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rubbish poured down together, raising clouds of white dust. A tray thrown out of the window hit the head of a stout old woman, who screamed and crowed shrilly:
“Cossacks!”
“Let us run!”
“The Cossacks are coming!”
Now the horses’ heads and Cossacks’ white caps appeared in the distance; their whips whistled in the air, and a loud yet melodious voice commanded:
“Go forward, three abreast!”
The heap of broken things rolled about in the street. The front of the house was destroyed, and through the hole could be seen an immense wardrobe which swayed to and fro continually, and which, after having made the opening larger, fell with a terrible crash on the pavement. The noise grew louder and louder. It seemed like the thunder of breaking
