The Angel of the Revolution: A Tale of the Coming TerrorGriffith, George Chetwynd
Science
The Angel of the Revolution: A Tale of the Coming Terror
Griffith, George Chetwynd
Science fiction
The footsteps of the soldiers and their captives rang clearly upon
the stones in the ominous breathless silence which greeted their
appearance. The fallen Autocrat and his servants walked with downcast
heads, like men in a dream, for to them it was a dream, this sudden
and incomprehensible catastrophe which had overwhelmed them in the
very hour of victory and on the threshold of the conquest of the
world. Three days ago they had believed themselves conquerors, with
the world at their feet; now they were being marched, guarded and in
shackles, to a tribunal which acknowledged no law but its own, and
from whose decision there was no appeal. Truly it was a dream, such a
dream of disaster and calamity as no earthly despot had ever dreamt
before.
Four paces from the table they were halted, the Tsar in the centre,
facing his unknown judge, and his servants on either side of him. He
recognised Natasha, Anna Ornovski, Arnold, and Tremayne, but the
recognition only added to his bewilderment.
There was a slight flush on the face of Natas, and an angry gleam in
his dark magnetic eyes, as he watched his captives approach; but when
he spoke his tones were calm and passionless, the tones of the
conqueror and the judge, rather than of the deeply injured man and a
personal enemy. As the prisoners were halted in front of the table,
and the rifle-butts of the guards rang sharply on the stone pavement,
so deep a hush fell upon the vast throng in the Cathedral, that men
seemed to hold their breath rather than break it until the Master of
the Terror began to speak.
"Alexander Romanoff, late Tsar of the Russias, and now prisoner of
the Executive of the Brotherhood of Freedom, otherwise known to you
as the Terrorists--you have been brought here with your advisers and
the ministers of your tyranny that your crimes may be recounted in
the presence of this congregation, and to receive sentence of such
punishment as it is possible for human justice to mete out to you"--
[Illustration: "Two bayonets crossed in front of him with a sharp
clash."
_See page 359._]
"I deny both your justice and your right to judge. It is you who are
the criminals, conspirators, and enemies of Society. I am a crowned
King, and above all earthly laws"--
Before he could say any more two bayonets crossed in front of him
with a sharp clash, and he was instantly thrust back into his place.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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