"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.