ow," said Pavel, stopping before his mother. "Look! her father
is a rich man; he is in the hardware business, and owns much property.
He drove her out of the house because she got into this movement. She
grew up in comfort and warmth, she was coddled and indulged in
everything she desired--and now she walks four miles at night all by
herself."

The mother was shocked. She stood in the middle of the room, and
looked mutely at her son. Then she asked quietly:

"Is she going to the city?"

"Yes."

"And is she not afraid?"

"No," said Pavel smiling.

"Why did she go? She could have stayed here overnight, and slept with
me."

"That wouldn't do. She might have been seen here to-morrow morning,
and we don't want that; nor does she."

The mother recollected her previous anxieties, looked thoughtfully
through the window, and asked:

"I cannot understand, Pasha, what there is dangerous in all this, or
illegal. Why, you are not doing anything bad, are you?"

She was not quite assured of the safety and propriety of his conduct,
and was eager for a confirmation from her son. But he looked calmly
into her eyes, and declared in a firm voice:

"There is nothing bad in what we're doing, and there's not going to be.
And yet the prison is awaiting us all. You may as well know it."

Her hands trembled. "Maybe God will grant you escape somehow," she
said with sunken voice.

"No," said the son kindly, but decidedly. "I cannot lie to you. We
will not escape." He smiled. "Now go to bed. You are tired. Good
night."

Left alone, she walked up to the window, and stood there looking into
the street. Outside it was cold and cheerless. The wind howled,
blowing the snow from the roofs of the little sleeping houses.
Striking against the walls and whispering something, quickly it fell
upon the ground and drifted the white clouds of dry snowflakes across
the street.

"O Christ in heaven, have mercy upon us!" prayed the mother.

The tears began to gather in her eyes, as fear returned persistently to
her heart, and like a moth in the night she seemed to see fluttering
the woe of which her son spoke with such composure and assurance.

Before her eyes as she gazed a smooth plain of snow spread out in the
distance. The wind, carrying white, shaggy masses, raced over the
plain, piping cold, shrill whistles. Across the snowy expanse moved a
girl's figure, dark and solitary, rocking to and fro. The wind
fluttered her d