Part 32 (2/2)
When the iron tongue had roared for the hundred and first time, people began to ask themselves, ”Can this be the Czar's birthday?”
No; not even that. The iron monsters thundered on--102, 103, 104. At the hundred and fifth time none asked any more what it meant; for the whole city with one voice sent up a despairing cry, deadening even the crash of the three hundred bells.
”It is coming! It is coming!”
But it was not the approach of Napoleon's army which aroused the voice of panic, but that of a far mightier lord--the Neva! which, rus.h.i.+ng back upon the city, brings the sea with it, and with foaming, roaring, resistless waves breaks up the ice of the river, flinging it abroad on all sides.
That was the meaning of the incessant firing of cannon from the citadel.
When Czar Peter I. first began to put into form his idea of building a capital in the midst of the Finnish mora.s.s, and, to that end, had the vast forest there standing exterminated, he came upon an old fir-tree, on whose bark were cut deep lines. ”What is the meaning of these lines?”
he asked an old countryman. ”_These lines denote the height of the Neva when it leaves its banks and floods the whole surrounding land._” The Czar gave orders for tree and peasant to be cut down; but both had spoken truly. The Neva remained the sworn enemy of the mighty city of the Czar.
Yes. It is coming, rus.h.i.+ng on with backward movement; it has left the river-bed and increases mightily; it is no longer the Neva, but the sea--the salt sea in all its awful immensity! And once it has gone down, the walls of palaces and houses, as far as the water has reached, will be covered with salt.
The sledgers on the ice were the first to become aware of the extent of the danger. Those of them who took refuge on the right bank of the river might esteem themselves lucky, for there the streets were clear; but those seeking the left side spread mad panic among the unconscious throng of pleasure-seekers with their cry, ”The Neva is coming!”
The very words sufficed to strike dismay into the hearts of the bravest and to paralyze the cowardly with terror; for in such danger there is no way of escape. When the Neva rises it overflows the whole city, and he who would flee the danger meets it at the next turning.
Confusion reigned supreme. The crowds of carriages in the railed-in Summer Garden had but one way of egress, and collision was inevitable; those which at last forced a pa.s.sage came into the midst of a maddened press of people, who carried them along, regardless of the crest upon the panels and the supercilious lackey on the box. There were for the time being no princes and no mujiks, only a panic-stricken mob. And before disentanglement was possible the flood was upon them.
The first huge wave washed down the booths in Isaacsplatz. The terrified owners came rus.h.i.+ng out of the beer-houses, and, clambering on the tops of their dismantled booths, shrieked for help. The giantess pushed head and shoulders out of her tent, frightened to death. Boys dressed like performing apes flew up their poles; the sea-maiden found her feet, and, discarding tail, made for dry land. The performing elephant waddled through the crowd, his roaster on his back; and the wild beasts in the menagerie roared as if they were in their native forests. At that instant, as though in mockery of this scene of terror, the red and green lights on the terrace of the Summer Garden pavilion shone forth, lighting up the flood in all its horror. The men in charge of the fireworks were ignorant of what was happening. Only when the festive peals of bells had died away in distant reverberations did they become aware of their danger; and hastily putting out their lights, left the whole city in darkness. For the slippery pavements impeded the lamp-lighters; nor, indeed, could they have lighted their lamps in the storm that was raging. Darkness added the final touch of horror to the scene of danger! Among the terrified refugees were d.u.c.h.ess Ghedimin and Bethsaba; their carriage, in Russian style, drawn by two horses tandem.
The first horse was wellnigh unmanageable; it was a spirited English mare, which the d.u.c.h.ess had specially chosen that day to show that her equipage was superior to Zeneida's. Only she had not attained her aim, for Fraulein Ilmarinen had not entered an appearance.
”Drive down one of the side streets,” the d.u.c.h.ess said, peremptorily, to her coachman.
Easy to command, but not so easy to carry out! The mob surrounded them on all sides.
”Get down,” she ordered her jager, ”and force a way through the people!”
The jager, a gigantic young fellow, a Finlander, seized the foremost horse by the bridle, and, dealing out blows roundly with his other arm on the mujiks, thought to steer the carriage in this way through the crush. All very well; that kind of thing may do with the mujik, who is accustomed to the lash; but your thoroughbred has n.o.ble blood in his veins, and does not suffer himself to be led by the bridle. Violently shaking himself loose, the horse dealt the jager such a blow on the head that he fell senseless to the ground.
”Oh, what are we to do now?” asked the d.u.c.h.ess, terror-stricken, bursting into tears.
”I know a way,” said Bethsaba. ”Have the leader led in the saddle.”
”But who would venture to mount it?” asked the d.u.c.h.ess, wringing her hands.
”I will!” returned Bethsaba; ”I am used to riding.”
”Very well, then,” said the d.u.c.h.ess.
Selfish to the last degree, she never considered that in order to reach the farthermost horse Bethsaba would have to wade through the icy water up to her knees, and in her light carriage-wrap expose herself to the bitter cold of the stormy night, and to the maddened populace, who, in the darkness and panic, recognized neither lord nor master. Also, in her emergency, Princess Ghedimin utterly forgot that Bethsaba was, moreover, a king's daughter, who had not been committed to her care to act as postilion for her.
So she merely said, ”Very well, then.”
And the girl, throwing off her fur-lined cloak, jumped from the carriage into the water, ran to the foremost horse, calling it by its name as she ran; then, stroking its mane with one hand, sprang lightly upon its back, using the leading-reins for bridle.
And now they moved on once more.
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