Excerpt from The Yellow Ticket: And Other Stories
The scene is in Moscow, just where the wide Boulevard meets the Tverskaia. In the middle of the way is the statue to Puschkin; on the right hand, walling the street, the great monastery to the Passion of Christ. This is the favourite promenade of the gay-plumaged night-birds of Moscow. They walk up and down the street in the glare of the shops, and then cross and go down the Boulevard, shadows drifting from darkness into the light, and again from the light into darkness.
One night in the early winter of 1912 a young girl was among them, warmly but dowdily dressed, like a well-to-do provincial; yet she scanned the passers-by as the professionals scan them, and walked slowly as they walk, though it was no time for loitering. The winter had set in early, and already in November the air was keen with frost, and the stars glittered like diamonds.
A young man came hurrying by: as he passed he caught sight of the girl"s profile and eyes as she lingered before a shop window. He stopped at once and went over to her.
"Are you waiting for anyone?" he asked.
The girl replied quite quietly:
"No one in particular."
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