how you used to hide me from my
husband? Well, now I am going to hide you from want. Everyone ought
to help you, for your son is perishing for the public cause. He is a
fine chap, your son is! They all say so, every blessed soul of them.
And they all pity him. I'll tell you something. No good is going to
come to the authorities from these arrests, mark my word! Look what's
going on in the factory! Hear them talk! They are in an ugly mood, my
dear! The officials imagine that when they've bitten at a man's heel,
he won't be able to go far. But it turns out that when ten men are
hit, a hundred men get angry. A workman must be handled with care! He
may go on patiently enduring and suffering everything that's heaped
upon him for a long, long time, but then he can also explode all of a
sudden!"

CHAPTER X

The upshot of the conversation was that the next day at noon the mother
was seen in factory yard with two pots of eatables from Marya's
culinary establishment, while Marya herself transferred her base of
operations to the market place.

The workmen immediately noticed their new caterer. Some of them
approached her and said approvingly:

"Gone into business, Nilovna?"

They comforted her, arguing that Pavel would certainly be released soon
because his cause was a good one. Others filled her sad heart with
alarm by their cautious condolence, while still others awoke a
responsive echo in her by openly and bitterly abusing the manager and
the gendarmes. Some there were who looked at her with a vindictive
expression, among them Isay Gorbov, who, speaking through his teeth,
said:

"If I were the governor, I would have your son hanged! Let him not
mislead the people!"

This vicious threat went through her like the chill blast of death. She
made no reply, glanced at his small, freckled face, and with a sigh
cast down her eyes.

She observed considerable agitation in the factory; the workmen
gathered in small groups and talked in an undertone, with great
animation; the foremen walked about with careworn faces, poking their
noses into everything; here and there were heard angry oaths and
irritated laughter.

Two policemen escorted Samoylov past her. He walked with one hand in
his pocket, the other smoothing his red hair.

A crowd of about a hundred workmen followed him, and plied the
policemen with oaths and banter.

"Going to take a promenade, Grisha?" shouted one.

"They do honor to us fel