“What’s the matter?” he asked an elderly man who was walking with a sleigh-load of bricks, the reins in his hands.
“They say our little father, the Czar, has been killed,” the other answered, making the sign of the cross with his free hand. “People say the Czarowitz is going to cut down the term of military service. Is it true, sir?”
“What is true?” Pavel asked. He was literally dazed with excitement.
“A son of mine is in the army, sir,” the other explained reverently. “So I wonder if the new Czar will be easier on the soldiers, sir.”
Pavel hailed the first hackman he came across. He was burning to know the details of the assassination and to tell Clara that the first man he accosted on the great news of the hour had shown indifference to the death of the monarch.
When his sleigh reached the Neva Prospect, he saw the new Czar, surrounded by a cohort of officers in dazzling uniform, passing along the thoroughfare. The crowds were greeting him with wild cheers. They cheered their own emotions at sight of the man whose father had come to so tragic a death, and they cheered their own servility to the master of the situation.
These shouts filled Pavel with a mixed sense of defeat and triumph. The gloomier feeling predominated. The world looked as usual. It did not look as if this cheering, servile, stolid mob would ever rise against anything.
That evening placards bearing the name of the Executive Committee appeared on the walls of public buildings. They announced the death of Alexander II. and admonished his successor to adopt a liberal policy.