The customers grumbled. Threats were heard:
“You’d better go away while you’re still whole.”
He paid his bill and left. Suddenly the sound of a crowd gathering in the street was heard. From the window Elisaveta and Trirodov could see the fellow in the red shirt sauntering backwards and forwards in the street, only a few paces from the tavern, and annoying the passers-by. He could be heard shouting:
“I’ll report you! I’ll arrest you! Hand over your ten kopecks.”
Many, afraid of him, acceded to his request. Borodulin clutched at every passer-by. He threw off the men’s caps, he pinched the women, while he pulled young boys by the ear. The women ran from him shrieking. The more timid men also ran. The bolder ones paused in menacing attitudes. These Borodulin did not dare to molest. Small boys ran behind him in a crowd, laughing and hooting. Borodulin grumbled.
“You’d better look out. Do you know who I am?”
“Well, who are you?” asked a young fellow whom he jostled. “You’re a pothouse plug.”
A crowd formed round them. Their faces were morose and unfriendly. Borodulin was afraid, but he showed a bold front and boasted. He shouted:
“Two or three of you will be necessary!”
A sudden attack was made upon Borodulin. A young robust fellow sprang forward from the crowd with a shout, an enormous cobblestone in his hand.