They are printed in secret, and if I am found with them I will be put in prison--I will be put in prison because I want to know the truth." Breathing suddenly became difficult for her.

Opening her eyes wide she looked at her son, and he seemed to her new, as if a stranger.

His voice was different, lower, deeper, more sonorous.

He pinched his thin, downy mustache, and looked oddly askance into the corner.

She grew anxious for her son and pitied him.
"Why do you do this, Pasha ?" He raised his head, looked at her, and said in a low, calm voice: "I want to know the truth." His voice sounded placid, but firm; and his eyes flashed resolution.
She understood with her heart that her son had consecrated himself forever to something mysterious and awful.