She thought of her comrades, of those who were far away, and who in pain and sorrow were living through the execution together with them, and of those near by who were to mount the scaffold with her.

She was surprised at Vasily--that he should have been so disturbed--he, who had always been so brave, and who had jested with Death.

Thus, only on Tuesday morning, when all together they had attached explosive projectiles to their belts, which several hours later were to tear them into pieces, Tanya Kovalchuk's hands had trembled with nervousness, and it had become necessary to put her aside, while Vasily jested, made merry, turned about, and was even so reckless that Werner had said sternly: "You must not be too familiar with Death." What was he afraid of now?
But this incomprehensible fear was so foreign to Musya's soul that she ceased searching for the cause of it--and suddenly she was seized with a desperate desire to see Seryozha Golovin, to laugh with him.

She meditated a little while, and then an even more desperate desire came over her to see Werner and to convince him of something.

And imagining to herself that Werner was in the next cell, driving his heels into the ground with his distinct, measured steps, Musya spoke, as if addressing him: "No, Werner, my dear; it is all nonsense; it isn't at all important whether or not you are killed.