re not
alone; it sounded like two or three of you."

"I am alone, friend, alone. Quite alone. O-o-oh our sins. . . ."

The watchman stumbles up against the man and stops.

"How did you get here?" he asks.

"I have lost my way, good man. I was walking to the Mitrievsky Mill
and I lost my way."

"Whew! Is this the road to Mitrievsky Mill? You sheepshead! For the
Mitrievsky Mill you must keep much more to the left, straight out
of the town along the high road. You have been drinking and have
gone a couple of miles out of your way. You must have had a drop
in the town."

"I did, friend . . . Truly I did; I won't hide my sins. But how am
I to go now?"

"Go straight on and on along this avenue till you can go no farther,
and then turn at once to the left and go till you have crossed the
whole graveyard right to the gate. There will be a gate there. . . .
Open it and go with God's blessing. Mind you don't fall into the
ditch. And when you are out of the graveyard you go all the way by
the fields till you come out on the main road."

"God give you health, friend. May the Queen of Heaven save you and
have mercy on you. You might take me along, good man! Be merciful!
Lead me to the gate."

"As though I had the time to waste! Go by yourself!"

"Be merciful! I'll pray for you. I can't see anything; one can't
see one's hand before one's face, friend. . . . It's so dark, so
dark! Show me the way, sir!"

"As though I had the time to take you about; if I were to play the
nurse to everyone I should never have done."

"For Christ's sake, take me! I can't see, and I am afraid to go
alone through the graveyard. It's terrifying, friend, it's terrifying;
I am afraid, good man."

"There's no getting rid of you," sighs the watchman. "All right
then, come along."

The watchman and the traveller go on together. They walk shoulder
to shoulder in silence. A damp, cutting wind blows straight into
their faces and the unseen trees murmuring and rustling scatter big
drops upon them. . . . The path is almost entirely covered with
puddles.

"There is one thing passes my understanding," says the watchman
after a prolonged silence--"how you got here. The gate's locked.
Did you climb over the wall? If you did climb over the wall, that's
the last thing you would expect of an old man."

"I don't know, friend, I don't know. I can't say myself how I got
here. It's a visitation. A chastisement of the Lord. Truly a
visitation, the evil on