le Tolkatchenko and Erkel only held and passed them. Erkel was
foremost, and while Pyotr Stepanovitch, grumbling and swearing, tied the
dead man's feet together with the cord and fastened the stone to them--a
rather lengthy operation--Tolkatchenko stood holding the other stone
at arm's-length, his whole person bending forward, as it were,
deferentially, to be in readiness to hand it without delay. It never
once occurred to him to lay his burden on the ground in the interval.
When at last both stones were tied on and Pyotr Stepanovitch got up from
the ground to scrutinise the faces of his companions, something strange
happened, utterly unexpected and surprising to almost every one.

As I have said already, all except perhaps Tolkatchenko and Erkel were
standing still doing nothing. Though Virginsky had rushed up to Shatov
with the others he had not seized him or helped to hold him. Lyamshin
had joined the group after the shot had been fired. Afterwards,
while Pyotr Stepanovitch was busy with the corpse--for perhaps ten
minutes--none of them seemed to have been fully conscious. They grouped
themselves around and seemed to have felt amazement rather than anxiety
or alarm. Liputin stood foremost, close to the corpse. Virginsky stood
behind him, peeping over his shoulder with a peculiar, as it were
unconcerned, curiosity; he even stood on tiptoe to get a better view.
Lyamshin hid behind Virginsky. He took an apprehensive peep from time to
time and slipped behind him again at once. When the stones had been tied
on and Pyotr Stepanovitch had risen to his feet, Virginsky began faintly
shuddering all over, clasped his hands, and cried out bitterly at the
top of his voice:

"It's not the right thing, it's not, it's not at all!" He would perhaps
have added something more to his belated exclamation, but Lyamshin did
not let him finish: he suddenly seized him from behind and squeezed him
with all his might, uttering an unnatural shriek. There are moments of
violent emotion, of terror, for instance, when a man will cry out in a
voice not his own, unlike anything one could have anticipated from him,
and this has sometimes a very terrible effect. Lyamshin gave vent to a
scream more animal than human. Squeezing Virginsky from behind more and
more tightly and convulsively, he went on shrieking without a pause,
his mouth wide open and his eyes starting out of his head, keeping up
a continual patter with his feet, as though he were beating