Visit to a Prisoner

A small, barefoot, ragged little man, handcuffed between two policemen, was proceeding by fits and starts along the dusty deserted street, as if to the rhythm of a painful dance, perhaps because he was lame or wounded in the foot. Between the two uniformed figures, whose faces looked like death masks in the harsh summer light, the little man had an air of earthy vitality about him, like an animal who had been captured in some ditch. He had a bundle on his back that made a noise like ...