He spoke more simply than all the rest, and his words gripped her heart more powerfully.

Pavel, too, was probably looking to the future.

How could it be otherwise, when one is following such a course of life?
But when he looked into the remote future it was always by himself; he never spoke of what he saw.

This Little Russian, however, it seemed to her, was always there with a part of his heart; the legend of the future holiday for all upon earth, always sounded in his speech.

This legend rendered the meaning of her son's life, of his work, and that of all of his comrades, clear to the mother.
"And when you wake up," continued the Little Russian, tossing his head and letting his hands drop alongside his body, "and look around, you see it's all filthy and cold.