"In this business, mother, you've got to take your heart between your teeth and hold it there tight," said the Little Russian.
"And why they are themselves so bad," put in the Little Russian.
The Little Russian stopped, wiped his face with his right hand, shook his head, and a dry gleam flashed in his eyes.
The mother heard the Little Russian stop, and she felt that he smiled.
The Little Russian began to pace up and down the room, slowly and languidly.
Once a week she carried underwear and books to the Little Russian in prison.
The Little Russian question in particular did not exist at all.
The Little Russian swayed his head, and rubbed it vigorously with both hands.
She has built a school on the estate at her own expense, and teaches the children Krylov's fables translated into Little Russian.
"That's natural," said the Little Russian with his usual smile.