“March the First 326 a waste of energy!” shouted Mezhenétsky. “We sacrificed ourselves, our lives⁠—and you sit quietly at home, enjoying yourselves, and only preach!”

“We don’t enjoy ourselves very much,” said Román, glancing round at his comrades, and burst into a fit of not infectious but loud, clear and self-assured laughter.

The brunette shook her head, smiling ironically.

“We don’t enjoy ourselves much,” repeated Román; “and if we sit here we owe it to the reaction, and the reaction is the outcome of that very First of March!”

Mezhenétsky was silent. He felt himself choking with anger, and went out into the corridor.