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you can be of great help to Ludmilla. Don't take any
chances."

The mother was pleased with the idea of helping print
her son's speech.

"If that's how it is, I'll go," she said, adding to her
own surprise, "I'm not afraid of anything any more, thank
the Lord!"

"Good!" exclaimed Nikolai without looking up. "But
you had better tell me where rny bag and linen is. With
those grasping ways of yours, you've taken over so com-
pletely that I can't even find my own belongings!"

Sasha was burning papers in the stove and mixing the
ashes with the coals.

"Time to leave, Sasha," said Nikolai, holding out his
hand. "Good-bye. Don't forget to send me any interest-
ing books that happen to turn up. Good-bye, dear com-
rade. Be careful."

"Are you expecting a long term?" asked Sasha.

"Who knows? Probably. They have things against me.
Hadn't you better go along with her, Nilovna? It's hard-
er to follow two people at once."

"All right," answered the mother. "I'll put on my coat
and shawl."

She studied Nikolai carefully, but he was the same ex-
cept for a certain anxiety clouding the usual kind and
gentle expression of his face. There were no nervous
movements, no signs of agitation in this man who had
become dearer to her than others. He had always shown
equal attention to everyone, had always been kind and
even-tempered and serenely alone. And now he remained
for everyone what he had always been—a man living
a secret inner life which was somewhere up ahead of
other lives. She knew that he found in her a kindred spirit,
and she loved him with a love that was not quite sure of
itself. Now the pity she felt for him was unbearable, but
she dared not show it lest Nikolai become upset and em-
barrassed, in which case he would appear slightly ridicul-
ous,' and she did not want him to look ridiculous.