ff. He was prepared to
die, yet not a single sign of weakness escaped him.

The spectators, waiting around the square, as well as Feofar-Khan's
body-guard, to whom this execution was only one of the attractions, were
eagerly expecting it. Then, their curiosity satisfied, they would rush
off to enjoy the pleasures of intoxication.

The Emir made a sign. Michael was thrust forward by his guards to the
foot of the terrace, and Feofar said to him, "You came to see our goings
out and comings in, Russian spy. You have seen for the last time. In an
instant your eyes will be forever shut to the day."

Michael's fate was to be not death, but blindness; loss of sight, more
terrible perhaps than loss of life. The unhappy man was condemned to be
blinded.

However, on hearing the Emir's sentence Michael's heart did not grow
faint. He remained unmoved, his eyes wide open, as though he wished
to concentrate his whole life into one last look. To entreat pity from
these savage men would be useless, besides, it would be unworthy of him.
He did not even think of it. His thoughts were condensed on his mission,
which had apparently so completely failed; on his mother, on Nadia, whom
he should never more see! But he let no sign appear of the emotion he
felt. Then, a feeling of vengeance to be accomplished came over him.
"Ivan," said he, in a stern voice, "Ivan the Traitor, the last menace of
my eyes shall be for you!"

Ivan Ogareff shrugged his shoulders.

But Michael was not to be looking at Ivan when his eyes were put out.
Marfa Strogoff stood before him.

"My mother!" cried he. "Yes! yes! my last glance shall be for you, and
not for this wretch! Stay there, before me! Now I see once more your
well-beloved face! Now shall my eyes close as they rest upon it...!"

The old woman, without uttering a word, advanced.

"Take that woman away!" said Ivan.

Two soldiers were about to seize her, but she stepped back and remained
standing a few paces from Michael.

The executioner appeared. This time, he held his saber bare in his hand,
and this saber he had just drawn from the chafing-dish, where he had
brought it to a white heat. Michael was going to be blinded in the
Tartar fashion, with a hot blade passed before his eyes!

Michael did not attempt to resist. Nothing existed before his eyes but
his mother, whom his eyes seemed to devour. All his life was in that
last look.

Marfa Strogoff, her eyes open wide, her arms extended toward