Page:Andreyev - The Little Angel (Knopf, 1916).djvu/157

Rh Khinyakov's heart's blood curdled with fear and suspense, and he could not help groaning aloud, and then was all the more frightened. In one distinct picture that drinking-bout passed befoie him: how they had sat in some dark tavern or other, illumined by a single lamp, amid dark people who kept whispering together about something, while they themselves also whispered together. Abram Petrovich was pale and excited, and complained of the hardships of a thief's life; for some reason or other he had bared his arms and allowed him to feel the badly-mended bones of his once broken arm, and Khinyakov had kissed him and said:

"I love thieves, they are so bold," and proposed to him that they should drink to "brotherhood," although they had for long been on quite intimate terms.

"And I love you, because you are educated, and understand us so well," replied Abram Petrovich.

"Look again at my arm; here it is, eh?"

And again the white arm had passed before his eyes, seeming to be sorry for its own whiteness, and suddenly realizing something (which he did not now remember or understand), he had kissed that arm, and Abram Petrovich had proudly cried:

"Indeed, brother, death before surrender!"

And then something dirty whirling round and round, howls, whistles, and jumping lights.