The mother lay motionless, with ears strained in the drowsy stillness, and before her in the darkness wavered Rybin's face covered with blood. In the loft a dry whisper could be heard.
"You see what sort of people go into this work? Even elderly people who have drunk the cup of misery to the bottom, who have worked, and for whom it is time to rest. And there they are! But you are young, sensible! Ah, Stepan!"
The thick, moist voice of the peasant responded:
"Such an affair--you mustn't take it up without thinking over it. Just wait a little while!"
"I've heard you say so before." The sounds dropped, and rose again. The voice of Stepan rang out:
"You must do it this way--at first you must take each peasant aside and speak to him by himself--for instance, to Makov Alesha, a lively man--
