"
Constantine paused; then lifted his head and listened.
"Do you hear, brother? Bells are tolling! Do you hear how the dogs
are barking?... And, just as of yore, death, famine, barbarity,
cannibalism shadow the earth. I am heart stricken!"
The night deepened to an intense blue; a faint chill stole through
the air. Prince Constantine sat down resting his head on his stick.
Suddenly he rose:
"It is late and cold; let us go. I am miserable, for I have lost my
faith. This reversion to savagery is horrible and bewildering. What
are we? What can we do when barbarians surround us? The loneliness
and desolation of our plight! I feel utterly lost, Vilyashev. We are
no good to anyone. Not so long ago our ancestors used to flog
peasants in the stables and abduct maidens on their wedding-nights.
How I curse them! They were wild beasts! Ibn-Sadif spoke the truth ...
a thousand years--and still the Mark of the Beast!"
The Prince's cry was low; but deep, and wild. Vilyashev answered
quietly:
"I have the strength of a mailed knight, Constantine. I could smash,
rend, and trample the peasants underfoot as my forebears did, but
they have wound themselves round my heart; they are like little
children!"
They went along by the hill; the tumulus was left behind. A light
sparkling frost powdered the rich loamy earth. Through the darkness,
swimming with purple shadows, came a great continuous murmur from the
ancient forests.
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