Free Mother by Maxim Gorky Page A

but erect, her chest thrown out, which gave her figure a droll, stilted air of importance. Her shoes made a knocking sound on the floor, and her brows trembled.
    The officer quickly seized the books with the long fingers of his white hand, turned over the pages, shook them, and with a dexterous movement of the wrist flung them aside. Sometimes a book fell to the floor with a light thud. All were silent. The heavy breathing of the perspiring gendarmes was audible; the spurs clanked, and sometimes the low question was heard: "Did you look here?"
    The mother stood by Pavel's side against the wall. She folded her arms over her bosom, like her son, and both regarded the officer. The mother felt her knees trembling, and her eyes became covered with a dry mist.
    Suddenly the piercing voice of Nikolay cut into the silence:
    "Why is it necessary to throw the books on the floor?"
    The mother trembled. Tveryakov rocked his head as if he had been struck on the back. Rybin uttered a peculiar cluck, and regarded Nikolay attentively.
    The officer threw up his head, screwed up his eyes, and fixed them for a second upon the pockmarked, mottled, immobile face. His fingers began to turn the leaves of the books still more rapidly. His face was yellow and pale; he twisted his lips continually. At times he opened his large gray eyes wide, as if he suffered from an intolerable pain, and was ready to scream out in impotent anguish.
    "Soldier!" Vyesovshchikov called out again. "Pick the books up!"
    All the gendarmes turned their eyes on him, then looked at the officer. He again raised his head, and taking in the broad figure of Nikolay with a searching stare, he drawled:
    "Well, well, pick up the books."
    One gendarme bent down, and, looking slantwise at Vyesovshchikov, began to collect the books scattered on the floor.
    "Why doesn't Nikolay keep quiet?" the mother whispered to Pavel. He shrugged his shoulders. The Little Russian drooped his head.
    "What's the whispering there? Silence, please! Who reads the Bible?"
    "I!" said Pavel.
    "Aha! And whose books are all these?"
    "Mine!" answered Pavel.
    "So!" exclaimed the officer, throwing himself on the back of the chair. He made the bones of his slender hand crack, stretched his legs under the table, and adjusting his mustache, asked Nikolay: "Are you Andrey Nakhodka?"
    "Yes!" answered Nikolay, moving forward. The Little Russian put out his hand, took him by the shoulder, and pulled him back.
    "He made a mistake; I am Andrey!"
    The officer raised his hand, and threatening Vyesovshchikov with
his little finger, said:
    "Take care!"
    He began to search among his papers. From the street the bright, moonlit night looked on through the window with soulless eyes. Some one was loafing about outside the window, and the snow crunched under his tread.
    "You, Nakhodka, you have been searched for political offenses
before?" asked the officer.
    "Yes, I was searched in Rostov and Saratov. Only there the gendarmes addressed me as 'Mr.'"
    The officer winked his right eye, rubbed it, and showing his fine
teeth, said:
    "And do you happen to know, MR. Nakhodka--yes, you, MR. Nakhodka-- who those scoundrels are who distribute criminal proclamations and books in the factory, eh?"
    The Little Russian swayed his body, and with a broad smile on his face was about to say something, when the irritating voice of Nikolay again rang out:
    "This is the first time we have seen scoundrels here!"
    Silence ensued. There was a moment of breathless suspense. The scar on the mother's face whitened, and her right eyebrow traveled upward. Rybin's black beard quivered strangely. He dropped his eyes, and slowly scratched one hand with the other.
    "Take this dog out of here!" said the officer.
    Two gendarmes seized Nikolay under the arm and rudely pulled him into the kitchen. There he planted his feet firmly on the floor and shouted:
    "Stop! I am going to put my coat on."
    The police commissioner came in from the yard and said:
    "There is nothing