Never in all the grim history of war was there ever a more sudden or more terrific cannonading.
The three American girls were at first stunned by the unexpected noises of the explosions. Shell after shell shrieked over the walls of the fortress, cannon after cannon repeated an unceasing bombardment.
Neither were the Russian guns slow in replying. Except for the location of the sounds it was impossible to tell which were the Russian cannon and which those of the enemy.
For some time no one of the three American girls attempted to speak. It would have been impossible to have heard one another. But by and by Barbara crawled out of her cot and put her arm about Mildred Thornton.
“I am frightened, Mildred. I wish your General’s order had come sooner and we were safely away from Grovno. I think perhaps because of Dick I don’t want anything dreadful to happen. I want to be happy.”
There was a sob in Barbara’s voicewhich Mildred heard, if not with her ears, at least with her heart.
“It is going to be all right, little sister,” she returned. “I can’t explain exactly why, but I have perfect faith in General Alexis.”
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FOR five days and nights the firing continued almost without cessation.
In a measure the occupants of the Russian fortress grew accustomed to the noises, unless one explosion seemed a little more terrific than the others.
Actually the Red Cross nurses went about their work inside the hospital wing of the fort as though the Germans were not attacking.
There was one fact, however, that could not be overlooked: more and more wounded were constantly being brought in, until not only the cots but most of the floor space of the wards were covered with stricken soldiers.
There was no definite news. No one could say whether the Germans had been seriously depleted by the Russian gun fire, or whether the Grovno fort wouldbe able to continue its resistance. A few of the outer defenses had already fallen. The Russian soldiers in the trenches behind the first line of barricades had sought safety inside the fortress. But these signs meant nothing of moment, and no one dared ask questions of the Russian officers, who alone might know the purpose of their commander.
Then on the morning of the seventh day, at dawn, Mildred Thornton, who chanced to be gazing out of a small window which overlooked the courtyard of the fort, made a discovery.
She had not been asleep all night, as there was so much work to be done, but on the way to her room had stopped for a single breath of fresh air, after the fever and confusion of the hospital.
What she saw were enormous cannon being lifted on low motor trucks and these trucks being driven as swiftly as possible outside the Grovno gate and along the Russian highway. There were a few soldiers accompanying them.
Almost with the flash of an intuitionthe idea came to Mildred: General Alexis was contemplating a retreat. He must have decided that, alone and with only a limited number of regiments at his command, he would be unable to hold out against the enemy for an unlimited time. Therefore it might be wiser to draw them further into Russia and away from their own supplies. General Alexis could join Grand Duke Nicholas beyond the Styr River and there be better prepared to meet the invaders. Mildred knew that the country on the other side of the river covered miles of swamps. If the bridges over the river were destroyed, the Germans would find great difficulty in pursuit.
Therefore the cannon and other heavy guns, with whatever munitions could be spared, were first to be taken to places of safety. Later on General Alexis would probably give orders for a more general retreat. But when Grovno fell the Germans would find none of the spoils of war left behind for the victors.
All this Mildred thought out slowly and carefully as she stood for a few momentsbeside the tiny window. Then she went into her room, changed her uniform for a fresher one and returned to her work. Not a word of her idea did she breathe to any one. She had no foundation for her impression, and at first it was an impression, nothing more. Yet Barbara or Nona might have been frightened by the suggestion.
However, as the dawn passed and the hours of the day followed, other persons beside Mildred Thornton began dimly to appreciate the possible conditions. More and more of the munitions of war were hauled away, and surely this did not look as if the fight were to be persisted in at Grovno.
Finally, just before twilight the order came that the wounded, with their nurses and surgeons, were to be moved at nightfall. Whatever preparations were necessary must be made at once.
Silently small groups of soldiers were already being marched away.
Oh, of course the old guns of the famous fortress continued to belch forth destruction,and there was no lessening of the front ranks of soldiers, who were directly attacking the enemy. General Alexis was merely drawing off the men whom he did not actually need for defense. Grovno could be protected by a comparatively small number of soldiers without the enemy appreciating any depreciation in their numbers. For all the firing was done behind a barricade of walls. So far the Germans were about a mile away. There would be no hand-to-hand combats until the fortress was finally demolished.
Even under such dangerous conditions the American Red Cross girls were relieved to hear that they were to be sent from Grovno. They were also told that they were not to follow the army. As soon as they reached a railroad, the wounded and their nurses were to be removed to Petrograd. There they would find hospitals ready for their accommodation.
So it was to be Petrograd after all! The three girls were not seriously frightened; indeed, they were less so than at the time of the French retreat. It was so evidentthat General Alexis was providing for the safety of the wounded before the danger time. They would find all the roads open to them now, while the Germans were being held on the farther side of the ancient stone walls.
Just after dusk the hospital staff and their patients were ready for departure. Parties of ten, consisting of seven wounded soldiers, two nurses and a physician, gathered quietly in the stone courtyard enclosed by the wings of the fortress. They were then placed in low carts, drawn by gaunt horses and driven by a Russian moujik, wearing a long blouse, high boots and a cap with the peculiar Russian peak.
There were no such facilities for transportation in Russia as the American Red Cross girls had found in France. The motor cars and ambulances owned by the Russian army were few in number and inadequate to their needs. These could only be employed in cases where swiftness was a pressing necessity.
The three American girls were standing together just outside a stone doorwayleading into the yard and awaiting orders. As a matter of course they wore their Red Cross uniforms: the long circular cape and the small close-fitting bonnet. But Barbara had also put on nearly everything else she possessed. They would be traveling all night under extremely uncomfortable conditions and through a bitterly cold country. In fact, Barbara looked rather like a little “Mother Bunch” with her squirrel fur coat on top of her sweater and her cape over them both, and carrying her army blanket.
Mildred was also prepared for the cold with a heavy coat under her uniform cape. Unfortunately, Nona owned nothing to make her more comfortable, except that Mildred had insisted upon lending her her sweater. But both girls had their blankets over their arms and small bags in their hands. There would be no room for other luggage.
“We are going to have a wonderful night, I think,” Barbara murmured. “Of course it will be hard and we may have to suffer discomfort and see others sufferingfar worse things. But a retreat through this strange country, with its odd inhabitants, as unlike as if they belonged in different planets, will be an experience none of us will ever wish to forget.”
It was curious that Barbara should almost whisper her little speech, as if her voice could be heard above the uproar of the cannonading. Yet in the pauses between the firing lasting a few moments the silence seemed almost unearthly.
At present there was just such a silence, so that the American girls could even hear the creaking of the old wagon wheels as the ambulance carts rolled out of the fortress yard. Now and then there was a faint groan from a wounded man that could not be repressed. The wagons had no springs, but were made as comfortable as possible by layers of hay covering the wagon floors.
Almost the moment that Barbara’s speech was finished, some one suddenly stepped out of the door, near which the three girls were standing. Looking up they discovered a colonel in the Russian army,on the personal staff of General Alexis. No one of the three girls knew the officer’s name; his rank they recognized from the uniform he wore. Moreover, they had observed him always accompanying the Russian commander as one of his chief aides.
His appearance in the courtyard at this moment was surprising, but in all probability he wished to issue a direct order concerning the plan of retreat.
Yet the officer did not at once move forward to where groups of soldiers were also making preparations to be on the march. Instead he stood for a few moments just outside the door, gazing searchingly about him.
No one of the Red Cross girls spoke. They were too awed by the gravity of the situation to make trivial remarks. Moreover, the big Russian officer was an impressive figure. It was more interesting to watch him until they were summoned to take their places in the wagons that were now leaving the fortress at intervals of about ten minutes apart.
By chance Mildred Thornton made a movement and immediately the Russian colonel directed his glance toward her. He stared at her for a moment in silence and then, stepping forward, touched her upon the arm.
“I should like to speak to you a moment alone, nurse,” he announced in low tones, although Barbara and Nona both heard this part of his speech.
Instantly Mildred complied, and the girl and man moved a few feet away, where they could talk without being overheard.
Under the circumstances neither Barbara nor Nona had the temerity to follow them. But this did not mean that they were not both extraordinarily curious. At least they strained their ears as much as possible in order to try and catch a stray word spoken either by Mildred or her companion. But they heard nothing except the low murmur of the two voices, the officer asking questions and Mildred making replies.
“What on earth do you suppose he can be saying to Mill?” Barbara finally whispered.
Nona only shook her head. Any guessing would be a pure waste of energy, since Mildred would return in a few moments to explain.
She did come back almost immediately, but with her first words her friends realized that something unusual had occurred. Ordinarily Mildred was calm and self possessed. Now her voice shook and indeed she seemed to be shivering either from cold or excitement.
“I can’t go with you to Petrograd, girls,” she said quietly enough, however. “Listen, please, so I can make matters plain to you, for you may be ordered to leave at any moment. Barbara, I want you to write my father and mother and try and make them see I had no choice in this decision. But you must not speak of the circumstances to any one else. It would be dangerous for me and for us all if you betray this confidence. The officer who talked with me just then is Colonel Feodorovitch. He is very near General Alexisand tells me that General Alexis has been wounded. The wound is not considered serious and he refuses to give up his command or to leave the fort until the final moment for retreat. Neither must his soldiers learn of what has taken place. His own surgeon is with him now and will remain with him. But there is a chance that they will also require a nurse. Colonel Feodorovitch came to find one before we all got away. By accident he saw me first and requested me to remain behind. I could not refuse.”
“Mildred!” Nona and Barbara exclaimed in unison, with no attempt to conceal their dismay, almost their horror.
“But you can’t accept, Mildred,” Barbara expostulated. “If you do I shall not leave you. Why, what would your mother and father and Dick think of my deserting you at such a time? Besides, don’t you remember that General Alexis himself wanted us safe in Petrograd before the retreat. He would be bitterly opposed to your being chosen to remain behind.Didn’t you speak of this to Colonel Feodorovitch?”
“I couldn’t, Barbara,” Mildred insisted. “It would have been such a long story and Colonel Feodorovitch knows about as much English as I do Russian. It would only have looked as though I were shirking a most important duty. General Alexis will not recall ever having thought or spoken to me, at a time when the Russian army, perhaps the whole Russian nation, is dependent on his failure or success. If I can do even the least thing to help him at such a crisis, why, how could I refuse? Please try and see this as I do, Barbara, you and Nona. There may be nothing for me to do. General Alexis’ wound is not serious or he could not retain his command. I must leave you now; I am wanted at once. I’ll join you in Petrograd as soon as it is humanly possible.”
But Barbara had clutched Mildred’s coat.
“You shall not stay alone. I am almost your sister and I won’t allow it.”
Quietly Mildred unclasped the younger girl’s hand.
“For my own sake I would give a great deal to have you stay, Bab, but we have no choice. Remember, we are under discipline like soldiers. We must do as we are commanded.”
With this Mildred returned inside the fortress.
At the same instant Nona Davis and Barbara Meade heard their names being called. At once they moved forward and were assisted inside the wagon, which soon after passed out of the gate and moved creakingly along the main road in the direction of the Styr River.
They were to cross one of its bridges, as the main army was now doing. The last of the regiments at Grovno would see that the bridges were destroyed before the German soldiers could come up to them.
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FOR many hours the ambulance wagon in which Nona and Barbara were riding jogged on, forming one of a procession of similar wagons.
The girls grew cold and cramped. Now and then they tried to move in order to make their patients more comfortable or at least to give water to the wounded men. But the wagons were so crowded that the slightest stirring was well nigh impossible.
Nevertheless, as Barbara Meade had predicted, the long night was one neither she nor Nona would ever be willing to forget.
At first they rode along, passing the wooden huts of the peasants that once had lined both sides of the main road leading to the middle bridge across the river Styr. But many of these shacks had suffered from the stray shells of the Germans, which, having passed beyond the fortress,had brought desolation to the country side. These little wooden houses in many places were mere heaps of burnt-out ashes. Others were half burned, or else collapsed, as if they had been houses built by children, who had afterwards kicked them down.
Everywhere, from the little homes that were unhurt, as well as from the ruined ones, the peasants were fleeing. With the passing of the first Russian regimentawayfrom Grovno they had guessed what must inevitably follow.
There were bent-over old women and men carrying packs on their backs like beasts of burden, and in truth the Russian peasant has been nothing more for many centuries. The children, who ran along beside them, were incredibly thin and dirty and hungry.
One member of each little group would carry a lighted pine torch, pointing the way with fitful shadows. But wherever it was possible they followed in the wake of the wagons.
At first the night was dark and the American girls could hear their driver mutteringstrange Russian imprecations as his horses stumbled and felt their way along. FinallyBarbara presented him with the electric lamp, which had been Dick Thornton’s farewell present to her on the day of her sailing from New York City. She had used it many times since then, but never for a queerer purpose.
However, before they reached the river the moon had risen and both Nona and Barbara were grateful for the added light. Yet the scene they next witnessed was lighted by many camp fires.
The Russian infantry, who had been first to begin the retreat from Grovno, had camped on this side the river for a few hours rest.
A confused murmur of sounds arose. In little knots before the fires men squatted on their knees in Oriental fashion, waiting for the copper pots to boil. For at all hours of the day and night the Russian drinks tea, now more than ever, since by command of the Czar the soldier is forbidden to touch alcohol.
The girls could observe that the men hadcuriously unlike faces. It was difficult to understand how they could all be Russians. Never before had they seen so many of the soldiers at one time. Some of them had flat faces and high cheek bones, with eyes like the Chinese.
It was very strange! Yet Nona whispered that they must remember some of these Russian soldiers had come from Asia, from beyond the Caspian Sea. Perhaps their ancestors had been members of the great Mongolian horde that had once invaded Europe under Genghis Khan.
In their interest Nona and Barbara began discussing the possible history of these soldiers aloud. By and by, one of the wounded men, who chanced to be a Russian university graduate, smiled to himself over the interest and excitement of the two American nurses. He had been suffering intensely from the jolting and was glad for anything that would distract his mind from his suffering.
“The soldiers you are discussing are called ‘Turcomen,’” he remarked aloud.
Nona and Barbara were startled by thevoice out of the darkness, but they murmured confused thanks.
“Perhaps we had best not discuss our surroundings so openly,” Nona suggested, and Barbara agreed with a silent motion of her head.
By this time they had reached the central bridge. It was built of steel and stretched like a long line of silver across the dark river.
Over the bridge, like enormous over-burdened ants, the American girls could see other ambulance wagons moving slowly on. For the horses had become weary of their heavy loads and yet were to have no rest of any length until daylight.
On the farther side of the river there were other small encampments. But by and by Barbara Meade fell asleep with her head pressed against Nona’s shoulder.
Occasionally Nona drowsed, but not often. She was torn between two worries. What would become of Mildred Thornton, left behind with strangers in a besieged fortress that might fall at any hour? Surely her situation was more fraught withdanger than any in which the Red Cross girls had found themselves since their arrival in Europe.
Nona wished that she had taken sides with Barbara more decisively and refused to leave Grovno unless Mildred accompanied them.
But Mildred had disappeared so quickly. Then the order had come for their departure almost at the same instant. There had been so little time to protest or even to think what was best. Certainly Mildred herself should have refused to accept such a dangerous responsibility. But at the same moment that Nona condemned her friend, she realized that she would have done exactly the same thing in her place. In coming to assist with the Red Cross nursing they had promised to put the thought of duty first. Mildred could not shirk the most important task that had yet been asked of her.
Perhaps no harm would befall her. Certainly Nona appreciated that everything possible would be done to insure Mildred’s safety. Her life and honor would bethe first charge of the soldiers surrounding her. Moreover, General Alexis would certainly leave the fortress before there was a chance of his being taken prisoner. He was too valuable a commander to have his services lost and the Germans would regard him as too important a capture.
So Nona’s attention wandered from Mildred to her other friend, Sonya Valesky. What had become of Sonya and how was she ever to find her in the great and unknown city of Petrograd? If she only had a friend to consult, but she had even been compelled to leave Grovno without seeing Lieutenant Orlaff again. He had promised to write a few letters in Sonya’s behalf, although assured that they would do no good.
Yet in some way Nona was determined to discover the Russian woman. Perhaps the Czar himself might be brought to pardon Sonya if he heard that she would leave for the United States and never return to Russia again. Then Nona smiled and sighed at the same time over her own simplicity. The Czar was at the head of histroops, with the fate of his crown and his country at stake. “What did one woman more or less count in times like these?”
Before daylight Nona must have also slept, because she was finally awakened by the stopping of their ambulance wagon.
When she opened her eyes she was surprised to see a rose flush in the sky and to hear the slow puffing of an engine.
The wagons had arrived at a small railroad station, connecting with the main road leading into Petrograd.
Word of the approach of the ambulances must have been sent ahead, for a train of more than a dozen coaches was even now in waiting.
As quickly as possible Nona and Barbara crawled out of their wagon, stamping their feet on the frozen ground and waving their arms in order to start their circulation. Then they began to assist in transferring the wounded soldiers from the wagons to the cars. The men were wonderfully patient and plucky, for they must have suffered tortures. They had first to be lifted on to an ambulance cot and then transferredto another cot inside the train. A few of the soldiers fainted and for them Nona and Barbara were relieved. At least they were spared the added pain.
Yet by and by, when the long line of cars started for Petrograd, the occupants of the coaches were amazingly cheerful. Tea and bread had been served all of the travelers and cigarettes given to the men.
Some of the soldiers sang, others told jokes, those who were most dangerously ill only lay still and smiled. They were on their way to Petrograd! This meant home and friends to some of them. To others it meant only the name of their greatest city and the palace of their Czar. But to all of them Petrograd promised comfort and quiet, away from the horrible, deafening noises of exploding bullets and shells.
Naturally Nona and Barbara were affected by the greater cheerfulness about them.
“If only Mildred were with us, how relieved I would be. Really, I don’t know how we are to bear the suspense of notknowing what has become of her,” Barbara said not once, but a dozen times in the course of the day.
But night brought them into the famous Russian capital.
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ON their arrival Barbara and Nona went with the wounded soldiers to a Red Cross hospital in Petrograd.
There, to her consternation, a few days later Nona Davis became ill. The illness was only an attack of malarial fever, which Nona had been subject to ever since her childhood; nevertheless, the disease had never chosen a more unpropitious time for its reappearance.
For a few days she seemed dangerously ill, then her convalescence left her weak and exhausted. She was totally unfit for work and only a burden instead of an aid to the hospital staff.
Poor Barbara had a busy, unhappy time of it. She did her best to look after Nona in spare moments from her regular nursing, and she also tried not to lose courage when no word came from Mildred. Neitherfrom newspapers nor inquiries in all possible directions could she even learn whether Grovno had fallen.
She was unable to read the newspapers for herself and so was compelled to wait until one of the other nurses could find time to laboriously translate the information into English.
Evidently at the present time the Russian papers did not desire the Russian people to learn the fate of the fortress and its commander. For all news on the subject was carefully withheld.
Under the strain Barbara might have broken down herself except for a piece of good fortune that at length came to Nona and to her.
An American woman, married to a Russian, the Countess Sergius, learning of the presence of the two American Red Cross nurses in the Russian hospital, called at once to see if she could do anything for their comfort. Discovering Nona ill and Barbara on the verge of a breakdown, the American woman insisted that the girls be her guests. They were not able to beof special assistance at the hospital under the present circumstances, while a week or so of rest and change might do wonders for them both.
In answer to Nona’s protest that she was not well enough to be an agreeable visitor and could not bear the ordeal of meeting strangers, the older woman announced that the girls could live as quietly as they liked. She would let them have a private apartment in her house and they need see no one except the servants who would look after them.
As the American Countess was undoubtedly extremely wealthy and most anxious to be of service, Barbara and Nona gratefully accepted her invitation. So about ten days after their arrival in Petrograd they were living in one of the handsomest houses along the famous Nevski Prospect. This is the Fifth Avenue of Petrograd, a wide avenue three miles in length. Nothing is small in Russia or in the Russian people.
The girls were delightfully comfortable. One-half the third floor of the greathouse had been given up to them, consisting of two bedrooms, a bath, and a sitting room where their meals were served.
Indeed, the girls soon discovered that although the Countess meant to be hospitable and kind, she was sincerely glad that they wished to be left alone. She was an extremely busy woman, one of the important hostesses of Petrograd in times of peace. But now, like most society women in the allied countries, she was devoting all her energies to relief work. There were charity bazaars and concerts and Russian ballet performances, for the benefit of the soldiers, that must be managed day and night.
After three days of luxury and idleness Nona Davis felt strong again.
Perhaps more than the other Red Cross girls she deserved credit for her devotion to her nursing. For Nona had the southern temperament which loves beauty and ease, and there were times in her life when she had deliberately to shut her eyes to these enticements.
But now, with the thought of SonyaValesky ever on her mind, she could not allow herself to relax an hour longer than necessary.
Contrary to Barbara Meade’s judgment, Nona decided to ask the advice of their hostess as to how she should begin the search for her Russian friend.
Instantly the American woman became less cordial. But when Nona had told as much of the other woman’s story as she dared, the Countess frankly discussed the situation with her.
If Nona would be guided by an older woman she would give up the quest for Sonya Valesky. Certainly Sonya’s fate was an unhappy one, but she was wholly responsible for it herself. If she had been content to take life as she found it she would now have been occupying a brilliant position.
The Countess evidently had no use for reformers or persons who break away from recognized conditions. She confessed to Nona that her own position in Russian society had been difficult to attain. Not for worlds would she be suspected of havinganything to do with a Socialist, or an Anarchist, or whatever dreadful character Nona’s friend might be! The Countess was perfectly polite, but Nona thoroughly understood that if she insisted upon discovering the unfortunate Sonya, her presence as a guest in the Countess’ home would no longer be desired.
Since there was nothing else to do, Nona decided that she must wait until help came from some unexpected direction. She had no idea of giving up the search for Sonya. But in the meantime she could enjoy a brief rest and see Petrograd.
In the winter time Petrograd is the most beautifully quiet city in the world. And now in war times it was scarcely less so, for the ground was covered with many inches of snow. There was a muffled sound even to the tread of the soldiers’ feet, marching through the frozen streets. Neither was there a single wagon or carriage to be heard, since everybody went about in sleighs and everything was hauled in the same way. But now, because all the best horses were at the front, one often saw great oxen drawingsledges through the once gay and fashionable city.
The Countess Sergius had retained only a single pair of horses for her own use and that of her big household, nevertheless, she now and then loaned her sleigh for an afternoon to her two American girl guests.
Sight-seeing was the only amusement which kept Nona and Barbara from a morbid dwelling on their worries. Barbara had written to Judge and Mrs. Thornton in the way that Mildred had directed. But she could not feel that either of Mildred’s parents would feel any the less wretched and uneasy because their daughter believed that she was only “doing her duty.” Since the original letter Barbara had never been able to write them again. What could she say, except that no word of any kind had since been received from Mildred? There would be small consolation in this news, and of course Barbara wrote Dick every few days.
One afternoon Barbara and Nona left the Countess’ house at about three o’clock and drove down the entire length of theNevski Prospect toward the Winter Palace of the Czar.
There were scudding gray clouds overhead and a light snow falling.
No one could have failed to be interested. The Russian streets are ordinarily paved with sharp-edged stones, but the ice made them smooth as glass. Over the windows of the shops the girls could see painted pictures of what the shopkeepers had to sell inside. This is common in Russia, since so many of her poorer people are unable to read.
Most of the buildings in Petrograd are of stucco, and indeed, except for her churches and a few other buildings, the Russian capital resembles a poor imitation of Paris. Peter the Great, who constructed the city upon the swamp lands surrounding the river Neva, was determined to force Russia into the western world instead of the east. For this reason he brought all his artists from France and Italy, so that he might model his new city upon their older ones.
The Winter Palace itself the girls discoveredto be a Renaissance building, with one side facing the river and the other a broad square. Their sleigh stopped by the tall monolith column commemorating Alexander the First, which stands almost directly in front of the Palace. Leading from the Palace to the Hermitage, once the palace of the great Catherine, is a covered archway.
The Hermitage is one of the greatest art museums in the world and contains one of the finest collections of paintings in Europe. Although the two Red Cross girls had now been in Petrograd several weeks, neither of them had yet been inside the famous gallery.
“Suppose we go in now and see the pictures,” Barbara proposed. “We might as well take advantage of our opportunities, even if we are miserable,” she added with the characteristic wrinkling of her small nose. “Besides, I’m frozen, and you must be more so, Nona. How I have adored my squirrel coat and cap ever since we came to this arctic zone! Thank fortune, our Countess has loaned you some furs, Nona! Do you know, I really am not so surprised thatyour mother was a Russian noble woman. You look like my idea of a Russian princess, with your pale gold hair showing against that brown fur. Who knows, maybe you’ll turn into a Russian princess some day! But shall I tell our driver to stop?”
Nona Davis shook her head, smiling and yet rather pathetic, in spite of her lovely appearance in borrowed finery.
“I don’t want to be a Russian princess, Bab, or a Russian anything, I am afraid, in spite of my heritage. I think it a good deal nicer to be engaged to an American like Dick Thornton. If you don’t mind, let’s don’t try to see the pictures today. I am tired and we ought to be fresh for such an experience. If you are cold, suppose we go back into the center of the town and walk about for a while. Then we can send the sleigh home to the Countess. I don’t feel that we should keep it for our use the entire afternoon, and if we stop to look at the pictures it would take the rest of the day. There are some queer side streets that join the Nevski Prospect I should like to see.”
The Countess Sergius lived about two miles away from the Winter Palace. When the girls were within a quarter of a mile of the house where they were guests, they finally got out of the sleigh. Their driver was an old man with a long beard and not the character of servant the American Countess would have employed under ordinary conditions. But her former young men servants were in the army, and like other wealthy families in Russia at this time, she was glad to employ any one possible.
However, Nona undertook to make the man understand that they would not need his services again that afternoon. She had more of a gift for languages than the western girl and her knowledge of French was always useful. So after a little hesitation, the big sleigh at last drove away. And actually for the first time since their arrival in Petrograd Nona and Barbara found themselves alone in the Russian streets.
There could be no danger of getting lost, for they had only to come to this central thoroughfare and the Countess’ house lay straight ahead.
So the two girls turned into the side street that lay nearest them.
After a five minutes walk they found themselves in another world.
On the Nevski Prospect they were in Europe; here they were in Asia.
It was curious, but even the smells were different. These were Asiatic odors, if the girls had only known, queer smells of musk and attar of roses and other less pleasant things.
The Russian women and children were crowding the narrow streets, while inside the little shops the wares were displayed on big tables. In the summer time these goods were sold on open stalls in the streets.
“Let us go into one of the shops and buy a few trinkets,” Barbara suggested. “I would like to own one of those embroidered Russian aprons.”
Then she stopped, her attention caught, as Nona’s had been, by a sudden rustling in the air above them. A moment later a flock of gray and white pigeons was crowding about their feet. These also were the pigeons that haunt the thoroughfares of the east.
Personally Nona Davis would have preferred remaining outside in the fresh air. She was cold, but she objected to the squalid atmosphere of the interior of so many Russian houses. However, she could not refuse to agree to every request Barbara made of her all that afternoon.
A moment later and she was almost as interested as the younger girl in making purchases.
There were odd pieces of beautiful, gayly colored embroideries that, according to American ideas, appeared incredibly cheap. Then there were bits of Russian brass, that seemed to interest Barbara particularly, as it is probable that she had a sudden rush of the housekeeper’s ardor. Here were interesting things that might be purchased for her own and Dick’s apartment in New York almost for nothing!
Whatever the cause, Nona, after fifteen or twenty minutes, found her own pleasure cooling. Moreover, she had very little money to spend on frivolities, and so found a stool in a corner and sat down to wait for Barbara and to watch the crowd.
There were numbers of people in the shop, although few of them seemed to be making purchases. Now and then a big soldier, crowned by his peaked fur cap, would stalk proudly in to purchase a trinket, possibly for the girl of his heart. The Russians are ardent lovers, and as the soldier was only at home on a short leave, he had to make the best of his opportunity.
Most of the women who were not wearing furs had heavy shawls drawn over their heads and shoulders. Nona could not see their faces very well, and only received flitting impressions of dark eyes and large, heavy features, with almost always the curiously pale and yet sallow skin peculiar to the Russian peasant. It is only among the better classes that one finds other types.
Suddenly Nona gave a cry of alarm, which she quickly hushed. To her surprise some one had quietly come up back of her and laid a hand on her shoulder. It was one of these same peasant women, wearing a heavy, dark shawl.
She was trying to say something whichNona could not at once understand. Yet it was plain enough that the woman was imploring her to make no disturbance that would attract attention.
The next moment Nona had recognized the woman. It was old Katja, Sonya Valesky’s servant, whom she had left with Nika in her little hut.
What had brought the old woman to Petrograd? In reality Nona knew without asking the question. It was Katja’s devotion to Sonya.
The old woman was speaking a queer jumble of languages, Russian and the few words of English she had learned while the American girl was living in the same house.
What Nona finally learned was, that Katja was imploring her to meet her somewhere the next day, where they could talk without being observed.
Nona knew of no place except the one that was always open to rich and poor alike in Russia. And she had to think quickly. Yet the churches had always been their refuge ever since the arrival of the four Red Cross girls in Europe.
At the same moment Nona could only recall the most celebrated Russian church in Petrograd. She must lose no time, for even Barbara must not learn of her mission, and Barbara might turn and come back to join her at any moment.
“In the Cathedral of St. Isaac, toward the left and in the rear of the church at three o’clock tomorrow,” Nona murmured. And Katja must have understood, for she went away at once.
It was just as well, because at almost the same moment Barbara returned to join Nona, her arms full of queer-shaped packages, and looking happier than she had since their arrival in the Russian city.
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THE following afternoon it seemed to Nona Davis that all Petrograd was a-glitter with onion-shaped domes. The Russian priests explained that these domes were really shaped like folded rosebuds, symbolizing the church on earth that was to blossom in heaven. But to see them in this fashion required a Russian imagination.
However, the effect was very beautiful, and Nona was glad to have her attention diverted, as she started out to find the Cathedral of St. Isaac. Some of the domes were of blue, set with stars to represent the canopy of the sky. But Nona knew that the central dome of St. Isaac’s was an enormous copper ball covered with gold and that its radiance could be seen at a great distance.
She had had great difficulty in fulfillingher engagement with Katja. At first she had tried to deceive Barbara in regard to her intention, being fully determined to continue her search for Sonya until she had discovered her; nevertheless, it did not seem worth while to trouble Barbara while she had no actual information to go upon. But Barbara would not be deceived.
Nona suggested that she wished to walk for several hours and feared the younger girl might become fatigued. In reply Barbara assured her that there was nothing she herself so much desired as exercise, and as for growing tired, Nona would the sooner be worn out, since she was the one who had been ill.
Afterwards, while there were other excuses for her departure which Nona struggled to invent, all were equally useless. From the first Barbara had guessed her plan. Although she had seen nothing and knew nothing of Nona’s meeting with Katja the day before, she had immediately guessed that Nona’s desire for a solitary excursion was in some way connected with her effort to find Sonya Valesky. And this effort the younger girl continued to oppose.
So Nona had finally departed, leaving Barbara in tears over her obstinacy and foolhardiness. She was very unhappy, but what else was possible for her to do? Had Barbara been in the same need that Sonya now was, surely no one could have persuaded her to turn her back upon Barbara.
Katja was waiting and fortunately there were but a few other persons in the Cathedral at the same hour.
As quickly and as intelligently as she knew how, the old woman explained that Sonya was in a civil prison in Petrograd and was to be tried for treason within another week. Katja had not seen her child, but had received a few lines in reply to a dozen letters which a friend had written for her. Katja herself could neither read nor write.
Although Nona could speak only a few words of Russian, she had learned to read a little of the language with difficulty. Now she managed to translate her friend’s ideas, if not her exact words.
Sonya did not wish Katja to try to seeher nor to attempt to appear at the prison at the hour of her trial. Nothing could be done for her release and Katja would only be made the more miserable. Neither was Katja to let Nona know anything of her whereabouts until after sentence was passed. Then if Katja could find the American girl she was to say farewell for Sonya Valesky. She was also to thank Nona for her kindness and add that the acquaintance with her friend’s daughter had brought Sonya much happiness.
Standing with the crumpled sheet of paper in her hand, written by the woman who so soon expected to say farewell to the things that make life worth living, Nona Davis felt her own cheeks flush and her eyes fill with tears. How little had she really deserved the Russian woman’s affection, for how much she had distrusted her!
Well, Nona again determined to do all that was possible now to prove her allegiance.
As soon as she could get away from Katja, Nona secured a sleigh and droveat once to the house of the American Ambassador. Because her card represented her as an American Red Cross nurse she felt assured that she would be treated with every courtesy.
This was perfectly true, although obliged to wait half an hour; finally one of the secretaries of the Ambassador invited the American girl into a small office. She could not, of course, see the Ambassador without a special engagement, but the secretary would be pleased to do whatever was possible.
Nona was both pleased and relieved. The secretary proved to be a southerner, a young fellow from Georgia, who could not have been more than twenty-five years old. Certainly it was far easier to tell the story of Sonya Valesky to him than to an older man or to one whose time was more valuable.
Nevertheless, when she had finished, although there was no doubt of the secretary’s attention and interest, Nona found him equally as discouraging as everybody else had been concerning Sonya Valesky’sfate and any part which she might have hoped to play in it. There could be little doubt that Sonya would be condemned to Siberia. She was a political prisoner and would not be tried by a military court. Her offense was spoken of as sedition, or as an infringement of the “Defense of the Realm” act. For Sonya had been endeavoring to induce the Russian soldiers to join her peace societies rather than to fight for their country.
The young American secretary did his best to make the situation plain to Nona Davis. In England or France, under the same circumstances, Sonya Valesky might have escaped with only a short term of imprisonment or a fine. But this would not be true in Russia. Besides, it appeared that Sonya was an old offender and that her socialist ideas were well known. It would be impossible for the American Ambassador or any member of his staff to make the smallest effort in Sonya’s behalf. Such an effort would represent an act of discourtesy on the part of the United States Government, as if she wereattempting to interfere with Russia’s treatment of her own subjects.
There was one thing only which the young secretary could undertake in Nona’s cause. He would make an effort to have her allowed to visit her friend. If Sonya’s trial was not to take place for a week, it was just possible that the American girl might be permitted to see her.
So Nona was compelled to go away with only this small consolation.
However, before leaving she secured the address of an American family in Petrograd who might be willing to take her as a boarder. For Nona realized that with her present plan she could not longer remain as a guest in the Countess’ house.
Then Barbara had again to be reckoned with. It was early dusk when Nona Davis finally reached their apartment in the splendid Russian house. Barbara had just finished tea, but the tea things had not been sent away.
Because Nona was evidently so tired and discouraged the younger girl comforted her with tea and cakes before beginningto ask questions. Afterwards Barbara insisted upon being told the entire account of the afternoon’s experiences. Nona must begin with her meeting with Katja, her interview in the Cathedral, then her visit to the house of the United States Ambassador and finally the description of the place where she had engaged board before returning to her temporary home.
Although Barbara was ordinarily much given to conversation and frequent interruptions of other people’s anecdotes, she listened without comment until the other girl had finished.
“We are both too tired to pack up our few possessions tonight, Nona,” she answered in conclusion; “but we can attend to them in the morning and then say good-by to the Countess.”
Nona was lying upon a divan with her yellow head sunk among a number of brown cushions, but she got half way up at Barbara’s words.
“But I don’t expectyouto leave here, Barbara dear, to go with me,” she protested.“I didn’t engage board for anyone else. The house where I am to stay is shabby and not especially comfortable. I wouldn’t have you leave this lovely home for worlds! I am sorry, you may be a little lonely without me. But I am hoping we may hear from Mildred at almost any hour and then I’m sure the Countess would be only too happy to have her take my place here. I expect Mildred will be a distinguished character after having been chosen to nurse the great General Alexis.”
“Don’t talk nonsense,” Barbara protested, in answer to the first part of her friend’s speech. “Of course, I am not going to let you wander off and live in a strange family by yourself.” Then Barbara sighed.
She was sitting on a small stool beside Nona’s couch, resting her chin on her hand and looking very childish and homesick.
“Of course, I know you have to do whatever you can for Sonya Valesky, Nona,” she agreed unexpectedly. “In your positionI hope I would have the courage to behave in the same way. I have only made a fuss about things because I was worried for you, but I have always known you would not pay any attention to me. Nobody ever does.”
Although Nona laughed and attempted to argue this point, Barbara remained unconvinced.
“Oh, well, possibly Dick or Eugenia can sometimes be persuaded into doing what I ask, but never you or Mildred,” she concluded, and then sighed again. “If we could hear just a single word from Mildred!”
The next day the two girls moved to their new lodgings. Their hostess was gracious enough, but made no protest when Nona explained that she expected to be permitted to visit the Russian prisoner within the next few days.
The order to see Sonya came sooner than Nona expected. Indeed, the two girls had only been in their new quarters for about thirty-six hours when the young secretary from the embassy called upon them. Withhim he brought the permit from the Russian government.
Nona was to be allowed to visit the prison near the Troitska bridge on the following day and to spend ten minutes with her friend. She must understand that a guard would listen to whatever conversation was held. Also she must take with her nothing of any kind to present to Sonya Valesky. Their interview would be closely watched.
Naturally Barbara Meade insisted upon accompanying Nona. She knew, of course, that she would not be allowed to see the prisoner, nor had she the least wish to see her. But she could wait in some antechamber until the ten minutes passed and then bring Nona safely back to their lodging place. For certainly the experience ahead of her friend would be a painful one, and although Nona did her best to conceal her nervousness from the younger girl, Barbara again was not deluded.
When the two girls set out for the prison the next afternoon it would have been difficult to decide which one most dreadedthe ordeal. But in truth the ordeal was in a way a mutual one. While she waited, doubtless Barbara’s imagination would paint as tragic a scene as Nona might be obliged to go through with.
It seemed to Nona Davis, after leaving Barbara, that she walked down a mile or more of corridor. The corridor might have been an underground sewer, so dark and unwholesome were its sights and smells. It led past dozens of small iron doors with locks and chains fastened on the outside.
Finally Nona’s guard paused before one of these doors and then opened it. Inside was an iron grating with bars placed at intervals of about six inches apart. The room it barricaded was six feet square and contained a bed and stool. There was one small window overhead, not much larger than a single pane of glass in an average old-fashioned window.
But the light from the window fell directly upon the head of the woman who was seated beneath it.
Sonya Valesky had not been told that she was to receive a visitor. So perhapsNona did appear like a sudden vision of a Fra Angelico angel, standing unexpectedly in the dark corridor with her hair as golden as a shaft of sunlight.
Sonya only stared at the girl without speaking. But Nona saw that her friend’s dark hair, which had been a little streaked with gray at their first meeting more than two years before, was now almost pure white. However, Sonya did not look particularly ill or unhappy; her blue eyes were still serene. Whatever faith in life she may have lost, she had not lost faith in the cause for which she must suffer.
“Don’t you know me, Sonya?” Nona asked almost timidly, as if she were talking to a stranger.
Then the Russian woman came forward with all her former dignity and grace. She was wearing a black dress of some rough material, but it seemed to Nona Davis that she had never seen a more beautiful woman. Sonya was like a white lily found growing in some underground dungeon.
She put her hands through the bars and took hold of Nona’s cold ones.
“This is wonderfully kind of you, Nona?” she said with the simplicity of manner that had always distinguished her. “I have wanted to know what had become of you and your friends. Somehow information sifts even inside a prison in war times, and I have learned that General Alexis gave up trying to hold Grovno. You are on your way back home, I trust.”
Nona could scarcely reply. It seemed so strange that Sonya could be talking in such an everyday fashion, as if her visit were being made under ordinary circumstances. Not a word did she say of her own sorrow or the tragedy that lay ahead of her.
Nona could only fight back the tears. “We are returning to France as soon as Mildred Thornton joins us in Petrograd,” she answered, and then explained that Mildred had stayed behind at Grovno.
“But isn’t there anything I can do for you, Sonya?” Nona added. “I shall certainly not leave Petrograd until after your trial, and then if you are released you must come away with me.”
The older woman only shook her head.
“I shall not be released, Nona, so don’t make yourself unhappy with false hopes. This is not my first offense against the government of Russia. I have never believed in the things in which they believe, not since I was a little girl. I suppose I am a troublesome character. But after all, in going to Siberia I am only following the footsteps of greater men and women than I can hope to resemble.”
Sonya let go Nona’s hands and stepped back into her little room. From under her pillow she drew a small folded paper.
“In going to Siberia I forfeit all my estates, Nona,” Sonya Valesky explained when she came back. “But I have a small amount of money in the United States, as well as in my own country. Perhaps the government may be willing to allow me to dispose of my property, although of course I can’t tell. But I have made a will and had it witnessed here in the prison. If it is possible I want you to have half of the little I have left and Katja and Nika the rest. There would be no chance to leave it to the cause of peace in these days.”
Nona received the little paper.
“You won’t be in Siberia all your life, Sonya, that I won’t believe,” she protested. “Some day when this war is over the Czar will pardon you. Please remember that I shall never forget you and never stop trying to do what I can for your release. If I am allowed to have it, I will take care of your money until you are able to come to me.”
Hearing a guttural noise behind her, Nona Davis now turned around. Her guard was signaling that the time allotted for her visit was over.
She was not able to kiss the older woman good-by, only to hold both her hands close for another moment and then to go away with her eyes so blinded with tears that she could not see. Yet she never forgot the picture that Sonya Valesky made when she had a final glance at her.
Four days later a few lines appeared in the Russian daily papers, stating that Sonya Valesky, a woman of noble birth, but at present a Russian nihilist, hadbeen condemned to penal servitude in Siberia for life. She had been proved guilty of treason to the Imperial Government.
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