The shrill, jarring shout of Mayakin called forth a deafening, triumphant roar from the merchants. All these big, fleshy bodies, aroused by wine and by the old man’s words, stirred and uttered from their chests such a unanimous, massive shout that everything around them seemed to tremble and to quake. “Yakov! you are the trumpet of the Lord!” cried Zubov, holding out his goblet toward Mayakin. Overturning the chairs, jostling the tables, thus causing the dishes and the bottles to rattle and fall, the merchants, agitated, delighted, some with tears in their eyes, rushed toward Mayakin with goblets in their hands. “Ah! Do you understand what has been said here?” asked Kononov, grasping Robustov by the shoulder and shaking him. “Understand it! That was a great speech!” “Yakov Tarasovich! Come, let me embrace you!” “Let’s toss, Mayakin! “Strike up the band.” “Sound a flourish! A march. ‘The Persian March.”’ “We don’t want any music! The devil take it!” “Here is the music! Eh, Yakov Tarasovich! What a mind!” “I was small among my brethren, but I was favoured with understanding.” “You lie, Trofim!” “Yakov! you’ll die soon. Oh, what a pity! Words can’t express how sorry we are!” “But what a funeral that is going to be!” “Gentlemen! Let us establish a Mayakin fund! I put up a thousand!” “Silence! Hold on!” “Gentlemen!” Yakov Tarasovich began to speak again, quivering in every limb. “And, furthermore, we are the foremost men in life and the real masters in our fatherland because we are--peasants!’ “Corr-rect!” “That’s right! Dear mother! That’s an old man for you!” “Hold on! Let him finish.” “We are primitive Russian people, and everything that comes from us is truly Russian! Consequently it is the most genuine, the most useful and obligatory.” “As true as two and two make four!” “It’s so simple.” “He is as wise as a serpent!” “And as meek as a--” “As a hawk. Ha, ha, ha!” The merchants encircled their orator in a close ring, they looked at him with their oily eyes, and were so agitated that they could no longer listen to his words calmly. Around him a tumult of voices smote the air, and mingling with the noise of the engine, and the beating of the wheels upon the water, it formed a whirlwind of sounds which drowned the jarring voice of the old man. The excitement of the merchants was growing more and more intense; all faces were radiant with triumph; hands holding out goblets were outstretched toward Mayakin; the merchants clapped him on the shoulder, jostled him, kissed him, gazed with emotion into his face. And some screamed ecstatically: “The kamarinsky. The national dance!” “We have accomplished all that!” cried Yakov Tarasovich, pointing at the river. “It is all ours! We have built up life!” Suddenly rang out a loud exclamation which drowned all sounds: “Ah! So you have done it? Ah, you.”