Shields High School - Patriot Yearbook (Seymour, IN)

Page 22 text:

boLU the Legend Came True; AGNES ANDREWS NE WINTER day in the year of 1812, four people sat in a little liut, by which Napoleon, his star sunken beyond the horizon, was soon to pass on his ill-fated journey to Moscow. Tliese four people were Ivan Ivanovitch, Marinka, his wife, their son, Boris, and Marinka ' s old mother, who, was reputed to be a witch. Ivan, gnarled and old-looking, though in the prime of life, stood warming his hands at the flicker- ing, smoking fire. His wife was working at her spin- ning wheel, while Boris sat cross-legged at the feet of his grandmother. Finally the father broke the long silence by saying, The Little Father (meaning the Czar) will use his last moujik for Russia ; but, as the Corsican is able to call his dead soldiers to aid him, there is no use killing them. Yes, gently answered Marinka, Yes, the Czar will have to say fare- well to Moscow and the Kremlin, though ten thousand troops were there to aid him. True, said Ivan, soon we shall all be French. Until tomorrow, then farewell. ' ' So saying, he lay down upon the dirty, musty straw in the corner of the room which served as a common bed. Marinka soon followed the ex- ample of her literal lord and master. Boris had not spoken, but as soon as he heard the groans from his father, and the loud indrawn breath of his mother, he turned to the silent old woman. ' ' They snore, ' ' said he scornfully. It is well. Tell me now, grandmother, about the wonderful Napoleon who is coming across the country. Boris, replied the grandmother, when this Corsican leads his troops to battle, mayhap, he returns victorious, but many men have been left upon the field, dead or dying. The next battle, he does not have as many soldiers. He wants them all, so he gives a quick call, and back come the soldiers, who have perished in previous battles. They fight for him, and after the battle is over, they are seen no more. ' ' And can he do this forever? [Page Sixteen

Page 21 text:

iDOJlheleqendODaneTrae nspirdBorL ixroBd bJAiry Prophecies of cDor TheReowrd The ouqHbrof TheVoleriinfisr ToCDonalisa TheCatevifle Page Fifteen]

Page 23 text:

Nay. Once he shows pity for someone or something, he loses his power and his command. Grandmother, said Boris thoughtfully, they teU me I am fair of face, and thou as well as I, know that I am strong of limb. Aye, and thou art so old and decrepit that thou need ' st the support of others. Think you, grand- mother, that if we set the house on fire, if I killed myself, with a deep red sear down my breast, and if thou stood ' st wailing over me, that we could move him to pity. Aye, and any human would, but he has the devil in him. And I love thee so, I could not bear to lose thee, though all Russia were at stake. ' ' But, grandmother, Russia is at stake, and you and I can easily save her. And, thou art so old, and near the end of thy days, that it would be an easy matter for thee to kill thyself afterwards. Even if he should not pity, we would be rid of a father who beats us and a master who starves us. If thou will ' st not, I will. ' ' 0! Boris, child of my child, thou art more to me than life itself, my only joy, for if thou should ' st perish, then would the light of my life be indeed gone. So, if thou will ' st do it, I will be with thee, ' ' slowly answered the old woman, with tears rolling down her withered cheeks, for, although a serf, she had many beautiful memories. Before dawn the next morning, great crowds of people pressed past the humble dwelling of Ivan Ivanoviteh. Many called to him that the dreaded Corsican was coming. So Ivan and Marinka joined the throng, thinking that Boris and the grandmother had merely been pushed aside by the crowd, and would later join them in Firnsky, the fortified town for which they were bound. At about noon, only a few stragglers remained on the road, bearing with them, all the portable effects of their homes. About dusk, the figures of soldiers could be dimly discerned through the gathering twilight. Accordingly Boris snatched a brand from the fire and held it to the flimsy wooden walls of the house. Then, as the far-famed white horse of the Emperor came into view, he opened his blouse, gave a long slash at his heart, and fell fainting, yes dying at the feet of his grandmother. The famous Napoleon now rode into plain view. He looked in astonish- ment at the not unfamiliar spectacle of a burning house, biit his ej es moist- ened as he beheld in front of the glazing shack, a fair boy with a deep red gash down his breast, and an old woman loudly lamenting. I pity thee ' woman, came from the lips of Napoleon, as he rode slowly past. The boy gave one triumphant sigh, and was dead, dying hap- pily, for he had saved Russia. Page Seventeen]