They looked around. Sergey’s mother was standing, her head thrown back, looking at them angrily, almost with contempt.
“What is it, mother?” cried the colonel.
“And I?” she said, shaking her head with insane intensity. “You kiss—and I? You men! Yes? And I? And I?”
“Mother!” Sergey rushed over to her.
What took place then it is unnecessary and impossible to describe... .
The last words of the colonel were:
“I give you my blessing for your death, Seryozha. Die bravely, like an officer.”
And they went away. Somehow they went away. They had been there, they had stood, they had spoken—and suddenly they had gone. Here sat his mother, there stood his father—and suddenly somehow they had gone away. Returning to the cell, Sergey lay down on the cot, his face turned toward the wall, in order to hide it from the soldiers, and he wept for a long time. Then, exhausted by his tears, he slept soundly.
To Vasily Kashirin only his mother came. His father, who was a wealthy tradesman, did not want to come. Vasily met the old woman, as he was pacing up and down the room, trembling with cold, although it was warm, even hot. And the conversation was brief, painful.
“It wasn’t worth coming, mother. You’ll only torture yourself and me.”