Michael Strogoff; Or, The Courier of the Czar

  CHAPTER II CORRESPONDENTS IN TROUBLE

  IVAN OGAREFF was bringing up the main body of the army of the Emir. Thecavalry and infantry now under him had formed part of the column whichhad taken Omsk. Ogareff, not having been able to reduce the high town,in which, it must be remembered, the governor and garrison had soughtrefuge, had decided to pass on, not wishing to delay operations whichought to lead to the conquest of Eastern Siberia. He therefore left agarrison in Omsk, and, reinforcing himself en route with the conquerorsof Kolyvan, joined Feofar's army.

  Ivan Ogareff's soldiers halted at the outposts of the camp. Theyreceived no orders to bivouac. Their chief's plan, doubtless, was notto halt there, but to press on and reach Tomsk in the shortest possibletime, it being an important town, naturally intended to become thecenter of future operations.

  Besides his soldiers, Ogareff was bringing a convoy of Russian andSiberian prisoners, captured either at Omsk or Kolyvan. These unhappycreatures were not led to the enclosure--already too crowded--butwere forced to remain at the outposts without shelter, almost withoutnourishment. What fate was Feofar-Khan reserving for these unfortunates?Would he imprison them in Tomsk, or would some bloody execution,familiar to the Tartar chiefs, remove them when they were found tooinconvenient? This was the secret of the capricious Emir.

  This army had not come from Omsk and Kolyvan without bringing in itstrain the usual crowd of beggars, freebooters, pedlars, and gypsies,which compose the rear-guard of an army on the march.

  All these people lived on the country traversed, and left little ofanything behind them. There was, therefore, a necessity for pushingforward, if only to secure provisions for the troops. The whole regionbetween Ichim and the Obi, now completely devastated, no longer offeredany resources. The Tartars left a desert behind them.

  Conspicuous among the gypsies who had hastened from the westernprovinces was the Tsigane troop, which had accompanied Michael Strogoffas far as Perm. Sangarre was there. This fierce spy, the tool of IvanOgareff, had not deserted her master. Ogareff had traveled rapidlyto Ichim, whilst Sangarre and her band had proceeded to Omsk by thesouthern part of the province.

  It may be easily understood how useful this woman was to Ogareff. Withher gypsy-band she could penetrate anywhere. Ivan Ogareff was keptacquainted with all that was going on in the very heart of the invadedprovinces. There were a hundred eyes, a hundred ears, open in hisservice. Besides, he paid liberally for this espionage, from which hederived so much advantage.

  Once Sangarre, being implicated in a very serious affair, had been savedby the Russian officer. She never forgot what she owed him, and haddevoted herself to his service body and soul.

  When Ivan Ogareff entered on the path of treason, he saw at once howhe might turn this woman to account. Whatever order he might give her,Sangarre would execute it. An inexplicable instinct, more powerful stillthan that of gratitude, had urged her to make herself the slave of thetraitor to whom she had been attached since the very beginning of hisexile in Siberia.

  Confidante and accomplice, Sangarre, without country, without family,had been delighted to put her vagabond life to the service of theinvaders thrown by Ogareff on Siberia. To the wonderful cunning naturalto her race she added a wild energy, which knew neither forgiveness norpity. She was a savage worthy to share the wigwam of an Apache or thehut of an Andaman.

  Since her arrival at Omsk, where she had rejoined him with her Tsiganes,Sangarre had not again left Ogareff. The circumstance that Michael andMarfa Strogoff had met was known to her. She knew and shared Ogareff'sfears concerning the journey of a courier of the Czar. Having MarfaStrogoff in her power, she would have been the woman to torture her withall the refinement of a Redskin in order to wrest her secret from her.But the hour had not yet come in which Ogareff wished the old Siberianto speak. Sangarre had to wait, and she waited, without losing sightof her whom she was watching, observing her slightest gestures, herslightest words, endeavoring to catch the word "son" escaping from herlips, but as yet always baffled by Marfa's taciturnity.

  At the first flourish of the trumpets several officers of high rank,followed by a brilliant escort of Usbeck horsemen, moved to the front ofthe camp to receive Ivan Ogareff. Arrived in his presence, they paid himthe greatest respect, and invited him to accompany them to Feofar-Khan'stent.

  Imperturbable as usual, Ogareff replied coldly to the deference paid tohim. He was plainly dressed; but, from a sort of impudent bravado, hestill wore the uniform of a Russian officer.

  As he was about to enter the camp, Sangarre, passing among the officersapproached and remained motionless before him. "Nothing?" asked Ogareff.

  "Nothing."

  "Have patience."

  "Is the time approaching when you will force the old woman to speak?"

  "It is approaching, Sangarre."

  "When will the old woman speak?"

  "When we reach Tomsk."

  "And we shall be there--"

  "In three days."

  A strange gleam shot from Sangarre's great black eyes, and she retiredwith a calm step. Ogareff pressed his spurs into his horse's flanks,and, followed by his staff of Tartar officers, rode towards the Emir'stent.

  Feofar-Khan was expecting his lieutenant. The council, composed of thebearer of the royal seal, the khodja, and some high officers, had takentheir places in the tent. Ivan Ogareff dismounted and entered.

  Feofar-Khan was a man of forty, tall, rather pale, of a fiercecountenance, and evil eyes. A curly black beard flowed over his chest.With his war costume, coat of mail of gold and silver, cross-belt andscabbard glistening with precious stones, boots with golden spurs,helmet ornamented with an aigrette of brilliant diamonds, Feofarpresented an aspect rather strange than imposing for a TartarSardana-palus, an undisputed sovereign, who directs at his pleasure thelife and fortune of his subjects.

  When Ivan Ogareff appeared, the great dignitaries remained seated ontheir gold-embroidered cushions; but Feofar rose from a rich divan whichoccupied the back part of the tent, the ground being hidden under thethick velvet-pile of a Bokharian carpet.

  The Emir approached Ogareff and gave him a kiss, the meaning of which hecould not mistake. This kiss made the lieutenant chief of the council,and placed him temporarily above the khodja.

  Then Feofar spoke. "I have no need to question you," said he; "speak,Ivan. You will find here ears very ready to listen to you."

  "Takhsir," answered Ogareff, "this is what I have to make known to you."He spoke in the Tartar language, giving to his phrases the emphatic turnwhich distinguishes the languages of the Orientals. "Takhsir, this isnot the time for unnecessary words. What I have done at the head of yourtroops, you know. The lines of the Ichim and the Irtych are now inour power; and the Turcoman horsemen can bathe their horses in the nowTartar waters. The Kirghiz hordes rose at the voice of Feofar-Khan. Youcan now push your troops towards the east, and where the sun rises, ortowards the west, where he sets."

  "And if I march with the sun?" asked the Emir, without his countenancebetraying any of his thoughts.

  "To march with the sun," answered Ogareff, "is to throw yourself towardsEurope; it is to conquer rapidly the Siberian provinces of Tobolsk asfar as the Ural Mountains."

  "And if I go to meet this luminary of the heavens?"

  "It is to subdue to the Tartar dominion, with Irkutsk, the richestcountries of Central Asia."

  "But the armies of the Sultan of St. Petersburg?" said Feofar-Khan,designating the Emperor of Russia by this strange title.

  "You have nothing to fear from them," replied Ivan Ogareff. "Theinvasion has been sudden; and before the Russian army can succor them,Irkutsk or Tobolsk will have fallen into your power. The Czar's troopshave been overwhelmed at Kolyvan, as they will be everywhere where yoursmeet them."

  "And what advice does your devotion to the Tartar cause suggest?" askedthe Emir, after a few moments' silence.

  "My advice," answered Ivan Ogareff quickly, "is to march to meet thesun. It is to give the grass of the
eastern steppes to the Turcomanhorses to consume. It is to take Irkutsk, the capital of the easternprovinces, and with it a hostage, the possession of whom is worth awhole country. In the place of the Czar, the Grand Duke his brother mustfall into your hands."

  This was the great result aimed at by Ivan Ogareff. To listen to him,one would have taken him for one of the cruel descendants of StephanRazine, the celebrated pirate who ravaged Southern Russia in theeighteenth century. To seize the Grand Duke, murder him pitilessly,would fully satisfy his hatred. Besides, with the capture of Irkutsk,all Eastern Siberia would pass to the Tartars.

  "It shall be thus, Ivan," replied Feofar.

  "What are your orders, Takhsir?"

  "To-day our headquarters shall be removed to Tomsk."

  Ogareff bowed, and, followed by the housch-begui, he retired to executethe Emir's orders.

  As he was about to mount his horse, to return to the outposts, a tumultbroke out at some distance, in the part of the camp reserved for theprisoners. Shouts were heard, and two or three shots fired. Perhaps itwas an attempt at revolt or escape, which must be summarily suppressed.

  Ivan Ogareff and the housch-begui walked forward and almost immediatelytwo men, whom the soldiers had not been able to keep back appearedbefore them.

  The housch-begui, without more information, made a sign which was anorder for death, and the heads of the two prisoners would have rolled onthe ground had not Ogareff uttered a few words which arrested the swordalready raised aloft. The Russian had perceived that these prisonerswere strangers, and he ordered them to be brought to him.

  They were Harry Blount and Alcide jolivet.

  On Ogareff's arrival in the camp, they had demanded to be conducted tohis presence. The soldiers had refused. In consequence, a struggle,an attempt at flight, shots fired which happily missed the twocorrespondents, but their execution would not have been long delayed, ifit had not been for the intervention of the Emir's lieutenant.

  The latter observed the prisoners for some moments, they beingabsolutely unknown to him. They had been present at that scene inthe post-house at Ichim, in which Michael Strogoff had been struck byOgareff; but the brutal traveler had paid no attention to the personsthen collected in the common room.

  Blount and Jolivet, on the contrary, recognized him at once, and thelatter said in a low voice, "Hullo! It seems that Colonel Ogareff andthe rude personage of Ichim are one!" Then he added in his companion'sear, "Explain our affair, Blount. You will do me a service. This Russiancolonel in the midst of a Tartar camp disgusts me; and although, thanksto him, my head is still on my shoulders, my eyes would exhibit myfeelings were I to attempt to look him in the face."

  So saying, Alcide Jolivet assumed a look of complete and haughtyindifference.

  Whether or not Ivan Ogareff perceived that the prisoner's attitudewas insulting towards him, he did not let it appear. "Who are you,gentlemen?" he asked in Russian, in a cold tone, but free from its usualrudeness.

  "Two correspondents of English and French newspapers," replied Blountlaconically.

  "You have, doubtless, papers which will establish your identity?"

  "Here are letters which accredit us in Russia, from the English andFrench chancellor's office."

  Ivan Ogareff took the letters which Blount held out, and read themattentively. "You ask," said he, "authorization to follow our militaryoperations in Siberia?"

  "We ask to be free, that is all," answered the English correspondentdryly.

  "You are so, gentlemen," answered Ogareff; "I am curious to read yourarticles in the Daily Telegraph."

  "Sir," replied Blount, with the most imperturbable coolness, "it issixpence a number, including postage." And thereupon he returned to hiscompanion, who appeared to approve completely of his replies.

  Ivan Ogareff, without frowning, mounted his horse, and going to the headof his escort, soon disappeared in a cloud of dust.

  "Well, Jolivet, what do you think of Colonel Ivan Ogareff,general-in-chief of the Tartar troops?" asked Blount.

  "I think, my dear friend," replied Alcide, smiling, "that thehousch-begui made a very graceful gesture when he gave the order for ourheads to be cut off."

  Whatever was the motive which led Ogareff to act thus in regard to thetwo correspondents, they were free and could rove at their pleasureover the scene of war. Their intention was not to leave it. The sort ofantipathy which formerly they had entertained for each other hadgiven place to a sincere friendship. Circumstances having brought themtogether, they no longer thought of separating. The petty questions ofrivalry were forever extinguished. Harry Blount could never forget whathe owed his companion, who, on the other hand, never tried to remind himof it. This friendship too assisted the reporting operations, and wasthus to the advantage of their readers.

  "And now," asked Blount, "what shall we do with our liberty?"

  "Take advantage of it, of course," replied Alcide, "and go quietly toTomsk to see what is going on there."

  "Until the time--very near, I hope--when we may rejoin some Russianregiment?"

  "As you say, my dear Blount, it won't do to Tartarise ourselves toomuch. The best side is that of the most civilized army, and it isevident that the people of Central Asia will have everything to lose andabsolutely nothing to gain from this invasion, while the Russians willsoon repulse them. It is only a matter of time."

  The arrival of Ivan Ogareff, which had given Jolivet and Blount theirliberty, was to Michael Strogoff, on the contrary, a serious danger.Should chance bring the Czar's courier into Ogareff's presence, thelatter could not fail to recognize in him the traveler whom he had sobrutally treated at the Ichim post-house, and although Michael hadnot replied to the insult as he would have done under any othercircumstances, attention would be drawn to him, and at once theaccomplishment of his plans would be rendered more difficult.

  This was the unpleasant side of the business. A favorable result of hisarrival, however, was the order which was given to raise the campthat very day, and remove the headquarters to Tomsk. This was theaccomplishment of Michael's most fervent desire. His intention, as hasbeen said, was to reach Tomsk concealed amongst the other prisoners;that is to say, without any risk of falling into the hands of the scoutswho swarmed about the approaches to this important town. However, inconsequence of the arrival of Ivan Ogareff, he questioned whether itwould not be better to give up his first plan and attempt to escapeduring the journey.

  Michael would, no doubt, have kept to the latter plan had he not learntthat Feofar-Khan and Ogareff had already set out for the town with somethousands of horsemen. "I will wait, then," said he to himself; "atleast, unless some exceptional opportunity for escape occurs. Theadverse chances are numerous on this side of Tomsk, while beyond I shallin a few hours have passed the most advanced Tartar posts to the east.Still three days of patience, and may God aid me!"

  It was indeed a journey of three days which the prisoners, under theguard of a numerous detachment of Tartars, were to make across thesteppe. A hundred and fifty versts lay between the camp and the town--aneasy march for the Emir's soldiers, who wanted for nothing, but awretched journey for these people, enfeebled by privations. More thanone corpse would show the road they had traversed.

  It was two o'clock in the afternoon, on the 12th of August, under a hotsun and cloudless sky, that the toptschi-baschi gave the order to start.

  Alcide and Blount, having bought horses, had already taken the road toTomsk, where events were to reunite the principal personages of thisstory.

  Amongst the prisoners brought by Ivan Ogareff to the Tartar camp was anold woman, whose taciturnity seemed to keep her apart from all thosewho shared her fate. Not a murmur issued from her lips. She was like astatue of grief. This woman was more strictly guarded than anyone else,and, without her appearing to notice, was constantly watched by theTsigane Sangarre. Notwithstanding her age she was compelled to followthe convoy of prisoners on foot, without any alleviation of hersuffering.

  However, a kind Provide
nce had placed near her a courageous,kind-hearted being to comfort and assist her. Amongst her companions inmisfortune a young girl, remarkable for beauty and taciturnity, seemedto have given herself the task of watching over her. No words had beenexchanged between the two captives, but the girl was always at the oldwoman's side when help was useful. At first the mute assistance of thestranger was accepted with some mistrust. Gradually, however, the younggirl's clear glance, her reserve, and the mysterious sympathy whichdraws together those who are in misfortune, thawed Marfa Strogoff'scoldness.

  Nadia--for it was she--was thus able, without knowing it, to render tothe mother those attentions which she had herself received from the son.Her instinctive kindness had doubly inspired her. In devoting herselfto her service, Nadia secured to her youth and beauty the protectionafforded by the age of the old prisoner.

  On the crowd of unhappy people, embittered by sufferings, thissilent pair--one seeming to be the grandmother, the other thegrand-daughter--imposed a sort of respect.

  After being carried off by the Tartar scouts on the Irtych, Nadia hadbeen taken to Omsk. Kept prisoner in the town, she shared the fateof all those captured by Ivan Ogareff, and consequently that of MarfaStrogoff.

  If Nadia had been less energetic, she would have succumbed to thisdouble blow. The interruption to her journey, the death of Michael,made her both desperate and excited. Divided, perhaps forever, from herfather, after so many happy efforts had brought her near him, and, tocrown her grief, separated from the intrepid companion whom God seemedto have placed in her way to lead her. The image of Michael Strogoff,struck before her eyes with a lance and disappearing beneath the watersof the Irtych, never left her thoughts.

  Could such a man have died thus? For whom was God reserving His miraclesif this good man, whom a noble object was urging onwards, had beenallowed to perish so miserably? Then anger would prevail over grief. Thescene of the affront so strangely borne by her companion at the Ichimrelay returned to her memory. Her blood boiled at the recollection.

  "Who will avenge him who can no longer avenge himself?" she said.

  And in her heart, she cried, "May it be I!" If before his death Michaelhad confided his secret to her, woman, aye girl though she was, shemight have been able to carry to a successful conclusion the interruptedtask of that brother whom God had so soon taken from her.

  Absorbed in these thoughts, it can be understood how Nadia could remaininsensible to the miseries even of her captivity. Thus chance had unitedher to Marfa Strogoff without her having the least suspicion of who shewas. How could she imagine that this old woman, a prisoner like herself,was the mother of him, whom she only knew as the merchant NicholasKorpanoff? And on the other hand, how could Marfa guess that a bond ofgratitude connected this young stranger with her son?

  The thing that first struck Nadia in Marfa Strogoff was the similarityin the way in which each bore her hard fate. This stoicism of the oldwoman under the daily hardships, this contempt of bodily suffering,could only be caused by a moral grief equal to her own. So Nadiathought; and she was not mistaken. It was an instinctive sympathy forthat part of her misery which Marfa did not show which first drew Nadiatowards her. This way of bearing her sorrow went to the proud heart ofthe young girl. She did not offer her services; she gave them. Marfahad neither to refuse nor accept them. In the difficult parts of thejourney, the girl was there to support her. When the provisions weregiven out, the old woman would not have moved, but Nadia shared hersmall portion with her; and thus this painful journey was performed.Thanks to her companion, Marfa was able to follow the soldiers whoguarded the prisoners without being fastened to a saddle-bow, as weremany other unfortunate wretches, and thus dragged along this road ofsorrow.

  "May God reward you, my daughter, for what you have done for my oldage!" said Marfa Strogoff once, and for some time these were the onlywords exchanged between the two unfortunate beings.

  During these few days, which to them appeared like centuries, it wouldseem that the old woman and the girl would have been led to speak oftheir situation. But Marfa Strogoff, from a caution which may be easilyunderstood, never spoke about herself except with the greatest brevity.She never made the smallest allusion to her son, nor to the unfortunatemeeting.

  Nadia also, if not completely silent, spoke little. However, one day herheart overflowed, and she told all the events which had occurred fromher departure from Wladimir to the death of Nicholas Korpanoff.

  All that her young companion told intensely interested the old Siberian."Nicholas Korpanoff!" said she. "Tell me again about this Nicholas.I know only one man, one alone, in whom such conduct would not haveastonished me. Nicholas Korpanoff! Was that really his name? Are yousure of it, my daughter?"

  "Why should he have deceived me in this," replied Nadia, "when hedeceived me in no other way?"

  Moved, however, by a kind of presentiment, Marfa Strogoff put questionsupon questions to Nadia.

  "You told me he was fearless, my daughter. You have proved that he hasbeen so?" asked she.

  "Yes, fearless indeed!" replied Nadia.

  "It was just what my son would have done," said Marfa to herself.

  Then she resumed, "Did you not say that nothing stopped him, norastonished him; that he was so gentle in his strength that you hada sister as well as a brother in him, and he watched over you like amother?"

  "Yes, yes," said Nadia. "Brother, sister, mother--he has been all tome!"

  "And defended you like a lion?"

  "A lion indeed!" replied Nadia. "A lion, a hero!"

  "My son, my son!" thought the old Siberian. "But you said, however, thathe bore a terrible insult at that post-house in Ichim?"

  "He did bear it," answered Nadia, looking down.

  "He bore it!" murmured Marfa, shuddering.

  "Mother, mother," cried Nadia, "do not blame him! He had a secret. Asecret of which God alone is as yet the judge!"

  "And," said Marfa, raising her head and looking at Nadia as though shewould read the depths of her heart, "in that hour of humiliation did younot despise this Nicholas Korpanoff?"

  "I admired without understanding him," replied the girl. "I never felthim more worthy of respect."

  The old woman was silent for a minute.

  "Was he tall?" she asked.

  "Very tall."

  "And very handsome? Come, speak, my daughter."

  "He was very handsome," replied Nadia, blushing.

  "It was my son! I tell you it was my son!" exclaimed the old woman,embracing Nadia.

  "Your son!" said Nadia amazed, "your son!"

  "Come," said Marfa; "let us get to the bottom of this, my child. Yourcompanion, your friend, your protector had a mother. Did he never speakto you of his mother?"

  "Of his mother?" said Nadia. "He spoke to me of his mother as I spoke tohim of my father--often, always. He adored her."

  "Nadia, Nadia, you have just told me about my own son," said the oldwoman.

  And she added impetuously, "Was he not going to see this mother, whomyou say he loved, in Omsk?"

  "No," answered Nadia, "no, he was not."

  "Not!" cried Marfa. "You dare to tell me not!"

  "I say so: but it remains to me to tell you that from motives whichoutweighed everything else, motives which I do not know, I understandthat Nicholas Korpanoff had to traverse the country completely insecret. To him it was a question of life and death, and still more, aquestion of duty and honor."

  "Duty, indeed, imperious duty," said the old Siberian, "of those whosacrifice everything, even the joy of giving a kiss, perhaps the last,to his old mother. All that you do not know, Nadia--all that I did notknow myself--I now know. You have made me understand everything. Butthe light which you have thrown on the mysteries of my heart, I cannotreturn on yours. Since my son has not told you his secret, I must keepit. Forgive me, Nadia; I can never repay what you have done for me."

  "Mother, I ask you nothing," replied Nadia.

  All was thus explained to the old Siberian, a
ll, even the conduct of herson with regard to herself in the inn at Omsk. There was no doubt thatthe young girl's companion was Michael Strogoff, and that a secretmission in the invaded country obliged him to conceal his quality of theCzar's courier.

  "Ah, my brave boy!" thought Marfa. "No, I will not betray you, andtortures shall not wrest from me the avowal that it was you whom I sawat Omsk."

  Marfa could with a word have paid Nadia for all her devotion to her. Shecould have told her that her companion, Nicholas Korpanoff, or ratherMichael Strogoff, had not perished in the waters of the Irtych, sinceit was some days after that incident that she had met him, that she hadspoken to him.

  But she restrained herself, she was silent, and contented herself withsaying, "Hope, my child! Misfortune will not overwhelm you. You will seeyour father again; I feel it; and perhaps he who gave you the name ofsister is not dead. God cannot have allowed your brave companion toperish. Hope, my child, hope! Do as I do. The mourning which I wear isnot yet for my son."