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Updated: May 1, 2025
"Vereshchagin is a renegade and a traitor who will be punished as he deserves," said he with the vindictive heat with which people speak when recalling an insult. "But I did not summon you to discuss my actions, but to give you advice or an order if you prefer it. I beg you to leave the town and break off all communication with such men as Klyucharev.
"Your excellency, there are some political prisoners, Meshkov, Vereshchagin..." "Vereshchagin! Hasn't he been hanged yet?" shouted Rostopchin. "Bring him to me!" Toward nine o'clock in the morning, when the troops were already moving through Moscow, nobody came to the count any more for instructions.
"He has betrayed his Tsar and his country, he has gone over to Bonaparte. He alone of all the Russians has disgraced the Russian name, he has caused Moscow to perish," said Rostopchin in a sharp, even voice, but suddenly he glanced down at Vereshchagin who continued to stand in the same submissive attitude.
"Where in the world did you get those?" demanded Mrs. Vereshchagin. "Who gave them to you?" "A man in the road." "A man in the road? All that money? What for?" "I gave him the shiny thing and he gave me those moneys." "What shiny thing?" "The shiny thing I found on the floor." "Where on the floor?"
They stoned me, crucified me... I shall rise... shall rise... shall rise. They have torn my body. The kingdom of God will be overthrown... Thrice will I overthrow it and thrice re-establish it!" he cried, raising his voice higher and higher. Count Rostopchin suddenly grew pale as he had done when the crowd closed in on Vereshchagin. He turned away.
Dicky was delighted with his new toy and went off to test its power, followed by Elisabeth of Belgium, Sheila, Luigi and Pietro Paterno, Olga Peterson and Vasili and Vladimir Vereshchagin. The romper-clad band stirred the amused smiles of the elders watching them.
At the moment when Vereshchagin fell and the crowd closed in with savage yells and swayed about him, Rostopchin suddenly turned pale and, instead of going to the back entrance where his carriage awaited him, went with hurried steps and bent head, not knowing where and why, along the passage leading to the rooms on the ground floor.
The tall youth, against whom he stumbled, seized his thin neck with his hands and, yelling wildly, fell with him under the feet of the pressing, struggling crowd. Some beat and tore at Vereshchagin, others at the tall youth. And the screams of those that were being trampled on and of those who tried to rescue the tall lad only increased the fury of the crowd.
They were all so smiling that they could hardly have been recognized as the forlorn creatures who had come to Rosemont early in July. Each woman held in her hand a centrepiece, embroidered in the characteristic work of her country. Mrs. Vereshchagin led the way, because she could speak English a little better than the others, but her English failed her when she came face to face with the bride.
Hearing not so much the words as the angry tone of Rostopchin's voice, the crowd moaned and heaved forward, but again paused. "Count!" exclaimed the timid yet theatrical voice of Vereshchagin in the midst of the momentary silence that ensued, "Count!
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