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"It's not herself she's torturing, it's fools she's giving a
drubbing!" remonstrated another.
"True believers!" cried a woman in a high, quavering
voice. "My Mitya—he's a pure soul! What's he done
that's bad? He only followed his comrades, them he loVed.
It's true what she says—why should we leave our
children in the lurch? What have they done that's
wrong?"
The mother trembled on hearing these words, and wept
quietly.
"Go home, Pelagea Nilovna," said Sizov. "Go, mother.
You've had enough for one day."
His face was pale, his beard tousled. Suddenly he
straightened up and cast a severe glance round.
"All of you know that son Matvei was killed at the
factory," he said impressively. "But if he was alive, I
myself would send him after them, after those others. I
myself would say to him, 'You go too, Matvei. That's the
only true way, the only honest way!' "
He broke off and was silent,, and everyone else was si-
lent, in the grip of something new and enormous, of
which these people were no longer afraid. Sizov shook
his raised fist. "It's an old man speaking," he said. "You
all know me. For fifty-three years I've been living on this
earth, and for thirty-nine years I've been working here.
Today they arrested my nephew again, a good, clever
boy. He was marching in front too, beside Vlassov, right
next to the banner,..." He gave a wave of his hand and
.some of the life seemed to go out of him. "What this
woman said is the truth," he said, taking the mother's arm.
"Our children want to live honest sensible lives, and we
have left them in the lurch—we have indeed. Come, Pela-
gea Nilovna."
"Good people," she said, glancing about her with red-
rimmed eyes. "Life is for our children. The earth is for
them/'
"Gome, Pelagea Nilovna. Here, take your stick," said
Sizov, handing her the broken flagstaff.