The watchman, a gray man with a hooked nose and medals on his chest, pushed the crowd apart, and said to Bukin, shaking his finger at him:
"Hey! don't shout! Don't you know where you are? Do you think this is a saloon?"
"Permit me, my cavalier, I know where I am. Listen! If I strike you and you me, and I go and try you, what would you think?"
"And I'll order you out," said the watchman sternly.
"Where to? What for?"
"Into the street, so that you shan't bawl."
"The chief thing for them is that people should keep their mouths shut."
"And what do you think?" the old man bawled. Bukin threw out his hands, and again measuring the public with his eyes, began to speak in a lower voice:
"And again—why are the people not permitted to be at the trial, but only the relatives? If you judge righteously, then judge in front of everybody. What is there to be afraid of?"
Samoylov repeated, but this time in a louder tone: