in bed. Half awake, half
asleep, she listened to the low, busy voices. Presently Andrey got up
and carefully picked his way through and out of the kitchen, quietly
shutting the door after him. The noise of the iron bucket was heard on
the porch. Suddenly the door was flung wide open; the Little Russian
entered the kitchen, and announced in a loud whisper:

"I hear the jingling of spurs in the street!"

The mother jumped out of bed, catching at her dress with a trembling
hand; but Pavel came to the door and said calmly:

"You stay in bed; you're not feeling well."

A cautious, stealthy sound was heard on the porch. Pavel went to the
door and knocking at it with his hand asked:

"Who's there?"

A tall, gray figure tumultuously precipitated itself through the
doorway; after it another; two gendarmes pushed Pavel back, and
stationed themselves on either side of him, and a loud mocking voice
called out:

"No one you expect, eh?"

The words came from a tall, lank officer, with a thin, black mustache.
The village policeman, Fedyakin, appeared at the bedside of the mother,
and, raising one hand to his cap, pointed the other at her face and,
making terrible eyes, said:

"This is his mother, your honor!" Then, waving his hand toward Pavel:
"And this is he himself."

"Pavel Vlasov?" inquired the officer, screwing up his eyes; and when
Pavel silently nodded his head, he announced, twirling his mustache:

"I have to make a search in your house. Get up, old woman!"

"Who is there?" he asked, turning suddenly and making a dash for the
door.

"Your name?" His voice was heard from the other room.

Two other men came in from the porch: the old smelter Tveryakov and
his lodger, the stoker Rybin, a staid, dark-colored peasant. He said in
a thick, loud voice:

"Good evening, Nilovna."

She dressed herself, all the while speaking to herself in a low voice,
so as to give herself courage:

"What sort of a thing is this? They come at night. People are asleep
and they come----"

The room was close, and for some reason smelled strongly of shoe
blacking. Two gendarmes and the village police commissioner, Ryskin,
their heavy tread resounding on the floor, removed the books from the
shelves and put them on the table before the officer. Two others
rapped on the walls with their fists, and looked under the chairs. One
man clumsily clambered up on the stove in the corner. Nikolay's
pockmarked face became covered w