In front of the fire a soldier, mounted on
a horse, addressed a small crowd of women and boys. On the end of his
rifle was a ragged red cloth.
I could not see his face. I saw his arms wave, and the fire behind him
exaggerated his figure and then dropped it into a straggling silhouette
against the snow. The street seemed deserted except for this group,
although now I could hear distant shouting on every side of me, and the
monotonous clap-clap-clap-clap of a machine-gun.
I heard him say, "_Tovaristchi!_ now is your time! Don't hesitate in the
sacred cause of freedom! As our brethren did in the famous days of the
French Revolution, so must we do now. All the Army is coming over to our
side. The Preobrojenski have come over to us and have arrested their
officers and taken their arms. We must finish with Protopopoff and our
other tyrants, and see that we have a just rule. _Tovaristchi_! there
will never be such a chance again, and you will repent for ever if you
have not played your part in the great fight for freedom!"
So it went on. It did not seem that his audience was greatly impressed.
It was bewildered and dazed.
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