"It's not true, and I protest. Honest people want liberty, not in order to crush one another, but in order for each to be protected against the prevailing violence of our lawless life. Liberty is the goddess of reason. They have drunk enough of our blood. I protest. Long live liberty!"
The public raised a cheer, and sprang to their feet.
Melnikov looked at the curly-headed orator, and muttered:
"What a fool!"
"He speaks truly," rejoined Yevsey, angrily.
"How do you know?" asked the spy indifferently, and began to drink the beer in slow gulps.
Yevsey wanted to tell this heavy man that he himself was a fool, a blind beast, whom the cunning and cruel masters of his life had taught to hunt people down. But Melnikov raised his head, and looking into Klimkov's face with dark eyes terribly widened, said in a sounding whisper:
"I'm afraid for this reason: when I was in prison an incident happened there—"
"Hold on," said Yevsey, "I want to listen."
A thin voice which drilled the ear, pierced triumphantly through the soft mass of sounds.