nprincipled and greedy, cunning and heartless. When life
was hard for them under the domination of the czars, they would incite
the common people against the ruler; and when the people arose and
wrested the power from him, these little creatures got it into their
own hands by deceit, and drove the people off to their holes; and if
the people remonstrated, they killed them by the hundreds and thousands.

Once she summoned up courage and told him of the picture she had formed
of life from his tales, and asked him:

"Is it so, Yegor Ivanovich?"

He burst into a guffaw, turned up his eyes, gasped for breath, and
rubbed his chest.

"Exactly, granny! You caught the idea to a dot! Yes, yes! You've
placed some ornaments on the canvas of history, you've added some
flourishes, but that does not interfere with the correctness of the
whole. It's these very little, pot-bellied creatures who are the chief
sinners and deceivers and the most poisonous insects that harass the
human race. The Frenchmen call them 'bourgeois.' Remember that word,
dear granny--bourgeois! Brr! How they chew us and grind us and suck
the life out of us!"

"The rich, you mean?"

"Yes, the rich. And that's their misfortune. You see, if you keep
adding copper bit by bit to a child's food, you prevent the growth of
its bones, and he'll be a dwarf; and if from his youth up you poison a
man with gold, you deaden his soul."

Once, speaking about Yegor, Pavel said:

"Do you know, Andrey, the people whose hearts are always aching are the
ones who joke most?"

The Little Russian was silent a while, and then answered, blinking his
eyes:

"No, that's not true. If it were, then the whole of Russia would split
its sides with laughter."

Natasha made her appearance again. She, too, had been in prison, in
another city, but she had not changed. The mother noticed that in her
presence the Little Russian grew more cheerful, was full of jokes,
poked fun at everybody, and kept her laughing merrily. But after she
had left he would whistle his endless songs sadly, and pace up and down
the room for a long time, wearily dragging his feet along the floor.

Sashenka came running in frequently, always gloomy, always in haste,
and for some reason more and more angular and stiff. Once when Pavel
accompanied her out onto the porch, the mother overheard their abrupt
conversation.

"Will you carry the banner?" the girl asked in a low voice.

"Yes."

"Is it s