BOOK TEN: 1812
4. CHAPTER IV
(continued)
The cook and a shop assistant came to the gate. With lively
curiosity everyone tried to get a glimpse of the projectiles as they
flew over their heads. Several people came round the corner talking
eagerly.
"What force!" remarked one. "Knocked the roof and ceiling all to
splinters!"
"Routed up the earth like a pig," said another.
"That's grand, it bucks one up!" laughed the first. "Lucky you
jumped aside, or it would have wiped you out!"
Others joined those men and stopped and told how cannon balls had
fallen on a house close to them. Meanwhile still more projectiles, now
with the swift sinister whistle of a cannon ball, now with the
agreeable intermittent whistle of a shell, flew over people's heads
incessantly, but not one fell close by, they all flew over. Alpatych
was getting into his trap. The innkeeper stood at the gate.
"What are you staring at?" he shouted to the cook, who in her red
skirt, with sleeves rolled up, swinging her bare elbows, had stepped
to the corner to listen to what was being said.
"What marvels!" she exclaimed, but hearing her master's voice she
turned back. pulling down her tucked-up skirt.
Once more something whistled, but this time quite close, swooping
downwards like a little bird; a flame flashed in the middle of the
street, something exploded, and the street was shrouded in smoke.
"Scoundrel, what are you doing?" shouted the innkeeper, rushing to
the cook.
At that moment the pitiful wailing of women was heard from different
sides, the frightened baby began to cry, and people crowded silently
with pale faces round the cook. The loudest sound in that crowd was
her wailing.
"Oh-h-h! Dear souls, dear kind souls! Don't let me die! My good
souls!..."
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