“I am going out for a time. You will remain here?”
“I’ll see. Perhaps I’ll go for a stroll later,” I replied. It had occurred to me that he regarded me almost as a prisoner, and I wanted to make sure on that point.
“Please yourself,” he returned in his sullen manner. “But if you go, remember my warning, and observe caution. If there should be any disturbance in the streets, keep out of it; or, if you should be within here, close the shutters and put the lights out.”
“All right. I guess I’m fairly well able to take care of myself,” I said imperturbably; though I thought he might have given me credit for the possession of average common sense, anyhow!
I went out soon after he did, more as a kind of assertion of my independence than because I was inclined for a walk. It was some time since I’d been so many hours in the saddle as I had that day, and I was dead tired.
It was a glorious autumn evening, clear and still, with the glow of the sunset still lingering in the western sky, though the moon was rising, and putting to shame the squalid lights of the streets and shops. The sidewalks—a trifle cleaner and more level than the rutted roadway between them—were thronged with passers; many of them were soldiers swaggering in their disreputably slovenly uniforms, and leering at every heavy-visaged Russian woman they met. I did not see one woman abroad that evening who looked like a Jewess; though there were Jews in plenty, slinking along unobtrusively, and eying the Russian soldiers and townsmen askance, with glances compounded of fear and hatred.
I attracted a good deal of attention; a foreigner was evidently an unusual object in that town. But I was not really molested; and, acting on Mishka’s advice, I affected ignorance of the many and free remarks passed on my personal appearance.
I walked on, almost to the outskirts of the little town, and turned to retrace my steps, when I was waylaid by a pedler, who had passed me a minute or so before. He looked just like scores of others I had seen within the last few minutes, except that he carried a small but heavy pack, and walked heavily, leaning on his thick staff like a man wearied with a long day’s tramp.
Now I found he had halted, and as I came abreast with him, he held out one skinny hand with an arresting gesture. For a moment I thought he was merely begging, but his first words dispelled that notion.