Strogoff?" asked Ogareff.

"Yes," replied the old Siberian calmly.

"Do you retract what you said to me when, three days ago, I interrogated
you at Omsk?"

"No!"

"Then you do not know that your son, Michael Strogoff, courier of the
Czar, has passed through Omsk?"

"I do not know it."

"And the man in whom you thought you recognized your son, was not he
your son?"

"He was not my son."

"And since then you have not seen him amongst the prisoners?"

"No."

"If he were pointed out, would you recognize him?"

"No."

On this reply, which showed such determined resolution, a murmur was
heard amongst the crowd.

Ogareff could not restrain a threatening gesture.

"Listen," said he to Marfa, "your son is here, and you shall immediately
point him out to me."

"No."

"All these men, taken at Omsk and Kolyvan, will defile before you; and
if you do not show me Michael Strogoff, you shall receive as many blows
of the knout as men shall have passed before you."

Ivan Ogareff saw that, whatever might be his threats, whatever might be
the tortures to which he submitted her, the indomitable Siberian would
not speak. To discover the courier of the Czar, he counted, then, not on
her, but on Michael himself. He did not believe it possible that, when
mother and son were in each other's presence, some involuntary movement
would not betray him. Of course, had he wished to seize the imperial
letter, he would simply have given orders to search all the prisoners;
but Michael might have destroyed the letter, having learnt its contents;
and if he were not recognized, if he were to reach Irkutsk, all Ivan
Ogareff's plans would be baffled. It was thus not only the letter which
the traitor must have, but the bearer himself.

Nadia had heard all, and she now knew who was Michael Strogoff, and why
he had wished to cross, without being recognized, the invaded provinces
of Siberia.

On an order from Ivan Ogareff the prisoners defiled, one by one, past
Marfa, who remained immovable as a statue, and whose face expressed only
perfect indifference.

Her son was among the last. When in his turn he passed before his
mother, Nadia shut her eyes that she might not see him. Michael was to
all appearance unmoved, but the palm of his hand bled under his nails,
which were pressed into them.

Ivan Ogareff was baffled by mother and son.

Sangarre, close to him, said one word, "The knout!"

"Yes," cried Ogareff, who could no longer res