Michael Strogoff; Or, The Courier of the Czar

by Jules Verne

  CHAPTER III BLOW FOR BLOW

  SUCH were now the relative situations of Marfa Strogoff and Nadia.All was understood by the old Siberian, and though the young girl wasignorant that her much-regretted companion still lived, she at leastknew his relationship to her whom she had made her mother; and shethanked God for having given her the joy of taking the place of the sonwhom the prisoner had lost.

  But what neither of them could know was that Michael, having beencaptured at Kolyvan, was in the same convoy and was on his way to Tomskwith them.

  The prisoners brought by Ivan Ogareff had been added to those alreadykept by the Emir in the Tartar camp. These unfortunate people,consisting of Russians, Siberians, soldiers and civilians, numbered somethousands, and formed a column which extended over several versts. Someamong them being considered dangerous were handcuffed and fastened toa long chain. There were, too, women and children, many of the lattersuspended to the pommels of the saddles, while the former were draggedmercilessly along the road on foot, or driven forward as if they wereanimals. The horsemen compelled them to maintain a certain order, andthere were no laggards with the exception of those who fell never torise again.

  In consequence of this arrangement, Michael Strogoff, marching in thefirst ranks of those who had left the Tartar camp--that is to say, amongthe Kolyvan prisoners--was unable to mingle with the prisoners who hadarrived after him from Omsk. He had therefore no suspicion that hismother and Nadia were present in the convoy, nor did they supposethat he was among those in front. This journey from the camp to Tomsk,performed under the lashes and spear-points of the soldiers, provedfatal to many, and terrible to all. The prisoners traveled across thesteppe, over a road made still more dusty by the passage of the Emir andhis vanguard. Orders had been given to march rapidly. The short haltswere rare. The hundred miles under a burning sky seemed interminable,though they were performed as rapidly as possible.

  The country, which extends from the right of the Obi to the base of thespur detached from the Sayanok Mountains, is very sterile. Only a fewstunted and burnt-up shrubs here and there break the monotony of theimmense plain. There was no cultivation, for there was no water; andit was water that the prisoners, parched by their painful march, mostneeded. To find a stream they must have diverged fifty versts eastward,to the very foot of the mountains.

  There flows the Tom, a little affluent of the Obi, which passes nearTomsk before losing itself in one of the great northern arteries. Therewater would have been abundant, the steppe less arid, the heat lesssevere. But the strictest orders had been given to the commanders of theconvoy to reach Tomsk by the shortest way, for the Emir was muchafraid of being taken in the flank and cut off by some Russian columndescending from the northern provinces.

  It is useless to dwell upon the sufferings of the unhappy prisoners.Many hundreds fell on the steppe, where their bodies would lie untilwinter, when the wolves would devour the remnants of their bones.

  As Nadia helped the old Siberian, so in the same way did Michaelrender to his more feeble companions in misfortune such services as hissituation allowed. He encouraged some, supported others, going to andfro, until a prick from a soldier's lance obliged him to resume theplace which had been assigned him in the ranks.

  Why did he not endeavor to escape?

  The reason was that he had now quite determined not to venture until thesteppe was safe for him. He was resolved in his idea of going as far asTomsk "at the Emir's expense," and indeed he was right. As he observedthe numerous detachments which scoured the plain on the convoy's flanks,now to the south, now to the north, it was evident that before he couldhave gone two versts he must have been recaptured. The Tartar horsemenswarmed--it actually appeared as if they sprang from the earth--likeinsects which a thunderstorm brings to the surface of the ground. Flightunder these conditions would have been extremely difficult, if notimpossible. The soldiers of the escort displayed excessive vigilance,for they would have paid for the slightest carelessness with theirheads.

  At nightfall of the 15th of August, the convoy reached the littlevillage of Zabediero, thirty versts from Tomsk.

  The prisoners' first movement would have been to rush into the river,but they were not allowed to leave the ranks until the halt had beenorganized. Although the current of the Tom was just now like a torrent,it might have favored the flight of some bold or desperate man, andthe strictest measures of vigilance were taken. Boats, requisitionedat Zabediero, were brought up to the Tom and formed a line of obstaclesimpossible to pass. As to the encampment on the outskirts of thevillage, it was guarded by a cordon of sentinels.

  Michael Strogoff, who now naturally thought of escape, saw, aftercarefully surveying the situation, that under these conditions it wasperfectly impossible; so, not wishing to compromise himself, he waited.

  The prisoners were to encamp for the whole night on the banks of theTom, for the Emir had put off the entrance of his troops into Tomsk. Ithad been decided that a military fete should mark the inauguration ofthe Tartar headquarters in this important city. Feofar-Khan alreadyoccupied the fortress, but the bulk of his army bivouacked under itswalls, waiting until the time came for them to make a solemn entry.

  Ivan Ogareff left the Emir at Tomsk, where both had arrived the eveningbefore, and returned to the camp at Zabediero. From here he was to startthe next day with the rear-guard of the Tartar army. A house had beenarranged for him in which to pass the night. At sunrise horse and footsoldiers were to proceed to Tomsk, where the Emir wished to receivethem with the pomp usual to Asiatic sovereigns. As soon as the halt wasorganized, the prisoners, worn out with their three days' journey, andsuffering from burning thirst, could drink and take a little rest. Thesun had already set, when Nadia, supporting Marfa Strogoff, reached thebanks of the Tom. They had not till then been able to get through thosewho crowded the banks, but at last they came to drink in their turn.

  The old woman bent over the clear stream, and Nadia, plunging in herhand, carried it to Marfa's lips. Then she refreshed herself. Theyfound new life in these welcome waters. Suddenly Nadia started up; aninvoluntary cry escaped her.

  Michael Strogoff was there, a few steps from her. It was he. The dyingrays of the sun fell upon him.

  At Nadia's cry Michael started. But he had sufficient command overhimself not to utter a word by which he might have been compromised. Andyet, when he saw Nadia, he also recognized his mother.

  Feeling he could not long keep master of himself at this unexpectedmeeting, he covered his eyes with his hands and walked quickly away.

  Nadia's impulse was to run after him, but the old Siberian murmured inher ear, "Stay, my daughter!"

  "It is he!" replied Nadia, choking with emotion. "He lives, mother! Itis he!"

  "It is my son," answered Marfa, "it is Michael Strogoff, and you seethat I do not make a step towards him! Imitate me, my daughter."

  Michael had just experienced the most violent emotion which a man canfeel. His mother and Nadia were there!

  The two prisoners who were always together in his heart, God had broughtthem together in this common misfortune. Did Nadia know who he was? Yes,for he had seen Marfa's gesture, holding her back as she was about torush towards him. Marfa, then, had understood all, and kept his secret.

  During that night, Michael was twenty times on the point of looking forand joining his mother; but he knew that he must resist the longing hefelt to take her in his arms, and once more press the hand of his youngcompanion. The least imprudence might be fatal. He had besides sworn notto see his mother. Once at Tomsk, since he could not escape this verynight, he would set off without having even embraced the two beingsin whom all the happiness of his life was centered, and whom he shouldleave exposed to so many perils.

  Michael hoped that this fresh meeting at the Zabediero camp would haveno disastrous consequences either to his mother or to himself. But hedid not know that part of this scene, although it passed so rapidly, hadbeen observed by Sangarre, Ogareff's spy.

  The Tsigane w
as there, a few paces off, on the bank, as usual, watchingthe old Siberian woman. She had not caught sight of Michael, for hedisappeared before she had time to look around; but the mother's gestureas she kept back Nadia had not escaped her, and the look in Marfa's eyestold her all.

  It was now beyond doubt that Marfa Strogoff's son, the Czar's courier,was at this moment in Zabediero, among Ivan Ogareff's prisoners.Sangarre did not know him, but she knew that he was there. She did notthen attempt to discover him, for it would have been impossible in thedark and the immense crowd.

  As for again watching Nadia and Marfa Strogoff, that was equallyuseless. It was evident that the two women would keep on theirguard, and it would be impossible to overhear anything of a nature tocompromise the courier of the Czar. The Tsigane's first thought wasto tell Ivan Ogareff. She therefore immediately left the encampment. Aquarter of an hour after, she reached Zabediero, and was shown into thehouse occupied by the Emir's lieutenant. Ogareff received the Tsiganedirectly.

  "What have you to tell me, Sangarre?" he asked.

  "Marfa Strogoff's son is in the encampment."

  "A prisoner?"

  "A prisoner."

  "Ah!" exclaimed Ogareff, "I shall know--"

  "You will know nothing, Ivan," replied Tsigane; "for you do not evenknow him by sight."

  "But you know him; you have seen him, Sangarre?"

  "I have not seen him; but his mother betrayed herself by a gesture,which told me everything."

  "Are you not mistaken?"

  "I am not mistaken."

  "You know the importance which I attach to the apprehension of thiscourier," said Ivan Ogareff. "If the letter which he has brought fromMoscow reaches Irkutsk, if it is given to the Grand Duke, the Grand Dukewill be on his guard, and I shall not be able to get at him. I must havethat letter at any price. Now you come to tell me that the bearer ofthis letter is in my power. I repeat, Sangarre, are you not mistaken?"

  Ogareff spoke with great animation. His emotion showed the extremeimportance he attached to the possession of this letter. Sangarrewas not at all put out by the urgency with which Ogareff repeated hisquestion. "I am not mistaken, Ivan," she said.

  "But, Sangarre, there are thousands of prisoners; and you say that youdo not know Michael Strogoff."

  "No," answered the Tsigane, with a look of savage joy, "I do not knowhim; but his mother knows him. Ivan, we must make his mother speak."

  "To-morrow she shall speak!" cried Ogareff. So saying, he extended hishand to the Tsigane, who kissed it; for there is nothing servile in thisact of respect, it being usual among the Northern races.

  Sangarre returned to the camp. She found out Nadia and Marfa Strogoff,and passed the night in watching them. Although worn out with fatigue,the old woman and the girl did not sleep. Their great anxiety kept themawake. Michael was living, but a prisoner. Did Ogareff know him, orwould he not soon find him out? Nadia was occupied by the one thoughtthat he whom she had thought dead still lived. But Marfa saw furtherinto the future: and, although she did not care what became of herself,she had every reason to fear for her son.

  Sangarre, under cover of the night, had crept near the two women, andremained there several hours listening. She heard nothing. From aninstinctive feeling of prudence not a word was exchanged between Nadiaand Marfa Strogoff. The next day, the 16th of August, about ten in themorning, trumpet-calls resounded throughout the encampment. The Tartarsoldiers were almost immediately under arms.

  Ivan Ogareff arrived, surrounded by a large staff of Tartar officers.His face was more clouded than usual, and his knitted brow gave signs oflatent wrath which was waiting for an occasion to break forth.

  Michael Strogoff, hidden in a group of prisoners, saw this man pass. Hehad a presentiment that some catastrophe was imminent: for Ivan Ogareffknew now that Marfa was the mother of Michael Strogoff.

  Ogareff dismounted, and his escort cleared a large circle round him.Just then Sangarre approached him, and said, "I have no news."

  Ivan Ogareff's only reply was to give an order to one of his officers.Then the ranks of prisoners were brutally hurried up by the soldiers.The unfortunate people, driven on with whips, or pushed on with lances,arranged themselves round the camp. A strong guard of soldiers drawn upbehind, rendered escape impossible.

  Silence then ensued, and, on a sign from Ivan Ogareff, Sangarre advancedtowards the group, in the midst of which stood Marfa.

  The old Siberian saw her, and knew what was going to happen. A scornfulsmile passed over her face. Then leaning towards Nadia, she said in alow tone, "You know me no longer, my daughter. Whatever may happen, andhowever hard this trial may be, not a word, not a sign. It concerns him,and not me."

  At that moment Sangarre, having regarded her for an instant, put herhand on her shoulder.

  "What do you want with me?" said Marfa.

  "Come!" replied Sangarre, and pushing the old Siberian before her, shetook her to Ivan Ogareff, in the middle of the cleared ground. Michaelcast down his eyes that their angry flashings might not appear.

  Marfa, standing before Ivan Ogareff, drew herself up, crossed her armson her breast, and waited.

  "You are Marfa Strogoff?" asked Ogareff.

  "Yes," replied the old Siberian calmly.

  "Do you retract what you said to me when, three days ago, I interrogatedyou at Omsk?"

  "No!"

  "Then you do not know that your son, Michael Strogoff, courier of theCzar, has passed through Omsk?"

  "I do not know it."

  "And the man in whom you thought you recognized your son, was not heyour son?"

  "He was not my son."

  "And since then you have not seen him amongst the prisoners?"

  "No."

  "If he were pointed out, would you recognize him?"

  "No."

  On this reply, which showed such determined resolution, a murmur washeard amongst the crowd.

  Ogareff could not restrain a threatening gesture.

  "Listen," said he to Marfa, "your son is here, and you shall immediatelypoint him out to me."

  "No."

  "All these men, taken at Omsk and Kolyvan, will defile before you; andif you do not show me Michael Strogoff, you shall receive as many blowsof the knout as men shall have passed before you."

  Ivan Ogareff saw that, whatever might be his threats, whatever might bethe tortures to which he submitted her, the indomitable Siberian wouldnot speak. To discover the courier of the Czar, he counted, then, not onher, but on Michael himself. He did not believe it possible that, whenmother and son were in each other's presence, some involuntary movementwould not betray him. Of course, had he wished to seize the imperialletter, he would simply have given orders to search all the prisoners;but Michael might have destroyed the letter, having learnt its contents;and if he were not recognized, if he were to reach Irkutsk, all IvanOgareff's plans would be baffled. It was thus not only the letter whichthe traitor must have, but the bearer himself.

  Nadia had heard all, and she now knew who was Michael Strogoff, and whyhe had wished to cross, without being recognized, the invaded provincesof Siberia.

  On an order from Ivan Ogareff the prisoners defiled, one by one, pastMarfa, who remained immovable as a statue, and whose face expressed onlyperfect indifference.

  Her son was among the last. When in his turn he passed before hismother, Nadia shut her eyes that she might not see him. Michael was toall appearance unmoved, but the palm of his hand bled under his nails,which were pressed into them.

  Ivan Ogareff was baffled by mother and son.

  Sangarre, close to him, said one word, "The knout!"

  "Yes," cried Ogareff, who could no longer restrain himself; "the knoutfor this wretched old woman--the knout to the death!"

  A Tartar soldier bearing this terrible instrument of torture approachedMarfa. The knout is composed of a certain number of leathern thongs,at the end of which are attached pieces of twisted iron wire. It isreckoned that a sentence to one hundred and twenty blows of t
his whip isequivalent to a sentence of death.

  Marfa knew it, but she knew also that no torture would make her speak.She was sacrificing her life.

  Marfa, seized by two soldiers, was forced on her knees on the ground.Her dress torn off left her back bare. A saber was placed before herbreast, at a few inches' distance only. Directly she bent beneath hersuffering, her breast would be pierced by the sharp steel.

  The Tartar drew himself up. He waited. "Begin!" said Ogareff. The whipwhistled in the air.

  But before it fell a powerful hand stopped the Tartar's arm. Michael wasthere. He had leapt forward at this horrible scene. If at the relay atIchim he had restrained himself when Ogareff's whip had struck him, herebefore his mother, who was about to be struck, he could not do so. IvanOgareff had succeeded.

  "Michael Strogoff!" cried he. Then advancing, "Ah, the man of Ichim?"

  "Himself!" said Michael. And raising the knout he struck Ogareff a sharpblow across the face. "Blow for blow!" said he.

  "Well repaid!" cried a voice concealed by the tumult.

  Twenty soldiers threw themselves on Michael, and in another instant hewould have been slain.

  But Ogareff, who on being struck had uttered a cry of rage and pain,stopped them. "This man is reserved for the Emir's judgment," said he."Search him!"

  The letter with the imperial arms was found in Michael's bosom; he hadnot had time to destroy it; it was handed to Ogareff.

  The voice which had pronounced the words, "Well repaid!" was that ofno other than Alcide Jolivet. "Par-dieu!" said he to Blount, "they arerough, these people. Acknowledge that we owe our traveling companiona good turn. Korpanoff or Strogoff is worthy of it. Oh, that was fineretaliation for the little affair at Ichim."

  "Yes, retaliation truly," replied Blount; "but Strogoff is a dead man.I suspect that, for his own interest at all events, it would havebeen better had he not possessed quite so lively a recollection of theevent."

  "And let his mother perish under the knout?"

  "Do you think that either she or his sister will be a bit better offfrom this outbreak of his?"

  "I do not know or think anything except that I should have done muchthe same in his position," replied Alcide. "What a scar the Colonel hasreceived! Bah! one must boil over sometimes. We should have had water inour veins instead of blood had it been incumbent on us to be always andeverywhere unmoved to wrath."

  "A neat little incident for our journals," observed Blount, "if onlyIvan Ogareff would let us know the contents of that letter."

  Ivan Ogareff, when he had stanched the blood which was tricklingdown his face, had broken the seal. He read and re-read the letterdeliberately, as if he was determined to discover everything itcontained.

  Then having ordered that Michael, carefully bound and guarded, shouldbe carried on to Tomsk with the other prisoners, he took command ofthe troops at Zabediero, and, amid the deafening noise of drums andtrumpets, he marched towards the town where the Emir awaited him.