صفحة 393 من 3800

It was a warm, rainy, autumnal day. The wide expanse that opened

out before the heights on which the Russian batteries stood

guarding the bridge was at times veiled by a diaphanous curtain

of slanting rain, and then, suddenly spread out in the sunlight,

far-distant objects could be clearly seen glittering as though

freshly varnished. Down below, the little town could be seen with

its white, red-roofed houses, its cathedral, and its bridge, on

both sides of which streamed jostling masses of Russian troops.

At the bend of the Danube, vessels, an island, and a castle with

a park surrounded by the waters of the confluence of the Enns and

the Danube became visible, and the rocky left bank of the Danube

covered with pine forests, with a mystic background of green

treetops and bluish gorges. The turrets of a convent stood out

beyond a wild virgin pine forest, and far away on the other side

of the Enns the enemy's horse patrols could be discerned.