He had grown very thin. With his
nervous, jerky gestures, and the trepidation in his speech, he was
like a caged lark. He was always with Yakob Somov, taciturn and
serious beyond his years.
Samoylov, who had grown still redder in prison, Vasily Gusev,
curly-haired Dragunov, and a number of others argued that it was
necessary to come out armed, but Pavel and the Little Russian, Somov,
and others said it was not.
Yegor always came tired, perspiring, short of breath, but always joking.
"The work of changing the present order of things, comrades, is a
great work, but in order to advance it more rapidly, I must buy
myself a pair of boots!" he said, pointing to his wet, torn shoes.
"My overshoes, too, are torn beyond the hope of redemption, and I
get my feet wet every day. I have no intention of migrating from
the earth even to the nearest planet before we have publicly and
openly renounced the old order of things; and I am therefore
absolutely opposed to comrade Samoylov's motion for an armed
demonstration. I amend the motion to read that I be armed with a
pair of strong boots, inasmuch as I am profoundly convinced that
this will be of greater service for the ultimate triumph of
socialism than even a grand exhibition of fisticuffs and black eyes!"
In the same playfully pretentious language, he told the workingmen
the story of how in various foreign countries the people strove to
lighten the burden of their lives.
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