She caught whispered, broken remarks:
"Here they are, the leaders!"
"We don't know who the leaders are!"
"Why, I didn't say anything wrong."
At another place some one in a yard shouted excitedly:
"The police will get them, and that'll be the end them!"
"What if they do?" retorted another voice.
Farther on a crying woman's voice leaped frightened the window to
the street:
"Consider! Are you a single man, are you? They are bachelors and
don't care!"
When they passed the house of Zosimov, the man without legs, who
received a monthly allowance from the factory because of his
mutilation, he stuck his head through, the window and cried out:
"Pavel, you scoundrel, they'll wring your head off for your doings,
you'll see!"
The mother trembled and stopped. The exclamation aroused in her a
sharp sensation of anger. She looked up at the thick, bloated face
of the cripple, and he hid himself, cursing. Then she quickened her
pace, overtook her son, and tried not to fall behind again. He and
Andrey seemed not to notice anything; not to hear the outcries that
pursued them. They moved calmly, without haste, and talked loudly
about commonplaces.
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