An open cart broke down in front of us. The woman got out to help her husband. She had a round, pock-marked face, as expressionless as wood. She wore a bright shawl over her hair, and a long sheepskin coat, with the sleeves and pockets beautifully embroidered in colors. It was dirty, now, but indicated she had been well-to-do once. She limped badly.
"Good-evening," I said.
"Good-evening, excellency," she replied civilly.
"Are you hurt?" I asked.
"My feet are blistered from the walking," she replied. "I take turns with my husband."
"Where are you from?"
"Rovno."
"How long have you been on the way?"
"Many weeks. Who knows how long?"