face, the love in her eyes; and it seemed to him that he compelled
her to understand his truth; and youthful pride in the power of his
word heightened his faith in himself. Seized with enthusiasm, he
continued to talk, now smiling, now frowning. Occasionally hatred
sounded in his words; and when his mother heard its bitter, harsh
accents she shook her head, frightened, and asked in a low voice:

"Is it so, Pasha?"

"It is so!" he answered firmly. And he told her about people who
wanted the good of men, and who sowed truth among them; and because
of this the enemies of life hunted them down like beasts, thrust
them into prisons, and exiled them, and set them to hard labor.

"I have seen such people!" he exclaimed passionately. "They are the
best people on earth!"

These people filled the mother with terror, and she wanted to ask
her son: "Is it so, Pasha?"

But she hesitated, and leaning back she listened to the stories of
people incomprehensible to her, who taught her son to speak and
think words and thoughts so dangerous to him. Finally she said:

"It will soon be daylight. You ought to go to bed. You've got
to go to work."

"Yes, I'll go to bed at once," he assented. "Did you understand me?"

"I did," she said, drawing a deep breath. Tears rolled down from