ke
rose from the pile he would drive them away from the woman with a wave
of his hand.

Once Yakob rose and said:

"Wait a moment, please." He ran into the shack and brought out wraps.
With Ignaty's help he folded them about the shoulders and feet of the
women.

And again Sofya spoke, picturing the day of victory, inspiring people
with faith in their power, arousing in them a consciousness of their
oneness with all who give away their lives to barren toil for the
amusement of the satiated.

At break of dawn, exhausted, she grew silent, and smiling she looked
around at the thoughtful, illumined faces.

"It's time for us to go," said the mother.

"Yes, it's time," said Sofya wearily.

Some one breathed a noisy sigh.

"I am sorry you're going," said Rybin in an unusually mild tone. "You
speak well. This great cause will unite people. When you know that
millions want the same as you do, your heart becomes better, and in
goodness there is great power."

"You offer goodness, and get the stake in return," said Yefim with a
low laugh, and quickly jumped to his feet. "But they ought to go,
Uncle Mikhail, before anybody sees them. We'll distribute the books
among the people; the authorities will begin to wonder where they came
from; then some one will remember having seen the pilgrims here."

"Well, thank you, mother, for your trouble," said Rybin, interrupting
Yefim. "I always think of Pavel when I look at you, and you've gone
the right way."

He stood before the mother, softened, with a broad, good-natured smile
on his face. The atmosphere was raw, but he wore only one shirt, his
collar was unbuttoned, and his breast was bared low. The mother looked
at his large figure, and smiling also, advised:

"You'd better put on something; it's cold."

"There's a fire inside of me."

The three young men standing at the burning pile conversed in a low
voice. At their feet the sick man lay as if dead, covered with the
short fur coats. The sky paled, the shadows dissolved, the leaves
shivered softly, awaiting the sun.

"Well, then, we must say good-by," said Rybin, pressing Sofya's hand.
"How are you to be found in the city?"

"You must look for me," said the mother.

The young men in a close group walked up to Sofya, and silently pressed
her hand with awkward kindness. In each of them was evident grateful
and friendly satisfaction, though they attempted to conceal the feeling
which apparently embarrassed t