Read Online Mother by Maxim Gorky - Free Book Online
Authors: Maxim Gorky
Tags: Drama, Fiction, Literary, Literary Criticism, Continental European, Russia, Political Fiction, Russian & Former Soviet Union, Revolutionaries, Revolutionaries - Russia
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dryly.
"Suppose we try?" said the Little Russian.
After a short silence Pavel said:
"Couples will be formed; couples will walk together; then some will get married, and that's all."
The mother became thoughtful. Pavel's austerity worried her. She saw that his advice was taken even by his older comrades, such as the Little Russian; but it seemed to her that all were afraid of him, and no one loved him because he was so stern.
Once when she had lain down to sleep, and her son and the Little Russian were still reading, she overheard their low conversation through the thin partition.
"You know I like Natasha," suddenly ejaculated the Little Russian
in an undertone.
"I know," answered Pavel after a pause.
"Yes!"
The mother heard the Little Russian rise and begin to walk. The tread of his bare feet sounded on the floor, and a low, mournful whistle was heard. Then he spoke again:
"And does she notice it?"
Pavel was silent.
"What do you think?" the Little Russian asked, lowering his voice.
"She does," replied Pavel. "That's why she has refused to attend
our meetings."
The Little Russian dragged his feet heavily over the floor, and again his low whistle quivered in the room. Then he asked:
"And if I tell her?"
"What?" The brief question shot from Pavel like the discharge of a gun.
"That I am--" began the Little Russian in a subdued voice.
"Why?" Pavel interrupted.
The mother heard the Little Russian stop, and she felt that he smiled.
"Yes, you see, I consider that if you love a girl you must tell her about it; else there'll be no sense to it!"
Pavel clapped the book shut with a bang.
"And what sense do you expect?"
Both were silent for a long while.
"Well?" asked the Little Russian.
"You must be clear in your mind, Andrey, as to what you want to do," said Pavel slowly. "Let us assume that she loves you, too--I do not think so, but let us assume it. Well, you get married. An interesting union--the intellectual with the workingman! Children come along; you will have to work all by yourself and very hard. Your life will become the ordinary life of a struggle for a piece of bread and a shelter for yourself and children. For the cause, you will become nonexistent, both of you!"
Silence ensued. Then Pavel began to speak again in a voice that
sounded softer:
"You had better drop all this, Andrey. Keep quiet, and don't worry her. That's the more honest way."
"And do you remember what Alexey Ivanovich said about the necessity for a man to live a complete life--with all the power of his soul and body--do you remember?"
"That's not for us! How can you attain completion? It does not exist for you. If you love the future you must renounce everything in the present--everything, brother!"
"That's hard for a man!" said the Little Russian in a lowered voice.
"What else can be done? Think!"
The indifferent pendulum of the clock kept chopping off the seconds of life, calmly and precisely. At last the Little Russian said:
"Half the heart loves, and the other half hates! Is that a heart?"
"I ask you, what else can we do?"
The pages of a book rustled. Apparently Pavel had begun to read again. The mother lay with closed eyes, and was afraid to stir. She was ready to weep with pity for the Little Russian; but she was grieved still more for her son.
"My dear son! My consecrated one!" she thought.
Suddenly the Little Russian asked:
"So I am to keep quiet?"
"That's more honest, Andrey," answered Pavel softly.
"All right! That's the road we will travel." And in a few seconds he added, in a sad and subdued voice: "It will be hard for you, Pasha, when you get to that yourself."
"It is hard for me already."
"Yes?"
"Yes."
The wind brushed along the walls of the house, and the pendulum
marked the passing time.
"Um," said the Little Russian leisurely, at last. "That's too bad."
The mother buried her head in the pillow and wept inaudibly.
In the morning Andrey seemed to her to be lower in stature and all the more winning.
"Suppose we try?" said the Little Russian.
After a short silence Pavel said:
"Couples will be formed; couples will walk together; then some will get married, and that's all."
The mother became thoughtful. Pavel's austerity worried her. She saw that his advice was taken even by his older comrades, such as the Little Russian; but it seemed to her that all were afraid of him, and no one loved him because he was so stern.
Once when she had lain down to sleep, and her son and the Little Russian were still reading, she overheard their low conversation through the thin partition.
"You know I like Natasha," suddenly ejaculated the Little Russian
in an undertone.
"I know," answered Pavel after a pause.
"Yes!"
The mother heard the Little Russian rise and begin to walk. The tread of his bare feet sounded on the floor, and a low, mournful whistle was heard. Then he spoke again:
"And does she notice it?"
Pavel was silent.
"What do you think?" the Little Russian asked, lowering his voice.
"She does," replied Pavel. "That's why she has refused to attend
our meetings."
The Little Russian dragged his feet heavily over the floor, and again his low whistle quivered in the room. Then he asked:
"And if I tell her?"
"What?" The brief question shot from Pavel like the discharge of a gun.
"That I am--" began the Little Russian in a subdued voice.
"Why?" Pavel interrupted.
The mother heard the Little Russian stop, and she felt that he smiled.
"Yes, you see, I consider that if you love a girl you must tell her about it; else there'll be no sense to it!"
Pavel clapped the book shut with a bang.
"And what sense do you expect?"
Both were silent for a long while.
"Well?" asked the Little Russian.
"You must be clear in your mind, Andrey, as to what you want to do," said Pavel slowly. "Let us assume that she loves you, too--I do not think so, but let us assume it. Well, you get married. An interesting union--the intellectual with the workingman! Children come along; you will have to work all by yourself and very hard. Your life will become the ordinary life of a struggle for a piece of bread and a shelter for yourself and children. For the cause, you will become nonexistent, both of you!"
Silence ensued. Then Pavel began to speak again in a voice that
sounded softer:
"You had better drop all this, Andrey. Keep quiet, and don't worry her. That's the more honest way."
"And do you remember what Alexey Ivanovich said about the necessity for a man to live a complete life--with all the power of his soul and body--do you remember?"
"That's not for us! How can you attain completion? It does not exist for you. If you love the future you must renounce everything in the present--everything, brother!"
"That's hard for a man!" said the Little Russian in a lowered voice.
"What else can be done? Think!"
The indifferent pendulum of the clock kept chopping off the seconds of life, calmly and precisely. At last the Little Russian said:
"Half the heart loves, and the other half hates! Is that a heart?"
"I ask you, what else can we do?"
The pages of a book rustled. Apparently Pavel had begun to read again. The mother lay with closed eyes, and was afraid to stir. She was ready to weep with pity for the Little Russian; but she was grieved still more for her son.
"My dear son! My consecrated one!" she thought.
Suddenly the Little Russian asked:
"So I am to keep quiet?"
"That's more honest, Andrey," answered Pavel softly.
"All right! That's the road we will travel." And in a few seconds he added, in a sad and subdued voice: "It will be hard for you, Pasha, when you get to that yourself."
"It is hard for me already."
"Yes?"
"Yes."
The wind brushed along the walls of the house, and the pendulum
marked the passing time.
"Um," said the Little Russian leisurely, at last. "That's too bad."
The mother buried her head in the pillow and wept inaudibly.
In the morning Andrey seemed to her to be lower in stature and all the more winning.
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