Bunim took a long look at the mesmerized crowd below the balcony and then turned firmly away. He had had enough of the adulation and meaningless rhetoric. Bunim leaned on his stick and walked toward the main road. As the crowd’s clapping and shouting became quieter, he heard a different kind of sound behind him. It was the tapping of sharp heels on the cobblestones. He quickened his pace, trying to ignore the surge of pain in his leg. The tapping increased in frequency. Whoever it was behind him was following him.