In that little room, in the darkness, they seemed to be knocking about from side to side in search of light and an outlet, to be grasping out with powerful but blind hands; they seemed to fall upon the floor, and having fallen, to scrape and fumble with their feet.

They hit against everything, groped about for everything, and flung it away, calm and composed, losing neither faith nor hope.
They got her accustomed to listen to a great many words, terrible in their directness and boldness; and these words had now ceased to weigh down on her so heavily as at first.

She learned to push them away from her ears.

And although Rybin still displeased her as before, he no longer inspired her with hostility.
Once a week she carried underwear and books to the Little Russian in prison.

On one occasion they allowed her to see him and talk to him; and on returning home she related enthusiastically: "He is as if he were at home there, too! He is good and kind to everybody; everybody jokes with him; just as if there were a holiday in his heart all the time.