Yura lifted both hands with a heavy movement, clasped his mother around the neck and pressed his burning cheek firmly to her wet and cold cheek.
She was his mother, after all; there was nothing to be done.

But how painful; how bitterly painful! A STORY WHICH WILL NEVER BE FINISHED Exhausted with the painful uncertainty of the day, I fell asleep, dressed, on my bed.

Suddenly my wife aroused me.

In her hand a candle was flickering, which appeared to me in the middle of the night as bright as the sun.

And behind the candle her chin, too, was trembling, and enormous, unfamiliar dark eyes stared motionlessly.
"Do you know," she said, "do you know they are building barricades on our street ?" It was quiet.