, we'll arrange an escape for Pavel Mikhaylovich. There's
nothing for him to do in Siberia, and he's indispensable here."

The mother incredulously regarded Sofya, who was searching about for a
place into which to drop her cigarette stump, and finally threw it in a
flowerpot.

"That'll spoil the flowers," the mother remarked mechanically.

"Excuse me," said Sofya simply. "Nikolay always tells me the same
thing." She picked up the stump and threw it out of the window. The
mother looked at her in embarrassment, and said guiltily:

"You must excuse me. I said it without thinking. Is it in my place to
teach you?"

"Why not? Why not teach me, if I'm a sloven?" Sofya calmly queried
with a shrug. "I know it; but I always forget--the worse for me. It's
an ugly habit--to throw cigarette stumps any and everywhere, and to
litter up places with ashes--particularly in a woman. Cleanliness in a
room is the result of work, and all work ought to be respected. Is the
coffee ready? Thank you! Why one cup? Won't you have any?" Suddenly
seizing the mother by the shoulder, she drew her to herself, and
looking into her eyes asked in surprise: "Why, are you embarrassed?"

The mother answered with a smile:

"I just blamed you for throwing the cigarette stump away--does that
look as if I were embarrassed?" Her surprise was unconcealed. "I came
to your house only yesterday, but I behave as if I were at home, and as
if I had known you a long time. I'm afraid of nothing; I say anything.
I even find fault."

"That's the way it ought to be."

"My head's in a whirl. I seem to be a stranger to myself. Formerly I
didn't dare speak out from my heart until I'd been with a person a
long, long time. And now my heart is always open, and I at once say
things I wouldn't have dreamed of before, and a lot of things, too."
Sofya lit another cigarette, turning the kind glance of her gray eyes
on the mother. "Yes, you speak of arranging an escape. But how will
he be able to live as a fugitive?" The mother finally gave expression
to the thought that was agitating her.

"That's a trifle," Sofya remarked, pouring out a cup of coffee for
herself. "He'll live as scores of other fugitives live. I just met
one, and saw him off. Another very valuable man, who worked for the
movement in the south. He was exiled for five years, but remained only
three and a half months. That's why I look such a grande dame. Do you
think I always dress