"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.