Sometimes they would turn and look back at
some sword-bearer who was more offensive than usual, with reflective
eyes as if marking him in order to know him at a future time. As
is always the case, it was the smaller officials who were the most
offensive--the little Jacks-in-office from the postal administration,
the common officers, the hundred obscure civil servants who wear a sword
and uniform unworthily in any one of the three European empires. On the
other hand, the men in real authority, and notably the officers of
the better regiments, sought to conciliate by politeness and a careful
retention of themselves in the background. But these well-intentioned
efforts were of small avail; for racial things are stronger than human
endeavor or the careful foresight of statesmen. Here in Warsaw the
Muscovite, the Pole, the Jew--herding together in the same streets,
under the same roof, obedient to one law, acknowledging one
sovereign--were watching each other, hating each other.
At the street corners the smart, quiet police took note of each
foot-passenger, every carriage, every stranger passing in a hired
droschki. Cartoner and Deulin could see from the passing glance beneath
the flat, green cap that they were seen and recognized at every turn.
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