Astoria might be rather a hot spot if this spreads. And I wouldn't trust
Semyonov. Will you come down with me there now?"

"Yes," I said, "of course I'll come."

We said a word to Burrows, put on our Shubas and goloshes, and started
down the stairs. At every door there were anxious faces. Out of one flat
came a very fat Jew.

"Gentlemen, what is this all about?"

"Riots," said Bohun.

"Is there shooting?"

"Yes," said Bohun.

"_Bozhe moi! Bozhe moi!_ And I live over on Vassily Ostrov! What do you
advise, _Gaspoda_? Will the bridges be up?"

"Very likely," I answered. "I should stay here."

"And they are shooting?" he asked again.

"They are," I answered.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen--stay for a moment. Perhaps together we could
think.... I am all alone here except for a lady... most
unfortunate...."

But we could not stay.

The world into which we stepped was wonderful. The background of snow
under the star-blazing sky made it even more fantastic than it naturally
was. We slipped into the crowd and, becoming part of it, were at once,
as one so often is, sympathetic with it. It seemed such a childish,
helpless, and good-natured throng. No one seemed to know anything of
arms or directions. There were, as I have already said, many women and
little children, and some of the civilians who had rifles looked quite
helpless. I saw one boy holding his gun upside down. No one paid any
attention to us. There was as yet no class note in the demonstration,
and the only hostile cries I heard were against Protopopoff and the
police. We moved back into the street behind the Fontanka, and here I
saw a wonderful sight. Some one had lighted a large bonfire in the
middle of the street and the flames tossed higher and higher into the
air, bringing down the stars in flights of gold, flinging up the snow
until it seemed to radiate in lines and circles of white light high over
the very roofs of the houses. In front of the fire a soldier, mounted on
a horse, addressed a small crowd of women and boys. On the end of his
rifle was a ragged red cloth.

I could not see his face. I saw his arms wave, and the fire behind him
exaggerated his figure and then dropped it into a straggling silhouette
against the snow. The street seemed deserted except for this group,
although now I could hear distant shouting on every side of me, and the
monotonous clap-clap-clap-clap of a machine-gun.

I heard him say, "_Tovaristchi!_ now is your time! Don