's
face.

"Oh! If I could see them together, if only for one day!" exclaimed
Nilovna, ready to weep.

"Yes, a bit of happiness is good for everybody."

"But there are no people who want only a bit of happiness," remarked
Nikolay; "and when there's much of it, it becomes cheap."

Sofya sat herself at the piano, and began to play something low and
doleful.

CHAPTER VIII

The next morning a number of men and women stood at the gate of the
hospital waiting for the coffin of their comrade to be carried out to
the street. Spies watchfully circled about, their ears alert to catch
each sound, noting faces, manners, and words. From the other side of
the street a group of policemen with revolvers at their belts looked
on. The impudence of the spies, the mocking smiles of the police ready
to show their power, were strong provocatives to the crowd. Some joked
to cover their excitement; others looked down on the ground sullenly,
trying not to notice the affronts; still others, unable to restrain
their wrath, laughed in sarcasm at the government, which feared people
armed with nothing but words. The pale blue sky of autumn gleamed upon
the round, gray paving stones of the streets, strewn with yellow
leaves, which the wind kept whirling about under the people's feet.

The mother stood in the crowd. She looked around at the familiar faces
and thought with sadness: "There aren't many of you, not many."

The gate opened, and the coffin, decorated with wreaths tied with red
ribbons, was carried out. The people, as if inspired with one will,
silently raised their hats. A tall officer of police with a thick
black mustache on a red face unceremoniously jostled his way through
the crowd, followed by the soldiers, whose heavy boots trampled loudly
on the stones. They made a cordon around the coffin, and the officer
said in a hoarse, commanding voice:

"Remove the ribbons, please!"

The men and women pressed closely about him. They called to him,
waving their hands excitedly and trying to push past one another. The
mother caught the flash of pale, agitated countenances, some of them
with quivering lips and tears.

"Down with violence!" a young voice shouted nervously. But the lonely
outcry was lost in the general clamor.

The mother also felt bitterness in her heart. She turned in
indignation to her neighbor, a poorly dressed young man.

"They don't permit a man's comrades even to bury him as they want to.