on her neck, her
face was round, and her eyes kind. She bit her lips with the effort of
carrying a ragged-edged tray, with dishes, in her outstretched hands.
She bowed, nodding her head.

"How do you do, my good girl?" said the mother kindly.

"How do you do?"

Putting the plates and the china dishes on the table, she announced
with animation:

"They've just caught a thief. They're bringing him here."

"Indeed? What sort of a thief?"

"I don't know."

"What did he do?"

"I don't know. I only heard that they caught him. The watchman of the
town hall ran off for the police commissioner, and shouted: 'They've
caught him. They're bringing him here.'"

The mother looked through the window. Peasants gathered in the square;
some walked slowly, some quickly, while buttoning their overcoats.
They stopped at the steps of the town hall, and all looked to the left.
It was strangely quiet. The girl also went to the window to see the
street, and then silently ran from the room, banging the door after
her. The mother trembled, pushed her valise farther under the bench,
and throwing her shawl over her head, hurried to the door. She had to
restrain a sudden, incomprehensible desire to run.

When she walked up the steps of the town hall a sharp cold struck her
face and breast. She lost breath, and her legs stiffened. There, in
the middle of the square, walked Rybin! His hands were bound behind
his back, and on each side of him a policeman, rhythmically striking
the ground with his club. At the steps stood a crowd waiting in
silence.

Unconscious of the bearing of the thing, the mother's gaze was, riveted
on Rybin. He said something; she heard his voice, but the words did
not reach the dark emptiness of her heart.

She recovered her senses, and took a deep breath. A peasant with a
broad light beard was standing at the steps looking fixedly into her
face with his, blue eyes. Coughing and rubbing her throat with her
hands, weak with fear, she asked him with an effort:

"What's the matter?"

"Well, look." The peasant turned away. Another peasant came up to her
side.

"Oh, thief! How horrible you look!" shouted a woman's voice.

The policemen stepped in front of the crowd, which increased in size.
Rybin's voice sounded thick:

"Peasants, I'm not a thief; I don't steal; I don't set things on fire.
I only fight against falsehood. That's why they seized me. Have you
heard of the true books in which th