[originaltext] It was not yet eleven o’clock when a boat crossed the river w

It was not yet eleven o’clock when a boat crossed the river with a single passenger, who had promised to pay an extra fare. While the youth stood on the landing place searching in his pockets for money, the boatman got close to him and, with the help of the moonlight, took a careful look at the stranger—a young man of just 18 years, obviously country bred, and now, as it seemed, on his first visit to town.
    He was wearing a rough grey coat, which was in good shape. The clothes under his coat were veil made of leather, and fitted tightly to a pair of fat legs; his blue cotton stockings must have been the work of his mother or sister, and on his head was a 3-cornered hat. In his left hand was a walking stick, which hung on his strong shoulders, with 2 leather bags on both ends of the stick. The youth, whose name was Robin, paid the boatman, and then walked forward into the town with light steps, as if he had not already traveled more than 30 miles that day. As he walked along, he looked about his surroundings as eagerly as if he were entering London or Madrid, instead of the little town.