He walked with one hand in his pocket, the other smoothing his red hair.
A crowd of about a hundred workmen followed him, and plied the policemen with oaths and banter.
"Going to take a promenade, Grisha ?" shouted one.
"They do honor to us fellows!" chimed in another.
"When we go to promenading, we have a bodyguard to escort us," said a third, and uttered a harsh oath.
"It does not seem to pay any longer to catch thieves!" exclaimed a tall, one-eyed workingman in a loud, bitter voice.

"So they take to arresting honest people." "They don't even do it at night!" broke in another.

"They come and drag them away in broad daylight, without shame, the impudent scoundrels!" The policemen walked on rapidly and sullenly, trying to avoid the sight of the crowd, and feigning not to hear the angry exclamations showered upon them from all sides.

Three workmen carrying a big iron bar happened to come in front of them, and thrusting the bar against them, shouted: "Look out there, fishermen!" As he passed Nilovna, Samoylov nodded to her, and smiling, said: "Behold, this is Gregory, the servant of God, being arrested." She made a low bow to him in silence.

These men, so young, sober, and clever, who went to jail with a smile, moved her, and she unconsciously felt for them the pitying affection of a mother.