ger candidates for books.
There's a teacher there who creates a desire for them. He's a fine
fellow, they say, although he belongs to the clergy. We have a woman
teacher, too, about seven versts from the village. But they don't work
with illegal books; they're a 'law and order' crowd out there; they're
afraid. But I want forbidden books--sharp, pointed books. I'll slip
them through their fingers. When the police commissioners or the
priest see that they are illegal books, they'll think it's the teachers
who circulate them. And in the meantime I'll remain in the background."

Well content with his hard, practical sense, he grinned merrily.

"Hm!" thought the mother. "He looks like a bear and behaves like a
fox."

Pavel rose, and pacing up and down the room with even steps, said
reproachfully:

"We'll let you have the books, but what you want to do is not right,
Mikhail Ivanovich."

"Why is it not right?" asked Rybin, opening his eyes in astonishment.

"You yourself ought to answer for what you do. It is not right to
manage matters so that others should suffer for what you do." Pavel
spoke sternly.

Rybin looked at the floor, shook his head, and said:

"I don't understand you."

"If the teachers are suspected," said Pavel, stationing himself in
front of Rybin, "of distributing illegal books, don't you think they'll
be put in jail for it?"

"Yes. Well, what if they are?"

"But it's you who distribute the books, not they. Then it's you that
ought to go to prison."

"What a strange fellow you are!" said Rybin with a smile, striking his
hand on his knee. "Who would suspect me, a muzhik, of occupying myself
with such matters? Why, does such a thing happen? Books are affairs
of the masters, and it's for them to answer for them."

The mother felt that Pavel did not understand Rybin, and she saw that
he was screwing up his eyes--a sign of anger. So she interjected in a
cautious, soft voice:

"Mikhail Ivanovich wants to fix it so that he should be able to go on
with his work, and that others should take the punishment for it."

"That's it!" said Rybin, stroking his beard.

"Mother," Pavel asked dryly, "suppose some of our people, Andrey, for
example, did something behind my back, and I were put in prison for it,
what would you say to that?"

The mother started, looked at her son in perplexity, and said, shaking
her head in negation:

"Why, is it possible to act that way toward a comrade?"