f with the other
prisoners, had been able to escape and return to the square, at the
moment when Michael was led before the Emir. There, mingling with the
crowd, she had witnessed the terrible scene. Not a cry escaped her when
the scorching blade passed before her companion's eyes. She kept, by her
strength of will, mute and motionless. A providential inspiration bade
her restrain herself and retain her liberty that she might lead Marfa's
son to that goal which he had sworn to reach. Her heart for an instant
ceased to beat when the aged Siberian woman fell senseless to the
ground, but one thought restored her to her former energy. "I will be
the blind man's dog," said she.

On Ogareff's departure, Nadia had concealed herself in the shade. She
had waited till the crowd left the square. Michael, abandoned as a
wretched being from whom nothing was to be feared, was alone. She saw
him draw himself towards his mother, bend over her, kiss her forehead,
then rise and grope his way in flight.

A few instants later, she and he, hand in hand, had descended the steep
slope, when, after having followed the high banks of the Tom to the
furthest extremity of the town, they happily found a breach in the
inclosure.

The road to Irkutsk was the only one which penetrated towards the east.
It could not be mistaken. It was possible that on the morrow, after some
hours of carousal, the scouts of the Emir, once more scattering over
the steppes, might cut off all communication. It was of the greatest
importance therefore to get in advance of them. How could Nadia bear the
fatigues of that night, from the 16th to the 17th of August? How
could she have found strength for so long a stage? How could her feet,
bleeding under that forced march, have carried her thither? It is almost
incomprehensible. But it is none the less true that on the next morning,
twelve hours after their departure from Tomsk, Michael and she reached
the town of Semilowskoe, after a journey of thirty-five miles.

Michael had not uttered a single word. It was not Nadia who held his
hand, it was he who held that of his companion during the whole of that
night; but, thanks to that trembling little hand which guided him, he
had walked at his ordinary pace.

Semilowskoe was almost entirely abandoned. The inhabitants had fled.
Not more than two or three houses were still occupied. All that the town
contained, useful or precious, had been carried off in wagons. However,
Nadia