Is it possible ?" wondered the mother resentfully, and was greatly surprised to see Natasha put her hand out to him in a kind, glad welcome.
The next to come were two young men, scarcely more than boys.

One of them the mother knew.

He was Yakob, the son of the factory watchman, Somov.

The other, with a sharp-featured face, high forehead, and curly hair, was unknown to her; but he, too, was not terrible.
Finally Pavel appeared, and with him two men, both of whose faces she recognized as those of workmen in the factory.
"You've prepared the samovar! That's fine.

Thank you!" said Pavel as he saw what his mother had done.
"Perhaps I should get some vodka," she suggested, not knowing how to express her gratitude to him for something which as yet she did not understand.
"No, we don't need it!" he responded, removing his coat and smiling affectionately at her.
It suddenly occurred to her that her son, by way of jest, had purposely exaggerated the danger of the gathering.
"Are these the ones they call illegal people ?" she whispered.
"The very ones!" answered Pavel, and passed into the room.
She looked lovingly after him and thought to herself condescendingly: "Mere children!" When the samovar boiled, and she brought it into the room, she found the guests sitting in a close circle around the table, and Natasha installed in the corner under the lamp with a book in her hands.
"In order to understand why people live so badly," said Natasha.
"And why they are themselves so bad," put in the Little Russian.
"It is necessary to see how they began to live----" "See, my dears, see!" mumbled the mother, making the tea.
They all stopped talking.
"What is the matter, mother ?" asked Pavel, knitting his brows.
"What ?" She looked around, and seeing the eyes of all upon her she explained with embarrassment, "I was just speaking to myself." Natasha laughed and Pavel smiled, but the Little Russian said: "Thank you for the tea, mother." "Hasn't drunk it yet and thanks me already," she commented inwardly.
Looking at her son, she asked: "I am not in your way ?" "How can the hostess in her own home be in the way of her guests ?" replied Natasha, and then continuing with childish plaintiveness: "Mother dear, give me tea quick! I am shivering with cold; my feet are all frozen." "In a moment, in a moment!" exclaimed the mother, hurrying.
Having drunk a cup of tea, Natasha drew a long breath, brushed her hair back from her forehead, and began to read from a large yellow-covered book with pictures.