I hated the thought of it--the mess, the blind struggle, the sense of unleashed passions different from those of any single blackguard.

It was a dark world to me, and I don't like darkness.

But in my nightmares I had never imagined anything just like this.

The narrow, fetid street, with the icy winds fanning the filth, the unknown tongue, the hoarse savage murmur, and my utter ignorance as to what it might all be about, made me cold in the pit of my stomach.
'We've got it in the neck this time, old man,' I said to Peter, who had out the pistol the commandant at Rustchuk had given him.

These pistols were our only weapons.