of her. Did he fear that, lost in this
busy city, she might be exposed to insult? He feared so, and with
good reason. Did he hope to meet her, and, if need were, to afford her
protection? No. To meet would be difficult. As to protection--what right
had he--

"Alone," he said to himself, "alone, in the midst of these wandering
tribes! And yet the present dangers are nothing compared to those she
must undergo. Siberia! Irkutsk! I am about to dare all risks for Russia,
for the Czar, while she is about to do so--For whom? For what? She is
authorized to cross the frontier! The country beyond is in revolt! The
steppes are full of Tartar bands!"

Michael Strogoff stopped for an instant, and reflected.

"Without doubt," thought he, "she must have determined on undertaking
her journey before the invasion. Perhaps she is even now ignorant of
what is happening. But no, that cannot be; the merchants discussed
before her the disturbances in Siberia--and she did not seem surprised.
She did not even ask an explanation. She must have known it then, and
knowing it, is still resolute. Poor girl! Her motive for the journey
must be urgent indeed! But though she may be brave--and she certainly
is so--her strength must fail her, and, to say nothing of dangers and
obstacles, she will be unable to endure the fatigue of such a journey.
Never can she reach Irkutsk!"

Indulging in such reflections, Michael Strogoff wandered on as chance
led him; being well acquainted with the town, he knew that he could
easily retrace his steps.

Having strolled on for about an hour, he seated himself on a bench
against the wall of a large wooden cottage, which stood, with many
others, on a vast open space. He had scarcely been there five minutes
when a hand was laid heavily on his shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" roughly demanded a tall and powerful man, who
had approached unperceived.

"I am resting," replied Michael Strogoff.

"Do you mean to stay all night on the bench?"

"Yes, if I feel inclined to do so," answered Michael Strogoff, in a tone
somewhat too sharp for the simple merchant he wished to personate.

"Come forward, then, so I can see you," said the man.

Michael Strogoff, remembering that, above all, prudence was requisite,
instinctively drew back. "It is not necessary," he replied, and calmly
stepped back ten paces.

The man seemed, as Michael observed him well, to have the look of
a Bohemian, such as are met at fairs, and with