Nakhodka, under arrest."

"What for?" asked the Little Russian composedly.

"I will tell you later!" answered the officer with spiteful civility,
and turning to Vlasova, he shouted:

"Say, can you read or write?"

"No!" answered Pavel.

"I didn't ask you!" said the officer sternly, and repeated: "Say, old
woman, can you read or write?"

The mother involuntarily gave way to a feeling of hatred for the man.
She was seized with a sudden fit of trembling, as if she had jumped
into cold water. She straightened herself, her scar turned purple, and
her brow drooped low.

"Don't shout!" she said, flinging out her hand toward him. "You are a
young man still; you don't know misery or sorrow----"

"Calm yourself, mother!" Pavel intervened.

"In this business, mother, you've got to take your heart between your
teeth and hold it there tight," said the Little Russian.

"Wait a moment, Pasha!" cried the mother, rushing to the table and then
addressing the officer: "Why do you snatch people away thus?"

"That does not concern you. Silence!" shouted the officer, rising.

"Bring in the prisoner Vyesovshchikov!" he commanded, and began to read
aloud a document which he raised to his face.

Nikolay was brought into the room.

"Hats off!" shouted the officer, interrupting his reading.

Rybin went up to Vlasova, and patting her on the back, said in an
undertone:

"Don't get excited, mother!"

"How can I take my hat off if they hold my hands?" asked Nikolay,
drowning the reading.

The officer flung the paper on the table.

"Sign!" he said curtly.

The mother saw how everyone signed the document, and her excitement
died down, a softer feeling taking possession of her heart. Her eyes
filled with tears--burning tears of insult and impotence--such tears
she had wept for twenty years of her married life, but lately she had
almost forgotten their acid, heart-corroding taste.

The officer regarded her contemptuously. He scowled and remarked:

"You bawl ahead of time, my lady! Look out, or you won't have tears
left for the future!"

"A mother has enough tears for everything, everything! If you have a
mother, she knows it!"

The officer hastily put the papers into his new portfolio with its
shining lock.

"How independent they all are in your place!" He turned to the police
commissioner.

"An impudent pack!" mumbled the commissioner.

"March!" commanded the officer.

"Good-by, Andrey! Good-by, Nikolay!