"Will you allow me to be the first to go in to Sophie?"
"You alone; she would not trust any one else."
And Bethsaba could not have desired greater happiness than to be the one privileged to step from the boat on to the balcony of the mysterious house in Petrovsky Garden. The flood had already risen to the balcony, and she it was who might hasten in to the neglected girl and say, "You are saved!"
The poor child was already without provisions or fuel of any description, for everything in the inundated cellar and dining-room was spoiled by water. Wrapped in her furs, she sat at the window, breathing upon it to make a clear space, and gazing with dismay at the huge blocks of ice floating unimpeded over the wrecked fence. Some, with their sharp edges, cut through the great trees opposing them as with a saw; others were tossed lengthwise against their barks, those following hurled upon them, until suddenly a great silver birch would go down with a crash. Once the resistance formed by the trees swept down, the house must follow. A pencil and paper lay prepared upon her writing-table, a carrier-dove in its cage beside it. They had been brought her by the Czar, that she might let him know when danger was imminent.
She was waiting to send off her message until the extreme moment, for she knew the grave difficulties which surrounded his coming to her rescue.
Thus her joy may be imagined on seeing Bethsaba appear on the balcony.
Seizing her pencil, Sophie wrote, with trembling fingers, "I am saved and in good hands; have no further anxiety for me!" Then tying her note on to the carrier-dove's wing, she set it loose. It flew up high in the air, then disappeared in the direction of the Winter Palace.
She did not ask where they were taking her, but followed Bethsaba in good faith.
CHAPTER XXV
GOG AND MAGOG
The Czar had not undressed at all that night; but, tired out, had thrown himself upon his couch, which had no covering but a bear-skin.