114
The Way of the Cross
And that scent we shall breathe the whole way without ceasing.
Two hundred and fifty versts of smoke.
And no limit and no respite.
What a grey nightmare it is that comes on, and comes on without end.
And empty carts, with horses tied on behind, come gaily along the side of the road to meet the people, avoiding the mass of traffic in the centre.
These are the carts of the buyers from Roslavl.
—For a bargain.
In the cart stands a muzhik, so as to see the road better than he would sitting down.
And lashes his horse.
Beside this horse and running at the sides of the cart, and behind it are a multiplicity of legs.
As if a spider were running quickly, quickly along the road.
The fugitives get out of the way, give
