they were about to commence the assault. The Grand Duke and his officers
began to suspect that they had been mistaken. Had it really been the
Tartars’ plan to surprise the town? The preceding nights had not been
nearly so quiet--musketry rattling from the outposts, shells whistling
through the air; and this time, nothing. The officers waited, ready to
give their orders, according to circumstances.
We have said that Ogareff occupied a room in the palace. It was a large
chamber on the ground floor, its windows opening on a side terrace.
By taking a few steps along this terrace, a view of the river could be
obtained.
Profound darkness reigned in the room. Ogareff stood by a window,
awaiting the hour to act. The signal, of course, could come from him,
alone. This signal once given, when the greater part of the defenders of
Irkutsk would be summoned to the points openly attacked, his plan was to
leave the palace and hurry to the Bolchaia Gate. If it was unguarded, he
would open it; or at least he would direct the overwhelming mass of its
assailants against the few defenders.
He now crouched in the shadow, like a wild beast ready to spring on
its prey. A few minutes before two o’clock, the Grand Duke desired
that Michael Strogoff--which was the only name they could give to Ivan
Ogareff--should be brought to him. An aide-de-camp came to the room, the
door of which was closed. He called.
Ogareff, motionless near the window, and invisible in the shade did not
answer. The Grand Duke was therefore informed that the Czar’s courier
was not at that moment in the palace.
Two o’clock struck. Now was the time to cause the diversion agreed
upon with the Tartars, waiting for the assault. Ivan Ogareff opened the
window and stationed himself at the North angle of the side terrace.
Below him flowed the roaring waters of the Angara. Ogareff took a match
from his pocket, struck it and lighted a small bunch of tow, impregnated
with priming powder, which he threw into the river.
It was by the orders of Ivan Ogareff that the torrents of mineral oil
had been thrown on the surface of the Angara! There are numerous
naphtha springs above Irkutsk, on the right bank, between the suburb
of Poshkavsk and the town. Ogareff had resolved to employ this terrible
means to carry fire into Irkutsk. He therefore took possession of the
immense reservoirs which contained the combustible liquid. It was only
necessary to demolish a piece of wall in order to allow it to flow out
in a vast stream.
This had been done that night, a few hours previously, and this was the
reason that the raft which carried the true Courier of the Czar, Nadia,
and the fugitives, floated on a current of mineral oil. Through the
breaches in these reservoirs of enormous dimensions rushed the naphtha
in torrents, and, following the inclination of the ground, it spread
over the surface of the river, where its density allowed it to float.
This was the way Ivan Ogareff carried on warfare! Allied with Tartars,
he acted like a Tartar, and against his own countrymen!
The tow had been thrown on the waters of the Angara. In an instant, with
electrical rapidity, as if the current had been of alcohol, the whole
river was in a blaze above and below the town. Columns of blue flames
ran between the two banks. Volumes of vapor curled up above. The few
pieces of ice which still drifted were seized by the burning liquid, and
melted like wax on the top of a furnace, the evaporated water escaping
in shrill hisses.
At the same moment, firing broke out on the North and South of the town.
The enemy’s batteries discharged their guns at random. Several thousand
Tartars rushed to the assault of the earth-works. The houses on the
bank, built of wood, took fire in every direction. A bright light
dissipated the darkness of the night.
“At last!” said Ivan Ogareff.
He had good reason for congratulating himself. The diversion which he
had planned was terrible. The defenders of Irkutsk found themselves
between the attack of the Tartars and the fearful effects of fire. The
bells rang, and all the able-bodied of the population ran, some towards
the points attacked, and others towards the houses in the grasp of the
flames, which it seemed too probable would ere long envelop the whole
town.
The Gate of Bolchaia was nearly free. Only a very small guard had been
left there. And by the traitor’s suggestion, and in order that the event
might be explained apart from him, as if by political hate, this small
guard had been chosen from the little band of exiles.
Ogareff re-entered his room, now brilliantly lighted by the flames from
the Angara; then he made ready to go out. But scarcely had he opened the
door, when a woman rushed into the room, her clothes drenched, her hair
in disorder.
“Sangarre!” exclaimed Ogareff, in the first moment of surprise, and not
supposing that it could be any other woman than the gypsy.
It was not Sangarre; it was Nadia!
At the moment when, floating on the ice, the girl had uttered a cry on
seeing the fire spreading along the current, Michael had seized her in
his arms, and plunged with her into the river itself to seek a refuge
in its depths from the flames. The block which bore them was not thirty
fathoms from the first quay of Irkutsk.
Swimming beneath the water, Michael managed to get a footing with Nadia
on the quay. Michael Strogoff had reached his journey’s end! He was in
Irkutsk!
“To the governor’s palace!” said he to Nadia.
In less than ten minutes, they arrived at the entrance to the palace.
Long tongues of flame from the Angara licked its walls, but were
powerless to set it on fire. Beyond the houses on the bank were in a
blaze.
The palace being open to all, Michael and Nadia entered without
difficulty. In the confusion, no one remarked them, although their
garments were dripping. A crowd of officers coming for orders, and of
soldiers running to execute them, filled the great hall on the ground
floor. There, in a sudden eddy of the confused multitude, Michael and
the young girl were separated from each other.
Nadia ran distracted through the passages, calling her companion, and
asking to be taken to the Grand Duke. A door into a room flooded with
light opened before her. She entered, and found herself suddenly face to
face with the man whom she had met at Ichim, whom she had seen at Tomsk;
face to face with the one whose villainous hand would an instant later
betray the town!
“Ivan Ogareff!” she cried.
On hearing his name pronounced, the wretch started. His real name known,
all his plans would be balked. There was but one thing to be done: to
kill the person who had just uttered it. Ogareff darted at Nadia; but
the girl, a knife in her hand, retreated against the wall, determined to
defend herself.
“Ivan Ogareff!” again cried Nadia, knowing well that so detested a name
would soon bring her help.
“Ah! Be silent!” hissed out the traitor between his clenched teeth.
“Ivan Ogareff!” exclaimed a third time the brave young girl, in a voice
to which hate had added ten-fold strength.
Mad with fury, Ogareff, drawing a dagger from his belt, again rushed at
Nadia and compelled her to retreat into a corner of the room. Her last
hope appeared gone, when the villain, suddenly lifted by an irresistible
force, was dashed to the ground.
“Michael!” cried Nadia.
It was Michael Strogoff. Michael had heard Nadia’s call. Guided by her
voice, he had just in time reached Ivan Ogareff’s room, and entered by
the open door.
“Fear nothing, Nadia,” said he, placing himself between her and Ogareff.
“Ah!” cried the girl, “take care, brother! The traitor is armed! He can
see!”
Ogareff rose, and, thinking he had an immeasurable advantage over the
blind man leaped upon him. But with one hand, the blind man grasped the
arm of his enemy, seized his weapon, and hurled him again to the ground.
Pale with rage and shame, Ogareff remembered that he wore a sword. He
drew it and returned a second time to the charge. A blind man! Ogareff
had only to deal with a blind man! He was more than a match for him!
Nadia, terrified at the danger which threatened her companion ran to the
door calling for help!
“Close the door, Nadia!” said Michael. “Call no one, and leave me alone!
The Czar’s courier has nothing to fear to-day from this villain! Let him
come on, if he dares! I am ready for him.”
In the mean time, Ogareff, gathering himself together like a tiger about
to spring, uttered not a word. The noise of his footsteps, his very
breathing, he endeavored to conceal from the ear of the blind man. His
object was to strike before his opponent was aware of his approach, to
strike him with a deadly blow.
Nadia, terrified and at the same time confident, watched this terrible
scene with involuntary admiration. Michael’s calm bearing seemed to have
inspired her. Michael’s sole weapon was his Siberian knife. He did not
see his adversary armed with a sword, it is true; but Heaven’s support
seemed to be afforded him. How, almost without stirring, did he always
face the point of the sword?
Ivan Ogareff watched his strange adversary with visible anxiety. His
superhuman calm had an effect upon him. In vain, appealing to his
reason, did he tell himself that in so unequal a combat all the
advantages were on his side. The immobility of the blind man froze him.
He had settled on the place where he would strike his victim. He had
fixed upon it! What, then, hindered him from putting an end to his blind
antagonist?
At last, with a spring he drove his sword full at Michael’s breast. An
imperceptible movement of the blind man’s knife turned aside the blow.
Michael had not been touched, and coolly he awaited a second attack.
Cold drops stood on Ogareff’s brow. He drew back a step, then again
leaped forward. But as had the first, this second attempt failed. The
knife had simply parried the blow from the traitor’s useless sword.
Mad with rage and terror before this living statue, he gazed into the
wide-open eyes of the blind man. Those eyes which seemed to pierce to
the bottom of his soul, and yet which did not, could not, see--exercised
a sort of dreadful fascination over him.
All at once, Ogareff uttered a cry. A sudden light flashed across his
brain. “He sees!” he exclaimed, “he sees!” And like a wild beast trying
to retreat into its den, step by step, terrified, he drew back to the
end of the room.
Then the statue became animated, the blind man walked straight up to
Ivan Ogareff, and placing himself right before him, “Yes, I see!” said
he. “I see the mark of the knout which I gave you, traitor and coward! I
see the place where I am about to strike you! Defend your life! It is a
duel I deign to offer you! My knife against your sword!”
“He sees!” said Nadia. “Gracious Heaven, is it possible!”
Ogareff felt that he was lost. But mustering all his courage, he sprang
forward on his impassible adversary. The two blades crossed, but at a
touch from Michael’s knife, wielded in the hand of the Siberian hunter,
the sword flew in splinters, and the wretch, stabbed to the heart, fell
lifeless on the ground.
At the same moment, the door was thrown open. The Grand Duke,
accompanied by some of his officers, appeared on the threshold. The
Grand Duke advanced. In the body lying on the ground, he recognized the
man whom he believed to be the Czar’s courier.
Then, in a threatening voice, “Who killed that man?” he asked.
“I,” replied Michael.
One of the officers put a pistol to his temple, ready to fire.
“Your name?” asked the Grand Duke, before giving the order for his
brains to be blown out.
“Your Highness,” answered Michael, “ask me rather the name of the man
who lies at your feet!”
“That man, I know him! He is a servant of my brother! He is the Czar’s
courier!”
“That man, your Highness, is not a courier of the Czar! He is Ivan
Ogareff!”
“Ivan Ogareff!” exclaimed the Grand Duke.
“Yes, Ivan the Traitor!”
“But who are you, then?”
“Michael Strogoff!”
CHAPTER XV CONCLUSION
MICHAEL STROGOFF was not, had never been, blind. A purely human
phenomenon, at the same time moral and physical, had neutralized the
action of the incandescent blade which Feofar’s executioner had passed
before his eyes.
It may be remembered, that at the moment of the execution, Marfa
Strogoff was present, stretching out her hands towards her son. Michael
gazed at her as a son would gaze at his mother, when it is for the last
time. The tears, which his pride in vain endeavored to subdue, welling
up from his heart, gathered under his eyelids, and volatiliz-ing on the
cornea, had saved his sight. The vapor formed by his tears interposing
between the glowing saber and his eyeballs, had been sufficient to
annihilate the action of the heat. A similar effect is produced, when a
workman smelter, after dipping his hand in vapor, can with impunity hold
it over a stream of melted iron.
Michael had immediately understood the danger in which he would be
placed should he make known his secret to anyone. He at once saw, on
the other hand, that he might make use of his supposed blindness for
the accomplishment of his designs. Because it was believed that he was
blind, he would be allowed to go free. He must therefore be blind, blind
to all, even to Nadia, blind everywhere, and not a gesture at any moment
must let the truth be suspected. His resolution was taken. He must risk
his life even to afford to all he might meet the proof of his want of
sight. We know how perfectly he acted the part he had determined on.
His mother alone knew the truth, and he had whispered it to her in Tomsk
itself, when bending over her in the dark he covered her with kisses.
When Ogareff had in his cruel irony held the Imperial letter before the
eyes which he believed were destroyed, Michael had been able to read,
and had read the letter which disclosed the odious plans of the traitor.
This was the reason of the wonderful resolution he exhibited during
the second part of his journey. This was the reason of his unalterable
longing to reach Irkutsk, so as to perform his mission by word of mouth.
He knew that the town would be betrayed! He knew that the life of the
Grand Duke was threatened! The safety of the Czar’s brother and of
Siberia was in his hands.
This story was told in a few words to the Grand Duke, and Michael
repeated also--and with what emotion!--the part Nadia had taken in these
events.
“Who is this girl?” asked the Grand Duke.
“The daughter of the exile, Wassili Fedor,” replied Michael.
“The daughter of Captain Fedor,” said the Grand Duke, “has ceased to be
the daughter of an exile. There are no longer exiles in Irkutsk.”
Nadia, less strong in joy than she had been in grief, fell on her knees
before the Grand Duke, who raised her with one hand, while he extended
the other to Michael.
An hour after, Nadia was in her father’s arms. Michael Strogoff, Nadia,
and Wassili Fedor were united. This was the height of happiness to them
all.
The Tartars had been repulsed in their double attack on the town.
Wassili Fedor, with his little band, had driven back the first
assailants who presented themselves at the Bolchaia Gate, expecting to
find it open and which, by an instinctive feeling, often arising from
sound judgment, he had determined to remain at and defend.
At the same time as the Tartars were driven back the besieged had
mastered the fire. The liquid naphtha having rapidly burnt to the
surface of the water, the flames did not go beyond the houses on
the shore, and left the other quarters of the town uninjured. Before
daybreak the troops of Feofar-Khan had retreated into their camp,
leaving a large number of dead on and below the ramparts.
Among the dead was the gypsy Sangarre, who had vainly endeavored to join
Ivan Ogareff.
For two days the besiegers attempted no fresh assault. They were
discouraged by the death of Ogareff. This man was the mainspring of
the invasion, and he alone, by his plots long since contrived, had had
sufficient influence over the khans and their hordes to bring them to
the conquest of Asiatic Russia.
However, the defenders of Irkutsk kept on their guard, and the
investment still continued; but on the 7th of October, at daybreak,
cannon boomed out from the heights around Irkutsk. It was the succoring
army under the command of General Kisselef, and it was thus that he made
known his welcome arrival to the Grand Duke.
The Tartars did not wait to be attacked. Not daring to run the risk of a
battle under the walls of Irkutsk, they immediately broke up the Angara
camp. Irkutsk was at last relieved.
With the first Russian soldiers, two of Michael’s friends entered the
city. They were the inseparable Blount and Jolivet. On gaining the right
bank of the Angara by means of the icy barrier, they had escaped, as had
the other fugitives, before the flames had reached their raft. This
had been noted by Alcide Jolivet in his book in this way: “Ran a narrow
chance of being finished up like a lemon in a bowl of punch!”
Their joy was great on finding Nadia and Michael safe and sound; above
all, when they learnt that their brave companion was not blind. Harry
Blount inscribed this observation: “Red-hot iron is insufficient in some
cases to destroy the sensibility of the optic nerve.”
Then the two correspondents, settled for a time in Irkutsk, busied
themselves in putting the notes and impressions of their journey in
order. Thence were sent to London and Paris two interesting articles
relative to the Tartar invasion, and which--a rare thing--did not
contradict each other even on the least important points.
The remainder of the campaign was unfortunate to the Emir and his
allies. This invasion, futile as all which attack the Russian Colossus
must be, was very fatal to them. They soon found themselves cut off by
the Czar’s troops, who retook in succession all the conquered towns.
Besides this, the winter was terrible, and, decimated by the cold, only
a small part of these hordes returned to the steppes of Tartary.
The Irkutsk road, by way of the Ural Mountains, was now open. The Grand
Duke was anxious to return to Moscow, but he delayed his journey to be
present at a touching ceremony, which took place a few days after the
entry of the Russian troops.
Michael Strogoff sought Nadia, and in her father’s presence said to her,
“Nadia, my sister still, when you left Riga to come to Irkutsk, did you
leave it with any other regret than that for your mother?”
“No,” replied Nadia, “none of any sort whatever.”
“Then, nothing of your heart remains there?”
“Nothing, brother.”
“Then, Nadia,” said Michael, “I think that God, in allowing us to meet,
and to go through so many severe trials together, must have meant us to
be united forever.”
“Ah!” said Nadia, falling into Michael’s arms. Then turning towards
Wassili Fedor, “My father,” said she, blushing.
“Nadia,” said Captain Fedor, “it will be my joy to call you both my
children!”
The marriage ceremony took place in Irkutsk cathedral.
Jolivet and Blount very naturally assisted at this marriage, of which
they wished to give an account to their readers.
“And doesn’t it make you wish to imitate them?” asked Alcide of his
friend.
“Pooh!” said Blount. “Now if I had a cousin like you--”
“My cousin isn’t to be married!” answered Alcide, laughing.
“So much the better,” returned Blount, “for they speak of difficulties
arising between London and Pekin. Have you no wish to go and see what is
going on there?”
“By Jove, my dear Blount!” exclaimed Alcide Jolivet, “I was just going
to make the same proposal to you.”
And that was how the two inseparables set off for China.
A few days after the ceremony, Michael and Nadia Strogoff, accompanied
by Wassili Fedor, took the route to Europe. The road so full of
suffering when going, was a road of joy in returning. They traveled
swiftly, in one of those sleighs which glide like an express train
across the frozen steppes of Siberia.
However, when they reached the banks of the Dinka, just before Birskoe,
they stopped for a while. Michael found the place where he had buried
poor Nicholas. A cross was erected there, and Nadia prayed a last time
on the grave of the humble and heroic friend, whom neither of them would
ever forget.
At Omsk, old Marfa awaited them in the little house of the Strogoffs.
She clasped passionately in her arms the girl whom in her heart she had
already a hundred times called “daughter.” The brave old Siberian, on
that day, had the right to recognize her son and say she was proud of
him.
After a few days passed at Omsk, Michael and Nadia entered Europe, and,
Wassili Fedor settling down in St. Petersburg, neither his son nor his
daughter had any occasion to leave him, except to go and see their old
mother.
The young courier was received by the Czar, who attached him specially
to his own person, and gave him the Cross of St. George. In the course
of time, Michael Strogoff reached a high station in the Empire. But it
is not the history of his success, but the history of his trials, which
deserves to be related.
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317
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318
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320
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324
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327
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328
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340
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345
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359
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400
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450