Meeting the Fugitives
45
eyes are staring fixedly at some point in front of her.
And she speaks in a quiet monotonous voice, with no expression at all in it,—it's pitiful to hear her.
—Yes, my husband is lost. He's lost.
—Where was he lost? How was it?
—How can we know where? another peasant answers for her—we don't know anything about it.
—But how did it happen?
—Her husband went to a relief point and got lost in the great crowd. That's how it was. We all went on; he got left behind. There were two roads. Some of us were told to go along one and some were sent along the other. We thought he'd catch us up. But he must have gone along the other road and looked for us there. A whole day went by, he didn't come. And the next day he didn't come.
