e tried by young judges, and not by old ones,"
she said to her son.

"It would be better to arrange life so that it should not force people
to crime," answered Pavel.

The mother, seeing the Little Russian converse with everybody and
realizing that he needed affection more than Pavel, spoke to him.
Andrey answered her gratefully, smiling, joking kindly, as always a bit
droll, supple, sinewy. Around her the talk went on, crossing and
intertwining. She heard everything, understood everybody, and secretly
marveled at the vastness of her own heart, which took in everything
with an even joy, and gave back a clear reflection of it, like a bright
image on a deep, placid lake.

Finally the prisoners were led away. The mother walked out of the
court, and was surprised to see that night already hung over the city,
with the lanterns alight in the streets, and the stars shining in the
sky. Groups composed mainly of young men were crowding near the
courthouse. The snow crunched in the frozen atmosphere; voices
sounded. A man in a gray Caucasian cowl looked into Sizov's face and
asked quickly:

"What was the sentence?"

"Exile."

"For all?"

"All."

"Thank you."

The man walked away.

"You see," said Sizov. "They inquire."

Suddenly they were surrounded by about ten men, youths, and girls, and
explanations rained down, attracting still more people. The mother and
Sizov stopped. They were questioned in regard to the sentence, as to
how the prisoners behaved, who delivered the speeches, and what the
speeches were about. All the voices rang with the same eager
curiosity, sincere and warm, which aroused the desire to satisfy it.

"People! This is the mother of Pavel Vlasov!" somebody shouted, and
presently all became silent.

"Permit me to shake your hand."

Somebody's firm hand pressed the mother's fingers, somebody's voice
said excitedly:

"Your son will be an example of manhood for all of us."

"Long live the Russian workingman!" a resonant voice rang out.

"Long live the proletariat!"

"Long live the revolution!"

The shouts grew louder and increased in number, rising up on all sides.
The people ran from every direction, pushing into the crowd around the
mother and Sizov. The whistles of the police leaped through the air,
but did not deafen the shouts. The old man smiled; and to the mother
all this seemed like a pleasant dream. She smilingly pressed the hands
extended to her and bowed, with j