Whatever the cause, Nona, after fifteen or twenty minutes, found her own pleasure cooling. Moreover, she had very little money to spend on frivolities, and so found a stool in a corner and sat down to wait for Barbara and to watch the crowd.
There were numbers of people in the shop, although few of them seemed to be making purchases. Now and then a big soldier, crowned by his peaked fur cap, would stalk proudly in to purchase a trinket, possibly for the girl of his heart. The Russians are ardent lovers, and as the soldier was only at home on a short leave, he had to make the best of his opportunity.
Most of the women who were not wearing furs had heavy shawls drawn over their heads and shoulders. Nona could not see their faces very well, and only received flitting impressions of dark eyes and large, heavy features, with almost always the curiously pale and yet sallow skin peculiar to the Russian peasant. It is only among the better classes that one finds other types.
Suddenly Nona gave a cry of alarm, which she quickly hushed. To her surprise some one had quietly come up back of her and laid a hand on her shoulder. It was one of these same peasant women, wearing a heavy, dark shawl.
She was trying to say something which Nona could not at once understand. Yet it was plain enough that the woman was imploring her to make no disturbance that would attract attention.
The next moment Nona had recognized the woman. It was old Katja, Sonya Valesky’s servant, whom she had left with Nika in her little hut.
What had brought the old woman to Petrograd? In reality Nona knew without asking the question. It was Katja’s devotion to Sonya.
The old woman was speaking a queer jumble of languages, Russian and the few words of English she had learned while the American girl was living in the same house.
What Nona finally learned was, that Katja was imploring her to meet her somewhere the next day, where they could talk without being observed.
Nona knew of no place except the one that was always open to rich and poor alike in Russia. And she had to think quickly. Yet the churches had always been their refuge ever since the arrival of the four Red Cross girls in Europe.