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Updated: May 14, 2025
Well content with his hard, practical sense, he grinned merrily. "Hm!" thought the mother. "He looks like a bear and behaves like a fox." Pavel rose, and pacing up and down the room with even steps, said reproachfully: "We'll let you have the books, but what you want to do is not right, Mikhail Ivanovich." "Why is it not right?" asked Rybin, opening his eyes in astonishment.
The heart is such a place that nothing else will grow in it." "Only reason," said Pavel firmly, "only reason will free mankind." "Reason does not give strength!" retorted Rybin emphatically. "The heart gives strength, and not the head, I tell you." The mother undressed and lay down in bed without saying her prayer. She felt cold and miserable.
The three men quickly walked into the shack. "The peasant is on fire," said the mother in a low voice, looking after Rybin thoughtfully. "Yes," answered Sofya. "I've never seen such a face as his such a martyrlike face. Let's go inside, too. I want to look at them." When the women reached the door they found the men already engrossed in the newspapers.
He looked around the room, immediately spied the bookshelf, and walked over to it slowly. "Went straight to them!" Rybin said, winking to Pavel. Yefim started to examine the books, and said: "A whole lot of reading here! But I suppose you haven't much time for it. Down in the village they have more time for reading." "But less desire?" Pavel asked. "Why?
He won't escape death, anyhow. And a man can't die twice." The sergeant suddenly appeared on the steps of the town hall, roaring in a drunken voice: "What is this crowd? Who's the fellow speaking?" Suddenly precipitating himself down the steps, he seized Rybin by the hair, and pulled his head backward and forward. "Is it you speaking, you damned scoundrel? Is it you?"
"To defend yourself is your right," said Pavel. "But take care not to attack!" "You are delicate and thin," observed the mother. "What do you want with fighting?" "I WILL fight!" answered Fedya in a low voice. When he left, the mother said to Pavel: "This young man will go down sooner than all the rest." Pavel was silent. A few minutes later the kitchen door opened slowly and Rybin entered.
The peasant's eyes flashed, and he said rapidly: "I'll return it. Some of our folks bring tar not far from here. They will return it for me. Thank you! Nowadays a book is like a candle in the night to us." Rybin, already dressed and tightly girt, came in and said to Yefim: "Come, it's time for us to go." "Now, I have something to read!" exclaimed Yefim, pointing to the book and smiling inwardly.
When her son spoke about God and about everything that she connected with her faith in him, which was dear and sacred to her, she sought to meet his eyes, she wanted to ask her son mutely not to chafe her heart with the sharp, bitter words of his unbelief. And she felt that Rybin, an older man, would also be displeased and offended.
The dark gleam of his eyes was insupportable to her. He aroused in her a sense of anguish, and filled her heart with terror. "No, I'd better go away," she said, shaking her head in negation. "It's not in my power to listen to this. I cannot!" And she quickly walked into the kitchen followed by the words of Rybin: "There you have it, Pavel! It begins not in the head, but in the heart.
The trees moved in more closely about the choked-up glade, and gave it a more friendly embrace, covering it with shadows. Cows were lowing in the distance. The tar men came, all four together, content that the work was ended. Awakened by their voices the mother walked out from the cabin, yawning and smiling. Rybin was calmer and less gloomy. The surplus of his excitement was drowned in exhaustion.
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