I return to the town. In endless series, meeting one another and passing on, go the two processions up and down the street. They come, they come, they come, without respite, without interruption, the gray carts. They are all like one. One like another. And on the other side of the road come the fugitives on horseback, to sell their horses. And in this whirlpool of the river of human grief, little and dreadful Roslavl has choked and drowned.
Such was the coming of the fugitives into Great Russia.
(The Russian narrator tells many tragic stories of "Meeting the Fugitives;" "Along the Kief Road;" "The Forests of Mogilef," and many other vivid sketches of Russian suffering.)
FOOTNOTES:
[3] All numerals relate to stories herein told—not to chapters in the book.
[4] A notorious district in Moscow, where beggars, tramps and thieves congregate, and where there are many doss-houses.