covered each other with ardent kisses, the father receiving them on his light hair, the prisoner on his cloak.
"And I?" asked suddenly a hoarse voice.
They looked: the mother was on her feet again, and, with her head thrown back, was watching them wrathfully, almost hatefully.
"What is the matter with you, mother?" cried the colonel.
"And I?" she repeated, shaking her head with an insane energy. "You embrace each other, and I? You are men, are you not? And I? and I? . . ."
"Mother!" and Sergey threw himself into her arms.
The last words of the colonel were:
"My blessing for your death, Sergey! Die with courage, like an officer!"
And they went away. . . . On returning to his cell Sergey lay upon his camp-bed, with face turned toward the wall that the soldiers might not see him, and wept a long time.
•••••••••
Vasily Kashirin's mother came alone to visit him. The father, a rich merchant, had refused to accompany her. When the old woman entered, Vasily was walking in his cell. In spite of the heat, he was trembling with cold. The conversation was short and painful.
"You ought not to have come, mother. Why should we two torment each other?"
"Why all this, Vasya? Why have you done this, my son? God! God!"
The old woman began to weep, drying her tears with her black silk neckerchief.
