By Neva's waters : $b Being an episode in the secret history of Alexander the First, Czar of all the RussiasCarling, John R.
History
By Neva's waters : $b Being an episode in the secret history of Alexander the First, Czar of all the Russias
Carling, John R.
Napoleonic Wars, 1800-1815 -- Campaigns -- Russia -- Fiction; Russia -- History -- Alexander I, 1801-1825 -- Fiction
“Within an hour from now he holds a meeting at his house to consider the
state of affairs. But, mark my words, nothing will be done. All their
resolutions will end in smoke. Fear will fall upon them when they hear
that the incriminating document is in the hands of the enemy. Every man
will look to his own safety. There will be a general flight. Nay, some,
thinking to save their own necks, will voluntarily come forward to betray
their fellows. And then, what will Monsieur l’Ambassadeur think, when he
learns that his trusted daughter is a member of a conspiracy to dethrone
the Czar, and more—has made use of the Embassy as a meeting-place for the
conspirators?”
CHAPTER X
THE DOCUMENT FOUND
Of the two visitors to the Embassy, Count Baranoff was the first to take
his departure.
“To the Citadel,” he said on stepping into his carriage, and the next
moment he was being whirled along the Prospekt in the direction of the
Neva.
The handsome stone bridges that now span that broad river were
non-existent in the early years of the nineteenth century, the present
Troitzkoi Bridge being then represented by a chain of pontoons, which,
overlaid with smooth planks, afforded a level road from one bank to the
other.
So long as the water continued frozen, and again after the current
had resumed its free flow, one could rely upon finding the bridge in
position, but the case was very different in early spring (and it was
now the twenty-third of March), when the breaking up of the ice and the
drifting of the bergs would cause the bridge to be taken to pieces and
put together again two or three times in the course of a day.
The bridge was in position when Baranoff’s carriage came up, and he
was driven rapidly over the shaking timbers to its northern end, where
rose the Fortress of Peter and Paul, a building as familiar to the
Petersburgers as the Tower to Londoners, with this difference, however,
that whereas the latter is a memorial of the dead past the former is, to
the Petersburgers, an object of present fear.
The edifice, a work of Peter the Great, was built originally to defend
his new capital, but has become useless for such purpose, being now
in the very heart of the city. In reality a brick fabric, it is faced
externally with granite, and with its five bastions rising from the
water’s edge has a somewhat majestic appearance.
Entering by the Ivanskaia Gate, whose sentinels presented arms as he
passed, the minister made his way to his official study, where, somewhat
to his surprise, he found awaiting him a visitor in the person of his
brother Loris, his junior by two years.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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