Condemned as a Nihilist: A Story of Escape from SiberiaHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
History
Condemned as a Nihilist: A Story of Escape from Siberia
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Escapes -- Fiction; Russia -- History -- Alexander II, 1855-1881 -- Fiction; Siberia (Russia) -- Fiction
"They will have done a tremendous day's work by the time they have
finished," Godfrey said. "Eight miles out and eight miles back, and
three beats, which must have cost them four or five miles' walking at
least. They must have gone over thirty miles through the snow."
"It won't be as much as that, though it will be a long day's work," the
colonel said. "They came out yesterday evening and slept in a barn.
Another company come out to-night to take their place."
It was already dark by the time the party reached the farm-house, and
after a cup of coffee all round they began to prepare the dinner. They
were like a party of school-boys, laughing, joking, and playing tricks
with each other. Two of them undertook the preparation of hare-soup. Two
others were appointed to roast a quarter of venison, keeping it turning
as it hung by a cord in front of the fire, and being told that should it
burn from want of basting they would forfeit their share of it. The
colonel undertook the mixing of punch, and the odour of lemons, rum, and
other spirits soon mingled with that of the cooking. Godfrey was set to
whip eggs for a gigantic omelette, and most of the others had some task
or other assigned to them, the farmer's wife and her assistants not
being allowed to have anything to do with the matter.
The dinner was a great success. After it was over a huge bowl of punch
was placed on the table, and after the health of the Czar and that of
the Queen of England had been drunk, speeches were made, songs were
sung, and stories told. While this was going on, the farmer brought in a
dozen trusses of straw. These his wife and the maids opened and
distributed along both sides of the room, laying blankets over them. It
was not long before Godfrey began to feel very drowsy, the result of the
day's work in the cold, a good dinner, the heated air of the room and
the din, and would have gladly lain down; but his movement to leave the
table was at once frustrated, and he was condemned to drink an extra
tumbler of punch as a penalty. After that he had but a confused idea of
the rest of the evening. He knew that many songs were sung, and that
everyone seemed talking together, and as at last he managed to get away
and lie down on the straw he had a vague idea that the colonel was
standing on a chair making a final oration, with the punch-bowl turned
upside down and worn as a helmet.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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