"You'll be able to bear it," answered the mother, beginning to wash his feet.
Ignaty snorted aloud, and moving his neck awkwardly looked down at her, comically drooping his under lip.
"And do you know," she said tremulously, "that they beat Mikhaïl Ivanovich?"
"What?" the peasant exclaimed in fright.
"Yes; he had been beaten when they led him to the village, and in Nikolsk the sergeant beat him, the police commissioner beat him in the face and kicked him till he bled." The mother became silent, overwhelmed by her recollections.
"They can do it," said the peasant, lowering his brows sullenly. His shoulders shook. "That is, I fear them like the devils. And the peasants—didn't the peasants beat him?"
"One beat him. The police commissioner ordered him to. All the others were so so—they even took his part. 'You mustn't beat him!' they said."
"Um! Yes, yes! The peasants are beginning to realize where a man stands, and for what he stands."
"There are sensible people there, too."
"Where can't you find sensible people? Necessity! They're everywhere; but it's hard to get at them. They hide themselves in chinks and crevices, and suck their hearts out each one for himself. Their resolution isn't strong enough to make them gather into a group."