ad believed these hordes reduced to absolute
submission, they had been abandoned, and now could not be used; just at
the time when they were needed. Many of these forts had been reduced to
ashes; and the boatmen even pointed out the smoke to Michael, rising
in the southern horizon, and showing the approach of the Tartar
advance-guard.

As soon as the ferryboat landed the tarantass on the right bank of the
Ichim, the journey across the steppe was resumed with all speed. Michael
Strogoff remained very silent. He was, however, always attentive to
Nadia, helping her to bear the fatigue of this long journey without
break or rest; but the girl never complained. She longed to give wings
to the horses. Something told her that her companion was even more
anxious than herself to reach Irkutsk; and how many versts were still
between!

It also occurred to her that if Omsk was entered by the Tartars,
Michael's mother, who lived there, would be in danger, and that this was
sufficient to explain her son's impatience to get to her.

Nadia at last spoke to him of old Marfa, and of how unprotected she
would be in the midst of all these events.

"Have you received any news of your mother since the beginning of the
invasion?" she asked.

"None, Nadia. The last letter my mother wrote to me contained good news.
Marfa is a brave and energetic Siberian woman. Notwithstanding her age,
she has preserved all her moral strength. She knows how to suffer."

"I shall see her, brother," said Nadia quickly. "Since you give me the
name of sister, I am Marfa's daughter."

And as Michael did not answer she added:

"Perhaps your mother has been able to leave Omsk?"

"It is possible, Nadia," replied Michael; "and I hope she may have
reached Tobolsk. Marfa hates the Tartars. She knows the steppe, and
would have no fear in just taking her staff and going down the banks of
the Irtych. There is not a spot in all the province unknown to her. Many
times has she traveled all over the country with my father; and many
times I myself, when a mere child, have accompanied them across the
Siberian desert. Yes, Nadia, I trust that my mother has left Omsk."

"And when shall you see her?"

"I shall see her--on my return."

"If, however, your mother is still at Omsk, you will be able to spare an
hour to go to her?"

"I shall not go and see her."

"You will not see her?"

"No, Nadia," said Michael, his chest heaving as he felt he could not go
on replying