believe in his words, 'Love thy neighbor as thyself.'
Yes, I believe in them." And suddenly she asked in perplexity: "But
if there is a God, why did He withdraw his good power from us? Why did
He allow the division of people into two worlds? Why, if He is
merciful, does He permit human torture--the mockery of one man by
another, all kinds of evil and beastliness?"

Tatyana was silent. In the darkness the mother saw the faint outline
of her straight figure--gray on the black background. She stood
motionless. The mother closed her eyes in anguish. Then the groaning,
cold voice sullenly broke in upon the stillness again:

"The death of my children I will never forgive, neither God nor man--I
will never forgive--NEVER!"

Nilovna uneasily rose from her bed; her heart understood the mightiness
of the pain that evoked such words.

"You are young; you will still have children," she said kindly.

The woman did not answer immediately. Then she whispered:

"No, no. I'm spoiled. The doctor says I'll never be able to have a
child again."

A mouse ran across the floor, something cracked--a flash of sound
flaring up in the noiselessness. The autumn rain again rustled on the
thatch like light thin fingers running over the roof. Large drops of
water dismally fell to the ground, marking the slow course of the
autumn night. Hollow steps on the street, then on the porch, awoke the
mother from a heavy slumber. The door opened carefully.

"Tatyana!" came the low call. "Are you in bed already?"

"No."

"Is she asleep?"

"It seems she is."

A light flared up, trembled, and sank into the darkness.

The peasant walked over to the mother's bed, adjusted the sheepskin
over her, and wrapped up her feet. The attention touched the mother in
its simplicity. She closed her eyes again and smiled. Stepan
undressed in silence, crept up to the loft, and all became quiet.

CHAPTER XII

The mother lay motionless, with ears strained in the drowsy stillness,
and before her in the darkness wavered Rybin's face covered with blood.
In the loft a dry whisper could be heard.

"You see what sort of people go into this work? Even elderly people
who have drunk the cup of misery to the bottom, who have worked, and
for whom it is time to rest. And there they are! But you are young,
sensible! Ah, Stepan!"

The thick, moist voice of the peasant responded:

"Such an affair--you mustn't take it up without thinking over it