"Is it a fire? Is that the alarm-bell?"
In the other flats one could hear the same bustle going on. Doors slammed; some one ran across the yard with a horse ready saddled. The old mistress shrieked that the cathedral had been robbed, but the master stopped her.
"Not so loud, Mamasha! Can't you hear that that is not an alarm-bell?"
"Then the archbishop is dead."
Victorushka climbed down from the loft, dressed himself, and muttered:
"I know what has happened. I know!"
The master sent me to the attic to see if the sky was red. I ran up-stairs and climbed to the roof through the dormer-window. There was no red light in the sky. The bell tolled slowly in the quiet frosty air. The town lay sleepily on the earth. In the darkness invisible people ran about, scrunching the snow under their feet. Sledges squealed, and the bell wailed ominously. I returned to the sitting-room.
"There is no red light in the sky."
"Foo, you! Good gracious!" said the master, who had on his greatcoat and cap. He pulled up his collar and began to put his feet into his goloshes undecidedly.
The mistress begged him: