"The very same identical one!" replied he, bowing his large head with its long hair. There was a good-natured smile on his face, and a clear, caressing look in his small gray eyes. He was like a samovar—rotund, short, with thick neck and short arms. His face was shiny and glossy, with high cheek bones. He breathed noisily, and his chest kept up a continuous low wheeze.
"Step into the room. I'll be dressed in a minute," the mother said.
"We have come to you on business," said Samoylov thoughtfully, looking at her out of the corner of his eyes.
Yegor Ivanovich passed into the room, and from there said:
"Nikolay got out of jail this morning, granny. You know him?"
"How long was he there?" she asked.
"Five months and eleven days. He saw the Little Russian there, who sends you his regards, and Pavel, who also sends you his regards and begs you not to be alarmed. As a man travels on his way, he says, the jails constitute his resting places, established and maintained by the solicitous authorities! Now, granny, let us get to the point. Do you know how many people were arrested yesterday?"
"I do not. Why, were there any others arrested besides Pavel?" she exclaimed.
"He was the forty-ninth!" calmly interjected Yegor Ivanovich. "And we may expect about ten more to be taken! This gentleman here, for example."
"Yes; me, too!" said Samoylov with a frown.