CHAPTER VIII GOING UP THE KAMA
THE next day, the 18th of July, at twenty minutes to seven in themorning, the Caucasus reached the Kasan quay, seven versts from thetown.
Kasan is situated at the confluence of the Volga and Kasanka. It is animportant chief town of the government, and a Greek archbishopric, aswell as the seat of a university. The varied population preserves anAsiatic character. Although the town was so far from the landing-place,a large crowd was collected on the quay. They had come for news. Thegovernor of the province had published an order identical with that ofNijni-Novgorod. Police officers and a few Cossacks kept order among thecrowd, and cleared the way both for the passengers who were disembarkingand also for those who were embarking on board the Caucasus, minutelyexamining both classes of travelers. The one were the Asiatics who werebeing expelled; the other, mujiks stopping at Kasan.
Michael Strogoff unconcernedly watched the bustle which occurs at allquays on the arrival of a steam vessel. The Caucasus would stay for anhour to renew her fuel. Michael did not even think of landing. He wasunwilling to leave the young Livonian girl alone on board, as she hadnot yet reappeared on deck.
The two journalists had risen at dawn, as all good huntsmen should do.They went on shore and mingled with the crowd, each keeping to his ownpeculiar mode of proceeding; Harry Blount, sketching different types, ornoting some observation; Alcide Jolivet contenting himself with askingquestions, confiding in his memory, which never failed him.
There was a report along all the frontier that the insurrection andinvasion had reached considerable proportions. Communication betweenSiberia and the empire was already extremely difficult. All this MichaelStrogoff heard from the new arrivals. This information could not butcause him great uneasiness, and increase his wish of being beyond theUral Mountains, so as to judge for himself of the truth of theserumors, and enable him to guard against any possible contingency. He wasthinking of seeking more direct intelligence from some native of Kasan,when his attention was suddenly diverted.
Among the passengers who were leaving the Caucasus, Michael recognizedthe troop of Tsiganes who, the day before, had appeared in theNijni-Novgorod fair. There, on the deck of the steamboat were the oldBohemian and the woman. With them, and no doubt under their direction,landed about twenty dancers and singers, from fifteen to twenty years ofage, wrapped in old cloaks, which covered their spangled dresses. Thesedresses, just then glancing in the first rays of the sun, remindedMichael of the curious appearance which he had observed during thenight. It must have been the glitter of those spangles in the brightflames issuing from the steamboat's funnel which had attracted hisattention.
"Evidently," said Michael to himself, "this troop of Tsiganes, afterremaining below all day, crouched under the forecastle during the night.Were these gipsies trying to show themselves as little as possible? Suchis not according to the usual custom of their race."
Michael Strogoff no longer doubted that the expressions he had heard,had proceeded from this tawny group, and had been exchanged between theold gypsy and the woman to whom he gave the Mongolian name of Sangarre.Michael involuntarily moved towards the gangway, as the Bohemian troopwas leaving the steamboat.
The old Bohemian was there, in a humble attitude, little conformablewith the effrontery natural to his race. One would have said that he wasendeavoring rather to avoid attention than to attract it. His batteredhat, browned by the suns of every clime, was pulled forward over hiswrinkled face. His arched back was bent under an old cloak, wrappedclosely round him, notwithstanding the heat. It would have beendifficult, in this miserable dress, to judge of either his size or face.Near him was the Tsigane, Sangarre, a woman about thirty years old. Shewas tall and well made, with olive complexion, magnificent eyes, andgolden hair.
Many of the young dancers were remarkably pretty, all possessing theclear-cut features of their race. These Tsiganes are generally veryattractive, and more than one of the great Russian nobles, who try tovie with the English in eccentricity, has not hesitated to choose hiswife from among these gypsy girls. One of them was humming a song ofstrange rhythm, which might be thus rendered:
"Glitters brightly the gold In my raven locks streaming Rich coral around My graceful neck gleaming; Like a bird of the air, Through the wide world I roam."
The laughing girl continued her song, but Michael Strogoff ceasedto listen. It struck him just then that the Tsigane, Sangarre, wasregarding him with a peculiar gaze, as if to fix his features indeliblyin her memory.
It was but for a few moments, when Sangarre herself followed the old manand his troop, who had already left the vessel. "That's a bold gypsy,"said Michael to himself. "Could she have recognized me as the man whomshe saw at Nijni-Novgorod? These confounded Tsiganes have the eyes of acat! They can see in the dark; and that woman there might well know--"
Michael Strogoff was on the point of following Sangarre and the gypsyband, but he stopped. "No," thought he, "no unguarded proceedings. IfI were to stop that old fortune teller and his companions my incognitowould run a risk of being discovered. Besides, now they have landed,before they can pass the frontier I shall be far beyond it. They maytake the route from Kasan to Ishim, but that affords no resources totravelers. Besides a tarantass, drawn by good Siberian horses, willalways go faster than a gypsy cart! Come, friend Korpanoff, be easy."
By this time the man and Sangarre had disappeared.
Kasan is justly called the "Gate of Asia" and considered as the centerof Siberian and Bokharian commerce; for two roads begin here and leadacross the Ural Mountains. Michael Strogoff had very judiciously chosenthe one by Perm and Ekaterenburg. It is the great stage road, wellsupplied with relays kept at the expense of the government, and isprolonged from Ishim to Irkutsk.
It is true that a second route--the one of which Michael had justspoken--avoiding the slight detour by Perm, also connects Kasan withIshim. It is perhaps shorter than the other, but this advantage is muchdiminished by the absence of post-houses, the bad roads, and lack ofvillages. Michael Strogoff was right in the choice he had made, and if,as appeared probable, the gipsies should follow the second route fromKasan to Ishim, he had every chance of arriving before them.
An hour afterwards the bell rang on board the Caucasus, calling the newpassengers, and recalling the former ones. It was now seven o'clock inthe morning. The requisite fuel had been received on board. The wholevessel began to vibrate from the effects of the steam. She was ready tostart. Passengers going from Kasan to Perm were crowding on the deck.
Michael noticed that of the two reporters Blount alone had rejoined thesteamer. Was Alcide Jolivet about to miss his passage?
But just as the ropes were being cast off, Jolivet appeared, tearingalong. The steamer was already sheering off, the gangway had been drawnonto the quay, but Alcide Jolivet would not stick at such a little thingas that, so, with a bound like a harlequin, he alighted on the deck ofthe Caucasus almost in his rival's arms.
"I thought the Caucasus was going without you," said the latter.
"Bah!" answered Jolivet, "I should soon have caught you up again, bychartering a boat at my cousin's expense, or by traveling post at twentycopecks a verst, and on horseback. What could I do? It was so long a wayfrom the quay to the telegraph office."
"Have you been to the telegraph office?" asked Harry Blount, biting hislips.
"That's exactly where I have been!" answered Jolivet, with his mostamiable smile.
"And is it still working to Kolyvan?"
"That I don't know, but I can assure you, for instance, that it isworking from Kasan to Paris."
"You sent a dispatch to your cousin?"
"With enthusiasm."
"You had learnt then--?"
"Look here, little father, as the Russians say," replied Alcide Jolivet,"I'm a good fellow, and I don't wish to keep anything from you. TheTartars, and Feofar-Khan at their head, have passed Semipolatinsk, andare descending the Ir
tish. Do what you like with that!"
What! such important news, and Harry Blount had not known it; and hisrival, who had probably learned it from some inhabitant of Kasan, hadalready transmitted it to Paris. The English paper was distanced! HarryBlount, crossing his hands behind him, walked off and seated himself inthe stern without uttering a word.
About ten o'clock in the morning, the young Livonian, leaving her cabin,appeared on deck. Michael Strogoff went forward and took her hand."Look, sister!" said he, leading her to the bows of the Caucasus.
The view was indeed well worth seeing. The Caucasus had reached theconfluence of the Volga and the Kama. There she would leave the formerriver, after having descended it for nearly three hundred miles, toascend the latter for a full three hundred.
The Kama was here very wide, and its wooded banks lovely. A few whitesails enlivened the sparkling water. The horizon was closed by a line ofhills covered with aspens, alders, and sometimes large oaks.
But these beauties of nature could not distract the thoughts of theyoung Livonian even for an instant. She had left her hand in that of hercompanion, and turning to him, "At what distance are we from Moscow?"she asked.
"Nine hundred versts," answered Michael.
"Nine hundred, out of seven thousand!" murmured the girl.
The bell now announced the breakfast hour. Nadia followed MichaelStrogoff to the restaurant. She ate little, and as a poor girl whosemeans are small would do. Michael thought it best to content himselfwith the fare which satisfied his companion; and in less than twentyminutes he and Nadia returned on deck. There they seated themselves inthe stern, and without preamble, Nadia, lowering her voice to be heardby him alone, began:
"Brother, I am the daughter of an exile. My name is Nadia Fedor. Mymother died at Riga scarcely a month ago, and I am going to Irkutsk torejoin my father and share his exile."
"I, too, am going to Irkutsk," answered Michael, "and I shall thankHeaven if it enables me to give Nadia Fedor safe and sound into herfather's hands."
"Thank you, brother," replied Nadia.
Michael Strogoff then added that he had obtained a special podorojnafor Siberia, and that the Russian authorities could in no way hinder hisprogress.
Nadia asked nothing more. She saw in this fortunate meeting with Michaela means only of accelerating her journey to her father.
"I had," said she, "a permit which authorized me to go to Irkutsk, butthe new order annulled that; and but for you, brother, I should havebeen unable to leave the town, in which, without doubt, I should haveperished."
"And dared you, alone, Nadia," said Michael, "attempt to cross thesteppes of Siberia?"
"The Tartar invasion was not known when I left Riga. It was only atMoscow that I learnt the news."
"And despite it, you continued your journey?"
"It was my duty."
The words showed the character of the brave girl.
She then spoke of her father, Wassili Fedor. He was a much-esteemedphysician at Riga. But his connection with some secret society havingbeen asserted, he received orders to start for Irkutsk. The police whobrought the order conducted him without delay beyond the frontier.
Wassili Fedor had but time to embrace his sick wife and his daughter, sosoon to be left alone, when, shedding bitter tears, he was led away. Ayear and a half after her husband's departure, Madame Fedor died inthe arms of her daughter, who was thus left alone and almost penniless.Nadia Fedor then asked, and easily obtained from the Russian government,an authorization to join her father at Irkutsk. She wrote and told himshe was starting. She had barely enough money for this long journey, andyet she did not hesitate to undertake it. She would do what she could.God would do the rest.