re of me," the mother said, smiling. "You don't take
care of yourselves." And the wave of joy mounted higher and higher.

"It isn't true. We look out for ourselves. We ought to; and we very
much upbraid those who uselessly waste their power. Ye-es. Now, this
is the way you are to do. You will receive the speeches at the
station." He explained to her how the matter would be arranged; then
looking into her face, he said: "Well, I wish you success. You're
happy, aren't you?" And he walked away still gloomy and dissatisfied.
When the door closed behind him Liudmila walked up to the mother,
smiling quietly.

"You're a fine woman! I understand you." Taking her by the arm, she
again walked up and down the room. "I have a son, too. He's already
thirteen years old; but he lives with his father. My husband is an
assistant prosecuting attorney. Maybe he's already prosecuting
attorney. And the boy's with him. What is he going to be? I often
think." Her humid, powerful voice trembled. Then her speech flowed on
again thoughtfully and quietly. "He's being brought up by a professed
enemy of those people who are near me, whom I regard as the best people
on earth; and maybe the boy will grow up to be my enemy. He cannot
live with me; I live under a strange name. I have not seen him for
eight years. That's a long time--eight years!"

Stopping at the window, she looked up at the pale, bleak sky, and
continued: "If he were with me I would be stronger; I would not have
this wound in my heart, the wound that always pains. And even if he
were dead it would be easier for me--" She paused again, and added
more firmly and loudly: "Then I would know he's merely dead, but not
an enemy of that which is higher than the feeling of a mother, dearer
and more necessary than life."

"My darling," said the mother quietly, feeling as if something powerful
were burning her heart.

"Yes, you are happy," Liudmila said with a smile. "It's
magnificent--the mother and the son side by side. It's rare!"

The mother unexpectedly to herself exclaimed:

"Yes, it is good!" and as if disclosing a secret, she continued in a
lowered voice: "It is another life. All of you--Nikolay Ivanovich,
all the people of the cause of truth--are also side by side. Suddenly
people have become kin--I understand all--the words I don't understand;
but everything else I understand, everything!"

"That's how it is," Liudmila said. "That's how."

Th