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Mother
Maxim Gorky

Page 1 of 870


MOTHER 

by Maxim Gorky 

PART I 

CHAPTER I 

Every day the factory whistle bellowed forth its shrill, roaring,
trembling noises into the smoke-begrimed and greasy atmosphere of
the workingmen's suburb; and obedient to the summons of the power of
steam, people poured out of little gray houses into the street.
With somber faces they hastened forward like frightened roaches,
their muscles stiff from insufficient sleep.  In the chill morning
twilight they walked through the narrow, unpaved street to the tall
stone cage that waited for them with cold assurance, illumining
their muddy road with scores of greasy, yellow, square eyes.  The
mud plashed under their feet as if in mocking commiseration.  Hoarse
exclamations of sleepy voices were heard; irritated, peevish,

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