He poured some brandy down the
dying man's throat, and when this had somewhat revived him gave him
food from his store. After some delay the stranger urged Piotrowski to
get up and walk, which he did with the utmost difficulty: leaning upon
this Samaritan of the steppes, he contrived to reach the highway,
where a small roadside inn was in sight. There his companion left him,
and he staggered forward with unspeakable joy toward the warmth and
shelter. He would have gone in if he had known the guards were there
on the lookout for him, for his case was now desperate. He only got as
far as the threshold, and there fell forward and rolled under a
bench. He asked for hot soup, but could not swallow, and after a few
minutes fell into a swoon-like sleep which lasted twenty-four hours.
Restored by nourishment, rest and dry clothes, he set forth again at
once.
During the first part of his journey he had passed as a commercial
traveler; after leaving Irbite he was a workman seeking employment in
the government establishments; but now he assumed the character of a
pilgrim to the convent of Solovetsk on a holy island in the White Sea,
near Archangel. For each change of part he had to change his manners,
mode of speech, his whole personality, and always be probable and
consistent in his account of himself.
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