Mother by Maxim Gorky (best ebook reader for pc .TXT) π
The day was swallowed up by the factory; the machine sucked out of men's muscles as much vigor as it needed. The day was blotted out from life, not a trace of it left. Man made another imperceptible step toward his grave; but he saw close before him the delights of rest, the joys of the odorous tavern, and he was satisfied.
On holidays the workers slept until about ten o'clock. Then the staid and married people dressed themselves in their best clothes and, after duly scolding the young folks for their indifference to church, went to hear mass. When they returned from church, they ate pirogs, the Russian national pastry, and again lay down to sleep until the evening. The accumulated exhaustion of years had robbed them of their appetites, and to be able to eat they drank, long and deep, goading on their feeble stomachs with the biting, burning lash of vodka.
In the evening they amused thems
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Something black and red blinded her eyes for a second. The salty taste of blood filled her mouth.
A clear outburst of shouts animated her:
βDonβt dare to beat her!β
βBoys!β
βWhat is it?β
βOh, you scoundrel!β
βGive it to him!β
βThey will not drown reason in blood; they will not extinguish its truth!β
She was pushed in the neck and the back, beaten about the shoulders, on the head. Everything began to turn around, grow giddy in a dark whirlwind of shouts, howls, whistles. Something thick and deafening crept into her ear, beat in her throat, choked her. The floor under her feet began to shake, giving way. Her legs bent, her body trembled, burned with pain, grew heavy, and staggered powerless. But her eyes were not extinguished, and they saw many other eyes which flashed and gleamed with the bold sharp fire known to her, with the fire dear to her heart.
She was pushed somewhere into a door.
She snatched her hand away from the gendarmes and caught hold of the doorpost.
βYou will not drown the truth in seas of bloodβ-β
They struck her hand.
βYou heap up only malice on yourself, you unwise ones! It will fall on youβ-β
Somebody seized her neck and began to choke her. There was a rattle in her throat.
βYou poor, sorry creaturesβ-β
End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Mother, by Maxim Gorky
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