The timbers creaked, the raft grew larger, stronger, and more substantial. Generals, colonels, and common soldiers all alike bent beneath the weight of wagon-wheels, chains, coils of rope, and planks of timber; it was a modern realization of the building of Noah’s ark. The young Countess, sitting by her husband’s side, looked on, regretful that she could do nothing to aide the workers, though she helped to knot the lengths of rope together. At last the raft was finished. Forty men launched it out into the river, while ten of the soldiers held the ropes that must keep it moored to the shore. The moment that they saw their handiwork floating on the Beresina, they sprang down onto it from the bank with callous selfishness. The major, dreading the frenzy of the first rush, held back Stephanie and the general; but a shudder ran through him when he saw the landing place black with people, and men crowding down like playgoers into the pit of a theatre. “It was I who thought of the raft, you savages!” he cried. “I have saved your lives, and you will not make room for me!” A confused murmur was the only answer. The men at the edge took up stout poles, trust them against the bank with all their might, so as to shove the raft out and gain an impetus at its starting upon a journey across a sea of floating ice and dead bodies towards the other shore. “_Tonnerre de Dieu_! I will knock some of you off into the water if you don’t make room for the major and his two companions,” shouted the grenadier. He raised his sabre threateningly, delayed the departure, and made the men stand closer together, in spite of threatening yells. “I shall fall in!... I shall go overboard!...” his fellows shouted. “Let us start! Put off!” The major gazed with tearless eyes at the woman he loved; an impulse of sublime resignation raised her eyes to heaven. “To die with you!” she said. In the situation of the folk upon the raft there was a certain comic element. They might utter hideous yells, but not one of them dared to oppose the grenadier, for they were packed together so tightly that if one man were knocked down, the whole raft might capsize. At this delicate crisis, a captain tried to rid himself of one of his neighbors; the man saw the hostile intention of his officer, collared him, and pitched him overboard. “Aha! The duck has a mind to drink. ... Over with you!--There is room for two now!” he shouted. “Quick, major! throw your little woman over, and come! Never mind that old dotard! he will drop off to-morrow!” “Be quick!” cried a voice, made up of a hundred voices. “Come, major! Those fellows are making a fuss, and well they may.” The Comte de Vandieres flung off his ragged blankets, and stood before them in his general’s uniform. “Let us save the Count,” said Philip. Stephanie grasped his hand tightly in hers, flung her arms about, and clasped him close in an agonized embrace. “Farewell!” she said.