ichael thought it best to content himself
with the fare which satisfied his companion; and in less than twenty
minutes he and Nadia returned on deck. There they seated themselves in
the stern, and without preamble, Nadia, lowering her voice to be heard
by him alone, began:

"Brother, I am the daughter of an exile. My name is Nadia Fedor. My
mother died at Riga scarcely a month ago, and I am going to Irkutsk to
rejoin my father and share his exile."

"I, too, am going to Irkutsk," answered Michael, "and I shall thank
Heaven if it enables me to give Nadia Fedor safe and sound into her
father's hands."

"Thank you, brother," replied Nadia.

Michael Strogoff then added that he had obtained a special podorojna
for Siberia, and that the Russian authorities could in no way hinder his
progress.

Nadia asked nothing more. She saw in this fortunate meeting with Michael
a means only of accelerating her journey to her father.

"I had," said she, "a permit which authorized me to go to Irkutsk, but
the new order annulled that; and but for you, brother, I should have
been unable to leave the town, in which, without doubt, I should have
perished."

"And dared you, alone, Nadia," said Michael, "attempt to cross the
steppes of Siberia?"

"The Tartar invasion was not known when I left Riga. It was only at
Moscow that I learnt the news."

"And despite it, you continued your journey?"

"It was my duty."

The words showed the character of the brave girl.

She then spoke of her father, Wassili Fedor. He was a much-esteemed
physician at Riga. But his connection with some secret society having
been asserted, he received orders to start for Irkutsk. The police who
brought the order conducted him without delay beyond the frontier.

Wassili Fedor had but time to embrace his sick wife and his daughter, so
soon to be left alone, when, shedding bitter tears, he was led away. A
year and a half after her husband's departure, Madame Fedor died in
the arms of her daughter, who was thus left alone and almost penniless.
Nadia Fedor then asked, and easily obtained from the Russian government,
an authorization to join her father at Irkutsk. She wrote and told him
she was starting. She had barely enough money for this long journey, and
yet she did not hesitate to undertake it. She would do what she could.
God would do the rest.

CHAPTER IX DAY AND NIGHT IN A TARANTASS

THE next day, the 19th of July, the Caucasus reached Perm, the last