“We ought to make a change,” she thought, “and go elsewhere, somewhere farther away, to a new atmosphere. We must run away from here, simply run away!”
And suddenly she remembered Volodya’s words: “There is a wall there also. The walls are everywhere.”
“There is nowhere to run!”
In her despair she wrung her pale, beautiful hands.
XXXI
It was evening.
A lighted lamp stood on the floor in Volodya’s room. Just behind it, near the wall, sat Volodya and his mother. They were looking at the wall and were making strange movements with their hands.
Shadows stirred and trembled upon the wall.
Volodya and his mother understood them. Both were smiling sadly and were saying weird and impossible things to each other. Their faces were peaceful and their eyes looked clear; their joyousness was hopelessly sorrowful and their sorrow was wildly joyous.
In their eyes was a glimmer of madness, blessed madness.