and walking out of the
house just as her guests were entering at the gate. She met them
there. Without an outer wrap, a light kerchief on her head, a tin
kerosene can in her hand, she traversed the city from one end to the
other in the biting cold of a winter's day. Another time she had just
arrived in a strange city to pay a visit to friends. When she was
already on the stairs leading to their quarters, she noticed that a
search was being conducted in their apartments. To turn back was too
late. Without a second's hesitation she boldly rang the bell at the
door of a lower floor, and walked in with her traveling bag to unknown
people. She frankly explained the position she was in.

"You can hand me over to the gendarmes if you want to; but I don't
think you will," she said confidently.

The people were greatly frightened, and did not sleep the whole night.
Every minute they expected the sound of the gendarmes knocking at the
door. Nevertheless, they could not make up their minds to deliver her
over to them, and the next morning they had a hearty laugh with her
over the gendarmes.

And once, dressed as a nun, she traveled in the same railroad coach, in
fact, sat on the very same seat, with a spy, then in search of her. He
boasted of his skill, and told her how he was conducting his search.
He was certain she was riding on the same train as himself, in a
second-class coach; but at every stop, after walking out, he came back
saying: "Not to be seen. She must have gone to bed. They, too, get
tired. Their life is a hard one, just like ours."

The mother listening to her stories laughed, and regarded her
affectionately. Tall and dry, Sofya strode along the road lightly and
firmly, at an even gait. In her walk, her words, and the very sound of
her voice--although a bit dull, it was yet bold--in all her straight
and stolid figure, there was much of robust strength, jovial daring,
and thirst for space and freedom. Her eyes looked at everything with a
youthful glance. She constantly spied something that gladdened her
heart with childlike joy.

"See what a splendid pine!" she exclaimed, pointing out a tree to the
mother.

The mother looked and stopped. It was a pine neither higher nor
thicker than others.

"Ye-es, ye-es, a good tree," she said, smiling.

"Do you hear? A lark!" Sofya raised her head, and looked into the
blue expanse of the sky for the merry songster. Her gray eyes flashed
with a fond gl