We must show those who sit on our necks, and cover up our eyes, that we see everything, that we are not foolish, we are not animals, and that we do not want merely to eat, but also to live like decent human beings.

We must show our enemies that our life of servitude, of hard toil which they impose upon us, does not hinder us from measuring up to them in intellect, and as to spirit, that we rise far above them!" The mother listened to his words, and a feeling of pride in her son stirred her bosom--how eloquently he spoke! "People with well-filled stomachs are, after all, not a few, but honest people there are none," said the little Russian.

"We ought to build a bridge across the bog of this rotten life to a future of soulful goodness.

That's our task, that's what we have to do, comrades!" "When the time is come to fight, it's not the time to cure the finger," said Vyesovshchikov dully.
"There will be enough breaking of our bones before we get to fighting!" the Little Russian put in merrily.
It was already past midnight when the group began to break up.

The first to go were Vyesovshchikov and the red-haired man--which again displeased the mother.
"Hm! How they hurry!" she thought, nodding them a not very friendly farewell.
"Will you see me home, Nakhodka ?" asked Natasha.
"Why, of course," answered the Little Russian.
When Natasha put on her wraps in the kitchen, the mother said to her: "Your stockings are too thin for this time of the year.