The Czar : $b A tale of the time of the first NapoleonAlcock, Deborah
History
The Czar : $b A tale of the time of the first Napoleon
Alcock, Deborah
Historical fiction; Russia -- History -- Alexander I, 1801-1825 -- Fiction
“I too, after what you have told me to-night,” said Ivan, with flashing
eyes. He continued more calmly: “Then I went to the governor, Count
Rostopchine, and told him my story. I said that, though my name was of
the noblest, I had not, like other boyars, lands, or serfs, or gold
to give to the Czar; I had only a strong heart, full of devotion.
He answered me, for he saw I was in earnest, ‘Such hearts are what
we want now.’ Then he told me what to do. At first, Michael, I was
horror-stricken. I had rather have been burned at the stake myself. But
he assures me there is no other way of saving holy Russia and the Czar.
Moreover, most of the nobles, and all the merchants except seven, have
resolved upon the sacrifice of their property. Loss of life we will try
to prevent.”
“I suppose all good Russians, save those who, like you, have work to
do, are leaving the city?”
“Almost all; except the ‘black people,’ who think they have nothing
to lose and perhaps something to gain by the confusion. A few others
are remaining on various pretexts; for instance, Countess Wertsch,
the owner of this house, obstinately insists upon staying, positively
refusing to believe that the French will enter the city--a great
embarrassment to me, since I cannot burn the house over her head. I
must get her away somehow. For this and other matters I need advice
from my good old friend Petrovitch, and I mean to go to him at
daybreak. You shall come with me; I should like to tell him what you
have done, Michael.”
“Anywhere with you. There will be plenty of work for us, and plenty of
danger too. All the better for me. But you will be sorry to part with
life, Ivan Barrinka.”
For a moment Ivan’s face assumed a grave and thoughtful expression;
then it gradually lighted up, until it absolutely glowed with
enthusiasm. “If I fall,” he said, “Count Rostopchine has promised to
name me to the Czar.”
CHAPTER XIV.
THE FORLORN HOPE.
“Oh, sweet and strange it seems to me, that ere this day is done
The voice that now is speaking may be beyond the sun,
For ever and for ever with those just souls and true;
And what is life that we should moan? why make we such ado?”
The two young men wore out the short summer night in earnest talk.
Neither thought of sleep; but Ivan was careful to provide a comfortable
repast for Michael, and was by no means reluctant to share it. Very
early in the morning they set out on foot for the merchants’ quarter.
The shades of night had brought no repose to the doomed city; hour
after hour the living tide flowed on without pause or respite, and Ivan
and Michael found it extremely difficult to thread their way through
the dense confused mass of vehicles and foot passengers that crowded
every street.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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