Every evening the people connected with the Department of Safety, who were utterly at a loss, spoke more and more alarmingly of the increasing signs of universal excitement, of the secret league of peasants, who had resolved to take the land by force from the landowners, of the gatherings of workingmen who began to censure the administration openly, of the power of the revolutionists, which clearly was growing from day to day. Filip Filippovich, without abating, continued to scratch the agents of the Department of Safety with his sharp-edged, irritating voice. He overwhelmed everybody with reproaches for inactivity. And Yasnogursky, smacking his lips, made tragic appeals to the agents while pressing his hands to his bosom.
"My children, exert yourselves. Remember that service in behalf of the Czar is not wasted."
But when Krasavin inquired gloomily, "What are we to do?" he merely waved his hand, and stood for a long time with his deep black mouth gaping strangely, unable to find a reply.
"Catch them!" he finally shouted.
Yevsey, who listened to everything, heard the dapper Leontyev cough drily, and say to Sasha:
"Apparently our old methods of war upon the rebels are no good in these days of universal madness."
"Ye-e-e-es, you can't put out fire with spittle," hissed Sasha, a smile distorting his face.
Everybody was vexed and complained and shouted. Sasha drew up his long legs, and cried in mocking derision:
"Aha! The gentlemen revolutionists are getting the better of us, eh?"
He laughed, and his laugh irritated everybody. Yevsey felt that this man was not afraid of anything, and he endeavored not to hear his talk.