train himself; "the knout
for this wretched old woman--the knout to the death!"

A Tartar soldier bearing this terrible instrument of torture approached
Marfa. The knout is composed of a certain number of leathern thongs,
at the end of which are attached pieces of twisted iron wire. It is
reckoned that a sentence to one hundred and twenty blows of this whip is
equivalent 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 her
breast, at a few inches' distance only. Directly she bent beneath her
suffering, her breast would be pierced by the sharp steel.

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

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

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

"Himself!" said Michael. And raising the knout he struck Ogareff a sharp
blow 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 he
would 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 had
not had time to destroy it; it was handed to Ogareff.

The voice which had pronounced the words, "Well repaid!" was that of
no other than Alcide Jolivet. "Par-dieu!" said he to Blount, "they are
rough, these people. Acknowledge that we owe our traveling companion
a good turn. Korpanoff or Strogoff is worthy of it. Oh, that was fine
retaliation 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 have
been better had he not possessed quite so lively a recollection of the
event."

"And let his mother perish under the knout?"

"Do you think that either she or his sister will be a bi