her head to him and started with a sorrowful, painful joy.
But the next moment she saw that the blue-eyed peasant was standing
near him and also looking at her. His gaze awakened her to the
consciousness of the risk she was running.

"What am I doing? They'll take me, too."

The peasant said something to Rybin, who shook his head.

"Never mind!" he exclaimed, his voice tremulous, but clear and bold.
"I'm not alone in the world. They'll not capture all the truth. In the
place where I was the memory of me will remain. That's it! Even though
they destroy the nest, aren't there more friends and comrades there?"

"He's saying this for me," the mother decided quickly.

"The people will build other nests for the truth; and a day will come
when the eagles will fly from them into freedom. The people will
emancipate themselves."

A woman brought a pail of water and, wailing and groaning, began to
wash Rybin's face. Her thin, piteous voice mixed with Mikhail's words
and hindered the mother from understanding them. A throng of peasants
came up with the police commissioner in front of them. Some one shouted
aloud:

"Come; I'm going to make an arrest! Who's next?"

Then the voice of the police commissioner was heard. It had
changed--mortification now evident in its altered tone.

"I may strike you, but you mayn't strike me. Don't you dare, you
dunce!"

"Is that so? And who are you, pray? A god?"

A confused but subdued clamor drowned Rybin's voice.

"Don't argue, uncle. You're up against the authorities."

"Don't be angry, your Honor. The man's out of his wits."

"Keep still, you funny fellow!"

"Here, they'll soon take you to the city!"

"There's more law there!"

The shouts of the crowd sounded pacificatory, entreating; they blended
into a thick, indistinct babel, in which there was something hopeless
and pitiful. The policemen led Rybin up the steps of the town hall and
disappeared with him behind the doors. People began to depart in a
hurry. The mother saw the blue-eyed peasant go across the square and
look at her sidewise. Her legs trembled under her knees. A dismal
feeling of impotence and loneliness gnawed at her heart sickeningly.

"I mustn't go away," she thought. "I mustn't!" and holding on to the
rails firmly, she waited.

The police commissioner walked up the steps of the town hall and said
in a rebuking voice, which had assumed its former blankness and
soullessness:

"You're