“The Paulovski Guards seem dissatisfied this morning?” remarked Wilfrid to Pauline.
“Naturally, seeing that they are about to be disbanded.”
“Paul’s favourite regiment to be disbanded! Why?”
“Because they are too faithful to his interests.”
Wilfrid elevated his eyebrows.
“Fidelity is an extraordinary reason for disbanding a regiment.”
“Nevertheless it is the true reason,” replied Pauline.
Though somewhat annoyed at this mystification on her part Wilfrid curbed his curiosity.
From the crowd his gaze wandered to the rear of the Winter Palace where flowed the Neva, a broad winding stream of vivid blue. On its surface floated miniature icebergs, varying in tint from white to rose colour. Carried along by the current, and assuming every conceivable shape, they crashed, and dived, and mounted one upon another as if they were trying each to be first in the race to the sea.
The sounds produced by the collision were like the sharp rattle of artillery, and could be heard above the hubbub of the crowd.