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Each
one
came
up
,
glanced
at
what
had
been
done
,
and
with
horror
,
reproach
,
and
astonishment
pushed
back
again
.
"
O
Lord
!
The
people
are
like
wild
beasts
!
How
could
he
be
alive
?
"
voices
in
the
crowd
could
be
heard
saying
.
"
Quite
a
young
fellow
too
...
must
have
been
a
merchant
's
son
.
What
men
!
...
and
they
say
he
's
not
the
right
one
...
How
not
the
right
one
?
...
O
Lord
!
And
there
's
another
has
been
beaten
too
--
they
say
he
's
nearly
done
for
...
Oh
,
the
people
...
Are
n't
they
afraid
of
sinning
?
...
"
said
the
same
mob
now
,
looking
with
pained
distress
at
the
dead
body
with
its
long
,
thin
,
half-severed
neck
and
its
livid
face
stained
with
blood
and
dust
.
A
painstaking
police
officer
,
considering
the
presence
of
a
corpse
in
his
excellency
's
courtyard
unseemly
,
told
the
dragoons
to
take
it
away
.
Two
dragoons
took
it
by
its
distorted
legs
and
dragged
it
along
the
ground
.
The
gory
,
dust-stained
,
half-shaven
head
with
its
long
neck
trailed
twisting
along
the
ground
.
The
crowd
shrank
back
from
it
.
At
the
moment
when
Vereshchágin
fell
and
the
crowd
closed
in
with
savage
yells
and
swayed
about
him
,
Rostopchín
suddenly
turned
pale
and
,
instead
of
going
to
the
back
entrance
where
his
carriage
awaited
him
,
went
with
hurried
steps
and
bent
head
,
not
knowing
where
and
why
,
along
the
passage
leading
to
the
rooms
on
the
ground
floor
.
The
count
's
face
was
white
and
he
could
not
control
the
feverish
twitching
of
his
lower
jaw
.
"
This
way
,
your
excellency
...
Where
are
you
going
?
...
This
way
,
please
...
"
said
a
trembling
,
frightened
voice
behind
him
.
Count
Rostopchín
was
unable
to
reply
and
,
turning
obediently
,
went
in
the
direction
indicated
.
At
the
back
entrance
stood
his
calèche
.
The
distant
roar
of
the
yelling
crowd
was
audible
even
there
.
He
hastily
took
his
seat
and
told
the
coachman
to
drive
him
to
his
country
house
in
Sokólniki
.
When
they
reached
the
Myasnítski
Street
and
could
no
longer
hear
the
shouts
of
the
mob
,
the
count
began
to
repent
.
He
remembered
with
dissatisfaction
the
agitation
and
fear
he
had
betrayed
before
his
subordinates
.
"
The
mob
is
terrible
--
disgusting
,
"
he
said
to
himself
in
French
.
"
They
are
like
wolves
whom
nothing
but
flesh
can
appease
.
"
"
Count
!
One
God
is
above
us
both
!
"
--
Vereshchágin
's
words
suddenly
recurred
to
him
,
and
a
disagreeable
shiver
ran
down
his
back
.
But
this
was
only
a
momentary
feeling
and
Count
Rostopchín
smiled
disdainfully
at
himself
.
"
I
had
other
duties
,
"
thought
he
.
"
The
people
had
to
be
appeased
.
Many
other
victims
have
perished
and
are
perishing
for
the
public
good
"
--
and
he
began
thinking
of
his
social
duties
to
his
family
and
to
the
city
entrusted
to
him
,
and
of
himself
--
not
himself
as
Theodore
Vasílyevich
Rostopchín
(
he
fancied
that
Theodore
Vasílyevich
Rostopchín
was
sacrificing
himself
for
the
public
good
)
but
himself
as
governor
,
the
representative
of
authority
and
of
the
Tsar
.
"
Had
I
been
simply
Theodore
Vasílyevich
my
course
of
action
would
have
been
quite
different
,
but
it
was
my
duty
to
safeguard
my
life
and
dignity
as
commander
in
chief
.
"
Lightly
swaying
on
the
flexible
springs
of
his
carriage
and
no
longer
hearing
the
terrible
sounds
of
the
crowd
,
Rostopchín
grew
physically
calm
and
,
as
always
happens
,
as
soon
as
he
became
physically
tranquil
his
mind
devised
reasons
why
he
should
be
mentally
tranquil
too
.
The
thought
which
tranquillized
Rostopchín
was
not
a
new
one
.
Since
the
world
began
and
men
have
killed
one
another
no
one
has
ever
committed
such
a
crime
against
his
fellow
man
without
comforting
himself
with
this
same
idea
.
This
idea
is
le
bien
public
,
the
hypothetical
welfare
of
other
people
.
To
a
man
not
swayed
by
passion
that
welfare
is
never
certain
,
but
he
who
commits
such
a
crime
always
knows
just
where
that
welfare
lies
.
And
Rostopchín
now
knew
it
.
