“...again I remember the inarticulate speeches of the old men of the Moscow regiment, who came to my father, an equally old soldier, about how the Bronze Horseman flashed over the rebellious square, shrouded in the smoke of grapeshots. Simple soldier eyes saw him - perhaps as the last a formidable consolation, like a formidable promise. After all, Petrovo’s promise has not been fulfilled: there is still no unshakable Russia that has pacified the elements. The elements have only retreated, not been defeated..."