The River
13
At the relief points, where thousands of people are gathered together, you are impressed by the silence.
What a silent country it is!
You can go for tens and for hundreds of versts—and still meet an almost uninterrupted stream of grey carts
Like a series of spectres.
And silent, silent, silent.
Nothing but hopeless boredom and grief in their eyes.
Weary and indifferent faces, as of convicts being marched along the road
And only by the new white wooden crosses along the side of the road can you see how much suffering has silently passed there.
A river of suffering has coursed along.
At the medical stations the doctors tear their hair.
—What can we do? Confess our helplessness? Numbers come to us suffering
