The people ran from every direction, pushing into the crowd
around the mother and Sizov. The whistles of the police leaped
through the air, but did not deafen the shouts. The old man smiled;
and to the mother all this seemed like a pleasant dream. She smilingly
pressed the hands extended to her and bowed, with joyous tears choking
her throat. Near her somebody's clear voice said nervously:
"Comrades, friends, the autocracy, the monster which devours the
Russian people to-day again gulped into its bottomless, greedy mouth----"
"However, mother, let's go," said Sizov. And at the same time Sasha
appeared, caught the mother under her arm, and quickly dragged her
away to the other side of the street.
"Come! They're going to make arrests. What? Exile? To Siberia?"
"Yes, yes."
"And how did he speak? I know without your telling me. He was more
powerful than any of the others, and more simple. And of course,
sterner than all the rest. He's sensitive and soft, only he's ashamed
to expose himself. And he's direct, clear, firm, like truth itself.
He's very great, and there's everything in him, everything! But he
often constrains himself for nothing, lest he might hinder the cause.
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