"And then I made out from his laboured words his sad story. A good, kind, and loving mother abandoned for more than a year and a half, while he suffered in prison. His great wish now was to let her know how much he felt his guilt, and beg for her forgiveness. "I listened, holding my breath that I might catch the halting words, and as he bared his soul, and made clear the confession he wished to make, it seemed as though a great weight fell from him; and when, from sheer exhaustion, he sank back and closed his {232} eyes, I knew that the tears were there, as he said brokenly, 'I shall never see her again to tell her this. I have only a few days, perhaps a week, left to live.' "I never hold out vain hopes to the poor patients when they are about to die, so, seeing how near he was to his end, I did not undeceive him. "Again I asked him for his mother's address, promising to write and tell her that he was dying, and asked forgiveness, and that I would ask her to reply immediately, so that he might hear the answer before the end. The face of the dying man shone with a great joy; the forgiveness of his mother was all he sought now upon the earth. Then, sinking back upon his bed, he murmured, 'If I get the answer, I shall take it with me.' "Before leaving the hospital I made the sign of the Cross upon his forehead. His eyes were closed, but he whispered, 'Thanks, thanks.' "Meeting the doctor on my way out, I inquired whether he thought it was worth while to suggest that the mother should come, or could he last so long. The doctor seemed unable to decide, saying he might live a week or he might die that day. "Hurrying home, I despatched the promised letter, and for days awaited the answer. Each day I telephoned to the prison for news of the dying man, and each time I received the same reply, 'He is alive, but very weak.' And this for five days. "On the sixth day, when I came home in the afternoon, my servant met me with the information that a very old woman, poorly dressed, in bast shoes and {233} a wallet on her back, had been there asking for her son Paul. "Rostchin's mother, upon the receipt of my letter, had determined to come in person to pardon her son. As the journey cost five roubles twenty copecks, she sold all her possessions, pledging even her felt shoes, thus being forced to travel in bast shoes, in spite of the intense cold. It was her first visit to a large town; she was bewildered by all she saw; but her mother's love helped her to surmount all obstacles. "The next morning, very early, I went to her. In her anxiety to get to her son, she came to the tram with one golosh only over her bast shoe; the other she had forgotten. It was not until we were on the way that I broke the sad tidings to her that the hospital to which we were going was the hospital of a prison. 'Oh! Paul, Paul, my beloved son. My darling! How did you get to prison?' she sobbed. 'He was a warrant officer, and now he is in prison.'