ious watchfulness, others by their
excessive obtrusiveness.

The mother knew that all this commotion was due to the work of her son
Pavel. She saw how all the people were drawn together about him. He
was not alone, and therefore it was not so dangerous. But pride in her
son mingled with her apprehension for his fate; it was his secret
labors that discharged themselves in fresh currents into the narrow,
turbid stream of life.

One evening Marya Korsunova rapped at the window from the street, and
when the mother opened it, she said in a loud whisper:

"Now, take care, Pelagueya; the boys have gotten themselves into a nice
mess! It's been decided to make a search to-night in your house, and
Mazin's and Vyesovshchikov's----"

The mother heard only the beginning of the woman's talk; all the rest
of the words flowed together in one stream of ill-boding, hoarse sounds.

Marya's thick lips flapped hastily one against the other. Snorts
issued from her fleshy nose, her eyes blinked and turned from side to
side as if on the lookout for somebody in the street.

"And, mark you, I do not know anything, and I did not say anything to
you, mother dear, and did not even see you to-day, you understand?"

Then she disappeared.

The mother closed the window and slowly dropped on a chair, her
strength gone from her, her brain a desolate void. But the
consciousness of the danger threatening her son quickly brought her to
her feet again. She dressed hastily, for some reason wrapped her shawl
tightly around her head, and ran to Fedya Mazin, who, she knew, was
sick and not working. She found him sitting at the window reading a
book, and moving his right hand to and fro with his left, his thumb
spread out. On learning the news he jumped up nervously, his lips
trembled, and his face paled.

"There you are! And I have an abscess on my finger!" he mumbled.

"What are we to do?" asked Vlasova, wiping the perspiration from her
face with a hand that trembled nervously.

"Wait a while! Don't be afraid," answered Fedya, running his sound
hand through his curly hair.

"But you are afraid yourself!"

"I?" He reddened and smiled in embarrassment. "Yes--h-m-- I had a
fit of cowardice, the devil take it! We must let Pavel know. I'll send
my little sister to him. You go home. Never mind! They're not going
to beat us."

On returning home she gathered together all the books, and pressing
them to her bosom walked about the house