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Updated: May 14, 2025
That's the truth!" The words fell forcibly on the crowd and stirred the men to hot responses: "That's right! Good, Rybin!" "Silence! The devil take you!" "Vlasov's come!" The voices mingled in a confused uproar, drowning the ponderous whir of the machinery, the sharp snorts of the steam, and the flapping of the leather belts.
He blamed himself; it seemed to him that he had concealed his dream in a poor, disfiguring garment, and no one could, therefore, detect its beauty. He went home, tired and moody. He was followed by his mother and Sizov, while Rybin walked alongside, buzzing into his ear: "You speak well, but you don't speak to the heart! That's the trouble!
"It wasn't you alone." Pavel smiled; Rybin also. The mother sniffed, and walked away, somewhat offended because they did not pay attention to her words. "Those leaflets are well thought out. They stir the people up. There were twelve of them, weren't there?" "Yes." "I have read them all! Yes, yes. Sometimes they are not clear, and some things are superfluous.
With such strength I thought I could go on for seventy years without dropping into the grave, and I've lived for only ten years, and can't go on any more. The masters have robbed me; they've torn forty years of my life from me; they've stolen forty years from me." "There, that's his song," said Rybin dully. The fire blazed up again, but now it was stronger and more vivid.
"You yourself ought to answer for what you do. It is not right to manage matters so that others should suffer for what you do." Pavel spoke sternly. Rybin looked at the floor, shook his head, and said: "I don't understand you." "If the teachers are suspected," said Pavel, stationing himself in front of Rybin, "of distributing illegal books, don't you think they'll be put in jail for it?" "Yes.
"It's enough that you torture the people, you beasts!" continued Rybin in an elevated voice. "The red day will soon come for you, too. You'll be paid back for everything." The police commissioner stood before him, his mustached upper lip twitching. Then he drew back a step, and with a whistling voice sang out in surprise: "Um! you damned scoundrel! Wha-at? What do you mean by your words?
They've decided on a trial." "Well, what'll he get? Have you heard?" "Hard labor, or exile to Siberia for life," answered the mother softly. The three young men simultaneously turned their look on her, and Rybin, lowering his head, asked slowly: "And when he got this affair up, did he know what was in store for him?" "I don't know. I suppose he did." "He did," said Sofya aloud.
Even his wife can't attach him to the same spot. At the least provocation farewell, my dear! and off he goes to look for something better. But the peasant wants to improve himself just where he is without moving off the spot. There's your mother!" And Rybin went out into the kitchen. Yefim approached Pavel, and with embarrassment asked: "Perhaps you will give me a book?" "Certainly."
The mother felt that Pavel did not understand Rybin, and she saw that he was screwing up his eyes a sign of anger. So she interjected in a cautious, soft voice: "Mikhail Ivanovich wants to fix it so that he should be able to go on with his work, and that others should take the punishment for it." "That's it!" said Rybin, stroking his beard.
But he began to come often, and if any of Pavel's comrades were present, Rybin sat in a corner and was silent, only occasionally interjecting: "That's so!" And once looking at everybody from his corner with his dark glance he said somberly: "We must speak about that which is; that which will be is unknown to us. When the people have freed themselves, they will see for themselves what is best.
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