olya. The mother, a humble and kind woman,
does not understand the cause of all this dissension and, while
consoling the weeping Tatyana, she asks her husband: "Why are our
children punishing us so? Why do they make us suffer?" This play is
not dramatically effective and has never had a great success on the
stage.

On the other hand, Gorky's second attempt, "A Night's Refuge," has
been enormously successful. Here, the author takes us into the world
of the barefoot brigade. Vasska Pepel, Vassilissa's lover, the
proprietor of the night refuge in which he sleeps, loves the sister
of his mistress, Natasha by name, a timid and dreamy young girl,
who blooms like a lily in this mire. The old vagabond, Luke, advises
the young girl to run off with Vasska, who wants to begin a new
life. But Vassilissa, jealous and evil as she is, has noticed the
coldness which her lover shows towards her. She avenges herself by
striking her younger sister whenever she can. Her plan was, with the
aid of Vasska, to kill her husband, Kostylev, and then to live
openly with her lover. But when she sees Vasska ready to leave with
Natasha, she starts a terrible scene, which ends in Vasska's killing
Kostylev without meaning to. Vassilissa and her lover are arrested
and Natasha disappears.

Although the characters of this play are vagabonds, they differ from
most of Gorky's creations, whose fiery and enthusiastic souls
usually discover a real beauty in the life they have chosen.
Alcoholism, prostitution, and misery have shut off these people who
live in the cellar. They have fallen so low, that conscience is a
useless luxury for them. It belongs to the rich only. One of them,
who is asked if he has a conscience, replies with sincere
astonishment: "What? Conscience?" And when the question is asked
again, he answers, "What good is conscience? I'm not a rich man."
The life of these people is worse than a nightmare: to-morrow they
will be cold, hungry, and drunk, just as they were yesterday.
Sometimes, perhaps, they feel like struggling against their evil
lot, but no one stretches forth a helping hand to them. They do not
dare think of the future, and they would like to forget the past.
One of them expresses his fear of life thus:

"At times, I'm afraid, brother; can you understand that?... I
tremble.... For, what is there after this?" And this fear smothers
all the energy in them. They are poor and scantily clothed, not only
in the material sense of the