best, were collecting together, all going in the same direction. At last they reached the field called Khodinka. Its edges were black with people. It was cold in the early dawn, and here and there smoke was arising from the fires which were made from such twigs and branches as were available. Emelian found some friends who also had a fire, and round which they were sitting preparing their food and drink. The sun was rising clear and bright, and the general merriment was increasing. The air was filled with singing and chattering, and with jokes and laughter. Everything gave rise to pleasure, but still greater pleasures were in store. Emelian had a drink, and, lighting a cigarette, felt happier than ever.
The people were wearing their best clothes, but several rich merchants, with their wives and children, were also noticeable among the well-dressed working men. Rina Golitsin, too, was remarkable as she walked at her cousin’s side between the wood fires, happy and radiant at having got her own way, and at the thought of celebrating with the people the accession to the throne of a Tsar who was adored by them.
“Here’s to your health, good lady,” cried a factory hand to her, raising his glass to his lips. “Don’t refuse to break bread with us.”
“Thank you.”
“You ought to answer ‘a good appetite to you,’ ” whispered her cousin, showing off his knowledge of popular customs, and they moved on.
Accustomed to occupy the best places everywhere, they penetrated through the crowd, going straight for the pavilion. The crowd was so dense that, notwithstanding the bright weather, a thick mist caused by the breath of the people, hung over the field. But the police would not let them pass.
“I’m rather glad,” said Rina. “Let us return,” and so they went back into the crowd.