"Can I help you?"
"Thank you! Why should you?"
The mother bent at the oven to get a pot. The girl said in a low voice:
"Wait!"
Her face paled, her eyes opened sadly and her quivering lips whispered hotly with an effort:
"I want to beg you—I know he will not agree—try to persuade him. He's needed. Tell him he's essential, absolutely necessary for the cause—tell him I fear he'll get sick. You see the date of the trial hasn't been set yet, and six months have already passed—I beg of you!"
It was apparent that she spoke with difficulty. She stood up straight, in a tense attitude, and looked aside. Her voice sounded uneven, like the snapping of a taut string. Her eyelids drooping wearily, she bit her lips, and the fingers of her compressed hand cracked.
The mother was ruffled by her outburst; but she understood it, and a sad emotion took possession of her. Softly embracing Sasha, she answered:
"My dear, he will never listen to anybody except himself—never!"
For a short while they were both silent in a close embrace. Then Sasha carefully removed the mother's hands from her shoulders.