by Jules Verne
CHAPTER IX IN THE STEPPE
MICHAEL STROGOFF and Nadia were once more as free as they had been inthe journey from Perm to the banks of the Irtych. But how the conditionsunder which they traveled were altered! Then, a comfortable tarantass,fresh horses, well-kept post-horses assured the rapidity of theirjourney. Now they were on foot; it was utterly impossible to procure anyother means of locomotion, they were without resources, not knowing howto obtain even food, and they had still nearly three hundred miles togo! Moreover, Michael could now only see with Nadia's eyes.
As to the friend whom chance had given them, they had just lost him,and fearful might be his fate. Michael had thrown himself down under thebrushwood at the side of the road. Nadia stood beside him, waiting forthe word from him to continue the march.
It was ten o'clock. The sun had more than three hours before disappearedbelow the horizon. There was not a house in sight. The last of theTartars was lost in the distance. Michael and Nadia were quite alone.
"What will they do with our friend?" exclaimed the girl. "Poor Nicholas!Our meeting will have been fatal to him!" Michael made no response.
"Michael," continued Nadia, "do you not know that he defended you whenyou were the Tartars' sport; that he risked his life for me?"
Michael was still silent. Motionless, his face buried in his hands;of what was he thinking? Perhaps, although he did not answer, he heardNadia speak.
Yes! he heard her, for when the young girl added, "Where shall I leadyou, Michael?"
"To Irkutsk!" he replied.
"By the highroad?"
"Yes, Nadia."
Michael was still the same man who had sworn, whatever happened, toaccomplish his object. To follow the highroad, was certainly to go theshortest way. If the vanguard of Feofar-Khan's troops appeared, it wouldthen be time to strike across the country.
Nadia took Michael's hand, and they started.
The next morning, the 13th of September, twenty versts further, theymade a short halt in the village of Joulounov-skoe. It was burnt anddeserted. All night Nadia had tried to see if the body of Nicholas hadnot been left on the road, but it was in vain that she looked amongthe ruins, and searched among the dead. Was he reserved for some crueltorture at Irkutsk?
Nadia, exhausted with hunger, was fortunate enough to find in one of thehouses a quantity of dried meat and "soukharis," pieces of bread,which, dried by evaporation, preserve their nutritive qualities for anindefinite time.
Michael and the girl loaded themselves with as much as they could carry.They had thus a supply of food for several days, and as to water, therewould be no want of that in a district rendered fertile by the numerouslittle affluents of the Angara.
They continued their journey. Michael walked with a firm step, andonly slackened his pace for his companion's sake. Nadia, not wishing toretard him, obliged herself to walk. Happily, he could not see to what amiserable state fatigue had reduced her.
However, Michael guessed it. "You are quite done up, poor child," hesaid sometimes.
"No," she would reply.
"When you can no longer walk, I will carry you."
"Yes, Michael."
During this day they came to the little river Oka, but it was fordable,and they had no difficulty in crossing. The sky was cloudy and thetemperature moderate. There was some fear that the rain might come on,which would much have increased their misery. A few showers fell, butthey did not last.
They went on as before, hand in hand, speaking little, Nadia lookingabout on every side; twice a day they halted. Six hours of the nightwere given to sleep. In a few huts Nadia again found a little mutton;but, contrary to Michael's hopes, there was not a single beast of burdenin the country; horses, camels--all had been either killed or carriedoff. They must still continue to plod on across this weary steppe onfoot.
The third Tartar column, on its way to Irkutsk, had left plain traces:here a dead horse, there an abandoned cart. The bodies of unfortunateSiberians lay along the road, principally at the entrances to villages.Nadia, overcoming her repugnance, looked at all these corpses!
The chief danger lay, not before, but behind. The advance guard of theEmir's army, commanded by Ivan Ogareff, might at any moment appear.The boats sent down the lower Yenisei must by this time have reachedKrasnoiarsk and been made use of. The road was therefore open to theinvaders. No Russian force could be opposed to them between Krasnoiarskand Lake Baikal, Michael therefore expected before long the appearanceof the Tartar scouts.
At each halt, Nadia climbed some hill and looked anxiously to theWestward, but as yet no cloud of dust had signaled the approach of atroop of horse.
Then the march was resumed; and when Michael felt that he was draggingpoor Nadia forward too rapidly, he went at a slower pace. They spokelittle, and only of Nicholas. The young girl recalled all that thiscompanion of a few days had done for them.
In answering, Michael tried to give Nadia some hope of which he did notfeel a spark himself, for he well knew that the unfortunate fellow wouldnot escape death.
One day Michael said to the girl, "You never speak to me of my mother,Nadia."
His mother! Nadia had never wished to do so. Why renew his grief? Wasnot the old Siberian dead? Had not her son given the last kiss to hercorpse stretched on the plain of Tomsk?
"Speak to me of her, Nadia," said Michael. "Speak--you will please me."
And then Nadia did what she had not done before. She told all that hadpassed between Marfa and herself since their meeting at Omsk, where theyhad seen each other for the first time. She said how an inexplicableinstinct had led her towards the old prisoner without knowing who shewas, and what encouragement she had received in return. At that timeMichael Strogoff had been to her but Nicholas Korpanoff.
"Whom I ought always to have been," replied Michael, his brow darkening.
Then later he added, "I have broken my oath, Nadia. I had sworn not tosee my mother!"
"But you did not try to see her, Michael," replied Nadia. "Chance alonebrought you into her presence."
"I had sworn, whatever might happen, not to betray myself."
"Michael, Michael! at sight of the lash raised upon Marfa, could yourefrain? No! No oath could prevent a son from succoring his mother!"
"I have broken my oath, Nadia," returned Michael. "May God and theFather pardon me!"
"Michael," resumed the girl, "I have a question to ask you. Do notanswer it if you think you ought not. Nothing from you would vex me!"
"Speak, Nadia."
"Why, now that the Czar's letter has been taken from you, are you soanxious to reach Irkutsk?"
Michael tightly pressed his companion's hand, but he did not answer.
"Did you know the contents of that letter before you left Moscow?"
"No, I did not know."
"Must I think, Michael, that the wish alone to place me in my father'shands draws you toward Irkutsk?"
"No, Nadia," replied Michael, gravely. "I should deceive you if Iallowed you to believe that it was so. I go where duty orders me to go.As to taking you to Irkutsk, is it not you, Nadia, who are now taking methere? Do I not see with your eyes; and is it not your hand that guidesme? Have you not repaid a hundred-fold the help which I was able to giveyou at first? I do not know if fate will cease to go against us; but theday on which you thank me for having placed you in your father's hands,I in my turn will thank you for having led me to Irkutsk."
"Poor Michael!" answered Nadia, with emotion. "Do not speak so. Thatdoes not answer me. Michael, why, now, are you in such haste to reachIrkutsk?"
"Because I must be there before Ivan Ogareff," exclaimed Michael.
"Even now?"
"Even now, and I will be there, too!"
In uttering these words, Michael did not speak solely through hatred tothe traitor. Nadia understood that her companion had not told, or couldnot tell, her all.
On the 15th of September, three days later, the two reached the villageof Kouitounskoe. The young girl suffered dreadfu
lly. Her aching feetcould scarcely support her; but she fought, she struggled, against herweariness, and her only thought was this: "Since he cannot see me, Iwill go on till I drop."
There were no obstacles on this part of the journey, no danger eithersince the departure of the Tartars, only much fatigue. For three daysit continued thus. It was plain that the third invading column wasadvancing rapidly in the East; that could be seen by the ruins whichthey left after them--the cold cinders and the already decomposingcorpses.
There was nothing to be seen in the West; the Emir's advance-guard hadnot yet appeared. Michael began to consider the various reasons whichmight have caused this delay. Was a sufficient force of Russiansdirectly menacing Tomsk or Krasnoiarsk? Did the third column, isolatedfrom the others, run a risk of being cut off? If this was the case, itwould be easy for the Grand Duke to defend Irkutsk, and any time gainedagainst an invasion was a step towards repulsing it. Michaelsometimes let his thoughts run on these hopes, but he soon saw theirimprobability, and felt that the preservation of the Grand Duke dependedalone on him.
Nadia dragged herself along. Whatever might be her moral energy, herphysical strength would soon fail her. Michael knew it only too well. Ifhe had not been blind, Nadia would have said to him, "Go, Michael, leaveme in some hut! Reach Irkutsk! Accomplish your mission! See my father!Tell him where I am! Tell him that I wait for him, and you both willknow where to find me! Start! I am not afraid! I will hide myself fromthe Tartars! I will take care of myself for him, for you! Go, Michael! Ican go no farther!"
Many times Nadia was obliged to stop. Michael then took her in hisstrong arms and, having no longer to think of her fatigue, walked morerapidly and with his indefatigable step.
On the 18th of September, at ten in the evening, Kimilteiskoe was atlast entered. From the top of a hill, Nadia saw in the horizon along light line. It was the Dinka River. A few lightning flashes werereflected in the water; summer lightning, without thunder. Nadia led hercompanion through the ruined village. The cinders were quite cold. Thelast of the Tartars had passed through at least five or six days before.
Beyond the village, Nadia sank down on a stone bench. "Shall we make ahalt?" asked Michael.
"It is night, Michael," answered Nadia. "Do you not want to rest a fewhours?"
"I would rather have crossed the Dinka," replied Michael, "I shouldlike to put that between us and the Emir's advance-guard. But you canscarcely drag yourself along, my poor Nadia!"
"Come, Michael," returned Nadia, seizing her companion's hand anddrawing him forward.
Two or three versts further the Dinka flowed across the Irkutskroad. The young girl wished to attempt this last effort asked by hercompanion. She found her way by the light from the flashes. They werethen crossing a boundless desert, in the midst of which was lost thelittle river. Not a tree nor a hillock broke the flatness. Not a breathdisturbed the atmosphere, whose calmness would allow the slightest soundto travel an immense distance.
Suddenly, Michael and Nadia stopped, as if their feet had been fast tothe ground. The barking of a dog came across the steppe. "Do you hear?"said Nadia.
Then a mournful cry succeeded it--a despairing cry, like the last appealof a human being about to die.
"Nicholas! Nicholas!" cried the girl, with a foreboding of evil.Michael, who was listening, shook his head.
"Come, Michael, come," said Nadia. And she who just now was draggingherself with difficulty along, suddenly recovered strength, underviolent excitement.
"We have left the road," said Michael, feeling that he was treading nolonger on powdery soil but on short grass.
"Yes, we must!" returned Nadia. "It was there, on the right, from whichthe cry came!"
In a few minutes they were not more than half a verst from the river.A second bark was heard, but, although more feeble, it was certainlynearer. Nadia stopped.
"Yes!" said Michael. "It is Serko barking!... He has followed hismaster!"
"Nicholas!" called the girl. Her cry was unanswered.
Michael listened. Nadia gazed over the plain illumined now and againwith electric light, but she saw nothing. And yet a voice was againraised, this time murmuring in a plaintive tone, "Michael!"
Then a dog, all bloody, bounded up to Nadia.
It was Serko! Nicholas could not be far off! He alone could havemurmured the name of Michael! Where was he? Nadia had no strength tocall again. Michael, crawling on the ground, felt about with his hands.
Suddenly Serko uttered a fresh bark and darted towards a gigantic birdwhich had swooped down. It was a vulture. When Serko ran towards it, itrose, but returning struck at the dog. The latter leapt up at it. A blowfrom the formidable beak alighted on his head, and this time Serko fellback lifeless on the ground.
At the same moment a cry of horror escaped Nadia. "There... there!" sheexclaimed.
A head issued from the ground! She had stumbled against it in thedarkness.
Nadia fell on her knees beside it. Nicholas buried up to his neck,according to the atrocious Tartar custom, had been left in the steppe todie of thirst, and perhaps by the teeth of wolves or the beaks of birdsof prey!
Frightful torture for the victim imprisoned in the ground--the earthpressed down so that he cannot move, his arms bound to his body likethose of a corpse in its coffin! The miserable wretch, living in themold of clay from which he is powerless to break out, can only long forthe death which is so slow in coming!
There the Tartars had buried their prisoner three days before! For threedays, Nicholas waited for the help which now came too late! The vultureshad caught sight of the head on a level with the ground, and for somehours the dog had been defending his master against these ferociousbirds!
Michael dug at the ground with his knife to release his friend! The eyesof Nicholas, which till then had been closed, opened.
He recognized Michael and Nadia. "Farewell, my friends!" he murmured. "Iam glad to have seen you again! Pray for me!"
Michael continued to dig, though the ground, having been tightly rammeddown, was as hard as stone, and he managed at last to get out the bodyof the unhappy man. He listened if his heart was still beating.... Itwas still!
He wished to bury him, that he might not be left exposed; and the holeinto which Nicholas had been placed when living, was enlarged, so thathe might be laid in it--dead! The faithful Serko was laid by his master.
At that moment, a noise was heard on the road, about half a verstdistant. Michael Strogoff listened. It was evidently a detachment ofhorse advancing towards the Dinka. "Nadia, Nadia!" he said in a lowvoice.
Nadia, who was kneeling in prayer, arose. "Look, look!" said he.
"The Tartars!" she whispered.
It was indeed the Emir's advance-guard, passing rapidly along the roadto Irkutsk.
"They shall not prevent me from burying him!" said Michael. And hecontinued his work.
Soon, the body of Nicholas, the hands crossed on the breast, was laid inthe grave. Michael and Nadia, kneeling, prayed a last time for the poorfellow, inoffensive and good, who had paid for his devotion towards themwith his life.
"And now," said Michael, as he threw in the earth, "the wolves of thesteppe will not devour him."
Then he shook his fist at the troop of horsemen who were passing."Forward, Nadia!" he said.
Michael could not follow the road, now occupied by the Tartars. He mustcross the steppe and turn to Irkutsk. He had not now to trouble himselfabout crossing the Dinka. Nadia could not move, but she could see forhim. He took her in his arms and went on towards the southwest of theprovince.
A hundred and forty miles still remained to be traversed. How was thedistance to be performed? Should they not succumb to such fatigue? Onwhat were they to live on the way? By what superhuman energy were theyto pass the slopes of the Sayansk Mountains? Neither he nor Nadia couldanswer this!
And yet, twelve days after, on the 2d of October, at six o'clock in theevening, a wide sheet of water lay at Michael Strogoff's feet. It wasLake Baikal.