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On the first afternoon of my new liberty I found myself in the Nevski Prospect, bewildered by the crowds and the talk and trams and motors and carts that passed in unending sequence up and down the long street. Standing at the corner of the Sadovia and the Nevski one was carried straight to the point of the golden spire that guarded the farther end of the great street.
I watched the Nevski, and saw how it slipped into the Neva with the Red Square on one side of it, and S. Isaac's Square on the other, and the great station at the far end of it, and about these two lines the Neva and the Nevski, the whole town sprawled and crept, ebbed and flowed.
There would be small consolation in this news, and of course Barbara wrote Dick every few days. One afternoon Barbara and Nona left the Countess' house at about three o'clock and drove down the entire length of the Nevski Prospect toward the Winter Palace of the Czar. There were scudding gray clouds overhead and a light snow falling. No one could have failed to be interested.
It was all light and fire and colour that night, with towers of gold and frosted green, and even the black crowds that thronged the Nevski pavements shot with colour.
Before him there lay spread out the whole field of life, like a sort of Arabian Nights a picture made up of the Nevski Prospect, Gorokhovaia Street, countless tapering spires, and a number of bridges apparently supported on nothing in fact, a regular second Nineveh.
Sir Charles imparted a bit of confidential information they were not to breathe to any one until he had verified the particulars. Word had just been brought to him that the Nevski had gone on a reef near a neighboring island and was a total wreck. A passing steamer had stood by, taken off the prince and his crew and landed them. Still Mr.
Heatherbloom but vaguely heard; he felt little interest at the moment in his excellency or his boat. Betty Dalrymple's face, however, showed less indifference to this startling intelligence. "The Nevski a wreck?" she murmured. "It must all seem like an evil dream to you now," Mr. Heatherbloom spoke absently. "Your having ever been on her!" "Not all an evil one," she answered.
Then, after a stroll along the Nevski Prospect, I read "The Daily Bee". This reminds me that I have forgotten to tell you the most important thing of all. It happened like this: This morning I had a talk with Emelia Ivanovitch and Aksenti Michaelovitch concerning his Excellency.
What had taken place on the deck of the Nevski in those breathless last few moments as they were escaping, was in ill conformity with those amicable relations which should have existed between the two. This man's presence in the boat, in the place of Francois, could be explained by no logical process with the premises she had at her command.
At that moment a shrill whistle from behind reminded him once more of the naphtha; he could have laughed. What was the wretched little puffing thing to him now? The single green light that alone was the all in all. It belonged to the Nevski he was sure; for one reason or another she had but made pretense of going to sea, and, instead, had come here to wait.
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