Suddenly a glow of light illumined the dark waves; a red gleam, reflected on the street of houses, was seen advancing towards them. From a side street a boat was approaching, with a torch stuck in its bow. Two men were pulling; a third, boat-hook in hand, was staving off the floating masses of ice; a fourth was at the rudder. In the middle of the boat stood a woman, her head and face entirely enveloped in a bashlik, engaged in covering up a group of children of all ages, distributing biscuit among them, and soothing their cries for papa and baba (little Russian children say "baba" instead of mamma). Papa and baba do not take the children to the fair, but lock up the poor little mites in the houses before they go out. If any sudden calamity occurs papa and baba escape. But what becomes of the little ones? Does a fire break out they are burned to death; a flood, then let Providence send some good-natured gentry-folk, such as take pleasure in rescuing children through roof or windows. It is as good sport as wild-duck shooting. So this boat was filled to overflowing. The boatmen were the first to see the desperate position of the carriage and its occupants, and they rowed towards it. The torch showered sparks in the high wind, illuminating the face of the youth who, as he stood in the prow of the boat gliding over the dark waters, looked like some hero of antiquity. Masses of ice grated under the keel. The young man, steering dexterously through the ice, reached the carriage. It was but just in time, for Bethsaba could scarce maintain her seat upon the horse. Without a second's hesitation he had seized the half-frozen girl, who clutched with both hands at his arm, and the next instant she was in the boat. Bethsaba looked into the youth's eyes, and in that moment she knew the exquisite joy of losing one's self in a look. Once before she had met the fire of those eyes--then they had singed her wings; now her heart was the victim. "Wrap her in this fur cloak," said the lady standing in the middle of the boat to the young man, and threw her own cloak to the girl, who was shivering with cold; then going alongside the carriage, held out her hand to help the lady sitting in it into the boat. As she did so the bashlik fell back, and Bethsaba recognized the face. It was that of Zeneida Ilmarinen--the devil! The Duchess also recognized her. Like a fury she struck back her enemy's helping hand, crying, in a voice hoarse with passionate excitement: "Away, away! I will not have your help! Rather perish in the flood than in hell with you!" And, snatching the whip from her coachman's hand, she administered some smart lashes to the horses, who, madly rearing, plunged deeper into the foaming waves, already up to their chests. She would have none of Zeneida's help.