'Those young people are our friends!' cried Musa, and her eyes flashed and darted as of old. Something strong, irrepressible, seemed, as it were, to rise up from the bottom of her soul, . . . and I suddenly recalled the expression 'a new type,' which Tarhov had once used of her. 'Years are of no consequence when it is a matter of political principles!' Musa laid a special stress on these last two words. One might fancy that in all her sorrow it was not unpleasing to her to show herself before me in this new, unlooked-for character—in the character of a cultivated and mature woman, fit wife of a republican! . . . 'Some old men are younger than some young ones,' she pursued, 'more capable of sacrifice. . . But that's not the point.'
'I think, Musa Pavlovna,' I observed, 'that you are exaggerating a little. Knowing the character of Paramon Semyonitch, I should have felt sure beforehand that he would sympathise with every . . . sincere impulse; but, on the other hand, I have always regarded him as a man of sense. . . Surely he cannot fail to realise all the impracticability, all the absurdity of conspiracies in Russia? In his position, in his calling . . .'
'Oh, of course,' Musa interrupted, with bitterness in her voice, 'he is a working man; and in Russia it is only permissible for noblemen to take part in conspiracies, . . . as, for instance,
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