daughter?" and Sofya looked into the mother