for a long time, looking into
the oven, under the oven, into the pipe of the samovar, and even into
the water vat. She thought Pavel would at once drop work and come
home; but he did not come. Finally she sat down exhausted on the bench
in the kitchen, putting the books under her; and she remained in that
position, afraid to rise, until Pavel and the Little Russian returned
from the factory.

"Do you know?" she exclaimed without rising.

"We know!" said Pavel with a composed smile. "Are you afraid?"

"Oh, I'm so afraid, so afraid!"

"You needn't be afraid," said the Little Russian. "That won't help
anybody."

"Didn't even prepare the samovar," remarked Pavel.

The mother rose, and pointed to the books with a guilty air.

"You see, it was on account of them--all the time--I was----"

The son and the Little Russian burst into laughter; and this relieved
her. Then Pavel picked out some books and carried them out into the
yard to hide them, while the Little Russian remained to prepare the
samovar.

"There's nothing terrible at all in this, mother. It's only a shame
for people to occupy themselves with such nonsense. Grown-up men in
gray come in with sabers at their sides, with spurs on their feet, and
rummage around, and dig up and search everything. They look under the
bed, and climb up to the garret; if there is a cellar they crawl down
into it. The cobwebs get on their faces, and they puff and snort.
They are bored and ashamed. That's why they put on the appearance of
being very wicked and very mad with us. It's dirty work, and they
understand it, of course they do! Once they turned everything
topsy-turvy in my place, and went away abashed, that's all. Another
time they took me along with them. Well, they put me in prison, and I
stayed there with them for about four months. You sit and sit, then
you're called out, taken to the street under an escort of soldiers, and
you're asked certain questions. They're stupid people, they talk such
incoherent stuff. When they're done with you, they tell the soldiers
to take you back to prison. So they lead you here, and they lead you
there--they've got to justify their salaries somehow. And then they
let you go free. That's all."

"How you always do speak, Andriusha!" exclaimed the mother
involuntarily.

Kneeling before the samovar he diligently blew into the pipe; but
presently he turned his face, red with exertion, toward her, and
smoothing his mus