ing into the by-street directly at the crowd.

"Disperse!"

"What sort of talking is going on?"

"Who's speaking?"

The people scowled, giving way to the horses unwillingly. Some climbed
up on fences; raillery was heard here and there.

"They put pigs on horses; they grunt: 'Here we are, leaders, too!'"
resounded a sonorous, provoking voice.

The Little Russian was left alone in the middle of the street; two
horses shaking their manes pressed at him. He stepped aside, and at
the same time the mother grasped his hand, pulling him away grumbling:

"You promised to stick to Pasha; and here you are running up against
the edge of a knife all by yourself."

"I plead guilty," said the Little Russian, smiling at Pavel. "Ugh!
What a force of police there is in the world!"

"All right," murmured the mother.

An alarming, crushing exhaustion came over her. It rose from within
her and made her dizzy. There was a strange alternation of sadness and
joy in her heart. She wished the afternoon whistle would sound.

They reached the square where the church stood. Around the church
within the paling a thick crowd was sitting and standing. There were
some five hundred gay youth and bustling women with children darting
around the groups like butterflies. The crowd swung from side to side.
The people raised their heads and looked into the distance in different
directions, waiting impatiently.

"Mitenka!" softly vibrated a woman's voice. "Have pity on yourself!"

"Stop!" rang out the response.

And the grave Sizov spoke calmly, persuasively:

"No, we mustn't abandon our children. They have grown wiser than
ourselves; they live more boldly. Who saved our cent for the marshes?
They did. We must remember that. For doing it they were dragged to
prison; but we derived the benefit. The benefit was for all."

The whistle blew, drowning the talk of the crowd. The people started.
Those sitting rose to their feet. For a moment the silence of death
prevailed; all became watchful, and many faces grew pale.

"Comrades!" resounded Pavel's voice, ringing and firm.

A dry, hot haze burned the mother's eyes, and with a single movement of
her body, suddenly strengthened, she stood behind her son. All turned
toward Pavel, and drew up to him, like iron filings attracted by a
magnet.

"Brothers! The hour has come to give up this life of ours, this life
of greed, hatred, and darkness, this life of violence and falsehood,