he directed his efforts, angrily shouted at
him:

"What are you shoving for, young lordling? Don't you see we're all
standing still? Then why push?"

"Anybody can shove," said the footman, and also began working his elbows
to such effect that he pushed Petya into a very filthy corner of the
gateway.

Petya wiped his perspiring face with his hands and pulled up the damp
collar which he had arranged so well at home to seem like a man's.

He felt that he no longer looked presentable, and feared that if he were
now to approach the gentlemen-in-waiting in that plight he would not be
admitted to the Emperor. But it was impossible to smarten oneself up
or move to another place, because of the crowd. One of the generals who
drove past was an acquaintance of the Rostovs', and Petya thought of
asking his help, but came to the conclusion that that would not be a
manly thing to do. When the carriages had all passed in, the crowd,
carrying Petya with it, streamed forward into the Kremlin Square which
was already full of people. There were people not only in the square,
but everywhere--on the slopes and on the roofs. As soon as Petya found
himself in the square he clearly heard the sound of bells and the joyous
voices of the crowd that filled the whole Kremlin.

For a while the crowd was less dense, but suddenly all heads were bared,
and everyone rushed forward in one direction. Petya was being pressed so
that he could scarcely breathe, and everybody shouted, "Hurrah! hurrah!
hurrah!" Petya stood on tiptoe and pushed and pinched, but could see
nothing except the people about him.

All the faces bore the same expression of excitement and enthusiasm. A
tradesman's wife standing beside Petya sobbed, and the tears ran down
her cheeks.

"Father! Angel! Dear one!" she kept repeating, wiping away her tears
with her fingers.

"Hurrah!" was heard on all sides.

For a moment the crowd stood still, but then it made another rush
forward.

Quite beside himself, Petya, clinching his teeth and rolling his eyes
ferociously, pushed forward, elbowing his way and shouting "hurrah!" as
if he were prepared that instant to kill himself and everyone else, but
on both sides of him other people with similarly ferocious faces pushed
forward and everybody shouted "hurrah!"

"So this is what the Emperor is!" thought Petya. "No, I can't petition
him myself--that would be too bold." But in spite of this he continued
to struggle desperately forward