nts----"

"Stop babbling nonsense, Marya! Enough!"

"I'm not babbling nonsense! I talk because I know."

The mother communicated all these conversations to her son. He
shrugged his shoulders in silence, and the Little Russian laughed with
his thick, soft laugh.

"The girls also have a crow to pick with you!" she said. "You'd make
enviable bridegrooms for any of them; you're all good workers, and you
don't drink--but you don't pay any attention to them. Besides, people
are saying that girls of questionable character come to you."

"Well, of course!" exclaimed Pavel, his brow contracting in a frown of
disgust.

"In the bog everything smells of rottenness!" said the Little Russian
with a sigh. "Why don't you, mother, explain to the foolish girls what
it is to be married, so that they shouldn't be in such a hurry to get
their bones broken?"

"Oh, well," said the mother, "they see the misery in store for them,
they understand, but what can they do? They have no other choice!"

"It's a queer way they have of understanding, else they'd find a
choice," observed Pavel.

The mother looked into his austere face.

"Why don't you teach them? Why don't you invite some of the cleverer
ones?"

"That won't do!" the son replied dryly.

"Suppose we try?" said the Little Russian.

After a short silence Pavel said:

"Couples will be formed; couples will walk together; then some will get
married, and that's all."

The mother became thoughtful. Pavel's austerity worried her. She saw
that his advice was taken even by his older comrades, such as the
Little Russian; but it seemed to her that all were afraid of him, and
no one loved him because he was so stern.

Once when she had lain down to sleep, and her son and the Little
Russian were still reading, she overheard their low conversation
through the thin partition.

"You know I like Natasha," suddenly ejaculated the Little Russian in an
undertone.

"I know," answered Pavel after a pause.

"Yes!"

The mother heard the Little Russian rise and begin to walk. The tread
of his bare feet sounded on the floor, and a low, mournful whistle was
heard. Then he spoke again:

"And does she notice it?"

Pavel was silent.

"What do you think?" the Little Russian asked, lowering his voice.

"She does," replied Pavel. "That's why she has refused to attend our
meetings."

The Little Russian dragged his feet heavily over the floor, and again
his low whistle quivered