--how eloquently he spoke!

"People with well-filled stomachs are, after all, not a few, but honest
people there are none," said the little Russian. "We ought to build a
bridge across the bog of this rotten life to a future of soulful
goodness. That's our task, that's what we have to do, comrades!"

"When the time is come to fight, it's not the time to cure the finger,"
said Vyesovshchikov dully.

"There will be enough breaking of our bones before we get to fighting!"
the Little Russian put in merrily.

It was already past midnight when the group began to break up. The
first to go were Vyesovshchikov and the red-haired man--which again
displeased the mother.

"Hm! How they hurry!" she thought, nodding them a not very friendly
farewell.

"Will you see me home, Nakhodka?" asked Natasha.

"Why, of course," answered the Little Russian.

When Natasha put on her wraps in the kitchen, the mother said to her:
"Your stockings are too thin for this time of the year. Let me knit
some woolen ones for you, will you, please?"

"Thank you, Pelagueya Nilovna. Woolen stockings scratch," Natasha
answered, smiling.

"I'll make them so they won't scratch."

Natasha looked at her rather perplexedly, and her fixed serious glance
hurt the mother.

"Pardon me my stupidity; like my good will, it's from my heart, you
know," she added in a low voice.

"How kind you are!" Natasha answered in the same voice, giving her a
hasty pressure of the hand and walking out.

"Good night, mother!" said the Little Russian, looking into her eyes.
His bending body followed Natasha out to the porch.

The mother looked at her son. He stood in the room at the door and
smiled.

"The evening was fine," he declared, nodding his head energetically.
"It was fine! But now I think you'd better go to bed; it's time."

"And it's time for you, too. I'm going in a minute."

She busied herself about the table gathering the dishes together,
satisfied and even glowing with a pleasurable agitation. She was glad
that everything had gone so well and had ended peaceably.

"You arranged it nicely, Pavlusha. They certainly are good people. The
Little Russian is such a hearty fellow. And the young lady, what a
bright, wise girl she is! Who is she?"

"A teacher," answered Pavel, pacing up and down the room.

"Ah! Such a poor thing! Dressed so poorly! Ah, so poorly! It
doesn't take long to catch a cold. And where are her relatives?"

"In Mosc