e, I feel myself more."

The Little Russian arose, and trying not to scrape with his feet, began
to walk carefully up and down the room, tall, lean, absorbed in thought.

"Well said!" he exclaimed in a low voice. "Very well! There was a
young Jew in Kerch who wrote verses, and once he wrote:

"And the innocently slain,
Truth will raise to life again."

"He himself was killed by the police in Kerch, but that's not the
point. He knew the truth and did a great deal to spread it among the
people. So here you are one of the innocently slain. He spoke the
truth!"

"There, I am talking now," the mother continued. "I talk and do not
hear myself, don't believe my own ears! All my life I was silent, I
always thought of one thing--how to live through the day apart, how to
pass it without being noticed, so that nobody should touch me! And now
I think about everything. Maybe I don't understand your affairs so
very well; but all are near me, I feel sorry for all, and I wish well
to all. And to you, Andriusha, more than all the rest."

He took her hand in his, pressed it tightly, and quickly turned aside.
Fatigued with emotion and agitation, the mother leisurely and silently
washed the cups; and her breast gently glowed with a bold feeling that
warmed her heart.

Walking up and down the room the Little Russian said:

"Mother, why don't you sometimes try to befriend Vyesovshchikov and be
kind to him? He is a fellow that needs it. His father sits in
prison--a nasty little old man. Nikolay sometimes catches sight of him
through the window and he begins to swear at him. That's bad, you
know. He is a good fellow, Nikolay is. He is fond of dogs, mice, and
all sorts of animals, but he does not like people. That's the pass to
which a man can be brought."

"His mother disappeared without a trace, his father is a thief and a
drunkard," said Nilovna pensively.

When Andrey left to go to bed, the mother, without being noticed, made
the sign of the cross over him, and after about half an hour, she asked
quietly, "Are you asleep, Andriusha?"

"No. Why?"

"Nothing! Good night!"

"Thank you, mother, thank you!" he answered gently.

CHAPTER XII

The next day when Nilovna came up to the gates of the factory with her
load, the guides stopped her roughly, and ordering her to put the pails
down on the ground, made a careful examination.

"My eatables will get cold," she observed calmly, as they fel