the women, on the left the men. I walked past the women, past the
men (there were several hundred of them in all) and halted where the
line came to an end. The house before which these people were
waiting was the Lyapinsky free lodging-house for the night. The
throng of people consisted of night lodgers, who were waiting to be
let in. At five o'clock in the afternoon, the house is opened, and
the people permitted to enter. Hither had come nearly all the people
whom I had passed on my way.

I halted where the line of men ended. Those nearest me began to
stare at me, and attracted my attention to them by their glances.
The fragments of garments which covered these bodies were of the most
varied sorts. But the expression of all the glances directed towards
me by these people was identical. In all eyes the question was
expressed: "Why have you, a man from another world, halted here
beside us? Who are you? Are you a self-satisfied rich man who wants
to enjoy our wretchedness, to get rid of his tedium, and to torment
us still more? or are you that thing which does not and can not
exist,--a man who pities us?" This query was on every face. You
glance about, encounter some one's eye, and turn away. I wished to
talk with some one of them, but for a long time I could not make up
my mind to it. But our glances had drawn us together already while
our tongues remained silent. Greatly as our lives had separated us,
after the interchange of two or three glances we felt that we were
both men, and we ceased to fear each other. The nearest of all to me
was a peasant with a swollen face and a red beard, in a tattered
caftan, and patched overshoes on his bare feet. And the weather was
eight degrees below zero. {3} For the third or fourth time I
encountered his eyes, and I felt so near to him that I was no longer
ashamed to accost him, but ashamed not to say something to him. I