oyous tears choking her throat. Near
her somebody's clear voice said nervously:

"Comrades, friends, the autocracy, the monster which devours the
Russian people to-day again gulped into its bottomless, greedy
mouth----"

"However, mother, let's go," said Sizov. And at the same time Sasha
appeared, caught the mother under her arm, and quickly dragged her away
to the other side of the street.

"Come! They're going to make arrests. What? Exile? To Siberia?"

"Yes, yes."

"And how did he speak? I know without your telling me. He was more
powerful than any of the others, and more simple. And of course,
sterner than all the rest. He's sensitive and soft, only he's ashamed
to expose himself. And he's direct, clear, firm, like truth itself.
He's very great, and there's everything in him, everything! But he
often constrains himself for nothing, lest he might hinder the cause. I
know it." Her hot half-whisper, the words of her love, calmed the
mother's agitation, and restored her exhausted strength.

"When will you go to him?" she asked Sasha, pressing her hand to her
body. Looking confidently before her the girl answered:

"As soon as I find somebody to take over my work. I have the money
already, but I might go per etappe. You know I am also awaiting a
sentence. Evidently they are going to send me to Siberia, too. I will
then declare that I desire to be exiled to the same locality that he
will be."

Behind them was heard the voice of Sizov:

"Then give him regards from me, from Sizov. He will know. I'm Fedya
Mazin's uncle."

Sasha stopped, turned around, extending her hand. "I'm acquainted with
Fedya. My name is Alexandra."

"And your patronymic?"

She looked at him and answered:

"I have no father."

"He's dead, you mean?"

"No, he's alive." Something stubborn, persistent, sounded in the
girl's voice and appeared in her face. "He's a landowner, a chief of a
country district. He robs the peasants and beats them. I cannot
recognize him as my father."

"S-s-o-o!" Sizov was taken aback. After a pause he said, looking at
the girl sidewise:

"Well, mother, good-by. I'm going off to the left. Stop in sometimes
for a talk and a glass of tea. Good evening, lady. You're pretty hard
on your father--of course, that's your business."

"If your son were an ugly man, obnoxious to people, disgusting to you,
wouldn't you say the same about him?" Sasha shouted terribly.

"Well, I would,