"If you had a mother, people would envy her because she had such a son." The Little Russian swayed his head, and rubbed it vigorously with both hands.
"I have a mother, somewhere!" he said in a low voice.
"Do you know what I did to-day ?" she exclaimed, and reddening a little, her voice choking with satisfaction, she quickly recounted how she had smuggled literature into the factory.
For a moment he looked at her in amazement with his eyes wide open; then he burst out into a loud guffaw, stamped his feet, thumped his head with his fingers, and cried joyously: "Oho! That's no joke any more! That's business! Won't Pavel be glad, though! Oh, you're a trump.

That's good, mother! You have no idea HOW good it is! Both for Pavel and all who were arrested with him!" He snapped his fingers in ecstasy, whistled, and fairly doubled over, all radiant with joy.

His delight evoked a vigorous response from the mother.
"My dear, my Andriusha!" she began, as if her heart had burst open, and gushed over merrily with a limpid stream of living words full of serene joy.

"I've thought all my life, 'Lord Christ in heaven! what did I live for ?' Beatings, work! I saw nothing except my husband.

I knew nothing but fear! And how Pasha grew I did not see, and I hardly know whether I loved him when my husband was alive.