"My dear, dear girl!" the mother thought, smiling. Sofya also smiled, and Nikolay, looking tenderly into Sasha's face, laughed quietly. The girl raised her head with a stern glance for all. Then she paled, and her eyes flashed, and she said dryly, the offense she felt evident in her voice:
"You're laughing. I understand you. You consider me personally interested in the case, don't you?"
"Why, Sasha?" asked Sofya, rising and going over to her.
Agitated, pale, the girl continued:
"But I decline. I'll not take any part in deciding the question if you consider it."
"Stop, Sasha," said Nikolay calmly.
The mother understood the girl. She went to her and kissed her silently on her head. Sasha seized her hand, leaned her cheek on it, and raised her reddened face, looking into the mother's eyes, troubled and happy. The mother silently stroked her hair. She felt sad at heart. Sofya seated herself at Sasha's side, her arm over her shoulder, and said, smiling into the girl's eyes:
"Yes, I think I've grown foolish," Sasha acknowledged. "But I don't like shadows."
"That'll do," said Nikolay seriously, but immediately followed up the admonition by the businesslike remark: "There can't be two opinions as to the escape, if it's possible to arrange it. But before everything, we must know whether the comrades in prison want it."