He bent down to look in her face, and said in an offended tone,
and, it seemed to her, angrily, like his father:

"This fear is what is the ruin of us all. And some dominate us;
they take advantage of our fear and frighten us still more. Mark
this: as long as people are afraid, they will rot like the birches
in the marsh. We must grow bold; it is time!

"It's all the same," he said, as he turned from her; "they'll meet
in my house, anyway."

"Don't be angry with me!" the mother begged sadly. "How can I help
being afraid? All my life I have lived in fear!"

"Forgive me!" was his gentler reply, "but I cannot do otherwise,"
and he walked away.

For three days her heart was in a tremble, sinking in fright each
time she remembered that strange people were soon to come to her
house. She could not picture them to herself, but it seemed to her
they were terrible people. It was they who had shown her son the
road he was going.

On Saturday night Pavel came from the factory, washed himself, put
on clean clothes, and when walking out of the house said to his
mother without looking at her:

"When they come, tell them I'll be back soon. Let them wait a while.
And please don't be afraid. They are people like all other people."