In the Forests of Mogilef
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horse, and his eyes have that glassy look which seems to express nothing whatever.
In the open cart, with folded arms, with pinched nose, lies the corpse.
And the wax-like yellow face looks sternly toward the sky.
Beside the corpse, just by the head, is a child looking forth from its rags.
As if this was not merely a going, but:
—A procession.
And in this procession is something painfully touching and majestic.
On the left-hand side of the road lies the carcase of a horse.
Its purple half-eaten side reddens in the sun.
At our approach several dogs with blood-dripping mouths leap away from the horse, barking.
The way they go seems strange. As if they were not dogs.
They have the appearance of wolves.
