was not the slightest obstacle to impede them. The tarantass was going
straight for Ichim, where the two correspondents intended to stop, if
nothing happened to make them alter their plans.
A hundred and twenty miles separated Novo-Saimsk from the town of Ichim,
and before eight o’clock the next evening the distance could and should
be accomplished if no time was lost. In the opinion of the iemschiks,
should the travelers not be great lords or high functionaries, they were
worthy of being so, if it was only for their generosity in the matter of
“na vodkou.”
On the afternoon of the next day, the 23rd of July, the two carriages
were not more than thirty versts from Ichim. Suddenly Michael
caught sight of a carriage--scarcely visible among the clouds of
dust--preceding them along the road. As his horses were evidently less
fatigued than those of the other traveler, he would not be long
in overtaking it. This was neither a tarantass nor a telga, but
a post-berlin, which looked as if it had made a long journey. The
postillion was thrashing his horses with all his might, and only kept
them at a gallop by dint of abuse and blows. The berlin had certainly
not passed through Novo-Saimsk, and could only have struck the Irkutsk
road by some less frequented route across the steppe.
Our travelers’ first thought, on seeing this berlin, was to get in
front of it, and arrive first at the relay, so as to make sure of fresh
horses. They said a word to their iemschiks, who soon brought them up
with the berlin.
Michael Strogoff came up first. As he passed, a head was thrust out of
the window of the berlin.
He had not time to see what it was like, but as he dashed by he
distinctly heard this word, uttered in an imperious tone: “Stop!”
But they did not stop; on the contrary, the berlin was soon distanced by
the two tarantasses.
It now became a regular race; for the horses of the berlin--no doubt
excited by the sight and pace of the others--recovered their strength
and kept up for some minutes. The three carriages were hidden in a
cloud of dust. From this cloud issued the cracking of whips mingled with
excited shouts and exclamations of anger.
Nevertheless, the advantage remained with Michael and his companions,
which might be very important to them if the relay was poorly provided
with horses. Two carriages were perhaps more than the postmaster could
provide for, at least in a short space of time.
Half an hour after the berlin was left far behind, looking only a speck
on the horizon of the steppe.
It was eight o’clock in the evening when the two carriages reached
Ichim. The news was worse and worse with regard to the invasion. The
town itself was menaced by the Tartar vanguard; and two days before the
authorities had been obliged to retreat to Tobolsk. There was not an
officer nor a soldier left in Ichim.
On arriving at the relay, Michael Strogoff immediately asked for horses.
He had been fortunate in distancing the berlin. Only three horses were
fit to be harnessed. The others had just come in worn out from a long
stage.
As the two correspondents intended to stop at Ichim, they had not to
trouble themselves to find transport, and had their carriage put away.
In ten minutes Michael was told that his tarantass was ready to start.
“Good,” said he.
Then turning to the two reporters: “Well, gentlemen, the time is come
for us to separate.”
“What, Mr. Korpanoff,” said Alcide Jolivet, “shall you not stop even for
an hour at Ichim?”
“No, sir; and I also wish to leave the post-house before the arrival of
the berlin which we distanced.”
“Are you afraid that the traveler will dispute the horses with you?”
“I particularly wish to avoid any difficulty.”
“Then, Mr. Korpanoff,” said Jolivet, “it only remains for us to thank
you once more for the service you rendered us, and the pleasure we have
had in traveling with you.”
“It is possible that we shall meet you again in a few days at Omsk,”
added Blount.
“It is possible,” answered Michael, “since I am going straight there.”
“Well, I wish you a safe journey, Mr. Korpanoff,” said Alcide, “and
Heaven preserve you from telgas.”
The two reporters held out their hands to Michael with the intention of
cordially shaking his, when the sound of a carriage was heard outside.
Almost immediately the door was flung open and a man appeared.
It was the traveler of the berlin, a military-looking man, apparently
about forty years of age, tall, robust in figure, broad-shouldered, with
a strongly-set head, and thick mus-taches meeting red whiskers. He wore
a plain uniform. A cavalry saber hung at his side, and in his hand he
held a short-handled whip.
“Horses,” he demanded, with the air of a man accustomed to command.
“I have no more disposable horses,” answered the postmaster, bowing.
“I must have some this moment.”
“It is impossible.”
“What are those horses which have just been harnessed to the tarantass I
saw at the door?”
“They belong to this traveler,” answered the postmaster, pointing to
Michael Strogoff.
“Take them out!” said the traveler in a tone which admitted of no reply.
Michael then advanced.
“These horses are engaged by me,” he said.
“What does that matter? I must have them. Come, be quick; I have no time
to lose.”
“I have no time to lose either,” replied Michael, restraining himself
with difficulty.
Nadia was near him, calm also, but secretly uneasy at a scene which it
would have been better to avoid.
“Enough!” said the traveler. Then, going up to the postmaster, “Let the
horses be put into my berlin,” he exclaimed with a threatening gesture.
The postmaster, much embarrassed, did not know whom to obey, and looked
at Michael, who evidently had the right to resist the unjust demands of
the traveler.
Michael hesitated an instant. He did not wish to make use of his
podorojna, which would have drawn attention to him, and he was most
unwilling also, by giving up his horses, to delay his journey, and yet
he must not engage in a struggle which might compromise his mission.
The two reporters looked at him ready to support him should he appeal to
them.
“My horses will remain in my carriage,” said Michael, but without
raising his tone more than would be suitable for a plain Irkutsk
merchant.
The traveler advanced towards Michael and laid his hand heavily on his
shoulder. “Is it so?” he said roughly. “You will not give up your horses
to me?”
“No,” answered Michael.
“Very well, they shall belong to whichever of us is able to start.
Defend yourself; I shall not spare you!”
So saying, the traveler drew his saber from its sheath, and Nadia threw
herself before Michael.
Blount and Alcide Jolivet advanced towards him.
“I shall not fight,” said Michael quietly, folding his arms across his
chest.
“You will not fight?”
“No.”
“Not even after this?” exclaimed the traveler. And before anyone could
prevent him, he struck Michael’s shoulder with the handle of the whip.
At this insult Michael turned deadly pale. His hands moved convulsively
as if he would have knocked the brute down. But by a tremendous effort
he mastered himself. A duel! it was more than a delay; it was perhaps
the failure of his mission. It would be better to lose some hours. Yes;
but to swallow this affront!
“Will you fight now, coward?” repeated the traveler, adding coarseness
to brutality.
“No,” answered Michael, without moving, but looking the other straight
in the face.
“The horses this moment,” said the man, and left the room.
The postmaster followed him, after shrugging his shoulders and bestowing
on Michael a glance of anything but approbation.
The effect produced on the reporters by this incident was not to
Michael’s advantage. Their discomfiture was visible. How could this
strong young man allow himself to be struck like that and not demand
satisfaction for such an insult? They contented themselves with bowing
to him and retired, Jolivet remarking to Harry Blount
“I could not have believed that of a man who is so skillful in finishing
up Ural Mountain bears. Is it the case that a man can be courageous at
one time and a coward at another? It is quite incomprehensible.”
A moment afterwards the noise of wheels and whip showed that the berlin,
drawn by the tarantass’ horses, was driving rapidly away from the
post-house.
Nadia, unmoved, and Michael, still quivering, remained alone in the
room. The courier of the Czar, his arms crossed over his chest was
seated motionless as a statue. A color, which could not have been the
blush of shame, had replaced the paleness on his countenance.
Nadia did not doubt that powerful reasons alone could have allowed him
to suffer so great a humiliation from such a man. Going up to him as he
had come to her in the police-station at Nijni-Novgorod:
“Your hand, brother,” said she.
And at the same time her hand, with an almost maternal gesture, wiped
away a tear which sprang to her companion’s eye.
CHAPTER XIII DUTY BEFORE EVERYTHING
NADIA, with the clear perception of a right-minded woman, guessed that
some secret motive directed all Michael Strogoff’s actions; that he,
for a reason unknown to her, did not belong to himself; and that in
this instance especially he had heroically sacrificed to duty even his
resentment at the gross injury he had received.
Nadia, therefore, asked no explanation from Michael. Had not the hand
which she had extended to him already replied to all that he might have
been able to tell her?
Michael remained silent all the evening. The postmaster not being able
to supply them with fresh horses until the next morning, a whole night
must be passed at the house. Nadia could profit by it to take some rest,
and a room was therefore prepared for her.
The young girl would no doubt have preferred not to leave her companion,
but she felt that he would rather be alone, and she made ready to go to
her room.
Just as she was about to retire she could not refrain from going up to
Michael to say good-night.
“Brother,” she whispered. But he checked her with a gesture. The girl
sighed and left the room.
Michael Strogoff did not lie down. He could not have slept even for an
hour. The place on which he had been struck by the brutal traveler felt
like a burn.
“For my country and the Father,” he muttered as he ended his evening
prayer.
He especially felt a great wish to know who was the man who had struck
him, whence he came, and where he was going. As to his face, the
features of it were so deeply engraven on his memory that he had no fear
of ever forgetting them.
Michael Strogoff at last asked for the postmaster. The latter,
a Siberian of the old type, came directly, and looking rather
contemptuously at the young man, waited to be questioned.
“You belong to the country?” asked Michael.
“Yes.”
“Do you know that man who took my horses?”
“No.”
“Had you never seen him before?”
“Never.”
“Who do you think he was?”
“A man who knows how to make himself obeyed.”
Michael fixed his piercing gaze upon the Siberian, but the other did not
quail before it.
“Do you dare to judge me?” exclaimed Michael.
“Yes,” answered the Siberian, “there are some things even a plain
merchant cannot receive without returning.”
“Blows?”
“Blows, young man. I am of an age and strength to tell you so.”
Michael went up to the postmaster and laid his two powerful hands on his
shoulders.
Then in a peculiarly calm tone, “Be off, my friend,” said he: “be off! I
could kill you.”
The postmaster understood. “I like him better for that,” he muttered and
retired without another word.
At eight o’clock the next morning, the 24th of July, three strong horses
were harnessed to the tarantass. Michael Strogoff and Nadia took their
places, and Ichim, with its disagreeable remembrances, was soon left far
behind.
At the different relays at which they stopped during the day Strogoff
ascertained that the berlin still preceded them on the road to Irkutsk,
and that the traveler, as hurried as they were, never lost a minute in
pursuing his way across the steppe.
At four o’clock in the evening they reached Abatskaia, fifty miles
farther on, where the Ichim, one of the principal affluents of the
Irtych, had to be crossed. This passage was rather more difficult than
that of the Tobol. Indeed the current of the Ichim was very rapid just
at that place. During the Siberian winter, the rivers being all frozen
to a thickness of several feet, they are easily practicable, and the
traveler even crosses them without being aware of the fact, for their
beds have disappeared under the snowy sheet spread uniformly over the
steppe; but in summer the difficulties of crossing are sometimes great.
In fact, two hours were taken up in making the passage of the Ichim,
which much exasperated Michael, especially as the boatmen gave them
alarming news of the Tartar invasion. Some of Feofar-Khan’s scouts had
already appeared on both banks of the lower Ichim, in the southern parts
of the government of Tobolsk. Omsk was threatened. They spoke of an
engagement which had taken place between the Siberian and Tartar troops
on the frontier of the great Kirghese horde--an engagement not to the
advantage of the Russians, who were weak in numbers. The troops had
retreated thence, and in consequence there had been a general emigration
of all the peasants of the province. The boatmen spoke of horrible
atrocities committed by the invaders--pillage, theft, incendiarism,
murder. Such was the system of Tartar warfare.
The people all fled before Feofar-Khan. Michael Strogoff’s great fear
was lest, in the depopulation of the towns, he should be unable to
obtain the means of transport. He was therefore extremely anxious to
reach Omsk. Perhaps there they would get the start of the Tartar scouts,
who were coming down the valley of the Irtych, and would find the road
open to Irkutsk.
Just at the place where the tarantass crossed the river ended what is
called, in military language, the “Ichim chain”--a chain of towers, or
little wooden forts, extending from the southern frontier of Siberia
for a distance of nearly four hundred versts. Formerly these forts were
occupied by detachments of Cossacks, and they protected the country
against the Kirghese, as well as against the Tartars. But since the
Muscovite Government had believed these hordes reduced to absolute
submission, they had been abandoned, and now could not be used; just at
the time when they were needed. Many of these forts had been reduced to
ashes; and the boatmen even pointed out the smoke to Michael, rising
in the southern horizon, and showing the approach of the Tartar
advance-guard.
As soon as the ferryboat landed the tarantass on the right bank of the
Ichim, the journey across the steppe was resumed with all speed. Michael
Strogoff remained very silent. He was, however, always attentive to
Nadia, helping her to bear the fatigue of this long journey without
break or rest; but the girl never complained. She longed to give wings
to the horses. Something told her that her companion was even more
anxious than herself to reach Irkutsk; and how many versts were still
between!
It also occurred to her that if Omsk was entered by the Tartars,
Michael’s mother, who lived there, would be in danger, and that this was
sufficient to explain her son’s impatience to get to her.
Nadia at last spoke to him of old Marfa, and of how unprotected she
would be in the midst of all these events.
“Have you received any news of your mother since the beginning of the
invasion?” she asked.
“None, Nadia. The last letter my mother wrote to me contained good news.
Marfa is a brave and energetic Siberian woman. Notwithstanding her age,
she has preserved all her moral strength. She knows how to suffer.”
“I shall see her, brother,” said Nadia quickly. “Since you give me the
name of sister, I am Marfa’s daughter.”
And as Michael did not answer she added:
“Perhaps your mother has been able to leave Omsk?”
“It is possible, Nadia,” replied Michael; “and I hope she may have
reached Tobolsk. Marfa hates the Tartars. She knows the steppe, and
would have no fear in just taking her staff and going down the banks of
the Irtych. There is not a spot in all the province unknown to her. Many
times has she traveled all over the country with my father; and many
times I myself, when a mere child, have accompanied them across the
Siberian desert. Yes, Nadia, I trust that my mother has left Omsk.”
“And when shall you see her?”
“I shall see her--on my return.”
“If, however, your mother is still at Omsk, you will be able to spare an
hour to go to her?”
“I shall not go and see her.”
“You will not see her?”
“No, Nadia,” said Michael, his chest heaving as he felt he could not go
on replying to the girl’s questions.
“You say no! Why, brother, if your mother is still at Omsk, for what
reason could you refuse to see her?”
“For what reason, Nadia? You ask me for what reason,” exclaimed Michael,
in so changed a voice that the young girl started. “For the same reason
as that which made me patient even to cowardice with the villain who--”
He could not finish his sentence.
“Calm yourself, brother,” said Nadia in a gentle voice. “I only know
one thing, or rather I do not know it, I feel it. It is that all your
conduct is now directed by the sentiment of a duty more sacred--if there
can be one--than that which unites the son to the mother.”
Nadia was silent, and from that moment avoided every subject which in
any way touched on Michael’s peculiar situation. He had a secret motive
which she must respect. She respected it.
The next day, July 25th, at three o’clock in the morning, the tarantass
arrived at Tioukalmsk, having accomplished a distance of eighty miles
since it had crossed the Ichim. They rapidly changed horses. Here,
however, for the first time, the iemschik made difficulties about
starting, declaring that detachments of Tartars were roving across the
steppe, and that travelers, horses, and carriages would be a fine prize
for them.
Only by dint of a large bribe could Michael get over the unwillingness
of the iemschik, for in this instance, as in many others, he did not
wish to show his podorojna. The last ukase, having been transmitted by
telegraph, was known in the Siberian provinces; and a Russian specially
exempted from obeying these words would certainly have drawn public
attention to himself--a thing above all to be avoided by the Czar’s
courier. As to the iemschik’s hesitation, either the rascal traded on
the traveler’s impatience or he really had good reason to fear.
However, at last the tarantass started, and made such good way that by
three in the afternoon it had reached Koulatsinskoe, fifty miles farther
on. An hour after this it was on the banks of the Irtych. Omsk was now
only fourteen miles distant.
The Irtych is a large river, and one of the principal of those which
flow towards the north of Asia. Rising in the Altai Mountains, it flows
from the southeast to the northwest and empties itself into the Obi,
after a course of four thousand miles.
At this time of year, when all the rivers of the Siberian basin are much
swollen, the waters of the Irtych were very high. In consequence
the current was changed to a regular torrent, rendering the passage
difficult enough. A swimmer could not have crossed, however powerful;
and even in a ferryboat there would be some danger.
But Michael and Nadia, determined to brave all perils whatever they
might be, did not dream of shrinking from this one. Michael proposed
to his young companion that he should cross first, embarking in the
ferryboat with the tarantass and horses, as he feared that the weight of
this load would render it less safe. After landing the carriage he would
return and fetch Nadia.
The girl refused. It would be the delay of an hour, and she would not,
for her safety alone, be the cause of it.
The embarkation was made not without difficulty, for the banks were
partly flooded and the boat could not get in near enough. However, after
half an hour’s exertion, the boatmen got the tarantass and the three
horses on board. The passengers embarked also, and they shoved off.
For a few minutes all went well. A little way up the river the current
was broken by a long point projecting from the bank, and forming an eddy
easily crossed by the boat. The two boatmen propelled their barge with
long poles, which they handled cleverly; but as they gained the middle
of the stream it grew deeper and deeper, until at last they could only
just reach the bottom. The ends of the poles were only a foot above the
water, which rendered their use difficult. Michael and Nadia, seated
in the stern of the boat, and always in dread of a delay, watched the
boatmen with some uneasiness.
“Look out!” cried one of them to his comrade.
The shout was occasioned by the new direction the boat was rapidly
taking. It had got into the direct current and was being swept down the
river. By diligent use of the poles, putting the ends in a series of
notches cut below the gunwale, the boatmen managed to keep the craft
against the stream, and slowly urged it in a slanting direction towards
the right bank.
They calculated on reaching it some five or six versts below the landing
place; but, after all, that would not matter so long as men and beasts
could disembark without accident. The two stout boatmen, stimulated
moreover by the promise of double fare, did not doubt of succeeding in
this difficult passage of the Irtych.
But they reckoned without an accident which they were powerless to
prevent, and neither their zeal nor their skill-fulness could, under the
circumstances, have done more.
The boat was in the middle of the current, at nearly equal distances
from either shore, and being carried down at the rate of two versts an
hour, when Michael, springing to his feet, bent his gaze up the river.
Several boats, aided by oars as well as by the current, were coming
swiftly down upon them.
Michael’s brow contracted, and a cry escaped him.
“What is the matter?” asked the girl.
But before Michael had time to reply one of the boatmen exclaimed in an
accent of terror:
“The Tartars! the Tartars!”
There were indeed boats full of soldiers, and in a few minutes they must
reach the ferryboat, it being too heavily laden to escape from them.
The terrified boatmen uttered exclamations of despair and dropped their
poles.
“Courage, my friends!” cried Michael; “courage! Fifty roubles for you if
we reach the right bank before the boats overtake us.”
Incited by these words, the boatmen again worked manfully but it soon
become evident that they could not escape the Tartars.
It was scarcely probable that they would pass without attacking them.
On the contrary, there was everything to be feared from robbers such as
these.
“Do not be afraid, Nadia,” said Michael; “but be ready for anything.”
“I am ready,” replied Nadia.
“Even to leap into the water when I tell you?”
“Whenever you tell me.”
“Have confidence in me, Nadia.”
“I have, indeed!”
The Tartar boats were now only a hundred feet distant. They carried a
detachment of Bokharian soldiers, on their way to reconnoiter around
Omsk.
The ferryboat was still two lengths from the shore. The boatmen
redoubled their efforts. Michael himself seized a pole and wielded it
with superhuman strength. If he could land the tarantass and horses, and
dash off with them, there was some chance of escaping the Tartars, who
were not mounted.
But all their efforts were in vain. “Saryn na kitchou!” shouted the
soldiers from the first boat.
Michael recognized the Tartar war-cry, which is usually answered by
lying flat on the ground. As neither he nor the boatmen obeyed a volley
was let fly, and two of the horses were mortally wounded.
At the next moment a violent blow was felt. The boats had run into the
ferryboat.
“Come, Nadia!” cried Michael, ready to jump overboard.
The girl was about to follow him, when a blow from a lance struck him,
and he was thrown into the water. The current swept him away, his hand
raised for an instant above the waves, and then he disappeared.
Nadia uttered a cry, but before she had time to throw herself after
him she was seized and dragged into one of the boats. The boatmen were
killed, the ferryboat left to drift away, and the Tartars continued to
descend the Irtych.
CHAPTER XIV MOTHER AND SON
OMSK is the official capital of Western Siberia. It is not the most
important city of the government of that name, for Tomsk has more
inhabitants and is larger. But it is at Omsk that the Governor-General
of this the first half of Asiatic Russia resides. Omsk, properly so
called, is composed of two distinct towns: one which is exclusively
inhabited by the authorities and officials; the other more especially
devoted to the Siberian merchants, although, indeed, the trade of the
town is of small importance.
This city has about 12,000 to 13,000 inhabitants. It is defended by
walls, but these are merely of earth, and could afford only insufficient
protection. The Tartars, who were well aware of this fact, consequently
tried at this period to carry it by main force, and in this they
succeeded, after an investment of a few days.
The garrison of Omsk, reduced to two thousand men, resisted valiantly.
But driven back, little by little, from the mercantile portion of the
place, they were compelled to take refuge in the upper town.
It was there that the Governor-General, his officers, and soldiers had
entrenched themselves. They had made the upper quarter of Omsk a kind of
citadel, and hitherto they held out well in this species of improvised
“kreml,” but without much hope of the promised succor. The Tartar
troops, who were descending the Irtych, received every day fresh
reinforcements, and, what was more serious, they were led by an officer,
a traitor to his country, but a man of much note, and of an audacity
equal to any emergency. This man was Colonel Ivan Ogareff.
Ivan Ogareff, terrible as any of the most savage Tartar chieftains,
was an educated soldier. Possessing on his mother’s side some Mongolian
blood, he delighted in deceptive strategy and ambuscades, stopping short
of nothing when he desired to fathom some secret or to set some trap.
Deceitful by nature, he willingly had recourse to the vilest trickery;
lying when occasion demanded, excelling in the adoption of all disguises
and in every species of deception. Further, he was cruel, and had even
acted as an executioner. Feofar-Khan possessed in him a lieutenant well
capable of seconding his designs in this savage war.
When Michael Strogoff arrived on the banks of the Irtych, Ivan Ogareff
was already master of Omsk, and was pressing the siege of the upper
quarter of the town all the more eagerly because he must hasten to
Tomsk, where the main body of the Tartar army was concentrated.
Tomsk, in fact, had been taken by Feofar-Khan some days previously, and
it was thence that the invaders, masters of Central Siberia, were to
march upon Irkutsk.
Irkutsk was the real object of Ivan Ogareff. The plan of the traitor was
to reach the Grand Duke under a false name, to gain his confidence, and
to deliver into Tartar hands the town and the Grand Duke himself. With
such a town, and such a hostage, all Asiatic Siberia must necessarily
fall into the hands of the invaders. Now it was known that the Czar
was acquainted with this conspiracy, and that it was for the purpose
of baffling it that a courier had been intrusted with the important
warning. Hence, therefore, the very stringent instructions which had
been given to the young courier to pass incognito through the invaded
district.
This mission he had so far faithfully performed, but now could he carry
it to a successful completion?
The blow which had struck Michael Strogoff was not mortal. By swimming
in a manner by which he had effectually concealed himself, he had
reached the right bank, where he fell exhausted among the bushes.
When he recovered his senses, he found himself in the cabin of a mujik,
who had picked him up and cared for him. For how long a time had he been
the guest of this brave Siberian? He could not guess. But when he
opened his eyes he saw the handsome bearded face bending over him, and
regarding him with pitying eyes. “Do not speak, little father,” said the
mujik, “Do not speak! Thou art still too weak. I will tell thee where
thou art and everything that has passed.”
And the mujik related to Michael Strogoff the different incidents of the
struggle which he had witnessed--the attack upon the ferry by the Tartar
boats, the pillage of the tarantass, and the massacre of the boatmen.
But Michael Strogoff listened no longer, and slipping his hand under
his garment he felt the imperial letter still secured in his breast. He
breathed a sigh of relief.
But that was not all. “A young girl accompanied me,” said he.
“They have not killed her,” replied the mujik, anticipating the anxiety
which he read in the eyes of his guest. “They have carried her off in
their boat, and have continued the descent of Irtych. It is only one
prisoner more to join the many they are taking to Tomsk!”
Michael Strogoff was unable to reply. He pressed his hand upon his heart
to restrain its beating. But, notwithstanding these many trials, the
sentiment of duty mastered his whole soul. “Where am I?” asked he.
“Upon the right bank of the Irtych, only five versts from Omsk,” replied
the mujik.
“What wound can I have received which could have thus prostrated me? It
was not a gunshot wound?”
“No; a lance-thrust in the head, now healing,” replied the mujik. “After
a few days’ rest, little father, thou wilt be able to proceed. Thou
didst fall into the river; but the Tartars neither touched nor searched
thee; and thy purse is still in thy pocket.”
Michael Strogoff gripped the mujik’s hand. Then, recovering himself with
a sudden effort, “Friend,” said he, “how long have I been in thy hut?”
“Three days.”
“Three days lost!”
“Three days hast thou lain unconscious.”
“Hast thou a horse to sell me?”
“Thou wishest to go?”
“At once.”
“I have neither horse nor carriage, little father. Where the Tartar has
passed there remains nothing!”
“Well, I will go on foot to Omsk to find a horse.”
“A few more hours of rest, and thou wilt be in a better condition to
pursue thy journey.”
“Not an hour!”
“Come now,” replied the mujik, recognizing the fact that it was useless
to struggle against the will of his guest, “I will guide thee myself.
Besides,” he added, “the Russians are still in great force at Omsk, and
thou couldst, perhaps, pass unperceived.”
“Friend,” replied Michael Strogoff, “Heaven reward thee for all thou
hast done for me!”
“Only fools expect reward on earth,” replied the mujik.
Michael Strogoff went out of the hut. When he tried to walk he was
seized with such faintness that, without the assistance of the mujik, he
would have fallen; but the fresh air quickly revived him. He then felt
the wound in his head, the violence of which his fur cap had lessened.
With the energy which he possessed, he was not a man to succumb under
such a trifle. Before his eyes lay a single goal--far-distant Irkutsk.
He must reach it! But he must pass through Omsk without stopping there.
“God protect my mother and Nadia!” he murmured. “I have no longer the
right to think of them!”
Michael Strogoff and the mujik soon arrived in the mercantile quarter
of the lower town. The surrounding earthwork had been destroyed in many
places, and there were the breaches through which the marauders who
followed the armies of Feofar-Khan had penetrated. Within Omsk, in its
streets and squares, the Tartar soldiers swarmed like ants; but it was
easy to see that a hand of iron imposed upon them a discipline to which
they were little accustomed. They walked nowhere alone, but in armed
groups, to defend themselves against surprise.
In the chief square, transformed into a camp, guarded by many sentries,
2,000 Tartars bivouacked. The horses, picketed but still saddled,
were ready to start at the first order. Omsk could only be a temporary
halting-place for this Tartar cavalry, which preferred the rich
plains of Eastern Siberia, where the towns were more wealthy, and,
consequently, pillage more profitable.
Above the mercantile town rose the upper quarter, which Ivan Ogareff,
notwithstanding several assaults vigorously made but bravely repelled,
had not yet been able to reduce. Upon its embattled walls floated the
national colors of Russia.
It was not without a legitimate pride that Michael Strogoff and his
guide, vowing fidelity, saluted them.
Michael Strogoff was perfectly acquainted with the town of Omsk, and he
took care to avoid those streets which were much frequented. This was
not from any fear of being recognized. In the town his old mother only
could have called him by name, but he had sworn not to see her, and he
did not. Besides--and he wished it with his whole heart--she might have
fled into some quiet portion of the steppe.
The mujik very fortunately knew a postmaster who, if well paid, would
not refuse at his request either to let or to sell a carriage or horses.
There remained the difficulty of leaving the town, but the breaches in
the fortifications would, of course, facilitate his departure.
The mujik was accordingly conducting his guest straight to the
posting-house, when, in a narrow street, Michael Strogoff, coming to a
sudden stop sprang behind a jutting wall.
“What is the matter?” asked the astonished mujik.
“Silence!” replied Michael, with his finger on his lips. At this moment
a detachment debouched from the principal square into the street which
Michael Strogoff and his companion had just been following.
At the head of the detachment, composed of twenty horsemen, was an
officer dressed in a very simple uniform. Although he glanced rapidly
from one side to the other he could not have seen Michael Strogoff,
owing to his precipitous retreat.
The detachment went at full trot into the narrow street. Neither the
officer nor his escort concerned themselves about the inhabitants.
Several unlucky ones had scarcely time to make way for their passage.
There were a few half-stifled cries, to which thrusts of the lance gave
an instant reply, and the street was immediately cleared.
When the escort had disappeared, “Who is that officer?” asked Michael
Strogoff. And while putting the question his face was pale as that of a
corpse.
“It is Ivan Ogareff,” replied the Siberian, in a deep voice which
breathed hatred.
“He!” cried Michael Strogoff, from whom the word escaped with a fury he
could not conquer. He had just recognized in this officer the traveler
who had struck him at the posting-house of Ichim. And, although he had
only caught a glimpse of him, it burst upon his mind, at the same time,
that this traveler was the old Zingari whose words he had overheard in
the market place of Nijni-Novgorod.
Michael Strogoff was not mistaken. The two men were one and the same.
It was under the garb of a Zingari, mingling with the band of Sangarre,
that Ivan Ogareff had been able to leave the town of Nijni-Novgorod,
where he had gone to seek his confidants. Sangarre and her Zingari, well
paid spies, were absolutely devoted to him. It was he who, during the
night, on the fair-ground had uttered that singular sentence, which
Michael Strogoff could not understand; it was he who was voyaging on
board the Caucasus, with the whole of the Bohemian band; it was he who,
by this other route, from Kasan to Ichim, across the Urals, had reached
Omsk, where now he held supreme authority.
Ivan Ogareff had been barely three days at Omsk, and had it not been for
their fatal meeting at Ichim, and for the event which had detained
him three days on the banks of the Irtych, Michael Strogoff would have
evidently beaten him on the way to Irkutsk.
And who knows how many misfortunes would have been avoided in the
future! In any case--and now more than ever--Michael Strogoff must
avoid Ivan Ogareff, and contrive not to be seen. When the moment of
encountering him face to face should arrive, he knew how to meet it,
even should the traitor be master of the whole of Siberia.
The mujik and Michael resumed their way and arrived at the
posting-house. To leave Omsk by one of the breaches would not be
difficult after nightfall. As for purchasing a carriage to replace the
tarantass, that was impossible. There were none to be let or sold. But
what want had Michael Strogoff now for a carriage? Was he not alone,
alas? A horse would suffice him; and, very fortunately, a horse could
be had. It was an animal of strength and mettle, and Michael Strogoff,
accomplished horseman as he was, could make good use of it.
It was four o’clock in the afternoon. Michael Strogoff, compelled
to wait till nightfall, in order to pass the fortifications, but not
desiring to show himself, remained in the posting-house, and there
partook of food.
There was a great crowd in the public room. They were talking of the
expected arrival of a corps of Muscovite troops, not at Omsk, but at
Tomsk--a corps intended to recapture that town from the Tartars of
Feofar-Khan.
Michael Strogoff lent an attentive ear, but took no part in the
conversation. Suddenly a cry made him tremble, a cry which penetrated
to the depths of his soul, and these two words rushed into his ear: “My
son!”
His mother, the old woman Marfa, was before him! Trembling, she smiled
upon him. She stretched forth her arms to him. Michael Strogoff arose.
He was about to throw himself--
The thought of duty, the serious danger for his mother and himself in
this unfortunate meeting, suddenly stopped him, and such was his command
over himself that not a muscle of his face moved. There were twenty
people in the public room. Among them were, perhaps, spies, and was it
not known in the town that the son of Marfa Strogoff belonged to the
corps of the couriers of the Czar?
Michael Strogoff did not move.
“Michael!” cried his mother.
“Who are you, my good lady?” Michael Strogoff stammered, unable to speak
in his usual firm tone.
“Who am I, thou askest! Dost thou no longer know thy mother?”
“You are mistaken,” coldly replied Michael Strogoff. “A resemblance
deceives you.”
The old Marfa went up to him, and, looking straight into his eyes, said,
“Thou art not the son of Peter and Marfa Strogoff?”
Michael Strogoff would have given his life to have locked his mother in
his arms; but if he yielded it was all over with him, with her, with
his mission, with his oath! Completely master of himself, he closed his
eyes, in order not to see the inexpressible anguish which agitated the
revered countenance of his mother. He drew back his hands, in order not
to touch those trembling hands which sought him. “I do not know in truth
what it is you say, my good woman,” he replied, stepping back.
“Michael!” again cried his aged mother.
“My name is not Michael. I never was your son! I am Nicholas Korpanoff,
a merchant at Irkutsk.”
And suddenly he left the public room, whilst for the last time the words
re-echoed, “My son! my son!”
Michael Strogoff, by a desperate effort, had gone. He did not see his
old mother, who had fallen back almost inanimate upon a bench. But when
the postmaster hastened to assist her, the aged woman raised herself.
Suddenly a thought occurred to her. She denied by her son! It was not
possible. As for being herself deceived, and taking another for him,
equally impossible. It was certainly her son whom she had just seen; and
if he had not recognized her it was because he would not, it was because
he ought not, it was because he had some cogent reasons for acting thus!
And then, her mother’s feelings arising within her, she had only one
thought--“Can I, unwittingly, have ruined him?”
“I am mad,” she said to her interrogators. “My eyes have deceived me!
This young man is not my child. He had not his voice. Let us think no
more of it; if we do I shall end by finding him everywhere.”
Less than ten minutes afterwards a Tartar officer appeared in the
posting-house. “Marfa Strogoff?” he asked.
“It is I,” replied the old woman, in a tone so calm, and with a face so
tranquil, that those who had witnessed the meeting with her son would
not have known her.
“Come,” said the officer.
Marfa Strogoff, with firm step, followed the Tartar. Some moments
afterwards she found herself in the chief square in the presence of
Ivan Ogareff, to whom all the details of this scene had been immediately
reported.
Ogareff, suspecting the truth, interrogated the old Siberian woman. “Thy
name?” he asked in a rough voice.
“Marfa Strogoff.”
“Thou hast a son?”
“Yes.”
“He is a courier of the Czar?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
“At Moscow.”
“Thou hast no news of him?”
“No news.”
“Since how long?”
“Since two months.”
“Who, then, was that young man whom thou didst call thy son a few
moments ago at the posting-house?”
“A young Siberian whom I took for him,” replied Marfa Strogoff. “This is
the tenth man in whom I have thought I recognized my son since the town
has been so full of strangers. I think I see him everywhere.”
“So this young man was not Michael Strogoff?”
“It was not Michael Strogoff.”
“Dost thou know, old woman, that I can torture thee until thou avowest
the truth?”
“I have spoken the truth, and torture will not cause me to alter my
words in any way.”
“This Siberian was not Michael Strogoff?” asked a second time Ivan
Ogareff.
“No, it was not he,” replied a second time Marfa Strogoff. “Do you think
that for anything in the world I would deny a son whom God has given
me?”
Ivan Ogareff regarded with an evil eye the old woman who braved him to
the face. He did not doubt but that she had recognized her son in this
young Siberian. Now if this son had first renounced his mother, and if
his mother renounced him in her turn, it could occur only from the
most weighty motive. Ogareff had therefore no doubt that the pretended
Nicholas Korpanoff was Michael Strogoff, courier of the Czar, seeking
concealment under a false name, and charged with some mission which it
would have been important for him to know. He therefore at once gave
orders for his pursuit. Then “Let this woman be conducted to Tomsk,” he
said.
While the soldiers brutally dragged her off, he added between his teeth,
“When the moment arrives I shall know how to make her speak, this old
sorceress!”
CHAPTER XV THE MARSHES OF THE BARABA
IT was fortunate that Michael Strogoff had left the posting-house so
promptly. The orders of Ivan Ogareff had been immediately transmitted to
all the approaches of the city, and a full description of Michael sent
to all the various commandants, in order to prevent his departure from
Omsk. But he had already passed through one of the breaches in the wall;
his horse was galloping over the steppe, and the chances of escape were
in his favor.
It was on the 29th of July, at eight o’clock in the evening, that
Michael Strogoff had left Omsk. This town is situated about halfway
between Moscow and Irkutsk, where it was necessary that he should arrive
within ten days if he wished to get ahead of the Tartar columns. It was
evident that the unlucky chance which had brought him into the presence
of his mother had betrayed his incognito. Ivan Ogareff was no longer
ignorant of the fact that a courier of the Czar had just passed Omsk,
taking the direction of Irkutsk. The dispatches which this courier bore
.
1
,
,
2
.
3
4
-
,
5
’
6
.
,
7
,
8
,
9
«
.
»
10
11
,
,
12
.
13
-
-
14
-
-
.
15
,
16
.
,
17
-
,
.
18
,
19
.
20
-
,
21
.
22
23
’
,
,
24
,
,
25
.
,
26
.
27
28
.
,
29
.
30
31
,
32
,
:
«
!
»
33
34
;
,
35
.
36
37
;
-
-
38
-
-
39
.
40
.
41
.
42
43
,
,
44
45
.
46
,
.
47
48
,
49
.
50
51
’
52
.
.
53
;
54
.
55
.
56
57
,
.
58
.
59
.
60
.
61
62
,
63
,
.
64
.
65
66
«
,
»
.
67
68
:
«
,
,
69
.
»
70
71
«
,
.
,
»
,
«
72
?
»
73
74
«
,
;
-
75
.
»
76
77
«
?
»
78
79
«
.
»
80
81
«
,
.
,
»
,
«
82
,
83
.
»
84
85
«
,
»
86
.
87
88
«
,
»
,
«
.
»
89
90
«
,
,
.
,
»
,
«
91
.
»
92
93
94
,
.
95
.
96
97
,
-
,
98
,
,
,
-
,
99
-
,
-
.
100
.
,
101
-
.
102
103
«
,
»
,
.
104
105
«
,
»
,
.
106
107
«
.
»
108
109
«
.
»
110
111
«
112
?
»
113
114
«
,
»
,
115
.
116
117
«
!
»
.
118
119
.
120
121
«
,
»
.
122
123
«
?
.
,
;
124
.
»
125
126
«
,
»
,
127
.
128
129
,
,
130
.
131
132
«
!
»
.
,
,
«
133
,
»
.
134
135
,
,
,
136
,
137
.
138
139
.
140
,
,
141
,
,
,
142
.
143
144
145
.
146
147
«
,
»
,
148
149
.
150
151
152
.
«
?
»
.
«
153
?
»
154
155
«
,
»
.
156
157
«
,
.
158
;
!
»
159
160
,
,
161
.
162
163
.
164
165
«
,
»
,
166
.
167
168
«
?
»
169
170
«
.
»
171
172
«
?
»
.
173
,
’
.
174
.
175
.
176
.
!
;
177
.
.
;
178
!
179
180
«
,
?
»
,
181
.
182
183
«
,
»
,
,
184
.
185
186
«
,
»
,
.
187
188
,
189
.
190
191
192
’
.
.
193
194
?
195
,
196
197
«
198
.
199
?
.
»
200
201
,
202
’
,
203
-
.
204
205
,
,
,
,
206
.
,
207
.
,
208
,
.
209
210
211
.
212
-
-
:
213
214
«
,
,
»
.
215
216
,
,
217
’
.
218
219
220
221
222
223
,
-
,
224
’
;
,
225
,
;
226
227
.
228
229
,
,
.
230
231
?
232
233
.
234
,
235
.
,
236
.
237
238
,
239
,
240
.
241
242
243
-
.
244
245
«
,
»
.
.
246
.
247
248
.
249
.
250
.
251
252
«
,
»
253
.
254
255
256
,
,
.
,
257
258
.
259
260
.
,
261
,
,
262
,
.
263
264
«
?
»
.
265
266
«
.
»
267
268
«
?
»
269
270
«
.
»
271
272
«
?
»
273
274
«
.
»
275
276
«
?
»
277
278
«
.
»
279
280
,
281
.
282
283
«
?
»
.
284
285
«
,
»
,
«
286
.
»
287
288
«
?
»
289
290
«
,
.
.
»
291
292
293
.
294
295
,
«
,
,
»
:
«
!
296
.
»
297
298
.
«
,
»
299
.
300
301
’
,
,
302
.
303
,
,
,
304
.
305
306
307
,
308
,
,
309
.
310
311
’
,
312
,
,
313
,
.
314
.
315
.
,
316
,
,
317
,
318
319
;
.
320
321
,
,
322
,
323
.
-
’
324
,
325
.
.
326
327
-
-
328
,
.
329
,
330
.
331
-
-
,
,
,
332
.
.
333
334
-
.
’
335
,
,
336
.
337
.
,
338
,
339
.
340
341
342
,
,
«
»
-
-
,
343
,
344
.
345
,
346
,
.
347
348
,
,
;
349
.
350
;
,
351
,
352
-
.
353
354
355
,
.
356
.
,
,
357
,
358
;
.
359
.
360
;
361
!
362
363
,
364
’
,
,
,
365
’
.
366
367
,
368
.
369
370
«
371
?
»
.
372
373
«
,
.
.
374
.
,
375
.
.
»
376
377
«
,
,
»
.
«
378
,
’
.
»
379
380
:
381
382
«
?
»
383
384
«
,
,
»
;
«
385
.
.
,
386
387
.
.
388
;
389
,
,
390
.
,
,
.
»
391
392
«
?
»
393
394
«
-
-
.
»
395
396
«
,
,
,
397
?
»
398
399
«
.
»
400
401
«
?
»
402
403
«
,
,
»
,
404
’
.
405
406
«
!
,
,
,
407
?
»
408
409
«
,
?
,
»
,
410
.
«
411
-
-
»
412
.
413
414
«
,
,
»
.
«
415
,
,
.
416
-
-
417
-
-
.
»
418
419
,
420
’
.
421
.
.
422
423
,
,
’
,
424
,
425
.
.
,
426
,
,
427
,
428
,
,
,
429
.
430
431
432
,
,
,
433
.
,
434
,
;
435
436
-
-
’
437
.
’
,
438
’
.
439
440
,
,
441
,
442
.
.
443
.
444
445
,
446
.
,
447
,
448
.
449
450
,
451
,
.
452
,
453
.
,
;
454
.
455
456
,
457
,
.
458
,
459
,
460
.
461
.
462
463
.
,
,
464
,
.
465
466
,
467
.
,
468
’
,
469
.
,
.
470
471
.
472
,
473
.
474
,
;
475
,
476
.
477
,
.
,
478
,
,
479
.
480
481
«
!
»
.
482
483
484
.
485
.
,
486
,
487
,
488
.
489
490
491
;
,
,
492
.
,
493
,
494
.
495
496
497
,
-
,
498
,
.
499
500
,
501
,
502
,
,
,
.
503
504
,
,
505
.
506
507
’
,
.
508
509
«
?
»
.
510
511
512
:
513
514
«
!
!
»
515
516
,
517
,
.
518
519
520
.
521
522
«
,
!
»
;
«
!
523
.
»
524
525
,
526
.
527
528
.
529
,
530
.
531
532
«
,
,
»
;
«
.
»
533
534
«
,
»
.
535
536
«
?
»
537
538
«
.
»
539
540
«
,
.
»
541
542
«
,
!
»
543
544
.
545
,
546
.
547
548
.
549
.
550
.
,
551
,
,
552
.
553
554
.
«
!
»
555
.
556
557
-
,
558
.
559
,
.
560
561
.
562
.
563
564
«
,
!
»
,
.
565
566
,
,
567
.
,
568
,
.
569
570
,
571
.
572
,
,
573
.
574
575
576
577
578
579
.
580
,
581
.
-
582
.
,
583
,
:
584
;
585
,
,
,
586
.
587
588
,
,
.
589
,
,
590
.
,
,
591
,
592
,
.
593
594
,
,
.
595
,
,
596
,
.
597
598
-
,
,
599
.
600
,
601
«
,
»
.
602
,
,
603
,
,
,
,
604
,
,
605
.
.
606
607
,
,
608
.
’
609
,
,
610
.
611
,
;
612
,
613
.
,
,
614
.
-
615
.
616
617
,
618
,
619
620
,
.
621
622
,
,
-
,
623
,
,
624
.
625
626
.
627
,
,
628
.
629
,
,
630
.
631
,
632
633
.
,
,
634
635
.
636
637
,
638
?
639
640
.
641
,
642
,
.
643
644
,
,
645
.
646
?
.
647
,
648
.
«
,
,
»
649
,
«
!
.
650
.
»
651
652
653
-
-
654
,
,
.
655
656
,
657
.
658
.
659
660
.
«
,
»
.
661
662
«
,
»
,
663
.
«
664
,
.
665
!
»
666
667
.
668
.
,
,
669
.
«
?
»
.
670
671
«
,
,
»
672
.
673
674
«
?
675
?
»
676
677
«
;
-
,
,
»
.
«
678
’
,
,
.
679
;
680
;
.
»
681
682
’
.
,
683
,
«
,
»
,
«
?
»
684
685
«
.
»
686
687
«
!
»
688
689
«
.
»
690
691
«
?
»
692
693
«
?
»
694
695
«
.
»
696
697
«
,
.
698
!
»
699
700
«
,
.
»
701
702
«
,
703
.
»
704
705
«
!
»
706
707
«
,
»
,
708
,
«
.
709
,
»
,
«
,
710
,
,
.
»
711
712
«
,
»
,
«
713
!
»
714
715
«
,
»
.
716
717
.
718
,
,
719
;
.
720
,
.
721
,
722
.
-
-
-
.
723
!
.
724
725
«
!
»
.
«
726
!
»
727
728
729
.
730
,
731
-
.
,
732
,
;
733
734
.
,
735
,
.
736
737
,
,
,
738
,
.
,
,
739
.
740
-
,
741
,
,
,
742
,
.
743
744
,
,
745
,
746
.
747
.
748
749
750
,
,
.
751
752
,
753
.
754
.
755
,
,
756
.
-
-
-
-
757
.
758
759
,
,
760
.
761
,
762
,
,
.
763
764
765
-
,
,
,
,
766
.
767
768
«
?
»
.
769
770
«
!
»
,
.
771
772
.
773
774
,
,
775
.
776
,
777
.
778
779
.
780
.
781
.
782
-
,
783
,
.
784
785
,
«
?
»
786
.
787
.
788
789
«
,
»
,
790
.
791
792
«
!
»
,
793
.
794
-
.
,
795
,
,
,
796
797
-
.
798
799
.
.
800
,
,
801
-
,
802
.
,
803
,
.
,
804
,
-
,
805
;
806
,
;
,
807
,
,
,
808
,
.
809
810
,
811
,
812
,
813
.
814
815
816
!
-
-
-
-
817
,
.
818
,
,
819
.
820
821
822
-
.
823
.
824
,
.
.
825
?
,
826
?
;
,
,
827
.
,
,
828
,
.
829
830
’
.
,
831
,
,
832
,
-
,
833
.
834
835
.
836
,
,
837
-
-
838
-
.
839
840
,
841
.
,
842
,
:
«
843
!
»
844
845
,
,
!
,
846
.
.
.
847
-
-
848
849
,
850
,
,
851
.
852
.
,
,
,
853
854
?
855
856
.
857
858
«
!
»
.
859
860
«
,
?
»
,
861
.
862
863
«
,
!
?
»
864
865
«
,
»
.
«
866
.
»
867
868
,
,
,
,
869
«
?
»
870
871
872
;
,
,
873
,
!
,
874
,
875
.
,
876
.
«
877
,
,
»
,
.
878
879
«
!
»
.
880
881
«
.
!
,
882
.
»
883
884
,
885
-
,
«
!
!
»
886
887
,
,
.
888
,
.
889
,
.
890
.
!
891
.
,
,
892
.
;
893
,
894
,
!
895
,
’
,
896
-
-
«
,
,
?
»
897
898
«
,
»
.
«
!
899
.
.
900
;
.
»
901
902
903
-
.
«
?
»
.
904
905
«
,
»
,
,
906
,
907
.
908
909
«
,
»
.
910
911
,
,
.
912
913
,
914
.
915
916
,
,
.
«
917
?
»
.
918
919
«
.
»
920
921
«
?
»
922
923
«
.
»
924
925
«
?
»
926
927
«
.
»
928
929
«
?
»
930
931
«
.
»
932
933
«
?
»
934
935
«
.
»
936
937
«
?
»
938
939
«
.
»
940
941
«
,
,
942
-
?
»
943
944
«
,
»
.
«
945
946
.
.
»
947
948
«
?
»
949
950
«
.
»
951
952
«
,
,
953
?
»
954
955
«
,
956
.
»
957
958
«
?
»
959
.
960
961
«
,
,
»
.
«
962
963
?
»
964
965
966
.
967
.
,
968
,
969
.
970
,
,
971
,
972
.
973
.
«
,
»
974
.
975
976
,
,
977
«
,
978
!
»
979
980
981
982
983
984
-
985
.
986
,
987
,
988
.
;
989
,
990
.
991
992
,
’
,
993
.
994
,
995
.
996
997
.
998
,
999
.
1000