Again, should a Cossack pass him without returning his salute, he will mutter as he follows the man with his eyes:
"An overfed fellow, that—a fellow who can't even look at a human being! The souls of these folk, I tell you, are withered."
On the present occasion he has arrived on the scene in company with two women. One of them, aged about twenty, is gentle-looking, plump, and glassy of eye, with a mouth perpetually half-open, so that the face looks like that of an imbecile, and though the exposed teeth of its lower portion may seem to be set in a smile, you will perceive, should you peer into the motionless eyes under the overhanging brows, that she has recently been weeping in the terrified, hysterical fashion of a person of weak intellect.
I have come here with that man and other strangers thus I heard her narrate in low, querulous tones as with a stumpy finger she rearranged the faded hair under her yellow and green scarf.
A fat-faced youth with high cheek-bones and the small eyes of a Mongol here nudged her, and said carelessly:
"You mean, rather, that your own man has cast you off. Probably he was the only man you ever saw."
"Aye," Konev drawled thoughtfully as he felt in his wallet. "Nowadays folk need think little of deserting a woman, since in this year of grace women are no good at all."
Upon this the woman frowned—then blinked her eyes timidly, and would have opened her lips to reply, but that her companion interrupted her by saying in a brisk, incisive tone:
"Do not listen to those rascals!"