"Aleko! Bethsaba! I want to see you embrace each other—now at once, while I am still alive and can see it! If you love me, if you would have me know you to be sincere, if you place any value on my blessing, embrace each other."
And so across the dying girl's bed they laid their arms on each other's shoulders.
"Ah, that is right! And now, kiss each other—on the lips. Not like that; you have hardly touched each other; it was such a cold kiss. Give her a real one!"
And, laying her hands on the bowed heads, she drew them together, until their lips united in a kiss, her hands resting the while as if in the act of blessing. Then, raising her transfigured face to heaven, and, folding her hands, she breathed, scarce audibly:
"Mother, I have saved you from sin!"
CHAPTER XXXII
NOT ONLY A BULLET STRIKES HOME
The Czar was holding an extraordinary review.
The usual parades took place on the 21st of May, the day of the patron saint, Nicholas, and on the 20th of September; but this time it was a special review of the household troops alone. They are distinct from the rest of the army; each regiment has a different uniform. The Life Guards wear white uniforms, with shining gilt breastplates; the Cuirassiers, light-blue tunics, with white, plated cuirass; the uniform of the Jerusalem Regiment is crimson-red, with gilt breastplate. The ranks, from officer down to corporal, are all knights of the Order of St. John, and even the common soldiers are all of the nobility.
And every regiment boasts its past, its history, which passes on to the successors as a tradition, and keeps up the glory of its name.
The regiment of St. John of Jerusalem was so cut to pieces in two battles that in one battalion only eighteen men were left.