"Mother, I will not tell you anything; and don't you tell me anything, either. Right, mother?"
"All right, all right! God bless you!" she murmured.
When she went out and heard the holiday hum of the people's voices—an anxious and expectant hum—when she saw everywhere, at the gates and windows, crowds of people staring at Andrey and her son, a blur quivered before her eyes, changes from a transparent green to a muddy gray.
People greeted them—there was something peculiar in their greetings. She caught whispered, broken remarks:
"Here they are, the leaders!"
"We don't know who the leaders are!"
"Why, I didn't say anything wrong."
At another place some one in a yard shouted excitedly:
"The police will get them, and that'll be the end of them!"
"What if they do?" retorted another voice.