It was cold; the rain pattered against the window panes9; something seemed to be creeping along the walls. She thought she heard, walking watchfully10 around the house, gray, heavy figures, with broad, red faces, without eyes, and with long arms. It seemed to her that she almost heard the jingling11 of their spurs.
“I wish they had taken me, too!” she thought.
The whistle blew, calling the people to work. This time its sounds were low, indistinct, uncertain. The door opened and Rybin entered. He stood before her, wiping the raindrops from his beard.
“They snatched him away, did they?” he asked.
“Yes, they did, the dogs!” she replied, sighing.
“That’s how it is,” said Rybin, with a smile; “they searched me, too; went all through me — yes! Abused me to their heart’s content, but did me no harm beyond that. So they carried off Pavel, did they? The manager tipped the wink12, the gendarme13 said ‘Amen!’ and lo! a man has disappeared. They certainly are thick together. One goes through the people’s pockets while the other holds the gun.”
“You ought to stand up for Pavel!” cried the mother, rising to her feet. “It’s for you all that he’s gone!”
“Who ought to stand up for him?” asked Rybin.
“All of you!”
“You want too much! We’ll do nothing of the kind! Our masters have been gathering14 strength for thousands of years; they have driven our hearts full of nails. We cannot unite at once. We must first extract from ourselves, each from the other, the iron spikes15 that prevent us from standing16 close to one another.”
And thus he departed, with his heavy gait, leaving the mother to her grief, aggravated17 by the stern hopelessness of his words.
The day passed in a thick mist of empty, senseless longing18. She made no fire, cooked no dinner, drank no tea, and only late in the evening ate a piece of bread. When she went to bed it occurred to her that her life had never yet been so humiliating, so lonely and void. During the last years she had become accustomed to live constantly in the expectation of something momentous20, something good. Young people were circling around her, noisy, vigorous, full of life. Her son’s thoughtful and earnest face was always before her, and he seemed to be the master and creator of this thrilling and noble life. Now he was gone, everything was gone. In the whole day, no one except the disagreeable Rybin had called.
Beyond the window, the dense21, cold rain was sighing and knocking at the panes. The rain and the drippings from the roof filled the air with a doleful, wailing22 melody. The whole house appeared to be rocking gently to and fro, and everything around her seemed aimless and unnecessary.
A gentle rap was heard at the door. It came once, and then a second time. She had grown accustomed to these noises; they no longer frightened her. A soft, joyous23 sensation thrilled her heart, and a vague hope quickly brought her to her feet. Throwing a shawl over her shoulders, she hurried to the door and opened it.
Samoylov walked in, followed by another man with his face hidden behind the collar of his overcoat and under a hat thrust over his eyebrows24.
“Did we wake you?” asked Samoylov, without greeting the mother, his face gloomy and thoughtful, contrary to his wont25.
“I was not asleep,” she said, looking at them with expectant eyes.
Samoylov’s companion took off his hat, and breathing heavily and hoarsely26 said in a friendly basso, like an old acquaintance, giving her his broad, short-fingered hand:
“Good evening, granny! You don’t recognize me?”
“Is it you?” exclaimed Nilovna, with a sudden access of delight. “Yegor Ivanovich?”
“The very same identical one!” replied he, bowing his large head with its long hair. There was a good-natured smile on his face, and a clear, caressing27 look in his small gray eyes. He was like a samovar — rotund, short, with thick neck and short arms. His face was shiny and glossy28, with high cheek bones. He breathed noisily, and his chest kept up a continuous low wheeze29.
“Step into the room. I’ll be dressed in a minute,” the mother said.
“We have come to you on business,” said Samoylov thoughtfully, looking at her out of the corner of his eyes.
Yegor Ivanovich passed into the room, and from there said:
“Nikolay got out of jail this morning, granny. You know him?”
“How long was he there?” she asked.
“Five months and eleven days. He saw the Little Russian there, who sends you his regards, and Pavel, who also sends you his regards and begs you not to be alarmed. As a man travels on his way, he says, the jails constitute his resting places, established and maintained by the solicitous30 authorities! Now, granny, let us get to the point. Do you know how many people were arrested yesterday?”
“I do not. Why, were there any others arrested besides Pavel?” she exclaimed.
“He was the forty-ninth!” calmly interjected Yegor Ivanovich. “And we may expect about ten more to be taken! This gentleman here, for example.”
“Yes; me, too!” said Samoylov with a frown.
Nilovna somehow felt relieved.
“He isn’t there alone,” she thought.
When she had dressed herself, she entered the room and, smiling bravely, said:
“I guess they won’t detain them long, if they arrested so many.”
“You are right,” assented31 Yegor Ivanovich; “and if we can manage to spoil this mess for them, we can make them look altogether like fools. This is the way it is, granny. If we were now to cease smuggling32 our literature into the factory, the gendarmes33 would take advantage of such a regrettable circumstance, and would use it against Pavel and his comrades in jail.”
“How is that? Why should they?” the mother cried in alarm.
“It’s very plain, granny,” said Yegor Ivanovich softly. “Sometimes even gendarmes reason correctly. Just think! Pavel was, and there were books and there were papers; Pavel is not, and no books and no papers! Ergo, it was Pavel who distributed these books! Aha! Then they’ll begin to eat them all alive. Those gendarmes dearly love so to unman a man that what remains34 of him is only a shred35 of himself, and a touching36 memory.”
“I see, I see,” said the mother dejectedly. “O God! What’s to be done, then?”
“They have trapped them all, the devil take them!” came Samoylov’s voice from the kitchen. “Now we must continue our work the same as before, and not only for the cause itself, but also to save our comrades!”
“And there is no one to do the work,” added Yegor, smiling. “We have first-rate literature. I saw to that myself. But how to get it into the factory, that’s the question!”
“They search everybody at the gates now,” said Samoylov.
The mother divined that something was expected of her. She understood that she could be useful to her son, and she hastened to ask:
“Well, now? What are we to do?”
Samoylov stood in the doorway37 to answer.
“Pelagueya Nilovna, you know Marya Korsunova, the peddler.”
“I do. Well?”
“Speak to her; see if you can’t get her to smuggle38 in our wares39.”
“We could pay her, you know,” interjected Yegor.
The mother waved her hands in negation40.
“Oh, no! The woman is a chatterbox. No! If they find out it comes from me, from this house — oh, no!”
Then, inspired by a sudden idea, she began gladly and in a low voice:
“Give it to me, give it to me. I’ll manage it myself. I’ll find a way. I will ask Marya to make me her assistant. I have to earn my living, I have to work. Don’t I? Well, then, I’ll carry dinners to the factory. Yes, I’ll manage it!”
Pressing her hands to her bosom41, she gave hurried assurances that she would carry out her mission well and escape detection. Finally she exclaimed in triumph: “They’ll find out — Pavel Vlasov is away, but his arm reaches out even from jail. They’ll find out!”
All three became animated42. Briskly rubbing his hands, Yegor smiled and said:
“It’s wonderful, stupendous! I say, granny, it’s superb — simply magnificent!”
“I’ll sit in jail as in an armchair, if this succeeds,” said Samoylov, laughing and rubbing his hands.
“You are fine, granny!” Yegor hoarsely cried.
The mother smiled. It was evident to her that if the leaflets should continue to appear in the factory, the authorities would be forced to recognize that it was not her son who distributed them. And feeling assured of success, she began to quiver all over with joy.
“When you go to see Pavel,” said Yegor, “tell him he has a good mother.”
“I’ll see him very soon, I assure you,” said Samoylov, smiling.
The mother grasped his hand and said earnestly:
“Tell him that I’ll do everything, everything necessary. I want him to know it.”
“And suppose they don’t put him in prison?” asked Yegor, pointing at Samoylov.
The mother sighed and said sadly:
“Well, then, it can’t be helped!”
Both of them burst out laughing. And when she realized her ridiculous blunder, she also began to laugh in embarrassment43, and lowering her eyes said somewhat slyly:
“Bothering about your own folk keeps you from seeing other people straight.”
“That’s natural!” exclaimed Yegor. “And as to Pavel, you need not worry about him. He’ll come out of prison a still better man. The prison is our place of rest and study — things we have no time for when we are at large. I was in prison three times, and each time, although I got scant pleasure, I certainly derived44 benefit for my heart and mind.”
“You breathe with difficulty,” she said, looking affectionately at his open face.
“There are special reasons for that,” he replied, raising his finger. “So the matter’s settled, granny? Yes? To-morrow we’ll deliver the matter to you — and the wheels that grind the centuried darkness to destruction will again start a-rolling. Long live free speech! And long live a mother’s heart! And in the meantime, good-by.”
“Good-by,” said Samoylov, giving her a vigorous handshake. “To my mother, I don’t dare even hint about such matters. Oh, no!”
“Everybody will understand in time,” said Nilovna, wishing to please him. “Everybody will understand.”
When they left, she locked the door, and kneeling in the middle of the room began to pray, to the accompaniment of the patter of the rain. It was a prayer without words, one great thought of men, of all those people whom Pavel introduced into her life. It was as if they passed between her, and the ikons upon which she held her eyes riveted45. And they all looked so simple, so strangely near to one another, yet so lone19 in life.
Early next morning the mother went to Marya Korsunova. The peddler, noisy and greasy46 as usual, greeted her with friendly sympathy.
“You are grieving?” Marya asked, patting the mother on the back. “Now, don’t. They just took him, carried him off. Where is the calamity47? There is no harm in it. It used to be that men were thrown into dungeons48 for stealing, now they are there for telling the truth. Pavel may have said something wrong, but he stood up for all, and they all know it. Don’t worry! They don’t all say so, but they all know a good man when they see, him. I was going to call on you right along, but had no time. I am always cooking and selling, but will end my days a beggar, I guess, all the same. My needs get the best of me, confound them! They keep nibbling49 and nibbling like mice at a piece of cheese. No sooner do I manage to scrape together ten rubles or so, when along comes some heathen, and makes away with all my money. Yes. It’s hard to be a woman! It’s a wretched business! To live alone is hard, to live with anyone, still harder!”
“And I came to ask you to take me as your assistant,” Vlasova broke in, interrupting her prattle50.
“How is that?” asked Marya. And after hearing her friend’s explanation, she nodded her head assentingly.
“That’s possible! You remember how you used to hide me from my husband? Well, now I am going to hide you from want. Everyone ought to help you, for your son is perishing for the public cause. He is a fine chap, your son is! They all say so, every blessed soul of them. And they all pity him. I’ll tell you something. No good is going to come to the authorities from these arrests, mark my word! Look what’s going on in the factory! Hear them talk! They are in an ugly mood, my dear! The officials imagine that when they’ve bitten at a man’s heel, he won’t be able to go far. But it turns out that when ten men are hit, a hundred men get angry. A workman must be handled with care! He may go on patiently enduring and suffering everything that’s heaped upon him for a long, long time, but then he can also explode all of a sudden!”
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1
monotonously
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| adv.单调地，无变化地 | |
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sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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squinting
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| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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6
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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7
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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spool
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| n.（缠录音带等的）卷盘（轴）；v.把…绕在卷轴上 | |
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panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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10
watchfully
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| 警惕地，留心地 | |
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jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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13
gendarme
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| n.宪兵 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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15
spikes
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| n.穗( spike的名词复数 )；跑鞋；（防滑）鞋钉；尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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16
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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17
aggravated
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| 使恶化( aggravate的过去式和过去分词 )； 使更严重； 激怒； 使恼火 | |
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18
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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21
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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22
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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23
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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27
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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28
glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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29
wheeze
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| n.喘息声，气喘声；v.喘息着说 | |
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30
solicitous
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| adj.热切的，挂念的 | |
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31
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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32
smuggling
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| n.走私 | |
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33
gendarmes
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| n.宪兵，警官( gendarme的名词复数 ) | |
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34
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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35
shred
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| v.撕成碎片，变成碎片；n.碎布条，细片，些少 | |
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36
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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37
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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38
smuggle
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| vt.私运；vi.走私 | |
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wares
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| n. 货物, 商品 | |
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40
negation
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| n.否定；否认 | |
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41
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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42
animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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43
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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44
derived
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| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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45
riveted
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| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
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46
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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47
calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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48
dungeons
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| n.地牢( dungeon的名词复数 ) | |
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49
nibbling
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的现在分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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50
prattle
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| n.闲谈；v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话；发出连续而无意义的声音 | |
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