The enthusiasm became
so contagious that men and women, young and old, high and low, fell in
alongside or behind, joined in the singing of the Marseillaise, and walked
to the Duma to take the oath of allegiance and having taken it they felt
as purified as if they had partaken of the communion. Another picturesque
sight was the army trucks filled with armed soldiers, red handkerchiefs
tied to their bayonets, dashing up and down the streets, ostensibly for the
purpose of protecting the citizens but really for the mere joy of riding
about and being cheered. One of these trucks stands out vividly in my mind:
it contained about twenty soldiers, having in their midst a beautiful
young woman with a red banner, and a young hoodlum astride the engine, a
cigarette in one hand and a sword in the other. The streets were full of
people, or "tovarishchi" (comrades), as they called one another, not only
the sidewalks but in the very center, for the tramways were not running.
Great events were transpiring and every one who could came out to hear and
to see what was going on. There were no newspapers and the street was the
news center. Automobiles came dashing through scattering proclamations
and copies of the _Izvestiia_ (a news-sheet published by a committee of
newspaper men with the authority of the Duma); and as the crowd made a rush
to pick these up it looked for a moment as if the whole world was walking
on its head and feet at the same time.
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