“Yegor Ivanovich?”

“’Tis I!” he replied, bowing his large head with long hair like a psalm-reader’s. His plump face was smiling genially, and his little grey eyes looked into the mother’s face affectionately and clearly. He resembled a samovar – just as round, short in stature, with a thick neck and short arms. His face was shiny and gleaming, his breathing noisy, and all the time there was something gurgling and wheezing in his chest…

“Go through to the other room – I’ll just get dressed!” suggested the mother.

“We’ve got business with you!” said Samoilov in a preoccupied voice, glancing at her from under his brows.

Yegor Ivanovich went through into the other room, and from there said:

“This morning, dear Mamasha, a man you know, Nikolai Ivanovich, came out of prison…”

“Was he inside, then?” asked the mother.

“For two months and eleven days. He saw the Ukrainian there – he sends you his greetings – and Pavel, who also sends greetings and asks you not to worry; I’m to tell you that prison always serves a man as a resting place on his journey: that’s how it’s been arranged by our caring authorities. Next, Mamasha, I’ll get down to business. Do you know how many people they seized here yesterday?”

“No! So besides Pasha, did they—” exclaimed the mother.

“He was the forty-ninth!” Yegor Ivanovich calmly interrupted her. “And we have to expect the authorities to take another dozen or so! This gentleman here too…”

“Yes, me too!” said Samoilov glumly.

Vlasova sensed her breathing had become easier.

“He’s not the only one there!” flashed through her mind.

When dressed, she went into the other room and smiled cheerfully at her guest.

“They probably won’t hold them long, if they’ve taken so many…”

“Correct!” said Yegor Ivanovich. “And if we can contrive to upset their applecart, they’ll end up looking complete fools. This is how things stand: if we now stop delivering our booklets to the factory, the gendarmes’ll latch on to this sad phenomenon and turn it against Pavel and the comrades of his ilk who’ve been cast into jail…”

“How’s that?” cried the mother in alarm.

“Very simple!” said Yegor Ivanovich gently. “Sometimes even the gendarmes’ reasoning is correct. Just think: Pavel was there, and there were booklets and leaflets; no Pavel, and there are neither booklets nor leaflets! So it was him disseminating the booklets, aha-a? Well, and they’ll start devouring everyone – the gendarmes enjoy cropping a man in such a way that there’s nothing worthwhile left of him!”

“I see, I see!” said the mother miserably. “Oh Lord! What’s to be done now?”

From the kitchen came Samoilov’s voice:

“They’ve fished almost everyone out, damn them! Now we need to carry on with business as before, not just for the cause, but to save our comrades too.”

“But there’s no one to do the work!” added Yegor with a smile. “We’ve got literature of excellent quality – I did it myself!… But how to get it into the factory – that we don’t know!”

“They’ve started searching everyone at the gates!” said Samoilov.

The mother sensed they wanted something from her and were waiting, and she hurriedly asked:

“Well, what then? How then?”

Samoilov stood in the doorway and said:

“Pelageya Nilovna, you know the street trader Korsunova…”

“Yes, so?”

“Have a talk with her – maybe she’ll take it through?”

The mother started waving her hands negatively:

“Oh no! She’s a chatterbox – no! And when they find out it was through me, from this house – no, no!”

And suddenly, struck by an unexpected thought, she began quietly:

“You give it to me, give it to me! I’ll arrange it, I’ll find a way in myself! I’ll ask Maria – she can take me on to help her! I need a crust to eat, I need to work! So I’ll deliver meals! I’ll get myself a job!”

Pressing her hands to her breast, she hurriedly tried to assure them that she would do everything well, unnoticed, and in conclusion exclaimed exultantly:

“They’ll see Pavel’s not there, but his hand can reach out even from jail – they’ll see!”

All three became animated. Rubbing his hands vigorously, Yegor smiled and said:

“Wonderful, Mamasha! If you only knew how excellent this is! Simply enchanting.”

“If this works, I’ll go to prison as if I were going to bed!” remarked Samoilov, rubbing his hands.

“You’re a beauty!” Yegor cried hoarsely.

The mother smiled. It was clear to her: if the leaflets appeared at the factory now, the authorities would have to realize that it was not her son distributing them. And feeling herself capable of fulfilling the task, she was all atremble with joy.

“When you go to see Pavel,” said Yegor, “tell him he has a good mother.”

“I’ll be seeing him first!” Samoilov promised with a grin.

“You can tell him this: I’ll do everything that’s needed! So that he knows it!…”

“And if they don’t imprison him?” asked Yegor, indicating Samoilov.

“Well, it can’t be helped!”

The men both chuckled. And she, realizing her blunder, began laughing quietly, and a little slyly, in embarrassment.

“It’s hard to see another man’s woe through your own,” she said, lowering her eyes.

“That’s natural!” exclaimed Yegor. “And don’t worry about Pavel – don’t be sad. He’ll come back from prison even better. You can rest there and study, and the likes of us have no time for that when we’re at large. I’ve been inside thrice, and each time, if with little pleasure, it’s been with undoubted benefit for heart and mind.”

“Your breathing’s heavy!” she said, gazing gently into his plain and simple face.

“There are particular reasons for that!” he replied, raising a finger. “So then, is it decided, Mamasha? Tomorrow we’ll deliver the material to you, and the saw of destruction of age-old darkness will begin to turn again. Long live the free word, and long live the mother’s heart! And for now – goodbye!”

“Goodbye!” said Samoilov, shaking her hand firmly. “Me, I can’t breathe a word to my mother about anything like this – no!”

“Everyone will understand!” said Vlasova, wanting to be nice to him.

When they had gone, she locked the door and, kneeling down in the middle of the room, to the noise of the rain, she began praying. She prayed without words, but with one big thought about the people that Pavel had brought into her life. It was as if they were passing between her and the icons, passing by, all so plain and simple, strangely close to one another and yet lonely.

Early in the morning she set off to see Maria Korsunova.

Greasy and noisy as always, the street trader greeted her sympathetically.

“Feeling miserable?” she asked, slapping a fatty hand on the mother’s shoulder. “Don’t! They arrested him and took him away, but it doesn’t matter! There’s nothing wrong with that. It used to be that people were put in prison for stealing, but now they’ve started putting them away for the truth. Maybe Pavel did say something wrong, but he stood up on everyone’s behalf, and everyone understands him – don’t you worry! Not everyone says it, but everyone knows who’s good.