The bell rang again, not so loud, as if the person on the other side of the door had also fallen to thinking and hesitated. Nikolay and the mother rose simultaneously, but at the kitchen door Nikolay turned aside.
"You'd better do it," he said.
"He's not willing?" the girl asked the moment the mother opened the door.
"No."
"I knew it!" Sasha's face paled. She unbuttoned her coat, fastened two buttons again, then tried to remove her coat, unsuccessfully, of course. "Dreadful weather—rain, wind; it's disgusting! Is he well?"
"Yes."
"Well and happy; always the same, and only this—" Her tone was disconsolate, and she regarded her hands.
"He writes that Rybin ought to be freed." The mother kept her eyes turned from the girl.
"Yes? It seems to me we ought to make use of this plan."
"I think so, too," said Nikolay, appearing at the door. "How do you do, Sasha?"