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ike a million–candled Christmas tree （such as they have in Russia） hung with yellow globes； incandescent； enough to light a whole street by； （so one might translate it） for what with his glowing cheeks； his dark curls； his black and crimson cloak； he looked as if he were burning with his own radiance； from a lamp lit within。
All the colour； save the red of Orlando’s cheeks； soon faded。 Night came on。 As the orange light of sunset vanished it was succeeded by an astonishing white glare from the torches； bonfires； flaming cressets； and other devices by which the river was lit up and the strangest transformation took place。 Various churches and noblemen’s palaces； whose fronts were of white stone showed in streaks and patches as if floating on the air。 Of St Paul’s； in particular； nothing was left but a gilt cross。 The Abbey appeared like the grey skeleton of a leaf。 Everything suffered emaciation and transformation。 As they approached the carnival； they heard a deep note like that struck on a tuning–fork which boomed louder and louder until it became an uproar。 Every now and then a great shout followed a rocket into the air。 Gradually they could discern little figures breaking off from the vast crowd and spinning hither and thither like gnats on the surface of a river。 Above and around this brilliant circle like a bowl of darkness pressed the deep black of a winter’s night。 And then into this darkness there began to rise with pauses； which kept the expectation alert and the mouth open； flowering rockets； crescents； serpents； a crown。 At one moment the woods and distant hills showed green as on a summer’s day； the next all was winter and blackness again。
By this time Orlando and the Princess were close to the Royal enclosure and found their way barred by a great crowd of the mon people； who were pressing as near to the silken rope as they dared。 Loth to end their privacy and encounter the sharp eyes that were on the watch for them； the couple lingered there； shouldered by apprentices； tailors； fishwives； horse dealers； cony catchers； starving scholars； maid–servants in their whimples； orange girls； ostlers； sober citizens； bawdy tapsters； and a crowd of little ragamuffins such as always haunt the outskirts of a crowd； screaming and scrambling among people’s feet—all the riff–raff of the London streets indeed was there； jesting and jostling； here casting dice； telling fortunes； shoving； tickling； pinching； here uproarious； there glum； some of them with mouths gaping a yard wide； others as little reverent as daws on a house–top； all as variously rigged out as their purse or stations allowed； here in fur and broadcloth； there in tatters with their feet kept from the ice only by a dishclout bound about them。 The main press of people； it appeared； stood opposite a booth or stage something like our Punch and Judy show upon which some kind of theatrical performance was going forward。 A black man was waving his arms and vociferating。 There was a woman in white laid upon a bed。 Rough though the staging was； the actors running up and down a pair of steps and sometimes tripping； and the crowd stamping their feet and whistling； or when they were bored； tossing a piece of orange peel on to the ice which a dog would scramble for； still the astonishing； sinuous melody of the words stirred Orlando like music。 Spoken with extreme speed and a daring agility of tongue which reminded him of the sailors singing in the beer gardens at Wapping； the words even without meaning were as wine to him。 But now and again a single phrase would e to him over the ice which was as if torn from the depths of his heart。 The frenzy of the Moor seemed to him his own frenzy； and when the Moor suffocated the woman in her bed it was Sasha he killed with his own hands。
At last the play was ended。 All had grown dark。 The tears streamed down his face。 Looking up into the sky there was nothing but blackness there too。 Ruin and death； he thought； cover all。 The life of man ends in the grave。 Worms devour us。
Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse
Of sun and moon； and that the affrighted globe
Should yawn—
Even as he said this a star of some pallor rose in his memory。 The night was dark； it was pitch dark； but it was such a night as this that they had waited for； it was on such a night as this that they had planned to fly。 He remembered everything。 The time had e。 With a burst of passion he snatched Sasha to him； and hissed in her ear ‘Jour de ma vie！’ It was their signal。 At midnight they would meet at an inn near Blackfriars。 Horses waited there。 Everything was in readiness for their flight。 So they parted； she to her tent； he to his。 It still wanted an hour of the time。
Long before midnight Orlando was in waiting。 The night was of so inky a blackness that a man was on you before he could be seen； which was all to the good； but it was also of the most solemn stillness so that a horse’s hoof； or a child’s cry； could be heard at a distance of half a mile。 Many a time did Orlando； pacing the little courtyard； hold his heart at the sound of some nag’s steady footfall on the cobbles； or at the rustle of a woman’s dress。 But the traveller was only some merchant； making home belated； or some woman of the quarter whose errand was nothing so innocent。 They passed； and the street was quieter than before。 Then those lights which burnt downstairs in the small； huddled quarters where the poor of the city lived moved up to the sleeping–rooms； and then； one by one； were extinguished。 The street lanterns in these purlieus were few at most； and the negligence of the night watchman often suffered them to expire long before dawn。 The darkness then became even deeper than before。 Orlando looked to the wicks of his lantern； saw to the saddle girths； primed his pistols； examined his holsters； and did all these things a dozen times at least till he could find nothing more needing his attention。 Though it still lacked some twenty minutes to midnight； he could not bring himself to go indoors to the inn parlour； where the hostess was still serving sack and the cheaper sort of canary wine to a few seafaring men； who would sit there trolling their ditties； and