Michael Strogoff
Jules Verne

Part 1 out of 7


This etext was prepared by Judy Boss, Omaha, NE

Michael Strogoff


The Courier of the Czar

by Jules Verne

Michael Strogoff



"SIRE, a fresh dispatch."


"From Tomsk?"

"Is the wire cut beyond that city?"

"Yes, sire, since yesterday."

"Telegraph hourly to Tomsk, General, and keep me informed
of all that occurs."

"Sire, it shall be done," answered General Kissoff.

These words were exchanged about two hours after midnight,
at the moment when the fete given at the New Palace was at
the height of its splendor.

During the whole evening the bands of the Preobra-jensky and Paulowsky
regiments had played without cessation polkas, mazurkas, schottisches,
and waltzes from among the choicest of their repertoires.
Innumerable couples of dancers whirled through the magnificent saloons
of the palace, which stood at a few paces only from the "old house
of stones"--in former days the scene of so many terrible dramas,
the echoes of whose walls were this night awakened by the gay strains
of the musicians.

The grand-chamberlain of the court, was, besides, well seconded
in his arduous and delicate duties. The grand-dukes and their
aides-de-camp, the chamberlains-in-waiting and other officers of
the palace, presided personally in the arrangement of the dances.
The grand duchesses, covered with diamonds, the ladies-in-waiting
in their most exquisite costumes, set the example to the wives
of the military and civil dignitaries of the ancient "city
of white stone." When, therefore, the signal for the "polonaise"
resounded through the saloons, and the guests of all ranks took
part in that measured promenade, which on occasions of this kind
has all the importance of a national dance, the mingled costumes,
the sweeping robes adorned with lace, and uniforms covered with orders,
presented a scene of dazzling splendor, lighted by hundreds of lusters
multiplied tenfold by the numerous mirrors adorning the walls.

The grand saloon, the finest of all those contained in the New Palace,
formed to this procession of exalted personages and splendidly
dressed women a frame worthy of the magnificence they displayed.
The rich ceiling, with its gilding already softened by the touch
of time, appeared as if glittering with stars. The embroidered
drapery of the curtains and doors, falling in gorgeous folds,
assumed rich and varied hues, broken by the shadows of the heavy
masses of damask.

Through the panes of the vast semicircular bay-windows
the light, with which the saloons were filled, shone forth
with the brilliancy of a conflagration, vividly illuminating
the gloom in which for some hours the palace had been shrouded.
The attention of those of the guests not taking
part in the dancing was attracted by the contrast.
Resting in the recesses of the windows, they could discern,
standing out dimly in the darkness, the vague outlines of the
countless towers, domes, and spires which adorn the ancient city.
Below the sculptured balconies were visible numerous sentries,
pacing silently up and down, their rifles carried horizontally
on the shoulder, and the spikes of their helmets glittering
like flames in the glare of light issuing from the palace.
The steps also of the patrols could be heard beating
time on the stones beneath with even more regularity
than the feet of the dancers on the floor of the saloon.
From time to time the watchword was repeated from post to post,
and occasionally the notes of a trumpet, mingling with
the strains of the orchestra, penetrated into their midst.
Still farther down, in front of the facade, dark masses
obscured the rays of light which proceeded from the windows
of the New Palace. These were boats descending the course
of a river, whose waters, faintly illumined by a few lamps,
washed the lower portion of the terraces.

The principal personage who has been mentioned, the giver of the fete,
and to whom General Kissoff had been speaking in that tone
of respect with which sovereigns alone are usually addressed,
wore the simple uniform of an officer of chasseurs of the guard.
This was not affectation on his part, but the custom of a man
who cared little for dress, his contrasting strongly with the
gorgeous costumes amid which he moved, encircled by his escort
of Georgians, Cossacks, and Circassians--a brilliant band,
splendidly clad in the glittering uniforms of the Caucasus.

This personage, of lofty stature, affable demeanor,
and physiognomy calm, though bearing traces of anxiety,
moved from group to group, seldom speaking, and appearing to pay
but little attention either to the merriment of the younger guests
or the graver remarks of the exalted dignitaries or members
of the diplomatic corps who represented at the Russian court
the principal governments of Europe. Two or three of these
astute politicians--physiognomists by virtue of their profession--
failed not to detect on the countenance of their host symptoms
of disquietude, the source of which eluded their penetration;
but none ventured to interrogate him on the subject.

It was evidently the intention of the officer of chasseurs that his
own anxieties should in no way cast a shade over the festivities;
and, as he was a personage whom almost the population of a world
in itself was wont to obey, the gayety of the ball was not for
a moment checked.

Nevertheless, General Kissoff waited until the officer to whom
he had just communicated the dispatch forwarded from Tomsk should give
him permission to withdraw; but the latter still remained silent.
He had taken the telegram, he had read it carefully,
and his visage became even more clouded than before.
Involuntarily he sought the hilt of his sword, and then
passed his hand for an instant before his eyes, as though,
dazzled by the brilliancy of the light, he wished to shade them,
the better to see into the recesses of his own mind.

"We are, then," he continued, after having drawn General Kissoff
aside towards a window, "since yesterday without intelligence
from the Grand Duke?"

"Without any, sire; and it is to be feared that in a short time
dispatches will no longer cross the Siberian frontier."

"But have not the troops of the provinces of Amoor and Irkutsk,
as those also of the Trans-Balkan territory, received orders
to march immediately upon Irkutsk?"

"The orders were transmitted by the last telegram we were able
to send beyond Lake Baikal."

"And the governments of Yeniseisk, Omsk, Semipolatinsk,
and Tobolsk--are we still in direct communication with them
as before the insurrection?"

"Yes, sire; our dispatches have reached them, and we are assured
at the present moment that the Tartars have not advanced beyond
the Irtish and the Obi."

"And the traitor Ivan Ogareff, are there no tidings of him?"

"None," replied General Kissoff. "The head of the police cannot
state whether or not he has crossed the frontier."

"Let a description of him be immediately dispatched to
Nijni-Novgorod, Perm, Ekaterenburg, Kasirnov, Tioumen, Ishim, Omsk, Tomsk,
and to all the telegraphic stations with which communication
is yet open."

"Your majesty's orders shall be instantly carried out."

"You will observe the strictest silence as to this."

The General, having made a sign of respectful assent, bowing low,
mingled with the crowd, and finally left the apartments without
his departure being remarked.

The officer remained absorbed in thought for a few moments, when,
recovering himself, he went among the various groups in the saloon,
his countenance reassuming that calm aspect which had for an
instant been disturbed.

Nevertheless, the important occurrence which had occasioned
these rapidly exchanged words was not so unknown as the officer
of the chasseurs of the guard and General Kissoff had
possibly supposed. It was not spoken of officially, it is true,
nor even officiously, since tongues were not free; but a few
exalted personages had been informed, more or less exactly,
of the events which had taken place beyond the frontier.
At any rate, that which was only slightly known, that which was not
matter of conversation even between members of the corps diplomatique,
two guests, distinguished by no uniform, no decoration,
at this reception in the New Palace, discussed in a low voice,
and with apparently very correct information.

By what means, by the exercise of what acuteness had these two ordinary
mortals ascertained that which so many persons of the highest rank
and importance scarcely even suspected? It is impossible to say.
Had they the gifts of foreknowledge and foresight? Did they
possess a supplementary sense, which enabled them to see beyond
that limited horizon which bounds all human gaze? Had they obtained
a peculiar power of divining the most secret events? Was it owing
to the habit, now become a second nature, of living on information,
that their mental constitution had thus become really transformed?
It was difficult to escape from this conclusion.

Of these two men, the one was English, the other French; both were tall
and thin, but the latter was sallow as are the southern Provencals,
while the former was ruddy like a Lancashire gentleman.
The Anglo-Norman, formal, cold, grave, parsimonious of gestures
and words, appeared only to speak or gesticulate under
the influence of a spring operating at regular intervals.
The Gaul, on the contrary, lively and petulant, expressed himself
with lips, eyes, hands, all at once, having twenty different
ways of explaining his thoughts, whereas his interlocutor seemed
to have only one, immutably stereotyped on his brain.

The strong contrast they presented would at once have struck the most
superficial observer; but a physiognomist, regarding them closely,
would have defined their particular characteristics by saying,
that if the Frenchman was "all eyes," the Englishman was "all ears."

In fact, the visual apparatus of the one had been singularly
perfected by practice. The sensibility of its retina must
have been as instantaneous as that of those conjurors who
recognize a card merely by a rapid movement in cutting the pack
or by the arrangement only of marks invisible to others.
The Frenchman indeed possessed in the highest degree what may
be called "the memory of the eye."

The Englishman, on the contrary, appeared especially organized
to listen and to hear. When his aural apparatus had been once
struck by the sound of a voice he could not forget it, and after ten
or even twenty years he would have recognized it among a thousand.
His ears, to be sure, had not the power of moving as freely
as those of animals who are provided with large auditory flaps;
but, since scientific men know that human ears possess, in fact,
a very limited power of movement, we should not be far wrong
in affirming that those of the said Englishman became erect,
and turned in all directions while endeavoring to gather
in the sounds, in a manner apparent only to the naturalist.
It must be observed that this perfection of sight and hearing
was of wonderful assistance to these two men in their vocation,
for the Englishman acted as correspondent of the Daily Telegraph,
and the Frenchman, as correspondent of what newspaper,
or of what newspapers, he did not say; and when asked,
he replied in a jocular manner that he corresponded with "his
cousin Madeleine." This Frenchman, however, neath his
careless surface, was wonderfully shrewd and sagacious.
Even while speaking at random, perhaps the better to hide his desire
to learn, he never forgot himself. His loquacity even helped him
to conceal his thoughts, and he was perhaps even more discreet
than his confrere of the Daily Telegraph. Both were present
at this fete given at the New Palace on the night of the 15th
of July in their character of reporters.

It is needless to say that these two men were devoted to their mission
in the world--that they delighted to throw themselves in the track
of the most unexpected intelligence--that nothing terrified or
discouraged them from succeeding--that they possessed the imperturbable
sang froid and the genuine intrepidity of men of their calling.
Enthusiastic jockeys in this steeplechase, this hunt after information,
they leaped hedges, crossed rivers, sprang over fences, with the ardor
of pure-blooded racers, who will run "a good first" or die!

Their journals did not restrict them with regard to money--
the surest, the most rapid, the most perfect element of information
known to this day. It must also be added, to their honor,
that neither the one nor the other ever looked over or listened
at the walls of private life, and that they only exercised
their vocation when political or social interests were at stake.
In a word, they made what has been for some years called "the
great political and military reports."

It will be seen, in following them, that they had generally an
independent mode of viewing events, and, above all, their consequences,
each having his own way of observing and appreciating.

The French correspondent was named Alcide Jolivet. Harry Blount
was the name of the Englishman. They had just met for the first time
at this fete in the New Palace, of which they had been ordered to give
an account in their papers. The dissimilarity of their characters,
added to a certain amount of jealousy, which generally exists
between rivals in the same calling, might have rendered them
but little sympathetic. However, they did not avoid each other,
but endeavored rather to exchange with each other the chat of the day.
They were sportsmen, after all, hunting on the same ground.
That which one missed might be advantageously secured by the other,
and it was to their interest to meet and converse.

This evening they were both on the look out; they felt, in fact,
that there was something in the air.

"Even should it be only a wildgoose chase," said Alcide Jolivet
to himself, "it may be worth powder and shot."

The two correspondents therefore began by cautiously sounding each other.

"Really, my dear sir, this little fete is charming!"
said Alcide Jolivet pleasantly, thinking himself obliged to begin
the conversation with this eminently French phrase.

"I have telegraphed already, 'splendid!'" replied Harry Blount calmly,
employing the word specially devoted to expressing admiration by all
subjects of the United Kingdom.

"Nevertheless," added Alcide Jolivet, "I felt compelled to remark
to my cousin--"

"Your cousin?" repeated Harry Blount in a tone of surprise,
interrupting his brother of the pen.

"Yes," returned Alcide Jolivet, "my cousin Madeleine. It is with her
that I correspond, and she likes to be quickly and well informed,
does my cousin. I therefore remarked to her that, during this fete,
a sort of cloud had appeared to overshadow the sovereign's brow."

"To me, it seemed radiant," replied Harry Blount, who perhaps,
wished to conceal his real opinion on this topic.

"And, naturally, you made it 'radiant,' in the columns of
the Daily Telegraph."


"Do you remember, Mr. Blount, what occurred at Zakret in 1812?"

"I remember it as well as if I had been there, sir,"
replied the English correspondent.

"Then," continued Alcide Jolivet, "you know that, in the middle of a
fete given in his honor, it was announced to the Emperor Alexander
that Napoleon had just crossed the Niemen with the vanguard of
the French army. Nevertheless the Emperor did not leave the fete,
and notwithstanding the extreme gravity of intelligence which might cost
him his empire, he did not allow himself to show more uneasiness."

"Than our host exhibited when General Kissoff informed him
that the telegraphic wires had just been cut between the frontier
and the government of Irkutsk."

"Ah! you are aware of that?"

"I am!"

"As regards myself, it would be difficult to avoid knowing it,
since my last telegram reached Udinsk," observed Alcide Jolivet,
with some satisfaction.

"And mine only as far as Krasnoiarsk," answered Harry Blount,
in a no less satisfied tone.

"Then you know also that orders have been sent to the
troops of Nikolaevsk?"

"I do, sir; and at the same time a telegram was sent to the Cossacks
of the government of Tobolsk to concentrate their forces."

"Nothing can be more true, Mr. Blount; I was equally well acquainted
with these measures, and you may be sure that my dear cousin shall
know of them to-morrow."

"Exactly as the readers of the Daily Telegraph shall know
it also, M. Jolivet."

"Well, when one sees all that is going on. . . ."

"And when one hears all that is said. . . ."

"An interesting campaign to follow, Mr. Blount."

"I shall follow it, M. Jolivet!"

"Then it is possible that we shall find ourselves on ground
less safe, perhaps, than the floor of this ball-room."

"Less safe, certainly, but--"

"But much less slippery," added Alcide Jolivet, holding up his companion,
just as the latter, drawing back, was about to lose his equilibrium.

Thereupon the two correspondents separated, pleased that the one
had not stolen a march on the other.

At that moment the doors of the rooms adjoining the great reception
saloon were thrown open, disclosing to view several immense tables
beautifully laid out, and groaning under a profusion of valuable
china and gold plate. On the central table, reserved for
the princes, princesses, and members of the corps diplomatique,
glittered an epergne of inestimable price, brought from London,
and around this chef-d'oeuvre of chased gold reflected under
the light of the lusters a thousand pieces of most beautiful
service from the manufactories of Sevres.

The guests of the New Palace immediately began to stream
towards the supper-rooms.

At that moment. General Kissoff, who had just re-entered, quickly
approached the officer of chasseurs.

"Well?" asked the latter abruptly, as he had done the former time.

"Telegrams pass Tomsk no longer, sire."

"A courier this moment!"

The officer left the hall and entered a large antechamber adjoining.
It was a cabinet with plain oak furniture, situated in an angle of
the New Palace. Several pictures, amongst others some by Horace Vernet,
hung on the wall.

The officer hastily opened a window, as if he felt the want
of air, and stepped out on a balcony to breathe the pure
atmosphere of a lovely July night. Beneath his eyes,
bathed in moonlight, lay a fortified inclosure, from which
rose two cathedrals, three palaces, and an arsenal.
Around this inclosure could be seen three distinct towns:
Kitai-Gorod, Beloi-Gorod, Zemlianai-Gorod--European, Tartar,
and Chinese quarters of great extent, commanded by towers,
belfries, minarets, and the cupolas of three hundred churches,
with green domes, surmounted by the silver cross.
A little winding river, here and there reflected the rays
of the moon.

This river was the Moskowa; the town Moscow; the fortified inclosure
the Kremlin; and the officer of chasseurs of the guard, who, with folded
arms and thoughtful brow, was listening dreamily to the sounds floating
from the New Palace over the old Muscovite city, was the Czar.


THE Czar had not so suddenly left the ball-room of the New Palace,
when the fete he was giving to the civil and military authorities
and principal people of Moscow was at the height of its brilliancy,
without ample cause; for he had just received information that serious
events were taking place beyond the frontiers of the Ural. It had become
evident that a formidable rebellion threatened to wrest the Siberian
provinces from the Russian crown.

Asiatic Russia, or Siberia, covers a superficial area of 1,790,208
square miles, and contains nearly two millions of inhabitants.
Extending from the Ural Mountains, which separate it
from Russia in Europe, to the shores of the Pacific Ocean,
it is bounded on the south by Turkestan and the Chinese Empire;
on the north by the Arctic Ocean, from the Sea of Kara
to Behring's Straits. It is divided into several governments
or provinces, those of Tobolsk, Yeniseisk, Irkutsk, Omsk,
and Yakutsk; contains two districts, Okhotsk and Kamtschatka;
and possesses two countries, now under the Muscovite dominion--
that of the Kirghiz and that of the Tshouktshes. This immense
extent of steppes, which includes more than one hundred and
ten degrees from west to east, is a land to which criminals
and political offenders are banished.

Two governor-generals represent the supreme authority of the Czar
over this vast country. The higher one resides at Irkutsk,
the far capital of Eastern Siberia. The River Tchouna separates
the two Siberias.

No rail yet furrows these wide plains, some of which are in reality
extremely fertile. No iron ways lead from those precious mines
which make the Siberian soil far richer below than above its surface.
The traveler journeys in summer in a kibick or telga; in winter,
in a sledge.

An electric telegraph, with a single wire more than eight thousand
versts in length, alone affords communication between the western
and eastern frontiers of Siberia. On issuing from the Ural, it passes
through Ekaterenburg, Kasirnov, Tioumen, Ishim, Omsk, Elamsk, Kolyvan,
Tomsk, Krasnoiarsk, Nijni-Udinsk, Irkutsk, Verkne-Nertschink, Strelink,
Albazine, Blagowstenks, Radde, Orlomskaya, Alexandrowskoe, and Nikolaevsk;
and six roubles and nineteen copecks are paid for every word sent
from one end to the other. From Irkutsk there is a branch to Kiatka,
on the Mongolian frontier; and from thence, for thirty copecks a word,
the post conveys the dispatches to Pekin in a fortnight.

It was this wire, extending from Ekaterenburg to Nikolaevsk,
which had been cut, first beyond Tomsk, and then between
Tomsk and Kolyvan.

This was why the Czar, to the communication made to him for
the second time by General Kissoff, had answered by the words,
"A courier this moment!"

The Czar remained motionless at the window for a few moments,
when the door was again opened. The chief of police appeared
on the threshold.

"Enter, General," said the Czar briefly, "and tell me all you
know of Ivan Ogareff."

"He is an extremely dangerous man, sire," replied the chief of police.

"He ranked as colonel, did he not?"

"Yes, sire."

"Was he an intelligent officer?"

"Very intelligent, but a man whose spirit it was impossible to subdue;
and possessing an ambition which stopped at nothing, he became involved
in secret intrigues, and was degraded from his rank by his Highness
the Grand Duke, and exiled to Siberia."

"How long ago was that?"

"Two years since. Pardoned after six months of exile by your
majesty's favor, he returned to Russia."

"And since that time, has he not revisited Siberia?"

"Yes, sire; but he voluntarily returned there," replied the chief
of police, adding, and slightly lowering his voice, "there was
a time, sire, when NONE returned from Siberia."

"Well, whilst I live, Siberia is and shall be a country whence
men CAN return."

The Czar had the right to utter these words with some pride,
for often, by his clemency, he had shown that Russian justice
knew how to pardon.

The head of the police did not reply to this observation, but it
was evident that he did not approve of such half-measures. According
to his idea, a man who had once passed the Ural Mountains in charge
of policemen, ought never again to cross them. Now, it was not thus
under the new reign, and the chief of police sincerely deplored it.
What! no banishment for life for other crimes than those against
social order! What! political exiles returning from Tobolsk,
from Yakutsk, from Irkutsk! In truth, the chief of police,
accustomed to the despotic sentences of the ukase which formerly
never pardoned, could not understand this mode of governing.
But he was silent, waiting until the Czar should interrogate him further.
The questions were not long in coming.

"Did not Ivan Ogareff," asked the Czar, "return to Russia
a second time, after that journey through the Siberian provinces,
the object of which remains unknown?"

"He did."

"And have the police lost trace of him since?"

"No, sire; for an offender only becomes really dangerous from the day
he has received his pardon."

The Czar frowned. Perhaps the chief of police feared that he had
gone rather too far, though the stubbornness of his ideas was at
least equal to the boundless devotion he felt for his master.
But the Czar, disdaining to reply to these indirect
reproaches cast on his policy, continued his questions.
"Where was Ogareff last heard of?"

"In the province of Perm."

"In what town?"

"At Perm itself."

"What was he doing?"

"He appeared unoccupied, and there was nothing suspicious
in his conduct."

"Then he was not under the surveillance of the secret police?"

"No, sire."

"When did he leave Perm?"

"About the month of March?"

"To go...?"

"Where, is unknown."

"And it is not known what has become of him?"

"No, sire; it is not known."

"Well, then, I myself know," answered the Czar. "I have received
anonymous communications which did not pass through the police department;
and, in the face of events now taking place beyond the frontier,
I have every reason to believe that they are correct."

"Do you mean, sire," cried the chief of police, "that Ivan Ogareff
has a hand in this Tartar rebellion?"

"Indeed I do; and I will now tell you something which you
are ignorant of. After leaving Perm, Ivan Ogareff crossed
the Ural mountains, entered Siberia, and penetrated the
Kirghiz steppes, and there endeavored, not without success,
to foment rebellion amongst their nomadic population.
He then went so far south as free Turkestan; there, in the provinces
of Bokhara, Khokhand, and Koondooz, he found chiefs willing
to pour their Tartar hordes into Siberia, and excite a general
rising in Asiatic Russia. The storm has been silently gathering,
but it has at last burst like a thunderclap, and now all means
of communication between Eastern and Western Siberia have
been stopped. Moreover, Ivan Ogareff, thirsting for vengeance,
aims at the life of my brother!"

The Czar had become excited whilst speaking, and now paced up
and down with hurried steps. The chief of police said nothing,
but he thought to himself that, during the time when the
emperors of Russia never pardoned an exile, schemes such
as those of Ivan Ogareff could never have been realized.
Approaching the Czar, who had thrown himself into an armchair,
he asked, "Your majesty has of course given orders so that this
rebellion may be suppressed as soon as possible?"

"Yes," answered the Czar. "The last telegram which reached
Nijni-Udinsk would set in motion the troops in the governments
of Yenisei, Irkutsk, Yakutsk, as well as those in the provinces
of the Amoor and Lake Baikal. At the same time, the regiments
from Perm and Nijni-Novgorod, and the Cossacks from the frontier,
are advancing by forced marches towards the Ural Mountains;
but some weeks must pass before they can attack the Tartars."

"And your majesty's brother, his Highness the Grand Duke,
is now isolated in the government of Irkutsk, and is no longer
in direct communication with Moscow?"

"That is so."

"But by the last dispatches, he must know what measures have
been taken by your majesty, and what help he may expect from
the governments nearest Irkutsk?"

"He knows that," answered the Czar; "but what he does not know is,
that Ivan Ogareff, as well as being a rebel, is also playing the part
of a traitor, and that in him he has a personal and bitter enemy.
It is to the Grand Duke that Ogareff owes his first disgrace;
and what is more serious is, that this man is not known to him.
Ogareff's plan, therefore, is to go to Irkutsk, and, under an
assumed name, offer his services to the Grand Duke. Then, after gaining
his confidence, when the Tartars have invested Irkutsk, he will
betray the town, and with it my brother, whose life he seeks.
This is what I have learned from my secret intelligence; this is
what the Grand Duke does not know; and this is what he must know!"

"Well, sire, an intelligent, courageous courier . . ."

"I momentarily expect one."

"And it is to be hoped he will be expeditious," added the chief
of police; "for, allow me to add, sire, that Siberia is a favorable
land for rebellions."

"Do you mean to say. General, that the exiles would make common
cause with the rebels?" exclaimed the Czar.

"Excuse me, your majesty," stammered the chief of police,
for that was really the idea suggested to him by his uneasy
and suspicious mind.

"I believe in their patriotism," returned the Czar.

"There are other offenders besides political exiles in Siberia,"
said the chief of police.

"The criminals? Oh, General, I give those up to you!
They are the vilest, I grant, of the human race.
They belong to no country. But the insurrection, or rather,
the rebellion, is not to oppose the emperor; it is raised
against Russia, against the country which the exiles have not
lost all hope of again seeing--and which they will see again.
No, a Russian would never unite with a Tartar, to weaken,
were it only for an hour, the Muscovite power!"

The Czar was right in trusting to the patriotism of those whom
his policy kept, for a time, at a distance. Clemency, which was
the foundation of his justice, when he could himself direct its effects,
the modifications he had adopted with regard to applications for the
formerly terrible ukases, warranted the belief that he was not mistaken.
But even without this powerful element of success in regard to
the Tartar rebellion, circumstances were not the less very serious;
for it was to be feared that a large part of the Kirghiz population
would join the rebels.

The Kirghiz are divided into three hordes, the greater, the lesser,
and the middle, and number nearly four hundred thousand "tents,"
or two million souls. Of the different tribes some are independent
and others recognize either the sovereignty of Russia or that of
the Khans of Khiva, Khokhand, and Bokhara, the most formidable chiefs
of Turkestan. The middle horde, the richest, is also the largest, and its
encampments occupy all the space between the rivers Sara Sou, Irtish,
and the Upper Ishim, Lake Saisang and Lake Aksakal. The greater horde,
occupying the countries situated to the east of the middle one, extends as
far as the governments of Omsk and Tobolsk. Therefore, if the Kirghiz
population should rise, it would be the rebellion of Asiatic Russia,
and the first thing would be the separation of Siberia, to the east
of the Yenisei.

It is true that these Kirghiz, mere novices in the art of war, are rather
nocturnal thieves and plunderers of caravans than regular soldiers.
As M. Levchine says, "a firm front or a square of good infantry could
repel ten times the number of Kirghiz; and a single cannon might destroy
a frightful number."

That may be; but to do this it is necessary for the square of good
infantry to reach the rebellious country, and the cannon to leave
the arsenals of the Russian provinces, perhaps two or three thousand
versts distant. Now, except by the direct route from Ekaterenburg
to Irkutsk, the often marshy steppes are not easily practicable,
and some weeks must certainly pass before the Russian troops could
reach the Tartar hordes.

Omsk is the center of that military organization of Western Siberia
which is intended to overawe the Kirghiz population. Here are
the bounds, more than once infringed by the half-subdued nomads,
and there was every reason to believe that Omsk was already in danger.
The line of military stations, that is to say, those Cossack
posts which are ranged in echelon from Omsk to Semipolatinsk,
must have been broken in several places. Now, it was to be
feared that the "Grand Sultans," who govern the Kirghiz
districts would either voluntarily accept, or involuntarily
submit to, the dominion of Tartars, Mussulmen like themselves,
and that to the hate caused by slavery was not united the hate
due to the antagonism of the Greek and Mussulman religions.
For some time, indeed, the Tartars of Turkestan had endeavored,
both by force and persuasion, to subdue the Kirghiz hordes.

A few words only with respect to these Tartars. The Tartars
belong more especially to two distinct races, the Caucasian and
the Mongolian. The Caucasian race, which, as Abel de Remusat says,
"is regarded in Europe as the type of beauty in our species,
because all the nations in this part of the world have sprung from it,"
includes also the Turks and the Persians. The purely Mongolian
race comprises the Mongols, Manchoux, and Thibetans.

The Tartars who now threatened the Russian Empire, belonged to
the Caucasian race, and occupied Turkestan. This immense
country is divided into different states, governed by Khans,
and hence termed Khanats. The principal khanats are
those of Bokhara, Khokhand, Koondooz, etc. At this period,
the most important and the most formidable khanat was that
of Bokhara. Russia had already been several times at war
with its chiefs, who, for their own interests, had supported
the independence of the Kirghiz against the Muscovite dominion.
The present chief, Feofar-Khan, followed in the steps
of his predecessors.

The khanat of Bokhara has a population of two million five
hundred thousand inhabitants, an army of sixty thousand men,
trebled in time of war, and thirty thousand horsemen.
It is a rich country, with varied animal, vegetable,
and mineral products, and has been increased by the accession
of the territories of Balkh, Aukoi, and Meimaneh. It possesses
nineteen large towns. Bokhara, surrounded by a wall measuring
more than eight English miles, and flanked with towers,
a glorious city, made illustrious by Avicenna and other
learned men of the tenth century, is regarded as the center
of Mussulman science, and ranks among the most celebrated
cities of Central Asia. Samarcand, which contains the tomb
of Tamerlane and the famous palace where the blue stone is kept
on which each new khan must seat himself on his accession,
is defended by a very strong citadel. Karschi, with its
triple cordon, situated in an oasis, surrounded by a marsh
peopled with tortoises and lizards, is almost impregnable,
Is-chardjoui is defended by a population of twenty thousand souls.
Protected by its mountains, and isolated by its steppes,
the khanat of Bokhara is a most formidable state; and Russia
would need a large force to subdue it.

The fierce and ambitious Feofar now governed this corner
of Tartary. Relying on the other khans--principally those of Khokhand
and Koondooz, cruel and rapacious warriors, all ready to join
an enterprise so dear to Tartar instincts--aided by the chiefs
who ruled all the hordes of Central Asia, he had placed himself at
the head of the rebellion of which Ivan Ogareff was the instigator.
This traitor, impelled by insane ambition as much as by hate,
had ordered the movement so as to attack Siberia. Mad indeed
he was, if he hoped to rupture the Muscovite Empire. Acting under
his suggestion, the Emir--which is the title taken by the khans
of Bokhara--had poured his hordes over the Russian frontier.
He invaded the government of Semipolatinsk, and the Cossacks,
who were only in small force there, had been obliged to retire
before him. He had advanced farther than Lake Balkhash,
gaining over the Kirghiz population on his way. Pillaging, ravaging,
enrolling those who submitted, taking prisoners those who resisted,
he marched from one town to another, followed by those impedimenta
of Oriental sovereignty which may be called his household,
his wives and his slaves--all with the cool audacity of a modern
Ghengis-Khan. It was impossible to ascertain where he now was;
how far his soldiers had marched before the news of the rebellion
reached Moscow; or to what part of Siberia the Russian troops
had been forced to retire. All communication was interrupted.
Had the wire between Kolyvan and Tomsk been cut by Tartar scouts,
or had the Emir himself arrived at the Yeniseisk provinces?
Was all the lower part of Western Siberia in a ferment?
Had the rebellion already spread to the eastern regions?
No one could say. The only agent which fears neither cold nor heat,
which can neither be stopped by the rigors of winter nor the heat
of summer, and which flies with the rapidity of lightning--
the electric current--was prevented from traversing the steppes,
and it was no longer possible to warn the Grand Duke, shut up
in Irkutsk, of the danger threatening him from the treason
of Ivan Ogareff.

A courier only could supply the place of the interrupted current.
It would take this man some time to traverse the five thousand two hundred
versts between Moscow and Irkutsk. To pass the ranks of the rebels
and invaders he must display almost superhuman courage and intelligence.
But with a clear head and a firm heart much can be done.

"Shall I be able to find this head and heart?" thought the Czar.


THE door of the imperial cabinet was again opened and
General Kissoff was announced.

"The courier?" inquired the Czar eagerly.

"He is here, sire," replied General Kissoff.

"Have you found a fitting man?"

"I will answer for him to your majesty."

"Has he been in the service of the Palace?"

"Yes, sire."

"You know him?"

"Personally, and at various times he has fulfilled difficult
missions with success."


"In Siberia itself."

"Where does he come from?"

"From Omsk. He is a Siberian."

"Has he coolness, intelligence, courage?"

"Yes, sire; he has all the qualities necessary to succeed,
even where others might possibly fail."

"What is his age?"


"Is he strong and vigorous?"

"Sire, he can bear cold, hunger, thirst, fatigue, to the
very last extremities."

"He must have a frame of iron."

"Sire, he has."

"And a heart?"

"A heart of gold."

"His name?"

"Michael Strogoff."

"Is he ready to set out?"

"He awaits your majesty's orders in the guard-room."

"Let him come in," said the Czar.

In a few moments Michael Strogoff, the courier, entered the imperial
library. He was a tall, vigorous, broad-shouldered, deep-chested man.
His powerful head possessed the fine features of the Caucasian race.
His well-knit frame seemed built for the performance of feats
of strength. It would have been a difficult task to move such a man
against his will, for when his feet were once planted on the ground,
it was as if they had taken root. As he doffed his Muscovite cap,
locks of thick curly hair fell over his broad, massive forehead.
When his ordinarily pale face became at all flushed,
it arose solely from a more rapid action of the heart.
His eyes, of a deep blue, looked with clear, frank, firm gaze.
The slightly-contracted eyebrows indicated lofty heroism--"the hero's
cool courage," according to the definition of the physiologist.
He possessed a fine nose, with large nostrils; and a well-shaped mouth,
with the slightly-projecting lips which denote a generous
and noble heart.

Michael Strogoff had the temperament of the man of action, who does
not bite his nails or scratch his head in doubt and indecision.
Sparing of gestures as of words, he always stood motionless like a soldier
before his superior; but when he moved, his step showed a firmness,
a freedom of movement, which proved the confidence and vivacity
of his mind.

Michael Strogoff wore a handsome military uniform something
resembling that of a light-cavalry officer in the field--
boots, spurs, half tightly-fitting trousers, brown pelisse,
trimmed with fur and ornamented with yellow braid.
On his breast glittered a cross and several medals.

Michael Strogoff belonged to the special corps of the Czar's
couriers, ranking as an officer among those picked men.
His most discernible characteristic--particularly in his walk,
his face, in the whole man, and which the Czar perceived
at a glance--was, that he was "a fulfiller of orders."
He therefore possessed one of the most serviceable qualities
in Russia--one which, as the celebrated novelist Tourgueneff says,
"will lead to the highest positions in the Muscovite empire."

In short, if anyone could accomplish this journey from Moscow
to Irkutsk, across a rebellious country, surmount obstacles,
and brave perils of all sorts, Michael Strogoff was the man.

A circumstance especially favorable to the success of his plan was,
that he was thoroughly acquainted with the country which he was
about to traverse, and understood its different dialects--
not only from having traveled there before, but because he was
of Siberian origin.

His father--old Peter Strogoff, dead ten years since--
inhabited the town of Omsk, situated in the government of the
same name; and his mother, Marfa Strogoff, lived there still.
There, amid the wild steppes of the provinces of Omsk and Tobolsk,
had the famous huntsman brought up his son Michael to endure hardship.
Peter Strogoff was a huntsman by profession. Summer and winter--
in the burning heat, as well as when the cold was sometimes fifty
degrees below zero--he scoured the frozen plains, the thickets of
birch and larch, the pine forests; setting traps; watching for small
game with his gun, and for large game with the spear or knife.
The large game was nothing less than the Siberian bear, a formidable
and ferocious animal, in size equaling its fellow of the frozen seas.
Peter Strogoff had killed more than thirty-nine bears--that is
to say, the fortieth had fallen under his blows; and, according to
Russian legends, most huntsmen who have been lucky enough up
to the thirty-ninth bear, have succumbed to the fortieth.

Peter Strogoff had, however, passed the fatal number without even
a scratch. From that time, his son Michael, aged eleven years,
never failed to accompany him to the hunt, carrying the ragatina
or spear to aid his father, who was armed only with the knife.
When he was fourteen, Michael Strogoff had killed his first bear,
quite alone--that was nothing; but after stripping it he dragged
the gigantic animal's skin to his father's house, many versts distant,
exhibiting remarkable strength in a boy so young.

This style of life was of great benefit to him, and when he arrived
at manhood he could bear any amount of cold, heat, hunger, thirst,
or fatigue. Like the Yakout of the northern countries, he was
made of iron. He could go four-and-twenty hours without eating,
ten nights without sleeping, and could make himself a shelter
in the open steppe where others would have been frozen to death.
Gifted with marvelous acuteness, guided by the instinct of the Delaware
of North America, over the white plain, when every object is hidden
in mist, or even in higher latitudes, where the polar night is
prolonged for many days, he could find his way when others would
have had no idea whither to turn. All his father's secrets were
known to him. He had learnt to read almost imperceptible signs--
the forms of icicles, the appearance of the small branches of trees,
mists rising far away in the horizon, vague sounds in the air,
distant reports, the flight of birds through the foggy atmosphere,
a thousand circumstances which are so many words to those who can
decipher them. Moreover, tempered by snow like a Damascus blade
in the waters of Syria, he had a frame of iron, as General Kissoff
had said, and, what was no less true, a heart of gold.

The only sentiment of love felt by Michael Strogoff was that which
he entertained for his mother, the aged Marfa, who could never be
induced to leave the house of the Strogoffs, at Omsk, on the banks of
the Irtish, where the old huntsman and she had lived so long together.
When her son left her, he went away with a full heart, but promising
to come and see her whenever he could possibly do so; and this promise
he had always religiously kept.

When Michael was twenty, it was decided that he should enter
the personal service of the Emperor of Russia, in the corps
of the couriers of the Czar. The hardy, intelligent, zealous,
well-conducted young Siberian first distinguished himself especially,
in a journey to the Caucasus, through the midst of a difficult country,
ravaged by some restless successors of Schamyl; then later,
in an important mission to Petropolowski, in Kamtschatka,
the extreme limit of Asiatic Russia. During these long journeys
he displayed such marvelous coolness, prudence, and courage,
as to gain him the approbation and protection of his chiefs,
who rapidly advanced him in his profession.

The furloughs which were his due after these distant missions,
he never failed to devote to his old mother. Having been much employed
in the south of the empire, he had not seen old Marfa for three years--
three ages!--the first time in his life he had been so long absent
from her. Now, however, in a few days he would obtain his furlough,
and he had accordingly already made preparations for departure
for Omsk, when the events which have been related occurred.
Michael Strogoff was therefore introduced into the Czar's presence
in complete ignorance of what the emperor expected from him.

The Czar fixed a penetrating look upon him without uttering a word,
whilst Michael stood perfectly motionless.

The Czar, apparently satisfied with his scrutiny, motioned to the chief
of police to seat himself, and dictated in a low voice a letter of not
more than a few lines.

The letter penned, the Czar re-read it attentively, then signed it,
preceding his name with the words "Byt po semou," which, signifying "So
be it," constitutes the decisive formula of the Russian emperors.

The letter was then placed in an envelope, which was sealed
with the imperial arms.

The Czar, rising, told Michael Strogoff to draw near.

Michael advanced a few steps, and then stood motionless,
ready to answer.

The Czar again looked him full in the face and their eyes met.
Then in an abrupt tone, "Thy name?" he asked.

"Michael Strogoff, sire."

"Thy rank?"

"Captain in the corps of couriers of the Czar."

"Thou dost know Siberia?"

"I am a Siberian."

"A native of?"

"Omsk, sire."

"Hast thou relations there?"

"Yes sire."

"What relations?"

"My old mother."

The Czar suspended his questions for a moment. Then, pointing to the
letter which he held in his hand, "Here is a letter which I charge thee,
Michael Strogoff, to deliver into the hands of the Grand Duke,
and to no other but him."

"I will deliver it, sire."

"The Grand Duke is at Irkutsk."

"I will go to Irkutsk."

"Thou wilt have to traverse a rebellious country, invaded by Tartars,
whose interest it will be to intercept this letter."

"I will traverse it."

"Above all, beware of the traitor, Ivan Ogareff, who will perhaps
meet thee on the way."

"I will beware of him."

"Wilt thou pass through Omsk?"

"Sire, that is my route."

"If thou dost see thy mother, there will be the risk of being recognized.
Thou must not see her!"

Michael Strogoff hesitated a moment.

"I will not see her," said he.

"Swear to me that nothing will make thee acknowledge who thou art,
nor whither thou art going."

"I swear it."

"Michael Strogoff," continued the Czar, giving the letter to the young
courier, "take this letter; on it depends the safety of all Siberia,
and perhaps the life of my brother the Grand Duke."

"This letter shall be delivered to his Highness the Grand Duke."

"Then thou wilt pass whatever happens?"

"I shall pass, or they shall kill me."

"I want thee to live."

"I shall live, and I shall pass," answered Michael Strogoff.

The Czar appeared satisfied with Strogoff's calm and simple answer.

"Go then, Michael Strogoff," said he, "go for God, for Russia,
for my brother, and for myself!"

The courier, having saluted his sovereign, immediately left
the imperial cabinet, and, in a few minutes, the New Palace.

"You made a good choice there, General," said the Czar.

"I think so, sire," replied General Kissoff; "and your majesty
may be sure that Michael Strogoff will do all that a man can do."

"He is indeed a man," said the Czar.


THE distance between Moscow and Irkutsk, about to be traversed
by Michael Strogoff, was three thousand four hundred miles.
Before the telegraph wire extended from the Ural Mountains to
the eastern frontier of Siberia, the dispatch service was performed
by couriers, those who traveled the most rapidly taking eighteen
days to get from Moscow to Irkutsk. But this was the exception,
and the journey through Asiatic Russia usually occupied from four
to five weeks, even though every available means of transport
was placed at the disposal of the Czar's messengers.

Michael Strogoff was a man who feared neither frost nor snow.
He would have preferred traveling during the severe winter season,
in order that he might perform the whole distance by sleighs.
At that period of the year the difficulties which all other means
of locomotion present are greatly diminished, the wide steppes
being leveled by snow, while there are no rivers to cross,
but simply sheets of glass, over which the sleigh glides
rapidly and easily.

Perhaps certain natural phenomena are most to be feared at that time,
such as long-continuing and dense fogs, excessive cold, fearfully heavy
snow-storms, which sometimes envelop whole caravans and cause
their destruction. Hungry wolves also roam over the plain in thousands.
But it would have been better for Michael Strogoff to face these risks;
for during the winter the Tartar invaders would have been stationed
in the towns, any movement of their troops would have been impracticable,
and he could consequently have more easily performed his journey.
But it was not in his power to choose either weather or time.
Whatever the circumstances, he must accept them and set out.

Such were the difficulties which Michael Strogoff boldly confronted
and prepared to encounter.

In the first place, he must not travel as a courier of the Czar
usually would. No one must even suspect what he really was.
Spies swarm in a rebellious country; let him be recognized,
and his mission would be in danger. Also, while supplying him
with a large sum of money, which was sufficient for his journey,
and would facilitate it in some measure, General Kissoff
had not given him any document notifying that he was on
the Emperor's service, which is the Sesame par excellence.
He contented himself with furnishing him with a "podorojna."

This podorojna was made out in the name of Nicholas Korpanoff, merchant,
living at Irkutsk. It authorized Nicholas Korpanoff to be accompanied
by one or more persons, and, moreover, it was, by special notification,
made available in the event of the Muscovite government forbidding
natives of any other countries to leave Russia.

The podorojna is simply a permission to take post-horses;
but Michael Strogoff was not to use it unless he was sure that
by so doing he would not excite suspicion as to his mission,
that is to say, whilst he was on European territory.
The consequence was that in Siberia, whilst traversing
the insurgent provinces, he would have no power over the relays,
either in the choice of horses in preference to others,
or in demanding conveyances for his personal use; neither was
Michael Strogoff to forget that he was no longer a courier,
but a plain merchant, Nicholas Korpanoff, traveling from Moscow
to Irkutsk, and, as such exposed to all the impediments
of an ordinary journey.

To pass unknown, more or less rapidly, but to pass somehow,
such were the directions he had received.

Thirty years previously, the escort of a traveler of rank consisted
of not less than two hundred mounted Cossacks, two hundred foot-soldiers,
twenty-five Baskir horsemen, three hundred camels, four hundred horses,
twenty-five wagons, two portable boats, and two pieces of cannon.
All this was requisite for a journey in Siberia.

Michael Strogoff, however, had neither cannon, nor horsemen,
nor foot-soldiers, nor beasts of burden. He would travel
in a carriage or on horseback, when he could; on foot,
when he could not.

There would be no difficulty in getting over the first thousand miles,
the distance between Moscow and the Russian frontier.
Railroads, post-carriages, steamboats, relays of horses,
were at everyone's disposal, and consequently at the disposal
of the courier of the Czar.

Accordingly, on the morning of the 16th of July, having doffed
his uniform, with a knapsack on his back, dressed in the simple
Russian costume--tightly-fitting tunic, the traditional belt of
the Moujik, wide trousers, gartered at the knees, and high boots--
Michael Strogoff arrived at the station in time for the first train.
He carried no arms, openly at least, but under his belt was
hidden a revolver and in his pocket, one of those large knives,
resembling both a cutlass and a yataghan, with which a Siberian
hunter can so neatly disembowel a bear, without injuring
its precious fur.

A crowd of travelers had collected at the Moscow station.
The stations on the Russian railroads are much used as places
for meeting, not only by those who are about to proceed
by the train, but by friends who come to see them off.
The station resembles, from the variety of characters assembled,
a small news exchange.

The train in which Michael took his place was to set him down at
Nijni-Novgorod. There terminated at that time, the iron road which,
uniting Moscow and St. Petersburg, has since been continued
to the Russian frontier. It was a journey of under three
hundred miles, and the train would accomplish it in ten hours.
Once arrived at Nijni-Novgorod, Strogoff would either take
the land route or the steamer on the Volga, so as to reach
the Ural Mountains as soon as possible.

Michael Strogoff ensconced himself in his corner, like a worthy
citizen whose affairs go well with him, and who endeavors to kill
time by sleep. Nevertheless, as he was not alone in his compartment,
he slept with one eye open, and listened with both his ears.

In fact, rumor of the rising of the Kirghiz hordes, and of the Tartar
invasion had transpired in some degree. The occupants of the carriage,
whom chance had made his traveling companions, discussed the subject,
though with that caution which has become habitual among Russians,
who know that spies are ever on the watch for any treasonable expressions
which may be uttered.

These travelers, as well as the large number of persons
in the train, were merchants on their way to the celebrated
fair of Nijni-Novgorod;--a very mixed assembly, composed of
Jews, Turks, Cossacks, Russians, Georgians, Kalmucks, and others,
but nearly all speaking the national tongue.

They discussed the pros and cons of the serious events which
were taking place beyond the Ural, and those merchants seemed
to fear lest the government should be led to take certain
restrictive measures, especially in the provinces bordering on
the frontier--measures from which trade would certainly suffer.
They apparently thought only of the struggle from the single
point of view of their threatened interests. The presence
of a private soldier, clad in his uniform--and the importance
of a uniform in Russia is great--would have certainly been enough
to restrain the merchants' tongues. But in the compartment occupied
by Michael Strogoff, there was no one who seemed a military man,
and the Czar's courier was not the person to betray himself.
He listened, then.

"They say that caravan teas are up," remarked a Persian,
known by his cap of Astrakhan fur, and his ample brown robe,
worn threadbare by use.

"Oh, there's no fear of teas falling," answered an old Jew
of sullen aspect. "Those in the market at Nijni-Novgorod will
be easily cleared off by the West; but, unfortunately, it won't
be the same with Bokhara carpets."

"What! are you expecting goods from Bokhara?" asked the Persian.

"No, but from Samarcand, and that is even more exposed.
The idea of reckoning on the exports of a country in which the khans
are in a state of revolt from Khiva to the Chinese frontier!"

"Well," replied the Persian, "if the carpets do not arrive,
the drafts will not arrive either, I suppose."

"And the profits, Father Abraham!" exclaimed the little Jew,
"do you reckon them as nothing?"

"You are right," said another; "goods from Central Asia run a great
risk in the market, and it will be the same with the tallow and shawls
from the East."

"Why, look out, little father," said a Russian traveler,
in a bantering tone; "you'll grease your shawls terribly if you
mix them up with your tallow."

"That amuses you," sharply answered the merchant, who had little
relish for that sort of joke.

"Well, if you tear your hair, or if you throw ashes on your head,"
replied the traveler, "will that change the course of events?
No; no more than the course of the Exchange."

"One can easily see that you are not a merchant," observed the little Jew.

"Faith, no, worthy son of Abraham! I sell neither hops,
nor eider-down, nor honey, nor wax, nor hemp-seed, nor salt meat,
nor caviare, nor wood, nor wool, nor ribbons, nor, hemp, nor flax,
nor morocco, nor furs."

"But do you buy them?" asked the Persian, interrupting
the traveler's list.

"As little as I can, and only for my own private use,"
answered the other, with a wink.

"He's a wag," said the Jew to the Persian.

"Or a spy," replied the other, lowering his voice.
"We had better take care, and not speak more than necessary.
The police are not over-particular in these times, and you
never can know with whom you are traveling."

In another corner of the compartment they were speaking
less of mercantile affairs, and more of the Tartar invasion
and its annoying consequences.

"All the horses in Siberia will be requisitioned," said a traveler,
"and communication between the different provinces of Central Asia
will become very difficult."

"Is it true," asked his neighbor, "that the Kirghiz of the middle
horde have joined the Tartars?"

"So it is said," answered the traveler, lowering his voice;
"but who can flatter themselves that they know anything really
of what is going on in this country?"

"I have heard speak of a concentration of troops on the frontier.
The Don Cossacks have already gathered along the course of the Volga,
and they are to be opposed to the rebel Kirghiz."

"If the Kirghiz descend the Irtish, the route to Irkutsk will not
be safe," observed his neighbor. "Besides, yesterday I wanted
to send a telegram to Krasnoiarsk, and it could not be forwarded.
It's to be feared that before long the Tartar columns will have
isolated Eastern Siberia."

"In short, little father," continued the first speaker, "these merchants
have good reason for being uneasy about their trade and transactions.
After requisitioning the horses, they will take the boats, carriages,
every means of transport, until presently no one will be allowed to take
even one step in all the empire."

"I'm much afraid that the Nijni-Novgorod fair won't end as brilliantly
as it has begun," responded the other, shaking his head.
"But the safety and integrity of the Russian territory before everything.
Business is business."

If in this compartment the subject of conversation varied but little--
nor did it, indeed, in the other carriages of the train--in all it
might have been observed that the talkers used much circumspection.
When they did happen to venture out of the region of facts,
they never went so far as to attempt to divine the intentions
of the Muscovite government, or even to criticize them.

This was especially remarked by a traveler in a carriage at
the front part of the train. This person--evidently a stranger--
made good use of his eyes, and asked numberless questions,
to which he received only evasive answers. Every minute leaning
out of the window, which he would keep down, to the great disgust
of his fellow-travelers, he lost nothing of the views to the right.
He inquired the names of the most insignificant places,
their position, what were their commerce, their manufactures,
the number of their inhabitants, the average mortality,
etc., and all this he wrote down in a note-book, already full.

This was the correspondent Alcide Jolivet, and the reason of his putting
so many insignificant questions was, that amongst the many answers
he received, he hoped to find some interesting fact "for his cousin."
But, naturally enough, he was taken for a spy, and not a word treating
of the events of the day was uttered in his hearing.

Finding, therefore, that he could learn nothing of the Tartar
invasion, he wrote in his book, "Travelers of great discretion.
Very close as to political matters."

Whilst Alcide Jolivet noted down his impressions thus minutely,
his confrere, in the same train, traveling for the same object,
was devoting himself to the same work of observation in
another compartment. Neither of them had seen each other
that day at the Moscow station, and they were each ignorant
that the other had set out to visit the scene of the war.
Harry Blount, speaking little, but listening much, had not inspired
his companions with the suspicions which Alcide Jolivet had aroused.
He was not taken for a spy, and therefore his neighbors,
without constraint, gossiped in his presence, allowing themselves
even to go farther than their natural caution would in most cases
have allowed them. The correspondent of the Daily Telegraph
had thus an opportunity of observing how much recent events
preoccupied the merchants of Nijni-Novgorod, and to what a degree
the commerce with Central Asia was threatened in its transit.

He therefore noted in his book this perfectly correct observation,
"My fellow-travelers extremely anxious. Nothing is talked of but war,
and they speak of it, with a freedom which is astonishing, as having
broken out between the Volga and the Vistula."

The readers of the Daily Telegraph would not fail to be as well informed
as Alcide Jolivet's "cousin." But as Harry Blount, seated at the left
of the train, only saw one part of the country, which was hilly,
without giving himself the trouble of looking at the right side,
which was composed of wide plains, he added, with British assurance,
"Country mountainous between Moscow and Wladimir."

It was evident that the Russian government purposed taking severe
measures to guard against any serious eventualities even in the interior
of the empire. The rebel lion had not crossed the Siberian frontier,
but evil influences might be feared in the Volga provinces, so near
to the country of the Kirghiz.

The police had as yet found no traces of Ivan Ogareff. It was not
known whether the traitor, calling in the foreigner to avenge his
personal rancor, had rejoined Feofar-Khan, or whether he was endeavoring
to foment a revolt in the government of Nijni-Novgorod, which at this time
of year contained a population of such diverse elements. Perhaps among
the Persians, Armenians, or Kalmucks, who flocked to the great market,
he had agents, instructed to provoke a rising in the interior.
All this was possible, especially in such a country as Russia. In fact,
this vast empire, 4,000,000 square miles in extent, does not possess
the homogeneousness of the states of Western Europe. The Russian
territory in Europe and Asia contains more than seventy millions
of inhabitants. In it thirty different languages are spoken.
The Sclavonian race predominates, no doubt, but there are
besides Russians, Poles, Lithuanians, Courlanders. Add to these,
Finns, Laplanders, Esthonians, several other northern tribes with
unpronounceable names, the Permiaks, the Germans, the Greeks, the Tartars,
the Caucasian tribes, the Mongol, Kalmuck, Samoid, Kamtschatkan,
and Aleutian hordes, and one may understand that the unity of so vast
a state must be difficult to maintain, and that it could only be
the work of time, aided by the wisdom of many successive rulers.

Be that as it may, Ivan Ogareff had hitherto managed to escape
all search, and very probably he might have rejoined the Tartar army.
But at every station where the train stopped, inspectors came
forward who scrutinized the travelers and subjected them all to a
minute examination, as by order of the superintendent of police,
these officials were seeking Ivan Ogareff. The government, in fact,
believed it to be certain that the traitor had not yet been able to quit
European Russia. If there appeared cause to suspect any traveler,
he was carried off to explain himself at the police station,
and in the meantime the train went on its way, no person troubling
himself about the unfortunate one left behind.

With the Russian police, which is very arbitrary, it is absolutely
useless to argue. Military rank is conferred on its employees,
and they act in military fashion. How can anyone, moreover,
help obeying, unhesitatingly, orders which emanate from a monarch
who has the right to employ this formula at the head of his ukase:
"We, by the grace of God, Emperor and Autocrat of all the Russias
of Moscow, Kiev, Wladimir, and Novgorod, Czar of Kasan and Astrakhan, Czar
of Poland, Czar of Siberia, Czar of the Tauric Chersonese, Seignior
of Pskov, Prince of Smolensk, Lithuania, Volkynia, Podolia,
and Finland, Prince of Esthonia, Livonia, Courland, and of Semigallia,
of Bialystok, Karelia, Sougria, Perm, Viatka, Bulgaria, and many
other countries; Lord and Sovereign Prince of the territory
of Nijni-Novgorod, Tchemigoff, Riazan, Polotsk, Rostov,
Jaroslavl, Bielozersk, Oudoria, Obdoria, Kondinia, Vitepsk,
and of Mstislaf, Governor of the Hyperborean Regions, Lord of
the countries of Iveria, Kartalinia, Grou-zinia, Kabardinia,
and Armenia, Hereditary Lord and Suzerain of the Scherkess princes,
of those of the mountains, and of others; heir of Norway, Duke of
Schleswig-Holstein, Stormarn, Dittmarsen, and Oldenburg." A powerful
lord, in truth, is he whose arms are an eagle with two heads,
holding a scepter and a globe, surrounded by the escutcheons
of Novgorod, Wladimir, Kiev, Kasan, Astrakhan, and of Siberia,
and environed by the collar of the order of St. Andrew, surmounted by
a royal crown!

As to Michael Strogoff, his papers were in order, and he was,
consequently, free from all police supervision.

At the station of Wladimir the train stopped for several minutes,
which appeared sufficient to enable the correspondent of
the Daily Telegraph to take a twofold view, physical and moral,
and to form a complete estimate of this ancient capital of Russia.

At the Wladimir station fresh travelers joined the train.
Among others, a young girl entered the compartment occupied by
Michael Strogoff. A vacant place was found opposite the courier.
The young girl took it, after placing by her side a modest traveling-bag
of red leather, which seemed to constitute all her luggage.
Then seating herself with downcast eyes, not even glancing
at the fellow-travelers whom chance had given her, she prepared
for a journey which was still to last several hours.

Michael Strogoff could not help looking attentively at his
newly-arrived fellow-traveler. As she was so placed as to travel
with her back to the engine, he even offered her his seat,
which he might prefer to her own, but she thanked him with a
slight bend of her graceful neck.

The young girl appeared to be about sixteen or seventeen years of age.
Her head, truly charming, was of the purest Sclavonic type--
slightly severe, and likely in a few summers to unfold into beauty
rather than mere prettiness. From beneath a sort of kerchief
which she wore on her head escaped in profusion light golden hair.
Her eyes were brown, soft, and expressive of much sweetness of temper.
The nose was straight, and attached to her pale and somewhat thin
cheeks by delicately mobile nostrils. The lips were finely cut,
but it seemed as if they had long since forgotten how to smile.

The young traveler was tall and upright, as far as could be judged
of her figure from the very simple and ample pelisse that covered her.
Although she was still a very young girl in the literal sense of the term,
the development of her high forehead and clearly-cut features
gave the idea that she was the possessor of great moral energy--
a point which did not escape Michael Strogoff. Evidently this
young girl had already suffered in the past, and the future
doubtless did not present itself to her in glowing colors; but she
had surely known how to struggle still with the trials of life.
Her energy was evidently both prompt and persistent, and her
calmness unalterable, even under circumstances in which a man would
be likely to give way or lose his self-command.

Such was the impression which she produced at first sight.
Michael Strogoff, being himself of an energetic temperament,
was naturally struck by the character of her physiognomy, and,
while taking care not to cause her annoyance by a too persistent gaze,
he observed his neighbor with no small interest. The costume
of the young traveler was both extremely simple and appropriate.
She was not rich--that could be easily seen; but not the slightest
mark of negligence was to be discerned in her dress.
All her luggage was contained in the leather bag which,
for want of room, she held on her lap.

She wore a long, dark pelisse, gracefully adjusted at the neck
by a blue tie. Under this pelisse, a short skirt, also dark,
fell over a robe which reached the ankles. Half-boots of leather,
thickly soled, as if chosen in anticipation of a long journey,
covered her small feet.

Michael Strogoff fancied that he recognized, by certain details,
the fashion of the costume of Livonia, and thought his neighbor
a native of the Baltic provinces.

But whither was this young girl going, alone, at an age when the fostering
care of a father, or the protection of a brother, is considered a matter
of necessity? Had she now come, after an already long journey, from the
provinces of Western Russia? Was she merely going to Nijni-Novgorod,
or was the end of her travels beyond the eastern frontiers of the empire?
Would some relation, some friend, await her arrival by the train?
Or was it not more probable, on the contrary, that she would find
herself as much isolated in the town as she was in this compartment?
It was probable.

In fact, the effect of habits contracted in solitude was clearly
manifested in the bearing of the young girl. The manner in which
she entered the carriage and prepared herself for the journey,
the slight disturbance she caused among those around her,
the care she took not to incommode or give trouble to anyone,
all showed that she was accustomed to be alone, and to depend
on herself only.

Michael Strogoff observed her with interest, but, himself reserved,
he sought no opportunity of accosting her. Once only, when her neighbor--
the merchant who had jumbled together so imprudently in his remarks
tallow and shawls--being asleep, and threatening her with his great head,
which was swaying from one shoulder to the other, Michael Strogoff
awoke him somewhat roughly, and made him understand that he must
hold himself upright.

The merchant, rude enough by nature, grumbled some words against "people
who interfere with what does not concern them," but Michael Strogoff cast
on him a glance so stern that the sleeper leant on the opposite side,
and relieved the young traveler from his unpleasant vicinity.

The latter looked at the young man for an instant, and mute and modest
thanks were in that look.

But a circumstance occurred which gave Strogoff a just idea
of the character of the maiden. Twelve versts before
arriving at Nijni-Novgorod, at a sharp curve of the iron way,
the train experienced a very violent shock. Then, for a minute,
it ran onto the slope of an embankment.

Travelers more or less shaken about, cries, confusion, general disorder
in the carriages--such was the effect at first produced.
It was to be feared that some serious accident had happened.
Consequently, even before the train had stopped, the doors were opened,
and the panic-stricken passengers thought only of getting out
of the carriages.

Michael Strogoff thought instantly of the young girl; but, while the
passengers in her compartment were precipitating themselves outside,
screaming and struggling, she had remained quietly in her place,
her face scarcely changed by a slight pallor.

She waited--Michael Strogoff waited also.

Both remained quiet.

"A determined nature!" thought Michael Strogoff.

However, all danger had quickly disappeared. A breakage of
the coupling of the luggage-van had first caused the shock to,
and then the stoppage of, the train, which in another instant
would have been thrown from the top of the embankment into a bog.
There was an hour's delay. At last, the road being cleared,
the train proceeded, and at half-past eight in the evening
arrived at the station of Nijni-Novgorod.

Before anyone could get out of the carriages, the inspectors of police
presented themselves at the doors and examined the passengers.

Michael Strogoff showed his podorojna, made out in the name
of Nicholas Korpanoff. He had consequently no difficulty.
As to the other travelers in the compartment, all bound
for Nijni-Novgorod, their appearance, happily for them,
was in nowise suspicious.

The young girl in her turn, exhibited, not a passport, since passports
are no longer required in Russia, but a permit indorsed with a
private seal, and which seemed to be of a special character.
The inspector read the permit with attention. Then, having attentively
examined the person whose description it contained:

"You are from Riga?" he said.

"Yes," replied the young girl.

"You are going to Irkutsk?"


"By what route?"

"By Perm."

"Good!" replied the inspector. "Take care to have your permit vised,
at the police station of Nijni-Novgorod."

The young girl bent her head in token of assent.

Hearing these questions and replies, Michael Strogoff
experienced a mingled sentiment both of surprise and pity.
What! this young girl, alone, journeying to that far-off Siberia,
and at a time when, to its ordinary dangers, were added all the
perils of an invaded country and one in a state of insurrection!
How would she reach it? What would become of her?

The inspection ended, the doors of the carriages were then opened, but,
before Michael Strogoff could move towards her, the young Livonian,
who had been the first to descend, had disappeared in the crowd
which thronged the platforms of the railway station.


NIJNI-NOVGOROD, Lower Novgorod, situate at the junction of the Volga
and the Oka, is the chief town in the district of the same name.
It was here that Michael Strogoff was obliged to leave the railway,
which at the time did not go beyond that town. Thus, as he advanced,
his traveling would become first less speedy and then less safe.

Nijni-Novgorod, the fixed population of which is only from thirty
to thirty-five thousand inhabitants, contained at that time
more than three hundred thousand; that is to say, the population
was increased tenfold. This addition was in consequence of the
celebrated fair, which was held within the walls for three weeks.
Formerly Makariew had the benefit of this concourse of traders,
but since 1817 the fair had been removed to Nijni-Novgorod.

Even at the late hour at which Michael Strogoff left the platform,
there was still a large number of people in the two towns,
separated by the stream of the Volga, which compose
Nijni-Novgorod. The highest of these is built on a steep rock.
and defended by a fort called in Russia "kreml."

Michael Strogoff expected some trouble in finding a hotel,
or even an inn, to suit him. As he had not to start immediately,
for he was going to take a steamer, he was compelled to look
out for some lodging; but, before doing so, he wished to know
exactly the hour at which the steamboat would start.
He went to the office of the company whose boats plied between
Nijni-Novgorod and Perm. There, to his great annoyance,
he found that no boat started for Perm till the following
day at twelve o'clock. Seventeen hours to wait!
It was very vexatious to a man so pressed for time.
However, he never senselessly murmured. Besides, the fact was
that no other conveyance could take him so quickly either to Perm
or Kasan. It would be better, then, to wait for the steamer,
which would enable him to regain lost time.

Here, then, was Michael Strogoff, strolling through the town
and quietly looking out for some inn in which to pass the night.
However, he troubled himself little on this score, and, but that
hunger pressed him, he would probably have wandered on till
morning in the streets of Nijni-Novgorod. He was looking
for supper rather than a bed. But he found both at the sign
of the City of Constantinople. There, the landlord offered him
a fairly comfortable room, with little furniture, it is true,
but not without an image of the Virgin, and a few saints framed
in yellow gauze.

A goose filled with sour stuffing swimming in thick cream,
barley bread, some curds, powdered sugar mixed with cinnamon,
and a jug of kwass, the ordinary Russian beer, were placed
before him, and sufficed to satisfy his hunger. He did justice
to the meal, which was more than could be said of his neighbor
at table, who, having, in his character of "old believer"
of the sect of Raskalniks, made the vow of abstinence,
rejected the potatoes in front of him, and carefully refrained
from putting sugar in his tea.

His supper finished, Michael Strogoff, instead of going up to his bedroom,
again strolled out into the town. But, although the long twilight
yet lingered, the crowd was already dispersing, the streets were gradually
becoming empty, and at length everyone retired to his dwelling.

Why did not Michael Strogoff go quietly to bed, as would have seemed
more reasonable after a long railway journey? Was he thinking
of the young Livonian girl who had been his traveling companion?
Having nothing better to do, he WAS thinking of her. Did he fear that,
lost in this busy city, she might be exposed to insult? He feared so,
and with good reason. Did he hope to meet her, and, if need were,
to afford her protection? No. To meet would be difficult.
As to protection--what right had he--

"Alone," he said to himself, "alone, in the midst of these
wandering tribes! And yet the present dangers are nothing
compared to those she must undergo. Siberia! Irkutsk! I am
about to dare all risks for Russia, for the Czar, while she
is about to do so--For whom? For what? She is authorized
to cross the frontier! The country beyond is in revolt!
The steppes are full of Tartar bands!"

Michael Strogoff stopped for an instant, and reflected.

"Without doubt," thought he, "she must have determined on
undertaking her journey before the invasion. Perhaps she is
even now ignorant of what is happening. But no, that cannot be;
the merchants discussed before her the disturbances in Siberia--
and she did not seem surprised. She did not even ask an explanation.
She must have known it then, and knowing it, is still resolute.
Poor girl! Her motive for the journey must be urgent indeed!
But though she may be brave--and she certainly is so--her strength
must fail her, and, to say nothing of dangers and obstacles,
she will be unable to endure the fatigue of such a journey.
Never can she reach Irkutsk!"

Indulging in such reflections, Michael Strogoff wandered
on as chance led him; being well acquainted with the town,
he knew that he could easily retrace his steps.

Having strolled on for about an hour, he seated himself
on a bench against the wall of a large wooden cottage,
which stood, with many others, on a vast open space.
He had scarcely been there five minutes when a hand was laid
heavily on his shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" roughly demanded a tall and powerful man,
who had approached unperceived.

"I am resting," replied Michael Strogoff.

"Do you mean to stay all night on the bench?"

"Yes, if I feel inclined to do so," answered Michael Strogoff, in a tone
somewhat too sharp for the simple merchant he wished to personate.

"Come forward, then, so I can see you," said the man.

Michael Strogoff, remembering that, above all, prudence was requisite,
instinctively drew back. "It is not necessary," he replied,
and calmly stepped back ten paces.

The man seemed, as Michael observed him well, to have the look
of a Bohemian, such as are met at fairs, and with whom contact,
either physical or moral, is unpleasant. Then, as he looked
more attentively through the dusk, he perceived, near the cottage,
a large caravan, the usual traveling dwelling of the Zingaris or gypsies,
who swarm in Russia wherever a few copecks can be obtained.

As the gypsy took two or three steps forward, and was about to interrogate
Michael Strogoff more closely, the door of the cottage opened.
He could just see a woman, who spoke quickly in a language which
Michael Strogoff knew to be a mixture of Mongol and Siberian.

"Another spy! Let him alone, and come to supper.
The papluka is waiting for you."

Michael Strogoff could not help smiling at the epithet bestowed on him,
dreading spies as he did above all else.

In the same dialect, although his accent was very different,
the Bohemian replied in words which signify, "You are
right, Sangarre! Besides, we start to-morrow."

"To-morrow?" repeated the woman in surprise.

"Yes, Sangarre," replied the Bohemian; "to-morrow, and the Father
himself sends us--where we are going!"

Thereupon the man and woman entered the cottage, and carefully
closed the door.

"Good!" said Michael Strogoff, to himself; "if these gipsies
do not wish to be understood when they speak before me,
they had better use some other language."

From his Siberian origin, and because he had passed his childhood in
the Steppes, Michael Strogoff, it has been said, understood almost all
the languages in usage from Tartary to the Sea of Ice. As to the exact
signification of the words he had heard, he did not trouble his head.
For why should it interest him?

It was already late when he thought of returning to his inn to take
some repose. He followed, as he did so, the course of the Volga,
whose waters were almost hidden under the countless number of boats
floating on its bosom.

An hour after, Michael Strogoff was sleeping soundly on one
of those Russian beds which always seem so hard to strangers,
and on the morrow, the 17th of July, he awoke at break of day.

He had still five hours to pass in Nijni-Novgorod; it seemed to him
an age. How was he to spend the morning unless in wandering,
as he had done the evening before, through the streets?
By the time he had finished his breakfast, strapped up his bag,
had his podorojna inspected at the police office, he would have
nothing to do but start. But he was not a man to lie in bed after
the sun had risen; so he rose, dressed himself, placed the letter
with the imperial arms on it carefully at the bottom of its usual
pocket within the lining of his coat, over which he fastened
his belt; he then closed his bag and threw it over his shoulder.
This done, he had no wish to return to the City of Constantinople,
and intending to breakfast on the bank of the Volga near the wharf,
he settled his bill and left the inn. By way of precaution,
Michael Strogoff went first to the office of the steam-packet company,
and there made sure that the Caucasus would start at the appointed hour.
As he did so, the thought for the first time struck him that,
since the young Livonian girl was going to Perm, it was very
possible that her intention was also to embark in the Caucasus,
in which case he should accompany her.

The town above with its kremlin, whose circumference measures two versts,
and which resembles that of Moscow, was altogether abandoned.
Even the governor did not reside there. But if the town above was
like a city of the dead, the town below, at all events, was alive.

Michael Strogoff, having crossed the Volga on a bridge of boats,
guarded by mounted Cossacks, reached the square where the evening
before he had fallen in with the gipsy camp. This was somewhat
outside the town, where the fair of Nijni-Novgorod was held.
In a vast plain rose the temporary palace of the governor-general,
where by imperial orders that great functionary resided during
the whole of the fair, which, thanks to the people who composed it,
required an ever-watchful surveillance.

This plain was now covered with booths symmetrically arranged
in such a manner as to leave avenues broad enough to allow
the crowd to pass without a crush.

Each group of these booths, of all sizes and shapes, formed a separate
quarter particularly dedicated to some special branch of commerce.
There was the iron quarter, the furriers' quarter, the woolen quarter,
the quarter of the wood merchants, the weavers' quarter, the dried
fish quarter, etc. Some booths were even built of fancy materials,
some of bricks of tea, others of masses of salt meat--that is to say,
of samples of the goods which the owners thus announced were there to
the purchasers--a singular, and somewhat American, mode of advertisement.

In the avenues and long alleys there was already a large assemblage
of people--the sun, which had risen at four o'clock, being
well above the horizon--an extraordinary mixture of Europeans
and Asiatics, talking, wrangling, haranguing, and bargaining.
Everything which can be bought or sold seemed to be heaped up
in this square. Furs, precious stones, silks, Cashmere shawls,
Turkey carpets, weapons from the Caucasus, gauzes from Smyrna
and Ispahan. Tiflis armor, caravan teas. European bronzes,
Swiss clocks, velvets and silks from Lyons, English cottons,
harness, fruits, vegetables, minerals from the Ural,
malachite, lapis-lazuli, spices, perfumes, medicinal herbs,
wood, tar, rope, horn, pumpkins, water-melons, etc--
all the products of India, China, Persia, from the shores
of the Caspian and the Black Sea, from America and Europe,
were united at this corner of the globe.

It is scarcely possible truly to portray the moving mass of human
beings surging here and there, the excitement, the confusion,
the hubbub; demonstrative as were the natives and the inferior classes,
they were completely outdone by their visitors. There were
merchants from Central Asia, who had occupied a year in escorting
their merchandise across its vast plains, and who would not again
see their shops and counting-houses for another year to come.
In short, of such importance is this fair of Nijni-Novgorod,
that the sum total of its transactions amounts yearly to nearly
a hundred million dollars.

On one of the open spaces between the quarters of this temporary
city were numbers of mountebanks of every description;
gypsies from the mountains, telling fortunes to the credulous fools
who are ever to be found in such assemblies; Zingaris or Tsiganes--
a name which the Russians give to the gypsies who are the descendants
of the ancient Copts--singing their wildest melodies and dancing
their most original dances; comedians of foreign theaters,
acting Shakespeare, adapted to the taste of spectators who crowded
to witness them. In the long avenues the bear showmen accompanied
their four-footed dancers, menageries resounded with the hoarse
cries of animals under the influence of the stinging whip or red-hot
irons of the tamer; and, besides all these numberless performers,
in the middle of the central square, surrounded by a circle four deep
of enthusiastic amateurs, was a band of "mariners of the Volga,"
sitting on the ground, as on the deck of their vessel,
imitating the action of rowing, guided by the stick of the master
of the orchestra, the veritable helmsman of this imaginary vessel!
A whimsical and pleasing custom!

Suddenly, according to a time-honored observance in the fair
of Nijni-Novgorod, above the heads of the vast concourse a flock
of birds was allowed to escape from the cages in which they
had been brought to the spot. In return for a few copecks
charitably offered by some good people, the bird-fanciers opened
the prison doors of their captives, who flew out in hundreds,
uttering their joyous notes.

It should be mentioned that England and France, at all events, were this
year represented at the great fair of Nijni-Novgorod by two of the most
distinguished products of modern civilization, Messrs. Harry Blount
and Alcide Jolivet. Jolivet, an optimist by nature, found everything
agreeable, and as by chance both lodging and food were to his taste,
he jotted down in his book some memoranda particularly favorable to
the town of Nijni-Novgorod. Blount, on the contrary, having in vain hunted
for a supper, had been obliged to find a resting-place in the open air.
He therefore looked at it all from another point of view, and was
preparing an article of the most withering character against a town
in which the landlords of the inns refused to receive travelers who only
begged leave to be flayed, "morally and physically."

Michael Strogoff, one hand in his pocket, the other holding
his cherry-stemmed pipe, appeared the most indifferent and least
impatient of men; yet, from a certain contraction of his eyebrows
every now and then, a careful observer would have seen that he was
burning to be off.

For two hours he kept walking about the streets, only to find
himself invariably at the fair again. As he passed among the groups
of buyers and sellers he discovered that those who came from
countries on the confines of Asia manifested great uneasiness.
Their trade was visibly suffering. Another symptom also was marked.
In Russia military uniforms appear on every occasion. Soldiers are
wont to mix freely with the crowd, the police agents being almost
invariably aided by a number of Cossacks, who, lance on shoulder,
keep order in the crowd of three hundred thousand strangers.
But on this occasion the soldiers, Cossacks and the rest, did not put
in an appearance at the great market. Doubtless, a sudden order
to move having been foreseen, they were restricted to their barracks.

Moreover, while no soldiers were to be seen, it was not so with
their officers. Since the evening before, aides-decamp, leaving the
governor's palace, galloped in every direction. An unusual movement was
going forward which a serious state of affairs could alone account for.
There were innumerable couriers on the roads both to Wladimir
and to the Ural Mountains. The exchange of telegraphic dispatches
with Moscow was incessant.

Michael Strogoff found himself in the central square when the report
spread that the head of police had been summoned by a courier to
the palace of the governor-general. An important dispatch from Moscow,
it was said, was the cause of it.

"The fair is to be closed," said one.

"The regiment of Nijni-Novgorod has received the route," declared another.

"They say that the Tartars menace Tomsk!"

"Here is the head of police!" was shouted on every side.
A loud clapping of hands was suddenly raised, which subsided
by degrees, and finally was succeeded by absolute silence.
The head of police arrived in the middle of the central square,
and it was seen by all that he held in his hand a dispatch.

Then, in a loud voice, he read the following announcements:
"By order of the Governor of Nijni-Novgorod.

"1st. All Russian subjects are forbidden to quit the province
upon any pretext whatsoever.

"2nd. All strangers of Asiatic origin are commanded to leave
the province within twenty-four hours."


HOWEVER disastrous these measures might be to private interests,
they were, under the circumstances, perfectly justifiable.

"All Russian subjects are forbidden to leave the province;"
if Ivan Ogareff was still in the province, this would at
any rate prevent him, unless with the greatest difficulty,
from rejoining Feofar-Khan, and becoming a very formidable
lieutenant to the Tartar chief.

"All foreigners of Asiatic origin are ordered to leave the province in
four-and-twenty hours;" this would send off in a body all the traders from
Central Asia, as well as the bands of Bohemians, gipsies, etc., having
more or less sympathy with the Tartars. So many heads, so many spies--


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