a fort called in Russia
"kreml."

Michael Strogoff expected some trouble in finding a hotel, or even an
inn, to suit him. As he had not to start immediately, for he was going
to take a steamer, he was compelled to look out for some lodging;
but, before doing so, he wished to know exactly the hour at which the
steamboat would start. He went to the office of the company whose boats
plied between Nijni-Novgorod and Perm. There, to his great annoyance,
he found that no boat started for Perm till the following day at twelve
o'clock. Seventeen hours to wait! It was very vexatious to a man so
pressed for time. However, he never senselessly murmured. Besides, the
fact was that no other conveyance could take him so quickly either to
Perm or Kasan. It would be better, then, to wait for the steamer, which
would enable him to regain lost time.

Here, then, was Michael Strogoff, strolling through the town and
quietly looking out for some inn in which to pass the night. However, he
troubled himself little on this score, and, but that hunger pressed
him, he would probably have wandered on till morning in the streets
of Nijni-Novgorod. He was looking for supper rather than a bed. But
he found both at the sign of the City of Constantinople. There, the
landlord offered him a fairly comfortable room, with little furniture,
it is true, but not without an image of the Virgin, and a few saints
framed in yellow gauze.

A goose filled with sour stuffing swimming in thick cream, barley bread,
some curds, powdered sugar mixed with cinnamon, and a jug of kwass, the
ordinary Russian beer, were placed before him, and sufficed to satisfy
his hunger. He did justice to the meal, which was more than could be
said of his neighbor at table, who, having, in his character of "old
believer" of the sect of Raskalniks, made the vow of abstinence,
rejected the potatoes in front of him, and carefully refrained from
putting sugar in his tea.

His supper finished, Michael Strogoff, instead of going up to his
bedroom, again strolled out into the town. But, although the long
twilight yet lingered, the crowd was already dispersing, the streets
were gradually becoming empty, and at length everyone retired to his
dwelling.

Why did not Michael Strogoff go quietly to bed, as would have seemed
more reasonable after a long railway journey? Was he thinking of the
young Livonian girl who had been his traveling companion? Having nothing
better to do, he WAS thinking