"Clear out of here, I tell you!"
A song sprang up and floated from among the soldiers:
"Arise, awake, you workingmen!"
Everything was whirling, rocking, trembling. A thick, alarming noise, resembling the dull hum of telegraph wires, filled the air. The officer jumped back, screaming angrily:
"Stop the singing, Sergeant Kraynov!"
The mother staggered to the fragment of the pole, which he had thrown down, and picked it up again.
"Gag them!"
The song became confused, trembled, expired. Somebody took the mother by the shoulders, turned her around, and shoved her from the back.
"Go, go! Clear the street!" shouted the officer.
About ten paces from her, the mother again saw a thick crowd of people. They were howling, grumbling, whistling, as they backed down the street. The yards were drawing in a number of them.