handkerchief his pate, forehead and red, stout neck, made the
sign of the cross, and gave command to proceed.

There was a clatter of weapons; the convicts, removing their caps,
began to make the sign of the cross, some with their left hands; the
escorting crowd shouted something, the convicts shouted in answer; a
great wailing arose among the women, and the party, surrounded by
soldiers in white blouses moved forward, raising a cloud of dust with
their fettered feet. They marched in the order in which they formed at
the prison gates, in rows of four, preceded by a detachment of
soldiers. The rear was brought up by the wagons loaded with the sacks
and the infirm. On top of one of the wagons, above all the others, sat
a woman, wrapped up in her coat and sobbing incessantly.

CHAPTER XXIII.

When Nekhludoff reached the railroad station the prisoners were
already seated in the cars, behind grated windows. There were a few
people on the platform, come to see their departing relatives, but
they were not allowed to come near the cars. The guards were greatly
troubled this day. On the way from the prison to the station five men
had died from sunstroke. Three of them had been taken to the nearest
police station from the street, while two were stricken at the
railroad station.[F] They were troubled not because five men had died
while under their guard. That did not bother them; but they were
chiefly concerned with doing all that the law required them to do
under the circumstances--to make proper transfer of the dead, their
papers and belongings, and to exclude them from the list of those that
were to be transferred to Nijhni, which was very troublesome,
especially on such a warm day.

This it was that occupied the convoy, and this was the reason why
Nekhludoff and others were not permitted to approach the cars while
the formalities were unfinished. However, upon bribing one of the
sergeants, Nekhludoff was permitted to come near the cars, the
sergeant asking him to do his errand so that the captain would not see
him. There were eighteen cars, and all, except the one reserved for
the authorities, were literally packed with prisoners. Passing by the
windows, Nekhludoff listened to the sounds within. Everywhere he heard
the rattling of chains, bustle, and the hum of conversation,
interspersed with stupid profanity; but nowhere did he hear, as he
expected, any reference to the dead comrades. Their conversation
related