She buried her face in Andrey's bosom.

He pressed her tightly to himself, his hands trembled.
The mother wept quietly without speaking, while he stroked her hair, and spoke in his musical voice: "Don't cry, mother.

Don't wring my heart.

Upon my honest word, they will let him out soon! They haven't a thing against him; all the boys will keep quiet as cooked fish." Putting his long arm around the mother's shoulders he led her into the room, and nestling up against him with the quick gesture of a squirrel, she wiped the tears from her face, while her heart greedily drank in his tender words.
"Pavel sends you his love.

He is as well and cheerful as can be.