He was taken by the arms and led away, and began to stride obediently,
raising his shoulders. Outside he found himself in the moist, spring
air, and beads of sweat stood under his little nose. Notwithstanding
that it was night, it was thawing very strongly and drops of water
were dripping upon the stones. And waiting while the soldiers,
clanking their sabres and bending their heads, were stepping into the
unlighted black carriage, Yanson lazily moved his finger under his
moist nose and adjusted the badly tied muffler about his neck,



CHAPTER IV
WE COME FROM ORYOL


The same council-chamber of the military district court which had
condemned Yanson had also condemned to death a peasant of the
Government of Oryol, of the District of Yeletzk, Mikhail Golubets,
nicknamed Tsiganok, also Tatarin. His latest crime, proven beyond
question, had been the murder of three people and armed robbery.
Behind that, his dark past disappeared in a depth of mystery. There
were vague rumors that he had participated in a series of other
murders and robberies, and in his path there was felt to be a dark
trail of blood, fire, and drunken debauchery. He called himself
murderer with utter frankness and sincerity, and scornfully regarded
those who, according to the latest fashion, styled themselves
"expropriators." Of his last crime, since it was useless for him to
deny anything, he spoke freely and in detail, but in answer to
questions about his past, he merely gritted his teeth, whistled, and
said: