lows!" chimed in another.

"When we go to promenading, we have a bodyguard to escort us," said a
third, and uttered a harsh oath.

"It does not seem to pay any longer to catch thieves!" exclaimed a
tall, one-eyed workingman in a loud, bitter voice. "So they take to
arresting honest people."

"They don't even do it at night!" broke in another. "They come and
drag them away in broad daylight, without shame, the impudent
scoundrels!"

The policemen walked on rapidly and sullenly, trying to avoid the sight
of the crowd, and feigning not to hear the angry exclamations showered
upon them from all sides. Three workmen carrying a big iron bar
happened to come in front of them, and thrusting the bar against them,
shouted:

"Look out there, fishermen!"

As he passed Nilovna, Samoylov nodded to her, and smiling, said:

"Behold, this is Gregory, the servant of God, being arrested."

She made a low bow to him in silence. These men, so young, sober, and
clever, who went to jail with a smile, moved her, and she unconsciously
felt for them the pitying affection of a mother. It pleased her to
hear the sharp comments leveled against the authorities. She saw
therein her son's influence.

Leaving the factory, she passed the remainder of the day at Marya's
house, assisting her in her work, and listening to her chatter. Late in
the evening she returned home and found it bare, chilly and
disagreeable. She moved about from corner to corner, unable to find a
resting place, and not knowing what to do with herself. Night was fast
approaching, and she grew worried, because Yegor Ivanovich had not yet
come and brought her the literature which he had promised.

Behind the window, gray, heavy flakes of spring snow fluttered and
settled softly and noiselessly upon the pane. Sliding down and
melting, they left a watery track in their course. The mother thought
of her son.

A cautious rap was heard. She rushed to the door, lifted the latch,
and admitted Sashenka. She had not seen her for a long while, and the
first thing that caught her eye was the girl's unnatural stoutness.

"Good evening!" she said, happy to have a visitor at such a time, to
relieve her solitude for a part of the night. "You haven't been around
for a long while! Were you away?"

"No, I was in prison," replied the girl, smiling, "with Nikolay
Ivanovich. Do you remember him?"

"I should think I do!" exclaimed the mother. "Yegor Ivanovich told me
yester