If a child cried, the nurse threatened to give it to the priest, who would soon be passing by.
Fearful and yet curious, we looked through the cracks in the shutters.

We saw a procession of peasants and townspeople, led by a number of priests, carrying crosses and banners and images.

In the place of honor was carried a casket, containing a relic from the monastery in the outskirts of Polotzk.

Once a year the Gentiles paraded with this relic, and on that occasion the streets were considered too holy for Jews to be about; and we lived in fear till the end of the day, knowing that the least disturbance might start a riot, and a riot lead to a pogrom.
On the day when I saw the procession through a crack in the shutter, there were soldiers and police in the street.

This was as usual, but I did not know it.