curtains resounded the Little Russian's voice:

"Nikolay, I'll teach you typesetting, and you'll work as a compositor
for us. Yes?"

Nikolay went over to him and said:

"If you'll teach me that, I'll give you my knife."

"To the devil with your knife!" exclaimed the Little Russian and burst
out laughing.

"It's a good knife," Nikolay insisted. Pavel laughed, too.

Vyesovshchikov stopped in the middle of the room and asked:

"Are you laughing at me?"

"Of course," replied the Little Russian, jumping out of bed. "I'll
tell you what! Let's take a walk in the fields! The night is fine;
there's bright moonshine. Let's go!"

"All right," said Pavel.

"And I'll go with you, too!" declared Nikolay. "I like to hear you
laugh, Little Russian."

"And I like to hear you promise presents," answered the Little Russian,
smiling.

While Andrey was dressing in the kitchen, the mother scolded him:

"Dress warmer! You'll get sick." And when they all had left, she
watched them through the window; then looked at the ikon, and said
softly: "God help them!"

She turned off the lamp and began to pray alone in the moonlit room.

The days flew by in such rapid succession that the mother could not
give much thought to the first of May. Only at night, when, exhausted
by the noise and the exciting bustle of the day, she went to bed, tired
and worn out, her heart would begin to ache.

"Oh, dear, if it would only be over soon!"

At dawn, when the factory whistle blew, the son and the Little Russian,
after hastily drinking tea and snatching a bite, would go, leaving a
dozen or so small commissions for the mother. The whole day long she
would move around like a squirrel in a wheel, cook dinner, and boil
lilac-colored gelatin and glue for the proclamations. Some people would
come, leave notes with her to deliver to Pavel, and disappear,
infecting her with their excitement.

The leaflets appealing to the working people to celebrate the first of
May flooded the village and the factory. Every night they were posted
on the fences, even on the doors of the police station; and every day
they were found in the factory. In the mornings the police would go
around, swearing, tearing down and scraping off the lilac-covered bills
from the fences. At noon, however, these bills would fly over the
streets again, rolling to the feet of the passers-by. Spies were sent
from the city to stand at the street corners and carefully sc