and crying too," saidVasin.
[N] The feminine form, as previously referred to.
"Wonderful!" said another.
"And see, they have fired our barracks," he continued, with a sigh."And how many of our brothers perished there; and the French got it fornothing!"
"At all events, we have got out of it alive--thank God for that!" saidVasin.
"But it's provoking, all the same!"
"What is there provoking about it? Do you suppose they are enjoyingthemselves there? Not exactly! You wait, our men will take it away fromthem again. And however many of our brethren perish, as God is holy, ifthe emperor commands, they will win it back. Can ours leave it to themthus? Never! There you have the bare walls; but they have destroyed allthe breastworks. Even if they have planted their standard on the hill,they won't be able to make their way into the town."
"Just wait, we'll have a hearty reckoning with you yet, only give ustime," he concluded, addressing himself to the French.
"Of course we will!" said another, with conviction.
Along the whole line of bastions of Sevastopol, which had for so manymonths seethed with remarkably vigorous life, which had for so manymonths seen dying heroes relieved one after another by death, and whichhad for so many months awakened the terror, the hatred, and finallythe admiration of the enemy,--on the bastions of Sevastopol, there wasno longer a single man. All was dead, wild, horrible,--but not silent.
Destruction was still in progress. On the earth, furrowed and strewnwith the recent explosions, lay bent gun-carriages, crushing down thebodies of Russians and of the foe; heavy iron cannons silenced forever,bombs and cannon-balls hurled with horrible force into pits, andhalf-buried in the soil, then more corpses, pits, splinters of beams,bomb-proofs, and still more silent bodies in gray and blue coats. Allthese were still frequently shaken and lighted up by the crimson glowof the explosions, which continued to shock the air.
The foe perceived that something incomprehensible was going on in thatmenacing Sevastopol. Those explosions and the death-like silence onthe bastions made them shudder; but they dared not yet believe, beingstill under the influence of the calm and forcible resistance of theday, that their invincible enemy had disappeared, and they awaitedmotionless and in silence the end of that gloomy night.
The army of Sevastopol, like the gloomy, surging sea, quiveringthroughout its entire mass, wavering, ploughing across the bay, onthe bridge, and at the north fortifications, moved slowly through theimpenetrable darkness of the night; away from the place where it hadleft so many of its brave brethren, from the place all steeped in itsblood, from the place which it had defended for eleven months againsta foe twice as powerful as itself, and which it was now ordered toabandon without a battle.
The first impression produced on every Russian by this command wasinconceivably sad. The second feeling was a fear of pursuit. The menfelt that they were defenceless as soon as they abandoned the places onwhich they were accustomed to fight, and they huddled together uneasilyin the dark, at the entrance to the bridge, which was swaying about inthe heavy breeze.
The infantry pressed forward, with a clash of bayonets, and athronging of regiments, equipages, and arms; cavalry officers madetheir way about with orders, the inhabitants and the military servantsaccompanying the baggage wept and besought to be permitted to cross,while the artillery, in haste to get off, forced their way to the baywith a thunder of wheels.
In spite of the diversions created by the varied and anxious demandson their attention, the instinct of self-preservation and the desireto escape as speedily as possible from that dread place of death werepresent in every soul. This instinct existed also in a soldier mortallywounded, who lay among the five hundred other wounded, upon the stonepavement of the Pavlovsky quay, and prayed God to send death; and inthe militia-man, who with his last remaining strength pressed intothe compact throng, in order to make way for a general who rode by,and in the general in charge of the transportation, who was engagedin restraining the haste of the soldiers, and in the sailor, who hadbecome entangled in the moving battalion, and who, crushed by thesurging throng, had lost his breath, and in the wounded officer, whowas being borne along in a litter by four soldiers, who, stopped by thecrowd, had placed him on the ground by the Nikolaevsky battery, and inthe artillery-man, who had served his gun for sixteen years, and who,at his superior's command, to him incomprehensible, to throw overboardthe guns, had, with the aid of his comrades, sent them over the steepbank into the bay; and in the men of the fleet, who had just closed theport-holes of the ships, and had rowed lustily away in their boats.On stepping upon the further end of the bridge, nearly every soldierpulled off his cap and crossed himself.
But behind this instinct there was another, oppressive and far deeper,existing along with it; this was a feeling which resembled repentance,shame, and hatred. Almost every soldier, as he gazed on abandonedSevastopol, from the northern shore, sighed with inexpressiblebitterness of heart, and menaced the foe.
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