“Have you been to the telegraph office?” asked Harry Blount, biting his lips.
“That’s exactly where I have been!” answered Jolivet, with his most amiable smile.
“And is it still working to Kolyvan?”
“That I don’t know, but I can assure you, for instance, that it is working from Kazan to Paris.”
“You sent a dispatch to your cousin?”
“With enthusiasm.”
“You had learnt then—?”
“Look here, little father, as the Russians say,” replied Alcide Jolivet, “I’m a good fellow, and I don’t wish to keep anything from you. The Tartars, and Feofar-Khan at their head, have passed Semipalatinsk, and are descending the Irtish. Do what you like with that!”
What! such important news, and Harry Blount had not known it; and his rival, who had probably learned it from some inhabitant of Kazan, had already transmitted it to Paris. The English paper was distanced! Harry Blount, crossing his hands behind him, walked off and seated himself in the stern without uttering a word.
About ten o’clock in the morning, the young Livonian, leaving her cabin, appeared on deck. Michael Strogoff went forward and took her hand.
“Look, sister!” said he, leading her to the bows of the Caucasus.
The view was indeed well worth examining with some attention.
The Caucasus had reached the confluence of the Volga and the Kama. There she would leave the former river, after having descended it for nearly four hundred versts, to ascend the latter for four hundred and sixty versts.
The Kama was here very wide, and its wooded banks lovely. A few white sails enlivened the sparkling water. The horizon was closed by a line of hills covered with aspens, alders, and sometimes large oaks.
But these beauties of nature could not distract the thoughts of the young Livonian even for an instant. She had left her hand in that of her companion, and soon turning to him:
“At what distance are we from Moscow?” she asked.
“Nine hundred versts,” answered Michael.
“Nine hundred, out of seven thousand!” murmured the girl.
The bell now announced the breakfast hour. Nadia followed Michael Strogoff to the restaurant. She ate little, and as a poor girl whose means are small would do. Michael thought it best to content himself with the fare which satisfied his companion; and in less than twenty minutes he and Nadia returned on deck. There they seated themselves in the stern, and without other preamble, Nadia, lowering her voice so as to be heard by him alone, began:
“Brother, I am the daughter of an exile. My name is Nadia Fedor. My mother died at Riga scarcely a month ago, and I am going to Irkutsk to rejoin my father and share his exile.”
“I too am going to Irkutsk,” answered Michael, “and I shall thank Heaven if it enables me to give Nadia Fedor safe and sound into her father’s hands.”
“Thank you, brother,” replied Nadia.
Michael Strogoff then added that he had obtained a special podorojna for Siberia, and that the Russian authorities could in no way hinder his progress.
Nadia asked nothing more. She saw in this fortunate meeting with Michael a means only of accelerating her journey to her father.
“I had,” said she, “a permit which authorized me to go to Irkutsk, but the order of the governor of Nizhny Novgorod annulled that; and but for you, brother, I should have been unable to leave the town, in which, without doubt, I should have perished.”
“And dared you, alone, Nadia,” said Michael, “attempt to cross the steppes of Siberia?”
“The Tartar invasion was not known when I left Riga. It was only at Moscow that I learnt the news.”
“And notwithstanding it, you continued your journey?”
“It was my duty.”
The words showed the character of the courageous girl.
She then spoke of her father, Wassili Fedor. He was a much-esteemed physician at Riga. But his connection with some secret society having been asserted, he received orders to start for Irkutsk and the police who brought the order conducted him without delay beyond the frontier.
Wassili Fedor had but time to embrace his sick wife and his daughter, so soon to be left alone, when, shedding bitter tears, he was led away.
A year and a half after her husband’s departure, Madame Fedor died in the arms of her daughter, who was thus left alone and almost penniless. Nadia Fedor then asked, and easily obtained from the Russian government, an authorization to join her father at Irkutsk. She wrote and told him she was starting. She had barely enough money for this long journey, and yet she did not hesitate to undertake it. She would do what she could. God would do the rest.
All this time the Caucasus went steaming up the river.
IX
Day and Night in a Tarantass
The next day, the 19th of July, the Caucasus reached Perm, the last place at which she touched on the Kama.
The government of which Perm is the capital is one of the largest in the Russian Empire, and, extending over the Ural Mountains, encroaches on Siberian territory. Marble quarries, mines of salt, platina, gold, and coal are worked here on a large scale. Although Perm, by its situation, has become an important town, it is by no means attractive, being extremely dirty, and without resources. This want of comfort is of no consequence to those going to Siberia, for they come from the more civilized districts, and are supplied with all necessaries.
At Perm travelers from Siberia resell their vehicles, more or less damaged by the long journey across the plains. There, too, those passing from Europe to Asia purchase carriages, or sleighs in the winter season.
Michael Strogoff had already sketched out his programme. A vehicle carrying the mail usually runs across the Ural Mountains, but this, of course, was discontinued. Even if it had not been so, he would not have taken it, as he wished to travel as fast as possible, without depending on anyone.
