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Updated: June 28, 2025
The mother walked to her place, set her pails on the ground, and wiping the perspiration from her face looked around her. The Gusev brothers, the locksmiths, instantly came up to her, and the older of them, Vasily, asked aloud, knitting his eyebrows: "Got any pirogs?" "I'll bring them to-morrow," she answered. This was the password agreed upon. The faces of the brothers brightened.
"I don't know. There he is." Vasily stood, gloomy, motionless. "And where is Musya?" "Here I am. Is that you, Werner?" They began to look about, avoiding the direction of the gallows, where the lanterns continued to move about silently with terrible suggestiveness. On the left, the bare forest seemed to be growing thinner, and something large and white and flat was visible.
Semyon watched it, and thought, "There will be trouble between them and my neighbour." About two hours later he started on his round. He saw some one coming along the line from the cutting. Something white showed on his head. Semyon began to look more attentively. It was Vasily. He had a stick in his hand, a small bundle on his shoulder, and his cheek was bound up in a handkerchief.
Thus, only on Tuesday morning, when all together they had attached explosive projectiles to their belts, which several hours later were to tear them into pieces, Tanya Kovalchuk's hands had trembled with nervousness, and it had become necessary to put her aside, while Vasily jested, made merry, turned about, and was even so reckless that Werner had said sternly: "You must not be too familiar with Death."
"Well, then I won't go, either. No, say! What fellows those are! They act as if they were the only real people, and the rest nothing at all. They'll all go scot-free, I'm sure. Look at Fedka, eh?" Samoylov's father came up to them holding his hat in his hand. He smiled sullenly and said: "My Vasily! He declined a defense, and doesn't want to palaver. He was the first to have the idea.
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