“Nothing of the kind!” said the same voice.
“But this is a revolt!” shrieked the sheriff. “Hi, bailiff, this way!”
The bailiff stepped forward.
“Find out immediately who it was that dared to answer me. I’ll teach him a lesson!”
The bailiff turned towards the crowd and asked who had spoken. But all remained silent. Soon a murmur was heard at the back; it gradually grew louder, and in a minute it broke out into a terrible wail. The sheriff lowered his voice and was about to try to persuade them to be calm.
“Why do you stand looking at him?” cried the servants: “Come on, lads, forward!” And the crowd began to move.
Shabashkin and the other members of the Court rushed into the vestibule, and closed the door behind them.
“Seize them, lads!” cried the same voice, and the crowd pressed forward.
“Hold!” cried Doubrovsky: “idiots! what are you doing? You will ruin yourselves and me, too. Go home all of you, and leave me to myself. Don’t fear, the Czar is merciful: I will present a petition to him—he will not let us be made the victims of an injustice. We are all his children. But how can he take your part, if you begin rebelling and plundering?”
This speech of young Doubrovsky’s, his sonorous voice and imposing appearance, produced the desired effect. The crowd became quiet and dispersed; the courtyard became empty, the officials of the Court still remained inside the house. Vladimir sadly ascended the steps. Shabashkin opened the door, and with obsequious bows began to thank Doubrovsky for his generous intervention.