The man, who exhaled an atmosphere of dust mingled
with the disquieting and all-pervading odour of smoke, rushed at the
huge door and tugged furiously at its handles.
Charles, who was on his heels, grasped his arm, but the man swung
round and threw him off as if he were a child. He had a hatchet in
his hand with which he aimed a blow at Charles, but missed him.
Barlasch was already going towards his musket, which stood in the
corner against the door-post, but the Russian saw his movement, and
forestalled him. Seizing the gun, he presented the bayonet to them,
and stood with his back to the door, facing the three men in a
breathless silence. He was a large man, dishevelled, with long hair
tumbled about his head, and light-coloured eyes, glaring like the
eyes of a beast at bay.
In the background de Casimir, quick and calm, had already covered
him with the pistol produced as a persuasive to Barlasch. For a
second there was silence, during which they all could hear the call
to arms in the street outside. The patrol was hurrying down the
Petrovka, calling the assembly.
The report of the pistol rang through the house, shaking the doors
and windows. The man threw up his arms and stood for a moment
looking at de Casimir with an expression of blank amazement. Then
his legs seemed to slip away from beneath him, and he collapsed to
the floor. He turned over with movements singularly suggestive of a
child seeking a comfortable position in bed, and lay quite still,
his cheek on the pavement and his staring eyes turned towards the
cellar-door from which he had emerged.
Pages:
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154