From all sides people came running, waving
their hands; they fell into arguments, and excited one another with
burning, stinging words. The irritation that had found no vent,
that had always lain dormant in tired breasts, had awakened, demanded
an outlet, and burst from their mouths in a volley of words. It
soared into the air like a great bird spreading its motley wings
ever wider and wider, clutching people and dragging them after it,
and striking them against one another. It lived anew, transformed
into flaming wrath. A cloud of dust and soot hung over the crowd;
their faces were all afire, and black drops of sweat trickled down
their cheeks. Their eyes gleamed from darkened countenances;
their teeth glistened.
Pavel appeared on the spot where Sizov and Makhotin were standing,
and his voice rang out:
"Comrades!"
The mother saw that his face paled and his lips trembled; she
involuntarily pushed forward, shoving her way through the crowd.
"Where are you going, old woman?"
She heard the angry question, and the people pushed her, but she
would not stop, thrusting the crowd aside with her shoulders and
elbows. She slowly forced her way nearer to her son, yielding to
the desire to stand by his side.
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