Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - The Old Carriages
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struck against the outer door in vain; a hard
snowball broke a window-pane and flew into the room,
striking the curtains of a bed but the cavaliers
slept soundly.
They dream a lovely girl throws her handkerchief
to them, they dream of the applause before the
curtain of the theatre, they dream of gay laughter
and the deafening noise of the midnight carouse.
It would require a cannon shot at their ear, a sea
of icy water, to awaken them.
They have sung and danced and played and
acted; they are heavy with wine, their strength is
gone; they sleep a sleep as deep as death.
That blessed sleep nearly saved them.
The people began to believe the silence hid some
menace. It might be that the cavaliers were away
seeking help. It might mean that they were standing
on guard, with their fingers on the triggers
of their guns, behind the doors and the windows,
ready to shoot down the first man who entered.
The cavaliers were cunning and warlike men;
there must be some meaning in the strange silence.
Who could believe it of them that they would allow
themselves to be surprised like a bear in a hole.
The crowd shouted “Fire! Fire!” time after
time, without any result. Then, when they were all
trembling, the Major’s wife took an axe, and broke
open the outer door.
Then, alone, she sprang upstairs, tore open the
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