Madame Vasselitch took Serge by the hand.
"Come," she said, "you shall speak to my sons," and she led him down the stairs towards the room of Halfoff and Kwitoff.
"They are my sons," she said. "Olga is their sister. They are working to save her."
Then she opened the door. Halfoff and Kwitoff were working as Serge had seen them before, beside the crucible with the blue flame on their faces.
They had not slept.
Madame Vasselitch spoke.
"He has seen Olga," she said. "It is to-day."
"We are too late," said Halfoff, and he groaned.
"Courage, brother," said Kwitoff. "She will not die till sunrise. It is twilight now. We have still an hour. Let us to work."
Serge looked at the brothers.
"Tell me," he said. "I do not understand."
Halfoff turned a moment from his work and looked at Serge.
"Brother," he said, "will you give your life?"
"Is it for Olga?" asked Serge.
"It is for her."
"I give it gladly," said Serge.
"Listen then," said Halfoff. "Our sister is condemned for the killing of Popoff, inspector of police. She is in the prison of the condemned, the house of the dead, across the street. Her cell is there beside us. There is only a wall between. Look—"
Halfoff as he spoke threw aside a curtain that hung across the end of the room. Serge looked into blackness. It was a tunnel.
"It leads to the wall of her cell," said Halfoff. "We are close against the wall but we cannot shatter it. We are working to make a bomb. No bomb that we can make is hard enough. We can only try once. If it fails the noise would ruin us. There is no second chance. We try our bombs in the crucible. They crumble. They have no strength. We are ignorant. We are only learning. We studied it in the books, the forbidden books. It took a month to learn to set the wires to fire the bomb. The tunnel was there. We did not have to dig it. It was for my father, Vangorod Vasselitch. He would not let them use it. He tapped a message through the wall, 'Keep it for a greater need.' Now it is his daughter that is there."
Halfoff paused. He was panting and his chest heaved. There was perspiration on his face and his black hair was wet.
"Courage, little brother," said Kwitoff. "She shall not die."
"Listen," went on Halfoff. "The bomb is made. It is there beside the crucible. It has power in it to shatter the prison. But the wires are wrong. They do not work. There is no current in them. Something is wrong. We cannot explode the bomb."
"Courage, courage," said Kwitoff, and his hands were busy among the wires before him. "I am working still."
Serge looked at the brothers.
"Is that the bomb?" he said, pointing at a great ball of metal that lay beside the crucible.
"It is," said Halfoff.
"And the little fuse that is in the side of it fires it?
And the current from the wires lights the fuse?"
"Yes," said Halfoff.
The two brothers looked at Serge, for there was a meaning in his voice and a strange look upon his face.
"If the bomb is placed against the wall and if the fuse is lighted it would explode."
"Yes," said Halfoff despairingly, "but how? The fuse is instantaneous. Without the wires we cannot light it. It would be death."
Serge took the bomb in his hand. His face was pale.
"Let it be so!" he said. "I will give my life for hers."
He lifted the bomb in his hand. "I will go through the tunnel and hold the bomb against the wall and fire it," he said. "Halfoff, light me the candle in the flame. Be ready when the wall falls."
"No, no," said Halfoff, grasping Serge by the arm. "You must not die!"
"My brother," said Kwitoff quietly, "let it be as he says. It is for Russia!"
But as Halfoff turned to light the candle in the flame there came a great knocking at the door above and the sound of many voices in the street.
All paused.
Madame Vasselitch laid her hand upon her lips.
Then there came the sound as of grounded muskets on the pavement of the street and a sharp word of command.
"Soldiers!" said Madame Vasselitch.
Kwitoff turned to his brother.
"This is the end," he said. "Explode the bomb here and let us die together."
Suddenly Madame Vasselitch gave a cry.
"It is Olga's voice!" she said.
She ran to the door and opened it, and a glad voice was heard crying.
"It is I, Olga, and I am free!"
"Free," exclaimed the brothers.
All hastened up the stairs.
Olga was standing before them in the hall and beside her were the officers of the police, and in the street were the soldiers. The students from above had crowded down the stairs and with them were Itch, the serving man, and Yump, the cook.
"I am free," cried Olga, "liberated by the bounty of the Czar—Russia has declared war to fight for the freedom of the world and all the political prisoners are free."
"Rah, rah!" cried the students. "War, war, war!"
"She is set free," said the officer who stood beside Olga. "The charge of killing Popoff is withdrawn. No one will be punished for it now."
"I never killed him," said Olga. "I swear it," and she raised her hand.
"You never killed him!" exclaimed Serge with joy in his heart. "You did not kill Popoff? But who did?"
"Defend us," said Yump, the cook. "Since there is to be no punishment for it, I killed him myself."
"You!" they cried.
"It is so," said Yump. "I killed him beside the river.
It was to defend my honour."
"It was to defend her honour," cried the brothers. "She has done well."
They clasped her hand.
"You destroyed him with a bomb?" they said.
"No," said Yump, "I sat down on him."
"Rah, rah, rah," said the students.
There was silence for a moment. Then Kwitoff spoke.
"Friends," he said, "the new day is coming. The dawn is breaking. The moon is rising. The stars are setting. It is the birth of freedom. See! we need it not!"—and as he spoke he grasped in his hands the bomb with its still unlighted fuse—"Russia is free. We are all brothers now. Let us cast it at our enemies. Forward! To the frontier! Live the Czar."
In writing this I ought to explain that I am a tottering old man of forty-six. I was born too soon to understand moving pictures. They go too fast. I can't keep up. In my young days we used a magic lantern. It showed Robinson Crusoe in six scenes. It took all evening to show them. When it was done the hall was filled full with black smoke and the audience quite unstrung with excitement. What I set down here represents my thoughts as I sit in front of a moving picture photoplay and interpret it as best I can.
Flick, flick, flick! I guess it must be going to begin now, but it's queer the people don't stop talking: how can they expect to hear the pictures if they go on talking? Now it's off. PASSED BY THE BOARD OF—. Ah, this looks interesting—passed by the board of—wait till I adjust my spectacles and read what it—
It's gone. Never mind, here's something else, let me see—CAST OF CHARACTERS—Oh, yes—let's see who they are—MADELINE MEADOWLARK, a young something—EDWARD DANGERFIELD, a—a what? Ah, yes, a roo—at least, it's spelt r-o-u-e, that must be roo all right—but wait till I see what that is that's written across the top—MADELINE MEADOWLARK; OR, ALONE IN A GREAT CITY. I see, that's the title of it. I wonder which of the characters is alone. I guess not Madeline: she'd hardly be alone in a place like that. I imagine it's more likely Edward Dangerous the Roo. A roo would probably be alone a great deal, I should think. Let's see what the other characters are—JOHN HOLDFAST, a something. FARMER MEADOWLARK, MRS. MEADOWLARK, his Something—
Pshaw, I missed the others, but never mind; flick, flick, it's beginning—What's this? A bedroom, eh? Looks like a girl's bedroom—pretty poor sort of place. I wish the picture would keep still a minute—in Robinson Crusoe it all stayed still and one could sit and look at it, the blue sea and the green palm trees and the black footprints in the yellow sand—but this blamed thing keeps rippling and flickering all the time—Ha! there's the girl herself—come into her bedroom. My! I hope she doesn't start to undress in it—that would be fearfully uncomfortable with all these people here. No, she's not undressing—she's gone and opened the cupboard. What's that she's doing—taking out a milk jug and a glass—empty, eh? I guess it must be, because she seemed to hold it upside down. Now she's picked up a sugar bowl—empty, too, eh?—and a cake tin, and that's empty—What on earth does she take them all out for if they're empty? Why can't she speak? I think—hullo—who's this coming in? Pretty hard-looking sort of woman—what's she got in her hand?—some sort of paper, I guess—she looks like a landlady, I shouldn't wonder if—
Flick, flick! Say! Look there on the screen:
"YOU OWE ME THREE WEEKS' RENT."
Oh, I catch on! that's what the landlady says, eh? Say! That's a mighty smart way to indicate it isn't it? I was on to that in a minute—flick, flick—hullo, the landlady's vanished—what's the girl doing now—say, she's praying! Look at her face! Doesn't she look religious, eh?
Flick, flick!
Oh, look, they've put her face, all by itself, on the screen. My! what a big face she's got when you see it like that.
She's in her room again—she's taking off her jacket—by Gee! She is going to bed! Here, stop the machine; it doesn't seem—Flick, flick!
Well, look at that! She's in bed, all in one flick, and fast asleep! Something must have broken in the machine and missed out a chunk. There! she's asleep all right—looks as if she was dreaming. Now it's sort of fading. I wonder how they make it do that? I guess they turn the wick of the lamp down low: that was the way in Robinson Crusoe—Flick, flick!
Hullo! where on earth is this—farmhouse, I guess—must be away upstate somewhere—who on earth are these people? Old man—white whiskers—old lady at a spinning-wheel—see it go, eh? Just like real! And a young man—that must be John Holdfast—and a girl with her hand in his. Why! Say! it's the girl, the same girl, Madeline—only what's she doing away off here at this farm—how did she get clean back from the bedroom to this farm? Flick, flick! what's this?
"NO, JOHN, I CANNOT MARRY YOU. I MUST DEVOTE MY LIFE TO MY MUSIC."
Who says that? What music? Here, stop—
It's all gone. What's this new place? Flick, flick, looks like a street. Say! see the street car coming along—well! say! isn't that great? A street car! And here's Madeline! How on earth did she get back from the old farm all in a second? Got her street things on—that must be music under her arm—I wonder where—hullo—who's this man in a silk hat and swell coat? Gee! he's well dressed. See him roll his eyes at Madeline! He's lifting his hat—I guess he must be Edward Something, the Roo—only a roo would dress as well as he does—he's going to speak to her—
"SIR, I DO NOT KNOW YOU. LET ME PASS."
Oh, I see! The Roo mistook her; he thought she was somebody that he knew! And she wasn't! I catch on! It gets easy to understand these pictures once you're on.
Flick, flick—Oh, say, stop! I missed a piece—where is she? Outside a street door—she's pausing a moment outside—that was lucky her pausing like that—it just gave me time to read EMPLOYMENT BUREAU on the door. Gee! I read it quick.
Flick, flick! Where is it now?—oh, I see, she's gone in—she's in there—this must be the Bureau, eh? There's Madeline going up to the desk.
"NO, WE HAVE TOLD YOU BEFORE, WE HAVE NOTHING …"
Pshaw! I read too slow—she's on the street again. Flick, flick!
No, she isn't—she's back in her room—cupboard still empty—no milk—no sugar—Flick, flick!
Kneeling down to pray—my! but she's religious—flick, flick—now she's on the street—got a letter in her hand—what's the address—Flick, flick!
Mr. Meadowlark
Meadow Farm
Meadow County
New York
Gee! They've put it right on the screen! The whole letter! Flick, flick—here's Madeline again on the street with the letter still in her hand—she's gone to a letter-box with it—why doesn't she post it? What's stopping her?
"I CANNOT TELL THEM OF MY FAILURE. IT WOULD BREAK THEIR …"
Break their what? They slide these things along altogether too quick—anyway, she won't post it—I see—she's torn it up—Flick, flick!
Where is it now? Another street—seems like everything —that's a restaurant, I guess—say, it looks a swell place—see the people getting out of the motor and going in—and another lot right after them—there's Madeline —she's stopped outside the window—she's looking in—it's starting to snow! Hullo! here's a man coming along! Why, it's the Roo; he's stopping to talk to her, and pointing in at the restaurant—Flick, flick!
"LET ME TAKE YOU IN HERE TO DINNER."
Oh, I see! The Roo says that! My! I'm getting on to the scheme of these things—the Roo is going to buy her some dinner! That's decent of him. He must have heard about her being hungry up in her room—say, I'm glad he came along. Look, there's a waiter come out to the door to show them in—what! she won't go! Say! I don't understand! Didn't it say he offered to take her in? Flick, flick!
"I WOULD RATHER DIE THAN EAT IT."
Gee! Why's that? What are all the audience applauding for? I must have missed something! Flick, flick!
Oh, blazes! I'm getting lost! Where is she now? Back in her room—flick, flick—praying—flick, flick! She's out on the street!—flick, flick!—in the employment bureau —flick, flick!—out of it—flick—darn the thing! It changes too much—where is it all? What is it all—? Flick, flick!
Now it's back at the old farm—I understand that all right, anyway! Same kitchen—same old man—same old woman—she's crying—who's this?—man in a sort of uniform—oh, I see, rural postal delivery—oh, yes, he brings them their letters—I see—
"NO, MR. MEADOWLARK, I AM SORRY, I HAVE STILL NO LETTER FOR YOU…"
Flick! It's gone! Flick, flick—it's Madeline's room again—what's she doing?—writing a letter?—no, she's quit writing—she's tearing it up—
"I CANNOT WRITE. IT WOULD BREAK THEIR …"
Flick—missed it again! Break their something or other —Flick, flick!
Now it's the farm again—oh, yes, that's the young man John Holdfast—he's got a valise in his hand—he must be going away—they're shaking hands with him—he's saying something—
"I WILL FIND HER FOR YOU IF I HAVE TO SEARCH ALL NEW YORK."
He's off—there he goes through the gate—they're waving good-bye—flick—it's a railway depot—flick—it's New York—say! That's the Grand Central Depot! See the people buying tickets! My! isn't it lifelike?—and there's John—he's got here all right—I hope he finds her room—
The picture changed—where is it now? Oh, yes, I see —Madeline and the Roo—outside a street entrance to some place—he's trying to get her to come in—what's that on the door? Oh, yes, DANCE HALL—Flick, flick!
Well, say, that must be the inside of the dance hall —they're dancing—see, look, look, there's one of the girls going to get up and dance on the table.
Flick! Darn it!—they've cut it off—it's outside again —it's Madeline and the Roo—she's saying something to him—my! doesn't she look proud—?
"I WILL DIE RATHER THAN DANCE."
Isn't she splendid! Hear the audience applaud! Flick—it's changed—it's Madeline's room again—that's the landlady —doesn't she look hard, eh? What's this—Flick!
"IF YOU CANNOT PAY, YOU MUST LEAVE TO-NIGHT."
Flick, flick—it's Madeline—she's out in the street—it's snowing—she's sat down on a doorstep—say, see her face, isn't it pathetic? There! They've put her face all by itself on the screen. See her eyes move! Flick, flick!
Who's this? Where is it? Oh, yes, I get it—it's John—at a police station—he's questioning them—how grave they look, eh? Flick, flick!
"HAVE YOU SEEN A GIRL IN NEW YORK?"
I guess that's what he asks them, eh? Flick, flick—
"NO, WE HAVE NOT."
Too bad—flick—it's changed again—it's Madeline on the doorstep—she's fallen asleep—oh, say, look at that man coming near to her on tiptoes, and peeking at her—why, it's Edward, it's the Roo—but he doesn't waken her—what does it mean? What's he after? Flick, flick—
Hullo—what's this?—it's night—what's this huge dark thing all steel, with great ropes against the sky—it's Brooklyn Bridge—at midnight—there's a woman on it! It's Madeline—see! see! She's going to jump—stop her! Stop her! Flick, flick—
Hullo! she didn't jump after all—there she is again on the doorstep—asleep—how could she jump over Brooklyn Bridge and still be asleep? I don't catch on—or, oh, yes, I do—she dreamed it—I see now, that's a great scheme, eh?—shows her dream—
The picture's changed—what's this place—a saloon, I guess—yes, there's the bartender, mixing drinks—men talking at little tables—aren't they a tough-looking lot?—see, that one's got a revolver—why, it's Edward the Roo—talking with two men—he's giving them money—what's this?—
"GIVE US A HUNDRED APIECE AND WE'LL DO IT."
It's in the street again—Edward and one of the two toughs —they've got little black masks on—they're sneaking up to Madeline where she sleeps—they've got a big motor drawn up beside them—look, they've grabbed hold of Madeline—they're lifting her into the motor—help! Stop! Aren't there any police?—yes, yes, there's a man who sees it—by Gee! It's John, John Holdfast—grab them, John—pshaw! they've jumped into the motor, they're off!
Where is it now?—oh, yes—it's the police station again —that's John, he's telling them about it—he's all out of breath—look, that head man, the big fellow, he's giving orders—
"INSPECTOR FORDYCE, TAKE YOUR BIGGEST CAR AND TEN MEN. IF YOU OVERTAKE THEM, SHOOT AND SHOOT TO KILL."
Hoorah! Isn't it great—hurry! don't lose a minute—see them all buckling on revolvers—get at it, boys, get at it! Don't lose a second—
Look, look—it's a motor—full speed down the street—look at the houses fly past—it's the motor with the thugs—there it goes round the corner—it's getting smaller, it's getting smaller, but look, here comes another—my! it's just flying—it's full of police—there's John in front—Flick!
Now it's the first motor—it's going over a bridge—it's heading for the country—say, isn't that car just flying —Flick, flick!
It's the second motor—it's crossing the bridge too—hurry, boys, make it go!—Flick, flick!
Out in the country—a country road—early daylight—see the wind in the trees! Notice the branches waving? Isn't it natural?—whiz! Biff! There goes the motor—biff! There goes the other one—right after it—hoorah!
The open road again—the first motor flying along! Hullo, what's wrong? It's slackened, it stops—hoorah! it's broken down—there's Madeline inside—there's Edward the Roo! Say! isn't he pale and desperate!
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