Michael Strogoff; Or the Courier of the Czar: A Literary Classic

by Jules Verne

Alcide having asked him, on one occasion, how old he thought the girl:

  “What girl?” he replied, quite seriously, half shutting his eyes.

  “Why, Nicholas Korpanoff’s sister.”

  “Is she his sister?”

  “No; his grandmother!” replied Alcide, angry at his indifference. “What age should you consider her?”

  “Had I been present at her birth I might have known,” replied Blount curtly.

  The country they were then crossing was almost a desert. The weather was fine, the sky partly clouded, the temperature more supportable. Had the carriages only possessed springs, the travellers would have had nothing to complain of in the journey. They were travelling at the same rate as post-berlins, and that is saying something for their speed.

  But very few of the Siberian peasants were to be seen in the fields. These peasants are remarkable for their pale grave faces, which a celebrated traveller has compared to those of the Castilians, without the haughtiness of the latter. Here and there some villages already deserted indicated the approach of the Tartar hordes. The inhabitants, having driven off their flocks of sheep, their camels, and their horses, were taking refuge in the plains of the north. Some tribes of the wandering Kirgis, who remained faithful, had transported their tents beyond the Irtych and the Obi, to escape the depredations of the invaders.

  Happily, post travelling was as yet uninterrupted; and telegraphic communication could still be effected between places connected with the wire. At each relay horses were to be had on the usual conditions. At each telegraphic station the clerks, seated at their desks, transmitted messages delivered to them, delaying for State despatches alone.

  Thus far, then, Michael’s journey had been accomplished satisfactorily. The courier of the Czar had in no way been impeded; and, if he could only get on to Krasnoiarsk, which was the farthest point attained by Feofar-Khan’s Tartars, he knew that he could arrive at Irkutsk, before them. The day after the two carriages had left Ekaterenburg they reached the small town of Toulouguisk at seven o’clock in the morning, having covered two hundred and twenty versts, no event worthy of mention having occurred.

  Half an hour was then devoted to dinner. This over, the travellers once more started at a rate which the promise of a certain number of copecks could alone explain. The same evening, the 22nd of July, they arrived at Tioumen, sixty versts farther.

  Tioumen, whose population is usually ten thousand inhabitants, then contained double that number. This, the first industrial town established by the Russians in Siberia, in which may be seen a fine metal-refining factory and a bell foundry, had never before presented such an animated appearance. The correspondents immediately went off after news. That brought by Siberian fugitives from the seat of war was far from reassuring. They said, amongst other things, that Feofar-Khan’s army was rapidly approaching the valley of the Ichim, and they confirmed the report that the Tartar chief was soon to be joined by Colonel Ogareff, if he had not been so already. Hence the conclusion naturally arrived at was that operations would be pushed in Eastern Siberia with the greatest activity.

  On the other hand, it had been necessary to summon the Russian troops from the European provinces of Russia chiefly, but, being still at some distance, they could not oppose the invasion. However, the Cossacks of the government of Tobolsk had been advancing by forced marches towards Tomsk, in the hope of cutting off the Tartar columns.

  At eight o’clock in the evening, seventy-five versts more having been accomplished by the two carriages, they arrived at Yaloutorowsk.

  Horses were rapidly changed, and on leaving the town the river Tobol was passed in a ferry-boat. Its peaceful waters rendered this operation easy; it would, however, have to be repeated more than once in the journey, and probably under less favourable conditions.

  At midnight, fifty-five versts farther, the town of Novo-Saimsk was reached; and the travellers now left behind them the country broken by tree-covered hills, the last remains of the Ural Mountains.

  Here began the regular Siberian steppe which extends to the neighbourhood of Krasnoiarsk. It is a boundless plain, a vast grassy desert; earth and sky here form a circle as distinct as that traced by a sweep of the compasses. The steppe presents nothing to attract notice but the long line of the telegraph posts, their wires vibrating in the breeze like the strings of a harp. The road could be distinguished from the rest of the plain only by the clouds of fine dust which rose under the wheels of the tarantass. Had it not been for this white riband, which stretched away as far as the eye could reach, the travellers might have thought themselves in a desert.

  Michael and his companions again pressed rapidly forward across the steppe. The horses, urged on by the iemschik, seemed to fly over the ground, for there was not the slightest obstacle to impede them. The tarantass was going straight for Ichim, where the two correspondents intended to stop, if nothing happened to make them alter their plans.

  Nearly two hundred versts separated Novo-Saimsk from the town of Ichim, and before eight o’clock the next evening the distance could and should be accomplished if no time was lost. In the opinion of the iemschiks, should the travellers not be great lords or high functionaries, they were worthy of being so, if it was only for their generosity in the matter of “na vodkou.”

  On the afternoon of the next day, the 23rd of July, the two carriages were not more than thirty versts from Ichim. Suddenly Michael caught sight of a carriage—scarcely visible among the clouds of dust—preceding them along the road. As his horses were evidently less fatigued than those of the other traveller, he would not be long in over-taking it. This was neither a tarantass nor a telga, but a post-berlin, all over dust, and looking as if it had made a long journey. The postillion was thrashing his horses with all his might, and only kept them at a gallop by dint of abuse and blows. The berlin had certainly not passed through Novo-Saimsk, and could only have struck the Irkutsk road by some less frequented route across the steppe.

  Our travellers’ first thought, on seeing this berlin, was to get in front of it, and arrive first at the relay, so as to make sure of fresh horses. They said a word to their iemschiks, who soon brought them up with the berlin.

  Michael Strogoff came up first.

  As he passed a head was thrust out of the window of the berlin.

  He had not time to see what it was like, but as he dashed by he distinctly heard this word, uttered in an imperious tone:

  “Stop!”

  But they did not stop; on the contrary, the berlin was soon distanced by the two tarantasses.

  It now became a regular race; for the horses of the berlin—no doubt excited by the sight and pace of the others—recovered their strength and kept up for some minutes. The three carriages were hidden in a cloud of dust. From this cloud issued the cracking of whips mingled with excited shouts and exclamations of anger.

  Nevertheless, the advantage remained with Michael and his companions, which might be very important to them if the relay was poorly provided with horses. Two carriages were perhaps more than the postmaster could provide for, at least in a short space of time.

  Half an hour after the berlin was left far behind, looking only a speck on the horizon of the steppe.

  It was eight o’clock in the evening when the two carriages arrived at the post-house in Ichim.

  The news was worse and worse with regard to the invasion.

  The town itself was menaced by the Tartar vanguard; and two days before the authorities had been obliged to retreat to Tobolsk. There was not an officer nor a soldier left in Ichim.

  On arriving at the relay, Michael Strogoff immediately asked for horses.

  He had been fortunate in distancing the berlin.

  Only three horses were in a fit state to be immediately harnessed. The others had just come in worn out from a long stage.

  The postmaster gave the order to put to.

  As the two correspondents intended to stop at Ichim, they had not to trouble themselves to find means of transport
, and therefore had their carriage put away.

  In ten minutes Michael was told that his tarantass was ready to start

  “Good,” said he.

  Then turning to the two reporters;

  “Well, gentlemen, since you remain at Ichim, the time is come for us to separate.”

  “What, Mr. Korpanoff,” said Alcide Jolivet, “shall you not stop even for an hour at Ichim?”

  “No, sir; and I also wish to leave the post-house before the arrival of the berlin which we distanced.”

  “Are you afraid that the traveller will dispute the horses with you?”

  “I particularly wish to avoid any difficulty.”

  “Then, Mr. Korpanoff,” said Jolivet, “it only remains for us to thank you once more for the service you rendered us, and for the pleasure we have had in travelling in your company.”

  “It is possible that we shall meet you again in a few days at Omsk,” added Blount.

  “It is possible,” answered Michael, “since I am going straight there.”

  “Well, I wish you a safe journey, Mr. Korpanoff,” said Alcide, “and Heaven preserve you from telgas.”

  The two reporters held out their hands to Michael with the intention of cordially shaking his, when the sound of a carriage was heard outside.

  Almost immediately the door was flung open and a man appeared.

  It was the traveller of the berlin, a military-looking man, apparently about forty years of age, tall, robust in figure, broad-shouldered, with a strongly-set head, and thick moustaches meeting red whiskers. He wore a plain uniform. A cavalry sabre hung at his side, and in his hand he held a short-handled whip.

  “Horses,” he demanded, with the air of a man accustomed to command.

  “I have no more disposable horses,” answered the postmaster, bowing.

  “I must have some this moment”

  “It is impossible.”

  “What are those horses which have just been harnessed to the tarantass I saw at the door?”

  “They belong to this traveller,” answered the postmaster, pointing to Michael Strogoff.

  “Take them out!” said the traveller in a tone which admitted of no reply.

  Michael then advanced.

  “These horses are engaged by me,” he said.

  “What does that matter? I must have them. Come, be quick; I have no time to lose.”

  “I have no time to lose either,” replied Michael, endeavouring to be calm, but restraining himself with difficulty.

  Nadia was near him, calm also, but secretly uneasy at a scene which it would have been better to avoid.

  “Enough!” said the traveller.

  Then, going up to the postmaster:

  “Let the horses be taken out of the tarantass and put into my berlin,” he exclaimed with a threatening gesture.

  The postmaster, much embarrassed, did not know whom to obey, and looked at Michael, who evidently had the right to resist the unjust demands of the traveller.

  Michael hesitated an instant He did not wish to make use of his podorojna, which would have drawn attention to him, and he was most unwilling also, by giving up his horses, to delay his journey, and yet it was important not to engage in a struggle which might compromise his mission.

  The two reporters looked at him ready to support him should he appeal to them.

  “My horses will remain in my carriage,” said Michael, but without raising his tone more than would be suitable for a plain Irkutsk merchant.

  The traveller advanced towards Michael and laid his hand heavily on his shoulder.

  “Is it so?” he said in a rough voice. “You will not give up your horses to me?”

  “No,” answered Michael.

  “Very well; then they shall belong to whichever of us is able to start. Defend yourself, for I shall not spare you!”

  So saying, the traveller drew his sabre from its sheath, and Nadia threw herself before Michael.

  Blount and Alcide Jolivet advanced towards him.

  “I shall not fight,” said Michael quietly folding his arms across his chest

  “You will not fight?”

  “No.”

  “Not even after this?” exclaimed the traveller. And before any one could prevent him, he struck Michael’s shoulder with the handle of the whip. At this insult Michael turned deadly pale. His hands moved convulsively as if he would have knocked the brute down. But by a tremendous effort he mastered himself. A duel! it was more than a delay; it was perhaps the failure of his mission. It would be better to lose some hours. Yes; but to swallow this affront!

  “Will you fight now, coward?” repeated the traveller, adding coarseness to brutality.

  “No,” answered Michael, without moving, but looking the other straight in the face.

  “The horses this moment,” said the man, and left the room.

  The postmaster followed him, after shrugging his shoulders and bestowing on Michael a glance of anything but approbation.

  The effect produced on the reporters by this incident was not to Michael’s advantage. Their discomfiture was visible. How could this strong young man allow himself to be struck like that and not demand satisfaction for such an insult? They contented themselves with bowing to him and retired, Jolivet remarking to Harry Blount:

  “I could not have believed that of a man who is so skilful in finishing up Ural Mountain bears. Is it the case that a man can be courageous at one time and a coward at another? It is quite incomprehensible.”

  A moment afterwards the noise of wheels and the cracking of a whip showed that the berlin, drawn by the tarantass’ horses, was driving rapidly away from the post-house.

  Nadia, unmoved, and Michael, still quivering, remained alone in the room.

  The courier of the Czar, his arms crossed over his chest, was seated motionless as a statue. However, a colour, which could not have been the blush of shame, had replaced the paleness on his manly countenance.

  Nadia did not doubt that powerful reasons alone could have allowed him to suffer so great a humiliation from such a man.

  Then going up to him as he had come to her in the police-station at Nijni-Novgorod:

  “Your hand, brother,” said she.

  And at the same time her hand, with an almost maternal gesture, wiped away a tear which sprang to her companion’s eye.

  * A gold Russian coin, worth five roubles. A rouble is a silver coin worth 100 copecks, about three shillings.

  CHAPTER XIII.

  DUTY BEFORE EVERYTHING.

  NADIA, with the clear perception of a right-minded woman, guessed that some secret motive directed all Michael Strogoff’s actions; that he, for a reason unknown to her, did not belong to himself; that he had not the power of doing what he desired; and that in this instance especially he had heroically sacrificed to duty even his resentment at the gross injury he had received.

  Nadia, therefore, asked no explanation from Michael. Had not the hand which she had extended to him already replied to all that he might have been able to tell her?

  Michael remained silent all the evening. The postmaster not being able to supply them with fresh horses until the next morning, a whole night must be passed at the house. Nadia could profit by it to take some rest, and a room was therefore prepared for her.

  The young girl would no doubt have preferred not to leave her companion, but she felt that he would rather be alone, and she made ready to go to her room.

  Just as she was about to retire she could not refrain from going up to Michael to say good-night.

  “Brother,” she whispered.

  But he checked her with a gesture. The girl sighed and left the room.

  Michael Strogoff did not lie down. He could not have slept even for an hour. The place on which he had been struck by the brutal traveller felt like a burn.

  “For my country and the Father,” he muttered as he ended his evening prayer.

  He especially felt a great wish to know who was the man who had struck him, whence
he came, and where he was going. As to his face, the features of it were so deeply engraven on his memory that he had no fear of ever forgetting them.

  Michael at last asked for the postmaster. The latter, a Siberian of the old type, came directly, and looking rather contemptuously at the young man, waited to be questioned.

  “You belong to the country?” asked Michael.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know that man who took my horses?”

  “No.”

  “Had you never seen him before?”

  “Never.”

  “Who do you think he was?”

  “A man who knows how to make himself obeyed.”

  Michael fixed his piercing gaze upon the Siberian, but the other did not quail before it.

  “Do you dare to judge me?” exclaimed Michael.

  “Yes,” answered the Siberian, “for there are some things that even a plain merchant cannot receive without returning.”

  “Blows?”

  “Blows, young man. I am of an age and strength to tell you so.”

  Michael went up to the postmaster and laid his two powerful hands on his shoulders.

  Then in a peculiarly calm tone:

  “Be off, my friend,” said he: “be off! I could kill you.”

  The postmaster understood this time.

  “I like him better for that,” he muttered as he retired without adding another word.

  At eight o’clock the next morning, the 24th of July, three strong horses were harnessed to the tarantass. Michael and Nadia took their places, and Ichim, with its disagreeable remembrances, was soon left far behind.

  At the different relays at which they stopped during the day Strogoff ascertained that the berlin still preceded them on the road to Irkutsk, and that the traveller, as hurried as they were, never lost a minute in pursuing his way across the steppe.

  At four o’clock in the evening they reached Abatskaia, seventy-five versts farther on, where the Ichim, one of the principal affluents of the Irtych, had to be crossed.

  This passage was rather more difficult than that of the Tobol. Indeed, the current of the Ichim was very rapid just at that place. During the Siberian winter, the rivers being all frozen to a thickness of several feet, they are easily practicable, and the traveller even crosses them without being aware of the fact, for their beds have disappeared under the snowy sheet spread uniformly over the steppe; but in summer the difficulties of crossing are sometimes great.