"Oh, I remember! A droll old man."
"He's a soldier who served his time—a roofer, a man of little education, but with an inexhaustible fund of hatred for every kind of violence and for all men of violence. A bit of a philosopher!"
The mother listened in silence to her, and something indistinct slowly dawned upon her.
"Godun wants to free his nephew—you remember him? You liked Yevchenko, a blacksmith, quite a dude." Nikolay nodded his head. "Godun has arranged everything all right. But I'm beginning to doubt his success. The passages in the prison are used by all the inmates, and I think when the prisoners see the ladder many will want to run—" She closed her eyes and was silent for a while. The mother moved nearer to her. "They'll hinder one another."
They all three stood before the window, the mother behind Nikolay and Sasha. Their rapid conversation roused in her a still stronger sense of uneasiness and anxiety.
"I'm going there," the mother said suddenly.
"Don't go, darling! Maybe you'll get caught. You mustn't!" Nikolay advised.
The mother looked at them and softly, but persistently, repeated: "No; I'm going! I'm going!"
They quickly exchanged glances, and Sasha, shrugging her shoulders, said: