Pashka's face quivered and his thin angular body began to shudder. He drew in a deep breath, then breathed out again, and said: "Then he hit her on the head with the tongs." A movement ran through the children, who had not stirred hitherto. "She stretched out her arms and fell forward, as if she were diving into the water." He stopped speaking, picked up a shaving, looked at it carefully, and threw it away over the heads of the children. They all sat still, silent and motionless, as if they expected him to speak again. But he said no more, and let his head fall on to his breast. "Did he kill her quite dead?" asked Masha in her thin, trembling voice. "Silly!" said Pashka, without raising his head. Jakov put his arms round the little one and drew her close to him, while Ilya moved nearer to Pashka and asked him gently: "Does it hurt you?" "What's that to do with you?" answered Pashka, crossly. All the children looked at him silently. "She was always idling about," said Mashka's clear voice, but Jakov interrupted her uneasily. "Idling? But think what the smith was like, always so cross and grumbling, enough to make any one afraid, and she so lively, like Perfishka--it was dull for her with the smith." Pashka looked at him and spoke solemnly and gloomily like a grown-up person. "I always said to her, 'Mother,' I said, 'look out for yourself, he'll kill you,' but she wouldn't listen. She always told me not to say anything to him. She bought me sweets and things, and the sergeant gave me five kopecks every time--every time I took him a letter from her--I got five kopecks. He's a good fellow, and so strong, and he's got a big moustache." "Has he a sword?" asked Mashka. "Rather," said Pashka, and added proudly, "Once I drew it out of the sheath--my word! it was heavy!" "Now you're an orphan like Ilyushka," said Jakov thoughtfully, after a pause. "Hardly," answered Pashka angrily. "Do you mean I've got to go and be a rag-picker? I should think not." "I don't mean that." "I shall just live as I like," went on Pashka proudly, with his head held up and his eyes sparkling. "I'm not an orphan, I'm only just alone in the world, and I will just live for myself, my father wouldn't send me to school, and now they'll put him in prison, and I shall just go to school and learn more than you." "Where will you get the clothes?" said Ilya, and looked triumphantly at Pashka, "you can't go there in rags." "Clothes? I will sell the smithy!" All looked respectfully at Pashka, and Ilya felt himself beaten. Pashka observed the impression his words produced, and held himself still straighter. "Yes, and I'll buy a horse, a real live horse, and I'll ride to school." This idea pleased him so much that he even smiled, only a very, very shy smile that flitted over his mouth and was gone in a moment. "No one will beat you now," said Mashka suddenly to Pashka, and looked at him enviously.