ther,
who endeavors by every possible means to deter her from pursuing her
journey. She persists in demanding that fresh horses be put to her
sledge, and that she be allowed to proceed to the Nertchinsk mines,
where her husband is. Failing to frighten her by the description of the
hardships she will be compelled to endure, by telling her that she will
have to live in the common ward of the prison with hundreds of
prisoners, never see her husband alone, and the like, he at last informs
her that she can proceed only on condition that she renounces all her
rights, title, property. She demands the document on the instant and
signs it, and again demands her horses. The governor (who, by pleading
illness, has already detained the impatient woman a whole week) then
tells her that, having renounced her rights, she must traverse the
remaining eight hundred versts[28] on foot, like a common prisoner, and
that the majority fall by the way in so doing. Her only thought is the
extra time which this will require. The governor, having done his duty,
tells her that she shall have her horses and sledge as before; he will
assume the responsibility. She proceeds. Here the poem ends. But the
second poem, entitled "Princess Volkonsky," and dated 1826-1827 carries
the story further for both women. It takes the form of a tale told to
her grandchildren, to whom says the Princess Volkonsky, she will
bequeath flowers from her sister Muravieff's grave (in Siberia), a
collection of butterflies, the flora of Tchita, views of that savage
country, and an iron bracelet forged by their grandfather from his
chains. She narrates how, at the age of seventeen, she married the
Prince, a friend of her father, and the hero of many campaigns, much
older than herself, who even after the wedding, is absent the greater
part of the time on his military duties. Once, when they meet again
after one of these prolonged separations, he is suddenly seized with
panic, burns many documents in her presence, and takes her home to her
father without, however, explaining anything. After that she hears
nothing about him for many months; no letters reach her, every one
professes ignorance as to his whereabouts, but assures her he is engaged
in his duties. Even when her son is born he makes no sign, and all
further efforts to pacify her prove useless. She goes to St. Petersburg,
finds out the truth, and insists on joining her husband who, with Prince
Trubetzkoy and the other nobl