Yevsey ran to the casement, looked down, and there saw a thick mass of people filling the entire street. In his eyes gleamed a compact mass of faces, which shone like the stars in the Milky Way. Over the heads of the throng waved flags resembling red birds. Klimkov was deafened by the seething noise. In the first row he saw the tall, bearded figure of Melnikov, who held the short pole of the standard in both hands, and waved it. At times the cloth of the flag enveloped his head like a red turban. From under his hat escaped dark strands of hair, which fell on his forehead and cheeks, and mingled with his beard. He was shaggy as a beast. Evidently he was shouting, for his mouth stood wide open. "Where are they going?" mumbled Klimkov, turning to his comrade. "They are rejoicing," Viekov repeated, and looked out into the street, leaning his forehead against the glass. Both men were silent, attentively watching the motley stream of people. With acute hearing they caught the loud splashings of different exclamations in the deep sea of the din. Viekov shook his head. "What a power, eh? The people lived each by himself and now suddenly they all move together--what a phenomenon!" "They've grown wise, it means. They are becoming masters of life," said Yevsey with a smile. At that moment he actually believed so. "And our Melnikov, did you see him?" "He always stood up for the people," Yevsey explained didactically. He left the window, feeling himself near his aim, bold and new. "Now everything will go well. No one wants another to order him about. Everyone wants to live according to his needs, quietly, peacefully, with things arranged in a good system," he said gravely, examining his sharp face in the mirror. He liked his face to-day. It was calm, almost cheerful. Wishing to strengthen the new and pleasant feeling of satisfaction with himself, he reflected on how he might raise himself in the eyes of his comrade. So he announced with an air of mystery, "Do you know, Maklakov has escaped to America?" "So?" the spy rejoined indifferently. "What of it? He's a single man." "Why did I tell him?" Yevsey reproached himself. A feeling of slight alarm and enmity came over him. "Don't speak of this to anybody, please," he begged Viekov. "About Maklakov? Very well--I have to go to the office. Aren't you going?" "No, but we can go out together." On the street Viekov remarked in dismal irritation, speaking in a subdued voice: "Stupid people, after all. They ought not to be going about with flags and songs. Now they have once begun to feel themselves in power they ought to ask the authorities straightway to abolish all sorts of politics, to transform everybody into people, both us and the revolutionists, to distribute awards to whom they are due, both on our side and theirs, and to make a strict announcement, 'All politics strictly prohibited.' We've had enough of hide and seek!"