"We don't want deception—"
Behind, a crowd of ragged people, dark and grey, pushed down the street, jumping and twisting their necks. They raised their heads, hands, and arms, looked up to the windows of the houses, jumped on the pavements to knock off the hats of passersby, ran up to Melnikov again, shouted and whistled and seized one another, rolling into a heap. Melnikov waving the flag clanged like a huge bell:
"Down with the mutinee-e! Down with the impostors! Stop!"
"Drunk, or what?" thought Klimkov, coldly.
"Halt!" Raising his head and the flag on high, the spy commanded: "Sing!"
From his broad mouth gushed a savage mournful note:
"Go-o-od—"
But at that moment excited shouts splashed in the air, disordered and rapacious, like a flock of hungry birds. They clawed the voice of the spy, and covered it with their hasty, greedy mass.
"Hurrah for the Emperor! Hats off! True Orthodox people—we want the old! Down with treachery!"
It was quiet in the car. All stood with their hats off, silent, pale, observing the crowd that encircled them like a wavy, dirty ring. But the disguised man did not remove his hat. Yevsey looked at his stern face, and thought: