| BOOK TEN: 1812
4. CHAPTER IV
 (continued)Five minutes later no one remained in the street. The cook, with her
 thigh broken by a shell splinter, had been carried into the kitchen.
 Alpatych, his coachman, Ferapontov's wife and children and the house
 porter were all sitting in the cellar, listening. The roar of guns,
 the whistling of projectiles, and the piteous moaning of the cook,
 which rose above the other sounds, did not cease for a moment. The
 mistress rocked and hushed her baby and when anyone came into the
 cellar asked in a pathetic whisper what had become of her husband
 who had remained in the street. A shopman who entered told her that
 her husband had gone with others to the cathedral, whence they were
 fetching the wonder-working icon of Smolensk. Toward dusk the cannonade began to subside. Alpatych left the cellar
 and stopped in the doorway. The evening sky that had been so clear was
 clouded with smoke, through which, high up, the sickle of the new moon
 shone strangely. Now that the terrible din of the guns had ceased a
 hush seemed to reign over the town, broken only by the rustle of
 footsteps, the moaning, the distant cries, and the crackle of fires
 which seemed widespread everywhere. The cook's moans had now subsided.
 On two sides black curling clouds of smoke rose and spread from the
 fires. Through the streets soldiers in various uniforms walked or
 ran confusedly in different directions like ants from a ruined
 ant-hill. Several of them ran into Ferapontov's yard before Alpatych's
 eyes. Alpatych went out to the gate. A retreating regiment,
 thronging and hurrying, blocked the street. Noticing him, an officer said: "The town is being abandoned. Get
 away, get away!" and then, turning to the soldiers, shouted: "I'll teach you to run into the yards!" Alpatych went back to the house, called the coachman, and told him
 to set off. Ferapontov's whole household came out too, following
 Alpatych and the coachman. The women, who had been silent till then,
 suddenly began to wail as they looked at the fires- the smoke and even
 the flames of which could be seen in the failing twilight- and as if
 in reply the same kind of lamentation was heard from other parts of
 the street. Inside the shed Alpatych and the coachman arranged the
 tangled reins and traces of their horses with trembling hands. |