Now, tell me where my valise and my linen are. You've
grabbed up everything into your rapacious hands, and I'm completely
robbed of the possibility of disposing of my own private property. I'm
making complete preparations--this will be unpleasant to them."

Sasha burned the papers in silence, and carefully mixed their ashes
with the other cinders in the stove.

"Sasha, go," said Nikolay, putting out his hand to her. "Good-by.
Don't forget books--if anything new and interesting appears. Well,
good-by, dear comrade. Be more careful."

"Do you think it's for long?" asked Sasha.

"The devil knows them! Evidently. There's something against me.
Nilovna, are you going with her? It's harder to track two people--all
right?"

"I'm going." The mother went to dress herself, and it occurred to her
how little these people who were striving for the freedom of all cared
for their personal freedom. The simplicity and the businesslike manner
of Nikolay in expecting the arrest both astonished and touched her.
She tried to observe his face carefully; she detected nothing but his
air of absorption, overshadowing the usual kindly soft expression of
his eyes. There was no sign of agitation in this man, dearer to her
than the others; he made no fuss. Equally attentive to all, alike kind
to all, always calmly the same, he seemed to her just as much a
stranger as before to everybody and everything except his cause. He
seemed remote, living a secret life within himself and somewhere ahead
of people. Yet she felt that he resembled her more than any of the
others, and she loved him with a love that was carefully observing and,
as it were, did not believe in itself. Now she felt painfully sorry
for him; but she restrained her feelings, knowing that to show them
would disconcert Nikolay, that he would become, as always under such
circumstances, somewhat ridiculous.

When she returned to the room she found him pressing Sasha's hand and
saying:

"Admirable! I'm convinced of it. It's very good for him and for you.
A little personal happiness does not do any harm; but--a little, you
know, so as not to make him lose his value. Are you ready, Nilovna?"
He walked up to her, smiling and adjusting his glasses. "Well,
good-by. I want to think that for three months, four months--well, at
most half a year--half a year is a great deal of a man's life. In half
a year one can do a lot of things. Take care of yourself, please, eh?
Com