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Chapter 18

           JudgingbytheirfacestheywerebothFrenchmen.WithafrightenedandsufferinglookresemblingthatonthethinFrenchman’sface,Pierrepushedhiswayinthroughthecrowd.

           “Whatisit?Whoisit?Whatisitfor?”hekeptasking.

           Buttheattentionofthecrowd—officials,burghers,shopkeepers,peasants,andwomenincloaksandinpelisses—wassoeagerlycenteredonwhatwaspassinginLóbnoePlacethatnooneansweredhim.Thestoutmanrose,frowned,shruggedhisshoulders,andevidentlytryingtoappearfirmbegantopullonhisjacketwithoutlookingabouthim,butsuddenlyhislipstrembledandhebegantocry,inthewayfull-bloodedgrown-upmencry,thoughangrywithhimselffordoingso.Inthecrowdpeoplebegantalkingloudly,tostifletheirfeelingsofpityasitseemedtoPierre.

           “He’scooktosomeprince.”

           “Eh,mounseer,RussiansauceseemstobesourtoaFrenchman...setshisteethonedge!”saidawrinkledclerkwhowasstandingbehindPierre,whentheFrenchmanbegantocry.

           Theclerkglancedround,evidentlyhopingthathisjokewouldbeappreciated.Somepeoplebegantolaugh,otherscontinuedtowatchindismaytheexecutionerwhowasundressingtheotherman.

           Pierrechoked,hisfacepuckered,andheturnedhastilyaway,wentbacktohistrapmutteringsomethingtohimselfashewent,andtookhisseat.Astheydrovealongheshudderedandexclaimedseveraltimessoaudiblythatthecoachmanaskedhim:

           “Whatisyourpleasure?”

           “Whereareyougoing?”shoutedPierretotheman,whowasdrivingtoLubyánkaStreet.

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