given out, the old woman would not have moved, but Nadia shared her
small portion with her; and thus this painful journey was performed.
Thanks to her companion, Marfa was able to follow the soldiers who
guarded the prisoners without being fastened to a saddle-bow, as were
many other unfortunate wretches, and thus dragged along this road of
sorrow.

"May God reward you, my daughter, for what you have done for my old
age!" said Marfa Strogoff once, and for some time these were the only
words exchanged between the two unfortunate beings.

During these few days, which to them appeared like centuries, it would
seem that the old woman and the girl would have been led to speak of
their situation. But Marfa Strogoff, from a caution which may be easily
understood, never spoke about herself except with the greatest brevity.
She never made the smallest allusion to her son, nor to the unfortunate
meeting.

Nadia also, if not completely silent, spoke little. However, one day her
heart overflowed, and she told all the events which had occurred from
her departure from Wladimir to the death of Nicholas Korpanoff.

All that her young companion told intensely interested the old Siberian.
"Nicholas Korpanoff!" said she. "Tell me again about this Nicholas.
I know only one man, one alone, in whom such conduct would not have
astonished me. Nicholas Korpanoff! Was that really his name? Are you
sure of it, my daughter?"

"Why should he have deceived me in this," replied Nadia, "when he
deceived me in no other way?"

Moved, however, by a kind of presentiment, Marfa Strogoff put questions
upon questions to Nadia.

"You told me he was fearless, my daughter. You have proved that he has
been so?" asked she.

"Yes, fearless indeed!" replied Nadia.

"It was just what my son would have done," said Marfa to herself.

Then she resumed, "Did you not say that nothing stopped him, nor
astonished him; that he was so gentle in his strength that you had
a sister as well as a brother in him, and he watched over you like a
mother?"

"Yes, yes," said Nadia. "Brother, sister, mother--he has been all to
me!"

"And defended you like a lion?"

"A lion indeed!" replied Nadia. "A lion, a hero!"

"My son, my son!" thought the old Siberian. "But you said, however, that
he bore a terrible insult at that post-house in Ichim?"

"He did bear it," answered Nadia, looking down.

"He bore it!" murmured Marfa, shuddering.

"Mother, mother," cried Nadia,