I am certain that in summer he must have worn light prunella shoes with mother-of-pearl buttons at the side.
When we met he was standing still at the turning and looking about him, attentively.

Noticing that I was looking at him with interest, he asked me in a sugary, though rather shrill voice: "Allow me to ask, which is my nearest way to Bykovy Street ?" "To Bykovy Street?
Oh, that's here, close by," I cried in great excitement.

"Straight on along this street and the second turning to the left." "Very much obliged to you." A curse on that minute! I fancy I was shy, and looked cringing.

He instantly noticed all that, and of course realised it all at once; that is, realised that I knew who he was, that I had read him and revered him from a child, and that I was shy and looked at him cringingly.

He smiled, nodded again, and walked on as I had directed him.