The Green Book Part 76

It began to grow dusk.

The armies of Gog and Magog went on ever increasing, and darkness added its terrors to the rest. With night, axe and knife would begin their work; seventy thousand mujiks would decide who should be Russia's future ruler!

The generals entreated the Czar to give the signal to attack. He still hesitated. First, he tried to disperse the insurgents by means of a feigned attack upon the square of the enemy, and gave the Horse Guards orders to this effect. They were received by a salvo of artillery, and the Horse Guards retreated decimated. At that critical moment drums beating to attack were heard advancing from Morskoje Street, and Grand Duke Michael appeared at the head of the Moscow regiment. He had just returned from Moscow, and, hastily summoning those of his own regiment who had remained faithful to him, advanced against the rebels, and the fight began.

The noisiest of the insurgents, the heroes of the Bear's Paw, cleared out of the square at the first volley; the soldiers alone stood fire.

The heroes of freedom fought heroically. The poor soldier, however, who fell without knowing why or wherefore, perhaps learned in his death-agony that she for whom he had fallen was a living G.o.ddess, who in some future time would make his descendants happy--the G.o.ddess of Freedom.

Until late in the night they held the square and repulsed the attacks of the imperial troops.

Then, in the deep darkness, a division of artillery suddenly approached up Nevski Prospect. This broad, radial street opens in such a manner on to the great square, which lies between the Admiralty, the Winter Palace, and Isaac Cathedral, that it commands both sides of the square.

The fire of the approaching cannon might as easily be directed against the Czar's army as against the rebels' camp; and nearly all the officers in the artillery were in league with the insurgents! They were received by the latter with cheers as they unlimbered their guns at the corner of the street. Of course, they had come to the aid of the rebel army! At that critical moment Grand Duke Michael, das.h.i.+ng up to the foremost gun, s.n.a.t.c.hed the fuse from the gunner's hand, sighted on to the ma.s.s of the insurgents, and the first thunder of cannon belched forth into their ranks a fire of destructive grape.

That first cannon-shot decided the fate of the day and of the epoch.

Others followed. The whole division turned their destroying force upon the insurgent army.

CHAPTER LI

THE NAMELESS WIFE OF A NAMELESS MAN

But, meanwhile, what had become of the Dictator--the leader--the active spirit of the whole movement? He had been seeking all day for a man he could not find--himself.

How should he find him, when he was running away from himself?

The task he had undertaken was neither suited to him physically nor morally. At the very first step he had become conscious of the awful chasm into which the whole affair he had undertaken must drag himself and all concerned in it.

Instead of an enthusiastic people, excited to heroic resolves by the baptism of fire, he found a mob of soldiers, fooled by the pretext that their leaders wanted to steal away from them their former Czar, whom, by-the-way, they hated, but to whom they had sworn allegiance; a senseless band of soldiery clamoring for "Const.i.tucia," whom they believed to be the wife of the Czar! What would be the consequence did they gain the victory to-day? To-morrow some new lie must be fabricated for them, that they might not find out that it was Freedom for which they had fought. What was Hecuba to them, they to Hecuba? What had Freedom and Life Guards in common with each other? How would "Const.i.tucia" better their condition?

True, their commanding officers had promised them that "Const.i.tucia"

would double their monthly pay; but the people must be doubly taxed if the soldiers were to get double pay. Is that freedom? And what would ensue if he for whom they had been fighting, Constantine, were to come among them? Might he not come from Warsaw at the head of the army he had brought with him, and say, "You wanted me; here I am. The const.i.tution I bring with me is not my wife, but a stout stick!" What would follow then?

And the people? These poor wretches, resigned to rags and misery, working day by day to keep body and soul together. Seventy thousand mujiks, representatives of the oppressed of the four corners of the earth--not the Russian people, but the dregs of all imaginable Slav races--Finnish, Lithuanian, Lapp, and Wallachian--who do not speak each other's tongues, who are only united by their common misery. And their leaders? A set of runaway French adventurers. What do they understand by Freedom? The wrecking of a brandy-store or plundering palaces and shops.

A mutinous word sets them on fire like straw, and a charge of grape-shot scatters them like chaff before the wind.

His soul could find no guiding thought. He went hither and thither, and could rest on no single idea. In the course of his wanderings he came upon Ryleieff, in whose face were reflected his own feelings. The poet sadly grasped his hand.

"The time was not ripe," he whispered in his ear, and hurried away.

In another street he met Colonel Bulatoff in mufti. Bulatoff had been chosen as military leader of the rebellion, and here was he, going abroad in frock-coat and tall hat. They did not wish to recognize each other, so pa.s.sed hurriedly by, one on one side, the other on the opposite side of the street.

Less than all had he the courage to go to Zeneida's palace. He dreaded more to look into her face than into the mouth of a cannon. She defied danger, while he, who had dragged her into it, fled from it. At last, however, he could no longer delay seeking her. He must cross Moika bridge. But the toll-keepers would see him; the ca.n.a.l was frozen, so, descending the steps of the stone quay, Ghedimin prepared to cross the ice in order to reach the other side.

Scarce had he gone two steps before he heard his name whispered behind him. Startled, he turned. From under one of the arches peeped a well-known face--that of Duke Odojefski, a bloodthirsty braggart, who but that morning would have mown men down right and left; now all his courage had oozed out, and he was hiding under the arch of a bridge!

"Don't venture near Zeneida's! Her palace is surrounded!" whispered he, and crept back into his hiding-place again.

What a sight! Odojefski in hiding! The colonel, whose battalion is even now fighting on Isaacsplatz; the duke, whose palace is among the grandest of the capital, whose family name is renowned in history, who himself has claimed a place between Brutus and Riego--in hiding behind a snow-drift! And what is he about there? Scarring his face with a stick of caustic to render himself unrecognizable.

Ghedimin lost his head completely. Turning back by the other bank, he hurried home. There arrived, he wrote on a visiting-card, "I entreat you, for Heaven's sake, to come across to my grandmother's house. I have important secrets to confide to you."

This card he sent up by his house-porter to Korynthia. He himself then repaired to his grandmother's. It was his last refuge.

Without it was already night. The roar of cannon did not cease. The watch-fires were the only lights in the imperial capital.

Good old Anna Feodorovna was still alive among her fortune-telling cards, her purring cats, and her faithful Ihnasko, with whom she counted the days still remaining before the New-year.

"Another New-year! What will it bring with it? Who will live through it?"

It is the day after Christmas day. If two tapers of equal length are lighted on that evening, one can tell who will die first, the husband or the wife, by seeing whose taper is the first to burn out.

This time it was the wife's taper.

"Well, G.o.d's will be done," sighed the old woman, "if I must go first.

And it is time; I have lived long enough! But I cannot but pity the poor old man, whose life will be so lonely without me. He must not be told that I am dead. Let him think I am still alive. And see that every birthday and name-day he gets one of the red nightcaps I always give him. Do you hear, Ihnasko?"

"Oh, don't keep on talking so much about dying, your Highness,"

e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the old man, with chattering teeth. "All my bones are shaking, without that, from the thunder of those cannons."

"Because you are a coward, and because you have never been a soldier.

The idea of being frightened at the sound of cannon that are only inviting people to join the great Christmas procession! The Czar is now giving a gala banquet to the court and a display of fireworks to the people. Do you hear those reports? They are rockets. Now the great set piece is going off! And when six such volleys are fired, one after another, it means that the Czar is raising his gla.s.s for a toast. Oho!

how often have I attended such festivities! Not one took place without me. Ah, I was beautiful as a young woman, and my voice was musical as silver. Czar Paul was constantly asking me to sing him his favorite song--_When by Evening's Latest Rays_. It is a pretty song still. But I have no one now to sing it to."

At that very moment came some one who liked to listen to the "pretty"

song.

"Blessed be the Lord of all!" cried Anna Feodorovna, clapping her hands.

"Has her nest-bird remembered his old grandmother? What? You have left the Czar's brilliant banquet in the lurch, to come and pay a visit to your poor old grandam on this second Christmas day? Now that is really very good of you, Ivan Maximovitch. But you must be going back. Don't on my account do anything to excite the Czar's displeasure. For the favor of the Czar is like a virgin's innocence; there must not be a breath upon it. If he has happened to notice that you have left before the time, seek an audience with him. Confess to him that you came away early in order to visit your old grandmother. He knows me, and used to be very fond of me as a little boy. Ah! I was quite a young woman then!"

The old lady was talking of Czar Alexander, only twenty-seven years younger than herself.

"How often have I hushed him on my lap when, to please his father, I sang the song he was so fond of--_When by Evening's Latest Rays_. Don't you know it? Come; I will sing it. Sit down on my footstool and rest your head on my hands."

Ivan sat at his grandmother's feet. How restful it was to be a child once more! And the old lady began her song. True, her voice sounded like some old harpsichord hidden away and forgotten in some king's palace for five-and-twenty years, out of tune, and with some of the strings broken; but, all the same, she sang to her grandson:

"'When by evening's latest rays Thou art resting 'neath the trees, And a silent peaceful form Wakes thee out of sweetest dreams, Thy true friend it is who nears-- Seek, oh, seek, not to avoid him; For he thinks of you and brings Joy, true joy, upon his wings.'"

Ivan kissed his grandmother's hand for her sweet song.

"But you are so sad to-day, Ivan! Tell me, what is troubling you? Are you going, perhaps, on some journey--a long, far journey?"

"A very far journey."