that behind her the crowd was
getting thinner; a cold wind had blown on them and scattered them like
autumn leaves.

The men around the red banner moved closer and closer together. The
faces of the soldiers were clearly seen across the entire width of the
street, monstrously flattened, stretched out in a dirty yellowish band.
In it were unevenly set variously colored eyes, and in front the sharp
bayonets glittered crudely. Directed against the breasts of the
people, although not yet touching them, they drove them apart, pushing
one man after the other away from the crowd and breaking it up.

Behind her the mother heard the trampling noise of those who were
running away. Suppressed, excited voices cried:

"Disperse, boys!"

"Vlasov, run!"

"Back, Pavel!"

"Drop the banner, Pavel!" Vyesovshchikov said glumly. "Give it to me!
I'll hide it!"

He grabbed the pole with his hand; the flag rocked backward.

"Let go!" thundered Pavel.

Nikolay drew his hand back as if it had been burned. The song died
away. Some persons crowded solidly around Pavel; but he cut through to
the front. A sudden silence fell.

Around the banner some twenty men were grouped, not more, but they
stood firmly. The mother felt drawn to them by awe and by a confused
desire to say something to them.

"Take this thing away from him, lieutenant." The even voice of the
tall old man was heard. He pointed to the banner. A little officer
jumped up to Pavel, snatched at the flag pole, and shouted shrilly:

"Drop it!"

The red flag trembled in the air, moving to the right and to the left,
then rose again. The little officer jumped back and sat down. Nikolay
darted by the mother, shaking his outstretched fist.

"Seize them!" the old man roared, stamping his feet. A few soldiers
jumped to the front, one of them flourishing the butt end of his gun.
The banner trembled, dropped, and disappeared in a gray mass of
soldiers.

"Oh!" somebody groaned aloud. And the mother yelled like a wild
animal. But the clear voice of Pavel answered her from out of the
crowd of soldiers:

"Good-by, mother! Good-by, dear!"

"He's alive! He remembered!" were the two strokes at the mother's
heart.

"Good-by, mother dear!" came from Andrey.

Waving her bands, she raised herself on tiptoe, and tried to see them.
There was the round face of Andrey above the soldiers' heads. He was
smiling and bowing to her.

"Oh, my dear ones! Andriusha! Pasha!"