A large woman near me, with a shawl over her head and carrying a large
basket, laughed a great deal. "No, I wouldn't go," she said. "You go and
get it for yourself--I'm not coming. Not I, I was too clever for that."
Then she would turn, shrilly calling for some child who was apparently
lost in the crowd. "Sacha!... Ah! Sacha!" she cried--and turning again,
"Eh! look at the Cossack!... There's a fine Cossack!"
It was then that I noticed the Cossacks. They were lined up along the
side of the pavement, and sometimes they would suddenly wheel and
clatter along the pavement itself, to the great confusion of the crowd
who would scatter in every direction.
They were fine-looking men, and their faces expressed childish and
rather worried amiability. The crowd obviously feared them not at all,
and I saw a woman standing with her hand on the neck of one of the
horses, talking in a very friendly fashion to the soldier who rode it.
"That's strange," I thought to myself; "there's something queer here."
It was then, just at the entrance of the "Malaia Koniushennaia," that a
strange little incident occurred.
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