The Volga, the Rha of the ancients, is considered to be the largest river in all Europe, and is not less than four thousand versts in length. Its waters, rather unwholesome in its upper part, are improved at Nizhny Novgorod by those of the Oka, a rapid affluent, issuing from the central provinces of Russia.
The system of Russian canals and rivers has been justly compared to a gigantic tree whose branches spread over every part of the empire. The Volga forms the trunk of this tree, and it has for roots seventy mouths opening into the Caspian Sea. It is navigable as far as Rzhev, a town in the government of Tver, that is, along the greater part of its course.
The steamboats plying between Perm and Nizhny Novgorod rapidly perform the two hundred and fifty versts which separate this town from the town of Kazan. It is true that these boats have only to descend the Volga, which adds nearly two miles of current per hour to their own speed; but on arriving at the confluence of the Kama, a little below Kazan, they are obliged to quit the Volga for the smaller river, up which they ascend to Perm. Powerful as were her machines, the Caucasus could not thus, after entering the Kama, make against the current more than sixteen versts an hour. Including an hour’s stoppage at Kazan, the voyage from Nizhny Novgorod to Perm would take from between sixty to sixty-two hours.
The steamer was very well arranged, and the passengers, according to their condition or resources, occupied three distinct classes on board. Michael Strogoff had taken care to engage two first-class cabins, so that his young companion might retire into hers whenever she liked.
The Caucasus was loaded with passengers of every description. A number of Asiatic traders had thought it best to leave Nizhny Novgorod immediately. In that part of the steamer reserved for the first-class might be seen Armenians in long robes and a sort of miter on their heads; Jews, known by their conical caps; rich Chinese in their traditional costume, a very wide blue, violet, or black robe, open at front and at the back, and covered by a second robe with wide sleeves, the cut of which recalls that of the popes; Turks, wearing the national turban; Hindus, with square caps, and a simple string for a girdle, some of whom, more especially designated under the name of Shikarporis, hold in their hands all the traffic of Central Asia; and, lastly, Tartars, wearing boots, ornamented with many-colored braid, and the breast a mass of embroidery. All these merchants had been obliged to pile up their numerous bales and chests in the hold and on the deck; and the transport of their baggage would cost them dear, for, according to the regulations, each person had only a right to twenty pounds’ weight.
In the bows of the Caucasus were more numerous groups of passengers, not only foreigners, but also Russians, who were not forbidden by the order to go back to their towns in the province.
There were muzhiks with caps on their heads, and wearing checked shirts under their wide pelisses; peasants of the Volga, with blue trousers stuffed into their boots, rose-colored cotton shirts, drawn in by a cord, felt caps; a few women, habited in flowery-patterned cotton dresses, gay-colored aprons, and bright handkerchiefs on their heads. These were principally third-class passengers, who were, happily, not troubled by the prospect of a long return voyage. In short, this part of the deck was crowded. The cabin passengers did not venture among these mixed groups, whose place was marked beyond the paddle-boxes.
In the meantime the Caucasus was rapidly plying her paddles between the banks of the Volga. She passed numerous boats being towed up the stream, carrying all sorts of merchandise to Nizhny Novgorod. Then passed rafts of wood, as long as those interminably masses of weed found in a part of the Atlantic known as the Sargasso Sea, and barges loaded up to the gunwale, and nearly sinking under water. A bootless voyage they were making, since the fair had been abruptly broken up at its outset.
The waves caused by the steamer splashed on the banks, covered with flocks of wild duck, who flew away uttering deafening cries. A little farther, on the dry fields, bordered with alders, willows, and aspens, were scattered a few dark-red cows, flocks of brown-fleeced sheep, and herds of black and white pigs of all sizes. Fields, sown with thin buckwheat and rye, stretched away to a background of half-cultivated hills, offering no remarkable prospect. The pencil of an artist in quest of the picturesque scene would have found nothing to reproduce in this monotonous landscape.
The Caucasus had been steaming on for almost two hours, when the young Livonian, addressing herself to Michael, said:
“Are you going to Irkutsk, brother?”
“Yes, sister,” answered the young man. “We are both going the same way. Consequently, wherever I go, you shall go.”
“Tomorrow, brother, you shall know why I left the shores of the Baltic to go beyond the Ural Mountains.”
“I ask you nothing, sister.”
“You shall know all,” replied the girl, with a faint smile. “A sister should hide nothing from her brother. But I cannot today … Fatigue and sorrow have broken me down.”
“Will you go and rest in your cabin?” asked
