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Updated: September 5, 2025
The thought made Suvaroff shudder. What in Heaven's name possessed people to grind out tunes, Suvaroff found himself inquiring, unless one earned one's living that way? Certainly this weather-beaten Italian was no musician; he smelled too strongly of fish for any one to mistake his occupation. He tortured melody from choice, blandly, for the pure enjoyment of the thing.
With Suvaroff it was different; if he did not play, he did not eat. Suvaroff's head had ached all day. The café where he scraped his violin from early afternoon until midnight had never seemed so stuffy, so tawdry, so impossible! All day he had sat and played and played, while people ate and chattered and danced.
Fred, almost losing interest in his own pressing troubles at this sudden revelation of a state of affairs of which he had known nothing whatever, looked fixedly at Suvaroff. He saw the Russian bite his lips, hesitate, and finally take off his hat and make a sweeping bow to the German officer. "I agree, mein herr Lieutenant," he said, mockingly. "The time has come, I think.
Troops, horse and foot, hospital trains, ammunition and provision trains, guns all were moving up; evidently in preparation for the striking of a heavy blow at the German power in East Prussia on a new line of attack. For the first time Fred saw a country that was really in the grip of a modern army. The swift movements of the German army around the Suvaroff house had not given this impression.
"It was hard to leave him." "It was the only thing to do. You saved his life as well as your own by going. And one who saves a Suvaroff does a fine thing for Russia in these days if this Boris is like the rest of the breed." "Oh, we have never known!" said Fred, suddenly remembering. "Did General Suvaroff get back safely after he failed to catch General von Hindenburg?" "He did!
Suvaroff," she ventured, "I hope you will not be angry! But his mother came early this morning. All day she has sat in your room, weeping. I cannot persuade her to go away. What am I to do?" Suvaroff glared at her for a moment. "It is nothing!" he announced, as he passed on, shrugging. The door of his room was open; he went in.
The three women and Suvaroff looked up. Flavio Minetti stood in the doorway. The three women gave the hunchback swift, inclusive glances, such as women always use when they measure a newcomer, and speedily dropped their eyes. Suvaroff stared silently at the warped figure. Minetti leaned against the door; his smile was at once both cruel and curiously touching. At length Minetti spoke.
Warsaw is built upon two sides of the river, the ancient town looking from a height across the broad stream to the suburb of Praga. In Praga a hundred years ago the Russians, under Suvaroff, slew thirteen thousand Poles; in the river between Praga and the citadel two thousand were drowned.
The Oslabia was low in the water and had a heavy list to port; the Suvaroff, still apparently on fire, had lost both her funnels and her foremast; and the Alexander Third, from which clouds of smoke, were still rising, also had a heavy list and was steaming ahead very slowly, although she, like her sisters in misfortune, still replied with the utmost gallantry to our fire.
When he said that he had left Boris Suvaroff a prisoner at the culvert, with a broken leg, the officer started. "Can't you go after him?" Fred pleaded. "They have very few men there. You could sweep them away." "Not with this force. And I should not dare to go so far without special orders," said the officer.
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