too well. If
he had not been blind, Nadia would have said to him, "Go, Michael, leave
me in some hut! Reach Irkutsk! Accomplish your mission! See my father!
Tell him where I am! Tell him that I wait for him, and you both will
know where to find me! Start! I am not afraid! I will hide myself from
the Tartars! I will take care of myself for him, for you! Go, Michael! I
can go no farther!"

Many times Nadia was obliged to stop. Michael then took her in his
strong arms and, having no longer to think of her fatigue, walked more
rapidly and with his indefatigable step.

On the 18th of September, at ten in the evening, Kimilteiskoe was at
last entered. From the top of a hill, Nadia saw in the horizon a
long light line. It was the Dinka River. A few lightning flashes were
reflected in the water; summer lightning, without thunder. Nadia led her
companion through the ruined village. The cinders were quite cold. The
last of the Tartars had passed through at least five or six days before.

Beyond the village, Nadia sank down on a stone bench. "Shall we make a
halt?" asked Michael.

"It is night, Michael," answered Nadia. "Do you not want to rest a few
hours?"

"I would rather have crossed the Dinka," replied Michael, "I should
like to put that between us and the Emir's advance-guard. But you can
scarcely drag yourself along, my poor Nadia!"

"Come, Michael," returned Nadia, seizing her companion's hand and
drawing him forward.

Two or three versts further the Dinka flowed across the Irkutsk
road. The young girl wished to attempt this last effort asked by her
companion. She found her way by the light from the flashes. They were
then crossing a boundless desert, in the midst of which was lost the
little river. Not a tree nor a hillock broke the flatness. Not a breath
disturbed the atmosphere, whose calmness would allow the slightest sound
to travel an immense distance.

Suddenly, Michael and Nadia stopped, as if their feet had been fast to
the ground. The barking of a dog came across the steppe. "Do you hear?"
said Nadia.

Then a mournful cry succeeded it--a despairing cry, like the last appeal
of a human being about to die.

"Nicholas! Nicholas!" cried the girl, with a foreboding of evil.
Michael, who was listening, shook his head.

"Come, Michael, come," said Nadia. And she who just now was dragging
herself with difficulty along, suddenly recovered strength, under
violent excitement.

"We have left the road," said