It was delicious to be notorious through the length and breadth of Polotzk; to be stopped and questioned at every shop-door, when I ran out to buy two kopecks' worth of butter; to be treated with respect by my former playmates, if ever I found time to mingle with them; to be pointed at by my enemies, as I passed them importantly on the street.

And all my delight and pride and interest were steeped in a super-feeling, the sense that it was I, Mashke, _I myself_, that was moving and acting in the midst of unusual events.

Now that I was sure of America, I was in no hurry to depart, and not impatient to arrive.

I was willing to linger over every detail of our progress, and so cherish the flavor of the adventure.
The last night in Polotzk we slept at my uncle's house, having disposed of all our belongings, to the last three-legged stool, except such as we were taking with us.

I could go straight to the room where I slept with my aunt that night, if I were suddenly set down in Polotzk.