Chapter 13

           

           Atmiddayonthetwenty-secondofOctoberPierrewasgoinguphillalongthemuddy,slipperyroad,lookingathisfeetandattheroughnessoftheway.Occasionallyheglancedatthefamiliarcrowdaroundhimandthenagainathisfeet.Theformerandthelatterwerealikefamiliarandhisown.Theblue-graybandyleggeddogranmerrilyalongthesideoftheroad,sometimesinproofofitsagilityandself-satisfactionliftingonehindlegandhoppingalongonthree,andthenagaingoingonallfourandrushingtobarkatthecrowsthatsatonthecarrion.ThedogwasmerrierandsleekerthanithadbeeninMoscow.Allaroundlaythefleshofdifferentanimals—frommentohorses—invariousstagesofdecomposition;andasthewolveswerekeptoffbythepassingmenthedogcouldeatallitwanted.

           Ithadbeenrainingsincemorningandhadseemedasifatanymomentitmightceaseandtheskyclear,butafterashortbreakitbeganrainingharderthanbefore.Thesaturatedroadnolongerabsorbedthewater,whichranalongtherutsinstreams.

           Pierrewalkedalong,lookingfromsidetoside,countinghisstepsinthrees,andreckoningthemoffonhisfingers.Mentallyaddressingtherain,herepeated:“Nowthen,nowthen,goon!Peltharder!”

           Itseemedtohimthathewasthinkingofnothing,butfardownanddeepwithinhimhissoulwasoccupiedwithsomethingimportantandcomforting.ThissomethingwasamostsubtlespiritualdeductionfromaconversationwithKaratáevthedaybefore.

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