Jumping up on something, I looked over the heads of people into their faces. They were smiling, giggling, and saying to one another:
"Look! Look!"
When he pushed his crumpled shirt down into his trousers with his skinny, childish hand, a good-looking man near me said:
"He is getting ready to die, and he takes the trouble to hitch up his trousers."
The passengers all laughed loudly. It was perfectly plain that they did not think it probable that the soldier would really kill himself, nor did I think so; but Smouri, after one glance at him, pushed the people aside with his stomach, saying:
"Get away, you fools!"
He called them fools over and over again, and approaching one little knot of people, said:
"To your place, fool!"
This was funny; but, however, it seemed to-be true, for they had all been acting like one big fool from the first thing in the morning. When he had driven the passengers-off, he approached the soldier, and, holding out his hand, said:
"Give me that knife."