Chapter 23

           

           FromanunfinishedhouseontheVarvárka,thegroundfloorofwhichwasadramshop,camedrunkenshoutsandsongs.Onbenchesroundthetablesinadirtylittleroomsatsometenfactoryhands.Tipsyandperspiring,withdimeyesandwide-openmouths,theywerealllaboriouslysingingsomesongorother.Theyweresingingdiscordantly,arduously,andwithgreateffort,evidentlynotbecausetheywishedtosing,butbecausetheywantedtoshowtheyweredrunkandonaspree.One,atall,fair-hairedladinacleanbluecoat,wasstandingovertheothers.Hisfacewithitsfinestraightnosewouldhavebeenhandsomehaditnotbeenforhisthin,compressed,twitchinglipsanddull,gloomy,fixedeyes.Evidentlypossessedbysomeidea,hestoodoverthosewhoweresinging,andsolemnlyandjerkilyflourishedabovetheirheadshiswhitearmwiththesleeveturneduptotheelbow,tryingunnaturallytospreadouthisdirtyfingers.Thesleeveofhiscoatkeptslippingdownandhealwayscarefullyrolleditupagainwithhislefthand,asifitweremostimportantthatthesinewywhitearmhewasflourishingshouldbebare.Inthemidstofthesongcrieswereheard,andfightingandblowsinthepassageandporch.Thetallladwavedhisarm.

           “Stopit!”heexclaimedperemptorily.“There’safight,lads!”And,stillrollinguphissleeve,hewentouttotheporch.

           Thefactoryhandsfollowedhim.Thesemen,whoundertheleadershipofthetallladweredrinkinginthedramshopthatmorning,hadbroughtthepublicansomeskinsfromthefactoryandforthishadhaddrinkservedthem.

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