CHAPTER XIX.
From the main street four mounted policemen flourishing their knouts came riding into the by-street directly at the crowd.
"Disperse!" "What sort of talking is going on ?" "Who's speaking ?" The people scowled, giving way to the horses unwillingly.

Some climbed up on fences; raillery was heard here and there.
"They put pigs on horses; they grunt: 'Here we are, leaders, too!'" resounded a sonorous, provoking voice.
The Little Russian was left alone in the middle of the street; two horses shaking their manes pressed at him.

He stepped aside, and at the same time the mother grasped his hand, pulling him away grumbling: "You promised to stick to Pasha; and here you are running up against the edge of a knife all by yourself." "I plead guilty," said the Little Russian, smiling at Pavel.

"Ugh! What a force of police there is in the world!" "All right," murmured the mother.
An alarming, crushing exhaustion came over her.

It rose from within her and made her dizzy.