of projectiles, and the piteous moaning of the cook, which
rose above the other sounds, did not cease for a moment. The mistress
rocked and hushed her baby and when anyone came into the cellar asked
in a pathetic whisper what had become of her husband who had remained
in the street. A shopman who entered told her that her husband had
gone with others to the cathedral, whence they were fetching the
wonder-working icon of Smolensk.

Toward dusk the cannonade began to subside. Alpatych left the cellar
and stopped in the doorway. The evening sky that had been so clear was
clouded with smoke, through which, high up, the sickle of the new moon
shone strangely. Now that the terrible din of the guns had ceased a hush
seemed to reign over the town, broken only by the rustle of footsteps,
the moaning, the distant cries, and the crackle of fires which seemed
widespread everywhere. The cook's moans had now subsided. On two sides
black curling clouds of smoke rose and spread from the fires. Through
the streets soldiers in various uniforms walked or ran confusedly in
different directions like ants from a ruined ant-hill. Several of them
ran into Ferapontov's yard before Alpatych's eyes. Alpatych went out
to the gate. A retreating regiment, thronging and hurrying, blocked the
street.

Noticing him, an officer said: "The town is being abandoned. Get away,
get away!" and then, turning to the soldiers, shouted:

"I'll teach you to run into the yards!"

Alpatych went back to the house, called the coachman, and told him to
set off. Ferapontov's whole household came out too, following Alpatych
and the coachman. The women, who had been silent till then, suddenly
began to wail as they looked at the fires--the smoke and even the flames
of which could be seen in the failing twilight--and as if in reply
the same kind of lamentation was heard from other parts of the street.
Inside the shed Alpatych and the coachman arranged the tangled reins and
traces of their horses with trembling hands.

As Alpatych was driving out of the gate he saw some ten soldiers in
Ferapontov's open shop, talking loudly and filling their bags and
knapsacks with flour and sunflower seeds. Just then Ferapontov returned
and entered his shop. On seeing the soldiers he was about to shout at
them, but suddenly stopped and, clutching at his hair, burst into sobs
and laughter:

"Loot everything, lads! Don't let those devils get it!" he cried, taking
some bags of flour him