BOOK NINE: 1812
21. CHAPTER XXI
(continued)
While the service was proceeding in the Cathedral of the Assumption-
it was a combined service of prayer on the occasion of the Emperor's
arrival and of thanksgiving for the conclusion of peace with the
Turks- the crowd outside spread out and hawkers appeared, selling
kvas, gingerbread, and poppyseed sweets (of which Petya was
particularly fond), and ordinary conversation could again be heard.
A tradesman's wife was showing a rent in her shawl and telling how
much the shawl had cost; another was saying that all silk goods had
now got dear. The clerk who had rescued Petya was talking to a
functionary about the priests who were officiating that day with the
bishop. The clerk several times used the word "plenary" (of the
service), a word Petya did not understand. Two young citizens were
joking with some serf girls who were cracking nuts. All these
conversations, especially the joking with the girls, were such as
might have had a particular charm for Petya at his age, but they did
not interest him now. He sat on his elevation- the pedestal of the
cannon- still agitated as before by the thought of the Emperor and
by his love for him. The feeling of pain and fear he had experienced
when he was being crushed, together with that of rapture, still
further intensified his sense of the importance of the occasion.
Suddenly the sound of a firing of cannon was heard from the
embankment, to celebrate the signing of peace with the Turks, and
the crowd rushed impetuously toward the embankment to watch the
firing. Petya too would have run there, but the clerk who had taken
the young gentleman under his protection stopped him. The firing was
still proceeding when officers, generals, and gentlemen-in-waiting
came running out of the cathedral, and after them others in a more
leisurely manner: caps were again raised, and those who had run to
look at the cannon ran back again. At last four men in uniforms and
sashes emerged from the cathedral doors. "Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted the
crowd again.
"Which is he? Which?" asked Petya in a tearful voice, of those
around him, but no one answered him, everybody was too excited; and
Petya, fixing on one of those four men, whom he could not clearly
see for the tears of joy that filled his eyes, concentrated all his
enthusiasm on him- though it happened not to be the Emperor-
frantically shouted "Hurrah!" and resolved that tomorrow, come what
might, he would join the army.
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