"You had better go away from here. Your presence will help very little and may do some harm."
I understood that they wanted to get rid of me, and it hurt me. But at this time I felt that I was afraid of the gendarmes. I did not see them, yet I feared them! I knew that it was not right to leave people in their need, but I succumbed to their will. They sent me away.
I went up the mountain to the wood through underbrush, between tree stumps. I stumbled as if I was held by my heels. Behind me a young boy hurried along, Ivan Vikof, with a great pack on his back. He was sent to hide books in the wood.
We ran forward to the edge of the wood. He found a hiding place and buried his burden. He was calm, but not I.
"Who knows?" he answered. "Perhaps they will come here. You must hurry."
He was an awkward boy, and he looked as if he were hacked out from an oak-tree with an ax. His head was large, one shoulder was higher than the other, his long arms were out of proportion, and his voice was sad.
"If they only don't find what I have hidden, I don't care what they do."
He arranged the books with care in the pit, covered them over, smoothed the earth down and threw brush upon it. He sat down on the ground, and seeing that I was getting ready to go away, he said:
"Some one will come with a note for you. Wait." "What kind of a note?"
I looked out from the trees into the valley. The factory breathed heavily, like a strong man who is being choked. It seemed to me that men were being pursued in the streets and that in the darkness they ran after one another; they fought, they snarled in anger, ready to break each other's bones. And Ivan, without haste, was getting ready to go down.
"I am not long in the movement, and they do not know me. And if they take me, there is no harm done. People come out wiser from prison."
Here some one loudly and clearly asked me: "How is it, Matvei? You are not afraid of God, and yet you fear the gendarmes."
I looked at Ivan. He was standing and gazing down thoughtfully.
There were several lies that were rotting within me, and shameful questions shot up with piercing sparks. The night was cold, but I burned.
"You must not," Ivan said sternly. "They will certainly arrest you. This whole trouble began on account of your speech."