The young woman delicately provided them privacy by lying down on the broad low wooden shelf that is the peasant’s only bed and turning her face to the wall. A moment later the old man was under a tattered blanket on the same bed, and his clothes were on the earthen floor. Drexel, not without some shrinking of the flesh, changed into the old shirt of homespun linen, the tattered trousers, and the greasy coat with the fleece turned inward. Instead of boots or shoes there were slippers of woven grass, and these the son tied on with cords, having first swathed Drexel’s feet and calves in rags. Drexel roughened his moustache, touselled his hair and put on a fur cap which settled upon his ears. He still did not look a typical village peasant, but he counted on passing for a peasant workingman who fluctuated between country and city.
He offered his discarded garments as a gift to the family for he dared not take them with him. But the old man refused; such fine clothes would surely get them into trouble. There was only one other course. In one corner, filling a third of the room, stood a great, clay-built oven. Drexel opened the door of this, and into the fire went the dangerous raiment.
Two minutes later Drexel and the young man stepped out into the white, starry night; and after following a beaten sleigh-track for an hour, and when Drexel was feeling that his straw-shod feet had turned to ice, they came at last to the station.
They entered the third-class waiting-room. A broad passage ran through into the first- and second-class room, and through this, with a show of stupid peasant curiosity, Drexel cautiously peeped. As he had half expected, there stood Captain Nadson, his left arm in a sling. He threw himself upon the floor, among the other waiting passengers a-sprawl in sleep, and drew his cap over his face. The peasant dropped down beside him.
Presently the captain entered, saw the new figures, crossed and kicked Drexel’s side.
“Wake up—you!” he called.
Drexel moved slightly. “What you want?” he asked sleepily.
“Have you seen a man in a fine-looking coat walking through the country?”
“Haven’t seen anybody,” said Drexel in a half snore.
The captain kicked the guide, and Drexel, peering from beneath his cap, saw the poor fellow was trembling with terror—in a state of nerves to make some catastrophic blunder.