CHAPTER III.
Late that afternoon the three children were playing with Tulipan in the garden, when they heard Volodia's well-known voice shouting to them—
"Elena! Boris Andreïevitch!"
They fancied he seemed to be in a great hurry, and as they flew towards him, they noticed that he had no hat, and there was a look of terror on his face that froze Elena's heart with the certainty of some unknown but terrible misfortune.
"The lake! the lake!" he panted; "where is the mistress?"
"Gone to see Marsha's sick child," said Elena, clinging to little Daria with one hand, and gazing at Volodia with eyes full of terror.
"Ah, then it is true. It was her I saw! The poor mistress! Aïe! Aïe! Don't move, children! Don't stir. Here is your only safety," cried Volodia in piercing tones. "The river has flooded into the lake, and the dam may go any moment. The village will be overwhelmed. Nothing can save it! The water rises! rises! and any minute it may burst through! The Saints have mercy! All our things will be lost; but it is the will of God—we cannot fight against it." And Volodia crossed himself devoutly with Russian fatalism.
"But mamma! what will happen to her?" cried Elena passionately. "Can nothing be done?"
"To go towards the lake now would be certain death," replied Volodia brokenly. "No, Elena Andreïevna; we must trust in God. He alone can save her if she is on the water now! Pray Heaven she may not have started!"
As he spoke, a long procession of terrified peasants came winding up the road towards the great house. All the inhabitants of the village had fled from their threatened homes, and were taking refuge on the only hill in the neighbourhood.
Weeping, gesticulating and talking; the men, women, and children, rushed on in the greatest state of confusion.
Some carried a few possessions they had snatched up hastily as they left their houses, some helped the old bed-ridden people to hobble along on their sticks and crutches; others led the smaller children, or carried the gaily-painted chests containing the holiday clothes of the family; while the boys dragged along the rough unkempt horses, and the few cows and oxen they had been able to drive in from the fields close by.
All, as they came within speaking distance of Elena and Boris, began to describe their misfortunes; and such a babel of sound rose on the air that it was impossible to separate one word from another.
"Where shall they go to, Matoushka?"[B] enquired Volodia anxiously, as the strange procession spread itself out amongst the low-growing birch trees.
[B] _Matoushka_—little mother.
Elena shook herself, as if awakening from a horrible dream.
"Oh, it is dreadful! dreadful! But you are welcome, poor people!" she cried. "Put the horses into the stables—Adam will show you where—and the dogs too; and come into the house all of you, if you can get in. The cows must go to the yard. Oh, Var-Vara!" she added, as she turned to her old nurse, who had just come out, attracted by the noise. "Have you heard? Oh, poor mamma! Do you think she will be safe?" and Elena rushed into the house, and up the stair of a wooden tower, from which she could see for miles round, a wide vista of field, lake, and forest.
No boat was in sight, and the lake looked comparatively peaceful; but just across the middle stretched an ominous streak of muddy, rushing water, that beat against the high grass-grown dam, separating the lake from the village, and threatened every moment to roll over it.
Elena held her breath, and listened. There was a dull roaring sound like distant thunder.
The streak of brown water surged higher and higher; and suddenly—in one instant, as it seemed to the terrified child—a vast volume of water shot over the dam, seeming to carry it away bodily with its violence; and with a crash like an earthquake, the pent-up lake burst out in one huge wave, that rolled towards the village of Viletna, tearing up everything it passed upon its way.
Elena turned, and, almost falling downstairs in her terror, ran headlong towards the group of peasants who had gathered on the grass before the wooden verandah, and in despairing silence were watching the destruction of their fields and houses.
Beside them stood the old Priest, his long white hair shining in the sunshine.
"My children, let us pray to the good God for any living things that are in danger!" he said.
The peasants fell upon their knees.
"Save them! Save them!" they cried, imploringly, "and save our cattle and houses!"
The blue sky stretched overhead, all round the garden the birch trees shed their quivering glory; the very flowers that the three children had picked for their mother, in the morning, lay on a table fresh and unfaded; yet it seemed to Elena that years must have passed by since she stood there, careless and happy.
"Oh, Boris, come with me!" she cried, passionately, "I can't bear it!"
Boris, with the tears falling slowly from his eyes, followed his sister up to the tower, and there they remained till evening, straining their eyes over the wide stretch of desolate-looking water.