Michael Strogoff; Or, The Courier of the Czar

  CHAPTER VI A FRIEND ON THE HIGHWAY

  HALF an hour afterwards, Michael and Nadia had left Tomsk.

  Many others of the prisoners were that night able to escape from theTartars, for officers and soldiers, all more or less intoxicated,had unconsciously relaxed the vigilant guard which they had hithertomaintained. Nadia, after having been carried off with the otherprisoners, had been able to escape and return to the square, at themoment when Michael was led before the Emir. There, mingling with thecrowd, she had witnessed the terrible scene. Not a cry escaped her whenthe scorching blade passed before her companion's eyes. She kept, by herstrength of will, mute and motionless. A providential inspiration badeher restrain herself and retain her liberty that she might lead Marfa'sson to that goal which he had sworn to reach. Her heart for an instantceased to beat when the aged Siberian woman fell senseless to theground, but one thought restored her to her former energy. "I will bethe blind man's dog," said she.

  On Ogareff's departure, Nadia had concealed herself in the shade. Shehad waited till the crowd left the square. Michael, abandoned as awretched being from whom nothing was to be feared, was alone. She sawhim draw himself towards his mother, bend over her, kiss her forehead,then rise and grope his way in flight.

  A few instants later, she and he, hand in hand, had descended the steepslope, when, after having followed the high banks of the Tom to thefurthest extremity of the town, they happily found a breach in theinclosure.

  The road to Irkutsk was the only one which penetrated towards the east.It could not be mistaken. It was possible that on the morrow, after somehours of carousal, the scouts of the Emir, once more scattering overthe steppes, might cut off all communication. It was of the greatestimportance therefore to get in advance of them. How could Nadia bear thefatigues of that night, from the 16th to the 17th of August? Howcould she have found strength for so long a stage? How could her feet,bleeding under that forced march, have carried her thither? It is almostincomprehensible. But it is none the less true that on the next morning,twelve hours after their departure from Tomsk, Michael and she reachedthe town of Semilowskoe, after a journey of thirty-five miles.

  Michael had not uttered a single word. It was not Nadia who held hishand, it was he who held that of his companion during the whole of thatnight; but, thanks to that trembling little hand which guided him, hehad walked at his ordinary pace.

  Semilowskoe was almost entirely abandoned. The inhabitants had fled.Not more than two or three houses were still occupied. All that the towncontained, useful or precious, had been carried off in wagons. However,Nadia was obliged to make a halt of a few hours. They both required foodand rest.

  The young girl led her companion to the extremity of the town. Therethey found an empty house, the door wide open. An old rickety woodenbench stood in the middle of the room, near the high stove which is tobe found in all Siberian houses. They silently seated themselves.

  Nadia gazed in her companion's face as she had never before gazed. Therewas more than gratitude, more than pity, in that look. Could Michaelhave seen her, he would have read in that sweet desolate gaze a world ofdevotion and tenderness.

  The eyelids of the blind man, made red by the heated blade, fell halfover his eyes. The pupils seemed to be singularly enlarged. The richblue of the iris was darker than formerly. The eyelashes and eyebrowswere partly burnt, but in appearance, at least, the old penetrating lookappeared to have undergone no change. If he could no longer see, if hisblindness was complete, it was because the sensibility of the retina andoptic nerve was radically destroyed by the fierce heat of the steel.

  Then Michael stretched out his hands.

  "Are you there, Nadia?" he asked.

  "Yes," replied the young girl; "I am close to you, and I will not goaway from you, Michael."

  At his name, pronounced by Nadia for the first time, a thrill passedthrough Michael's frame. He perceived that his companion knew all, whohe was.

  "Nadia," replied he, "we must separate!"

  "We separate? How so, Michael?"

  "I must not be an obstacle to your journey! Your father is waiting foryou at Irkutsk! You must rejoin your father!"

  "My father would curse me, Michael, were I to abandon you now, after allyou have done for me!"

  "Nadia, Nadia," replied Michael, "you should think only of your father!"

  "Michael," replied Nadia, "you have more need of me than my father. Doyou mean to give up going to Irkutsk?"

  "Never!" cried Michael, in a tone which plainly showed that none of hisenergy was gone.

  "But you have not the letter!"

  "That letter of which Ivan Ogareff robbed me! Well! I shall managewithout it, Nadia! They have treated me as a spy! I will act as a spy! Iwill go and repeat at Irkutsk all I have seen, all I have heard; I swearit by Heaven above! The traitor shall meet me one day face to face! ButI must arrive at Irkutsk before him."

  "And yet you speak of our separating, Michael?"

  "Nadia, they have taken everything from me!"

  "I have some roubles still, and my eyes! I can see for you, Michael; andI will lead you thither, where you could not go alone!"

  "And how shall we go?"

  "On foot."

  "And how shall we live?"

  "By begging."

  "Let us start, Nadia."

  "Come, Michael."

  The two young people no longer kept the names "brother" and "sister."In their common misfortune, they felt still closer united. They leftthe house after an hour's repose. Nadia had procured in the town somemorsels of "tchornekhleb," a sort of barley bread, and a little mead,called "meod" in Russia. This had cost her nothing, for she had alreadybegun her plan of begging. The bread and mead had in some degreeappeased Michael's hunger and thirst. Nadia gave him the lion's shareof this scanty meal. He ate the pieces of bread his companion gave him,drank from the gourd she held to his lips.

  "Are you eating, Nadia?" he asked several times.

  "Yes, Michael," invariably replied the young girl, who contented herselfwith what her companion left.

  Michael and Nadia quitted Semilowskoe, and once more set out on thelaborious road to Irkutsk. The girl bore up in a marvelous way againstfatigue. Had Michael seen her, perhaps he would not have had the courageto go on. But Nadia never complained, and Michael, hearing no sigh,walked at a speed he was unable to repress. And why? Did he still expectto keep before the Tartars? He was on foot, without money; he was blind,and if Nadia, his only guide, were to be separated from him, he couldonly lie down by the side of the road and there perish miserably.But if, on the other hand, by energetic perseverance he could reachKrasnoiarsk, all was perhaps not lost, since the governor, to whom hewould make himself known, would not hesitate to give him the means ofreaching Irkutsk.

  Michael walked on, speaking little, absorbed in his own thoughts. Heheld Nadia's hand. The two were in incessant communication. It seemedto them that they had no need of words to exchange their thoughts. Fromtime to time Michael said, "Speak to me, Nadia."

  "Why should I, Michael? We are thinking together!" the young girlwould reply, and contrived that her voice should not betray her extremefatigue.

  But sometimes, as if her heart had ceased to beat for an instant, herlimbs tottered, her steps flagged, her arms fell to her sides, shedropped behind. Michael then stopped, he fixed his eyes on the poorgirl, as though he would try to pierce the gloom which surrounded him;his breast heaved; then, supporting his companion more than before, hestarted on afresh.

  However, amidst these continual miseries, a fortunate circumstance onthat day occurred which it appeared likely would considerably easetheir fatigue. They had been walking from Semilowskoe for two hours whenMichael stopped.

  "Is there no one on the road?"

  "Not a single soul," replied Nadia.

  "Do you not hear some noise behind us? If they are Tartars we must hide.Keep a good look-out!"

  "Wait, Michael!" replied Nadia, going back a few steps to where the roadturned to the ri
ght.

  Michael Strogoff waited alone for a minute, listening attentively.

  Nadia returned almost immediately and said, "It is a cart. A young manis leading it."

  "Is he alone?"

  "Alone."

  Michael hesitated an instant. Should he hide? or should he, on thecontrary, try to find a place in the vehicle, if not for himself, atleast for her? For himself, he would be quite content to lay one handon the cart, to push it if necessary, for his legs showed no sign offailing him; but he felt sure that Nadia, compelled to walk ever sincethey crossed the Obi, that is, for eight days, must be almost exhausted.He waited.

  The cart was soon at the corner of the road. It was a very dilapidatedvehicle, known in the country as a kibitka, just capable of holdingthree persons. Usually the kibitka is drawn by three horses, but thishad but one, a beast with long hair and a very long tail. It was of theMongol breed, known for strength and courage.

  A young man was leading it, with a dog beside him. Nadia saw at oncethat the young man was Russian; his face was phlegmatic, but pleasant,and at once inspired confidence. He did not appear to be in theslightest hurry; he was not walking fast that he might spare hishorse, and, to look at him, it would not have been believed that he wasfollowing a road which might at any instant be swarming with Tartars.

  Nadia, holding Michael by the hand, made way for the vehicle. Thekibitka stopped, and the driver smilingly looked at the young girl.

  "And where are you going to in this fashion?" he asked, opening wide hisgreat honest eyes.

  At the sound of his voice, Michael said to himself that he had heard itbefore. And it was satisfactory to him to recognize the man for his browat once cleared.

  "Well, where are you going?" repeated the young man, addressing himselfmore directly to Michael.

  "We are going to Irkutsk," he replied.

  "Oh! little father, you do not know that there are still versts andversts between you and Irkutsk?"

  "I know it."

  "And you are going on foot?"

  "On foot."

  "You, well! but the young lady?"

  "She is my sister," said Michael, who judged it prudent to give againthis name to Nadia.

  "Yes, your sister, little father! But, believe me, she will never beable to get to Irkutsk!"

  "Friend," returned Michael, approaching him, "the Tartars have robbedus of everything, and I have not a copeck to offer you; but if you willtake my sister with you, I will follow your cart on foot; I will runwhen necessary, I will not delay you an hour!"

  "Brother," exclaimed Nadia, "I will not! I will not! Sir, my brother isblind!"

  "Blind!" repeated the young man, much moved.

  "The Tartars have burnt out his eyes!" replied Nadia, extending herhands, as if imploring pity.

  "Burnt out his eyes! Oh! poor little father! I am going to Krasnoiarsk.Well, why should not you and your sister mount in the kibitka? Bysitting a little close, it will hold us all three. Besides, my dog willnot refuse to go on foot; only I don't go fast, I spare my horse."

  "Friend, what is your name?" asked Michael.

  "My name is Nicholas Pigassof."

  "It is a name that I will never forget," said Michael.

  "Well, jump up, little blind father. Your sister will be beside you, inthe bottom of the cart; I sit in front to drive. There is plenty of goodbirch bark and straw in the bottom; it's like a nest. Serko, make room!"

  The dog jumped down without more telling. He was an animal of theSiberian race, gray hair, of medium size, with an honest big head,just made to pat, and he, moreover, appeared to be much attached to hismaster.

  In a moment more, Michael and Nadia were seated in the kibitka. Michaelheld out his hands as if to feel for those of Pigassof. "You wish toshake my hands!" said Nicholas. "There they are, little father! shakethem as long as it will give you any pleasure."

  The kibitka moved on; the horse, which Nicholas never touched with thewhip, ambled along. Though Michael did not gain any in speed, at leastsome fatigue was spared to Nadia.

  Such was the exhaustion of the young girl, that, rocked by themonotonous movement of the kibitka, she soon fell into a sleep, itssoundness proving her complete prostration. Michael and Nicholas laidher on the straw as comfortably as possible. The compassionate young manwas greatly moved, and if a tear did not escape from Michael's eyes, itwas because the red-hot iron had dried up the last!

  "She is very pretty," said Nicholas.

  "Yes," replied Michael.

  "They try to be strong, little father, they are brave, but they are weakafter all, these dear little things! Have you come from far."

  "Very far."

  "Poor young people! It must have hurt you very much when they burnt youreyes!"

  "Very much," answered Michael, turning towards Nicholas as if he couldsee him.

  "Did you not weep?"

  "Yes."

  "I should have wept too. To think that one could never again seethose one loves. But they can see you, however; that's perhaps someconsolation!"

  "Yes, perhaps. Tell me, my friend," continued Michael, "have you neverseen me anywhere before?"

  "You, little father? No, never."

  "The sound of your voice is not unknown to me."

  "Why!" returned Nicholas, smiling, "he knows the sound of my voice!Perhaps you ask me that to find out where I come from. I come fromKolyvan."

  "From Kolyvan?" repeated Michael. "Then it was there I met you; you werein the telegraph office?"

  "That may be," replied Nicholas. "I was stationed there. I was the clerkin charge of the messages."

  "And you stayed at your post up to the last moment?"

  "Why, it's at that moment one ought to be there!"

  "It was the day when an Englishman and a Frenchman were disputing,roubles in hand, for the place at your wicket, and the Englishmantelegraphed some poetry."

  "That is possible, but I do not remember it."

  "What! you do not remember it?"

  "I never read the dispatches I send. My duty being to forget them, theshortest way is not to know them."

  This reply showed Nicholas Pigassof's character. In the meanwhile thekibitka pursued its way, at a pace which Michael longed to rendermore rapid. But Nicholas and his horse were accustomed to a pace whichneither of them would like to alter. The horse went for two hours andrested one--so on, day and night. During the halts the horse grazed,the travelers ate in company with the faithful Serko. The kibitka wasprovisioned for at least twenty persons, and Nicholas generously placedhis supplies at the disposal of his two guests, whom he believed to bebrother and sister.

  After a day's rest, Nadia recovered some strength. Nicholas took thebest possible care of her. The journey was being made under tolerablecircumstances, slowly certainly, but surely. It sometimes happened thatduring the night, Nicholas, although driving, fell asleep, and snoredwith a clearness which showed the calmness of his conscience. Perhapsthen, by looking close, Michael's hand might have been seen feelingfor the reins, and giving the horse a more rapid pace, to the greatastonishment of Serko, who, however, said nothing. The trot wasexchanged for the amble as soon as Nicholas awoke, but the kibitka hadnot the less gained some versts.

  Thus they passed the river Ichirnsk, the villages of Ichisnokoe,Berikylokoe, Kuskoe, the river Marunsk, the village of the same name,Bogostowskoe, and, lastly, the Ichoula, a little stream which dividesWestern from Eastern Siberia. The road now lay sometimes across widemoors, which extended as far as the eye could reach, sometimes throughthick forests of firs, of which they thought they should never get tothe end. Everywhere was a desert; the villages were almost entirelyabandoned. The peasants had fled beyond the Yenisei, hoping that thiswide river would perhaps stop the Tartars.

  On the 22d of August, the kibitka entered the town of Atchinsk, twohundred and fifty miles from Tomsk. Eighty miles still lay between themand Krasnoiarsk.

  No incident had marked the journey. For the six days during which theyhad been together,
Nicholas, Michael, and Nadia had remained the same,the one in his unchange-able calm, the other two, uneasy, and thinkingof the time when their companion would leave them.

  Michael saw the country through which they traveled with the eyes ofNicholas and the young girl. In turns, they each described to him thescenes they passed. He knew whether he was in a forest or on a plain,whether a hut was on the steppe, or whether any Siberian was in sight.Nicholas was never silent, he loved to talk, and, from his peculiar wayof viewing things, his friends were amused by his conversation. One day,Michael asked him what sort of weather it was.

  "Fine enough, little father," he answered, "but soon we shall feel thefirst winter frosts. Perhaps the Tartars will go into winter quartersduring the bad season."

  Michael Strogoff shook his head with a doubtful air.

  "You do not think so, little father?" resumed Nicholas. "You think thatthey will march on to Irkutsk?"

  "I fear so," replied Michael.

  "Yes... you are right; they have with them a bad man, who will not letthem loiter on the way. You have heard speak of Ivan Ogareff?"

  "Yes."

  "You know that it is not right to betray one's country!"

  "No... it is not right..." answered Michael, who wished to remainunmoved.

  "Little father," continued Nicholas, "it seems to me that you are nothalf indignant enough when Ivan Ogareff is spoken of. Your Russian heartought to leap when his name is uttered."

  "Believe me, my friend, I hate him more than you can ever hate him,"said Michael.

  "It is not possible," replied Nicholas; "no, it is not possible! WhenI think of Ivan Ogareff, of the harm which he is doing to our sacredRussia, I get into such a rage that if I could get hold of him--"

  "If you could get hold of him, friend?"

  "I think I should kill him."

  "And I, I am sure of it," returned Michael quietly.