The increasing softness and simplicity of his manner aroused a disquieting interest in his mother.
Once he brought a picture and hung it on the wall.

It represented three persons walking lightly and boldly, and conversing.
"This is Christ risen from the dead, and going to Emmaus," explained Pavel.
The mother liked the picture, but she thought: "You respect Christ, and yet you do not go to church." Then more pictures appeared on the walls, and the number of books increased on the shelves neatly made for him by one of his carpenter friends.

The room began to look like a home.
He addressed his mother with the reverential plural "you," and called her "mother" instead of "mamma." But sometimes he turned to her suddenly, and briefly used the simple and familiar form of the singular: "Mamma, please be not thou disturbed if I come home late to-night." This pleased her; in such words she felt something serious and strong.
But her uneasiness increased.

Since her son's strangeness was not clarified with time, her heart became more and more sharply troubled with a foreboding of something unusual.

Every now and then she felt a certain dissatisfaction with him, and she thought: "All people are like people, and he is like a monk.