I wish I might meet a man." Far away, on the river, two large purple fires appeared, and high above them was a third.

A dull noise resounded in the distance, something black was moving toward Foma.
"A steamer going up stream," he thought.

"There may be more than a hundred people aboard, and none of them give a single thought to me.
They all know whither they are sailing.

Every one of them has something that is his own.

Every one, I believe, understands what he wants.