After him came a thin man with the face of a Jesuit and cried out loudly:
“Russia for the Russians!”
A stout merchant kept on repeating:
“If you don’t cheat you can’t sell your goods. Even a fur coat might be turned inside out. Your penny makes you well thought of anywhere.”
An austere, freckled woman was saying:
“Beat me, seeing that I’m your woman, but there’s no law that’ll let you tie up with a girl so long as you’ve got a wife living.”
A muzhik walked at her side, a dirty, ill-smelling fellow, who said nothing and hiccuped.
Once more there was a nobleman, large, stout, bristling, savage-looking. He ranted:
“Hang them! Flog them!”
Trirodov turned to Kirsha: