of his protests.  “Comrades!  It is a mistake!  I am a member of a local committee....” he attempted to protest,—­but the woman said he looked like a suspicious plotter and they all disappeared in a side street.  Near Milutinsky a man in the cap of a chauffer stopped me again and asked me to follow him.  “Where?” I asked, but he did not reply and invited me to follow with a slight and nothing-good-promising-smile.  “Follow!” he said.

Near a small church, there was a hardware store which we entered.  About ten people were sitting on the counter.  Among them were three street girls, if I might judge by their appearance and manners.  Without saying a word, they all came near me, two men got me by the shoulders, two others by the legs, and in one second, my pockets were emptied, my diamonds went to the girls and a formidable blow on the spine with the butt of a rifle threw me out onto the street.  “If you report,” I heard a voice,—­“You won’t be able to count your bones.”

That was really too much!  All they forgot to take was a handkerchief, in which I had put some money.  With that I had to reach Tumen and live there!

Then I turned left and went by small streets toward the depot from which I thought trains were running to Tumen.  Where this Tumen was I really did not realize.  It should be somewhere east of the Ural mountains, and all I recollected was that Cheliabinsk was the place to buy a ticket.  Near a large school, I think it was an Armenian school or something, I stopped to rest and see how much money I had in the handkerchief,—­but as soon as I took the handkerchief out, a man of no profession came to me and asked me to help him.  While, like an idiot, I tried to figure how much I could give him,—­he helped himself, grabbed my all and ran.  All I could do was to send him a few greetings in my best Russian, recollecting the sins of his Mother.  That relieved me, of course, but only as a palliative.  I sat down near a door to think over my situation.  Again a motor passed and again someone asked me who I was.  I showed this time such a realistic indifference and such a display of pure disgust with life, that the man at the wheel inquired what was the matter.  “Nothing, you beasts,” I replied, “but that some of your own scoundrels robbed me right now.”  “Get after him,” I continued, “perhaps you can rob him in your turn.”  I thought they would shoot me; nothing of the kind—­they became almost sympathetic, and only asked how the man looked and which way he had gone.  “Hardware store,” I said, “around the corner.”

24

It was Saturday night when finally our train reached Tumen:  a voyage of eleven days by rail, by snow sledge, by foot, and again by rail, was at an end.  God!  What a sojourn, what people, what disorder!  People full of onions, parasites, wounds, dirt, misery and fear!  But still, in all of their misery, amiable and sympathetic, at first always desirous of helping the other fellow.  Saturday night, and the church bells were ringing sadly, desperately, as if they knew nobody would come and pray.  To whom?  God had proved to be so far away from these people....