"The boy is doing his best," said the Little Russian. "I'll go help
him." He bent low and before Pavel had time to stop him he twisted
his tall, flexible body into the crowd like a corkscrew into a cork,
and soon his singing voice rang out:
"Comrades! They say there are various races on the earth--Jews and
Germans, English and Tartars. But I don't believe it. There are
only two nations, two irreconcilable tribes--the rich and the poor.
People dress differently and speak differently; but look at the rich
Frenchman, the rich German, or the rich Englishman, you'll see that
they are all Tartars in the way they treat their workingman--a
plague on them!"
A laugh broke out in the crowd.
"On the other hand, we can see the French workingmen, the Tartar
workingmen, the Turkish workingmen, all lead the same dog's life,
as we--we, the Russian workingmen."
More and more people joined the crowd; one after the other they
thronged into the by-street, silent, stepping on tiptoe, and craning
their necks. Andrey raised his voice:
"The workingmen of foreign countries have already learned this
simple truth, and to-day, on this bright first of May, the foreign
working people fraternize with one another.
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