Michael Strogoff

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This etext was prepared by Judy Boss, Omaha, NE

Michael Strogoff

or

The Courier of the Czar

by Jules Verne

Michael Strogoff

BOOK I

CHAPTER I
A FETE AT THE NEW PALACE

SIRE, a fresh dispatch."

"Whence?"

"From Tomsk?"

"Is the wire cut beyond that city?"

"Yes, sire, since yesterday."

"Telegraph hourly to Tomsk, General, and
keep me informed of all that occurs."

"Sire, it shall be done," answered General Kissoff.

These words were exchanged about two hours after mid-
night, at the moment when the fete given at the New Palace
was at the height of its splendor.

During the whole evening the bands of the Preobra-
jensky and Paulowsky regiments had played without cessa-
tion polkas, mazurkas, schottisches, and waltzes from among
the choicest of their repertoires. Innumerable couples of
dancers whirled through the magnificent saloons of the pal-
ace, which stood at a few paces only from the "old house
of stones" -- in former days the scene of so many terrible
dramas, the echoes of whose walls were this night awakened
by the gay strains of the musicians.

The grand-chamberlain of the court, was, besides, well
seconded in his arduous and delicate duties. The grand-
dukes and their aides-de-camp, the chamberlains-in-waiting
and other officers of the palace, presided personally in the
arrangement of the dances. The grand duchesses, covered
with diamonds, the ladies-in-waiting in their most exquisite
costumes, set the example to the wives of the military and
civil dignitaries of the ancient "city of white stone." When,
therefore, the signal for the "polonaise" resounded through
the saloons, and the guests of all ranks took part in that
measured promenade, which on occasions of this kind has
all the importance of a national dance, the mingled costumes,
the sweeping robes adorned with lace, and uniforms covered
with orders, presented a scene of dazzling splendor, lighted
by hundreds of lusters multiplied tenfold by the numerous
mirrors adorning the walls.

The grand saloon, the finest of all those contained in the
New Palace, formed to this procession of exalted person-
ages and splendidly dressed women a frame worthy of the
magnificence they displayed. The rich ceiling, with its gild-
ing already softened by the touch of time, appeared as if
glittering with stars. The embroidered drapery of the cur-
tains and doors, falling in gorgeous folds, assumed rich and
varied hues, broken by the shadows of the heavy masses of
damask.

Through the panes of the vast semicircular bay-windows
the light, with which the saloons were filled, shone forth
with the brilliancy of a conflagration, vividly illuminating
the gloom in which for some hours the palace had been
shrouded. The attention of those of the guests not taking
part in the dancing was attracted by the contrast. Resting
in the recesses of the windows, they could discern, standing
out dimly in the darkness, the vague outlines of the count-
less towers, domes, and spires which adorn the ancient city.
Below the sculptured balconies were visible numerous sen-
tries, pacing silently up and down, their rifles carried hori-
zontally on the shoulder, and the spikes of their helmets
glittering like flames in the glare of light issuing from the
palace. The steps also of the patrols could be heard beat-
ing time on the stones beneath with even more regularity
than the feet of the dancers on the floor of the saloon.
From time to time the watchword was repeated from post to
post, and occasionally the notes of a trumpet, mingling with
the strains of the orchestra, penetrated into their midst. Still
farther down, in front of the facade, dark masses obscured
the rays of light which proceeded from the windows of the
New Palace. These were boats descending the course of a
river, whose waters, faintly illumined by a few lamps,
washed the lower portion of the terraces.

The principal personage who has been mentioned, the
giver of the fete, and to whom General Kissoff had been
speaking in that tone of respect with which sovereigns alone
are usually addressed, wore the simple uniform of an officer
of chasseurs of the guard. This was not affectation on his
part, but the custom of a man who cared little for dress, his
contrasting strongly with the gorgeous costumes amid which
he moved, encircled by his escort of Georgians, Cossacks,
and Circassians -- a brilliant band, splendidly clad in the glit-
tering uniforms of the Caucasus.

This personage, of lofty stature, affable demeanor, and
physiognomy calm, though bearing traces of anxiety, moved
from group to group, seldom speaking, and appearing to
pay but little attention either to the merriment of the younger
guests or the graver remarks of the exalted dignitaries or
members of the diplomatic corps who represented at the
Russian court the principal governments of Europe. Two
or three of these astute politicians -- physiognomists by vir-
tue of their profession -- failed not to detect on the counte-
nance of their host symptoms of disquietude, the source of
which eluded their penetration; but none ventured to inter-
rogate him on the subject.

It was evidently the intention of the officer of chasseurs
that his own anxieties should in no way cast a shade over
the festivities; and, as he was a personage whom almost
the population of a world in itself was wont to obey, the
gayety of the ball was not for a moment checked.

Nevertheless, General Kissoff waited until the officer to
whom he had just communicated the dispatch forwarded
from Tomsk should give him permission to withdraw; but
the latter still remained silent. He had taken the telegram,
he had read it carefully, and his visage became even more
clouded than before. Involuntarily he sought the hilt of
his sword, and then passed his hand for an instant before his
eyes, as though, dazzled by the brilliancy of the light, he
wished to shade them, the better to see into the recesses of
his own mind.

"We are, then," he continued, after having drawn Gen-
eral Kissoff aside towards a window, "since yesterday with-
out intelligence from the Grand Duke?"

"Without any, sire; and it is to be feared that in a
short time dispatches will no longer cross the Siberian
frontier."

"But have not the troops of the provinces of Amoor and
Irkutsk, as those also of the Trans-Balkan territory, received
orders to march immediately upon Irkutsk?"

"The orders were transmitted by the last telegram we
were able to send beyond Lake Baikal."

"And the governments of Yeniseisk, Omsk, Semipola-
tinsk, and Tobolsk -- are we still in direct communication
with them as before the insurrection?"

"Yes, sire; our dispatches have reached them, and we
are assured at the present moment that the Tartars have not
advanced beyond the Irtish and the Obi."

"And the traitor Ivan Ogareff, are there no tidings of
him?"

"None," replied General Kissoff. "The head of the
police cannot state whether or not he has crossed the fron-
tier."

"Let a description of him be immediately dispatched to
Nijni-Novgorod, Perm, Ekaterenburg, Kasirnov, Tioumen,
Ishim, Omsk, Tomsk, and to all the telegraphic stations with
which communication is yet open."

"Your majesty's orders shall be instantly carried out."

"You will observe the strictest silence as to this."

The General, having made a sign of respectful assent,
bowing low, mingled with the crowd, and finally left the
apartments without his departure being remarked.

The officer remained absorbed in thought for a few mo-
ments, when, recovering himself, he went among the various
groups in the saloon, his countenance reassuming that calm
aspect which had for an instant been disturbed.

Nevertheless, the important occurrence which had occa-
sioned these rapidly exchanged words was not so unknown
as the officer of the chasseurs of the guard and General
Kissoff had possibly supposed. It was not spoken of of-
ficially, it is true, nor even officiously, since tongues were not
free; but a few exalted personages had been informed, more
or less exactly, of the events which had taken place beyond
the frontier. At any rate, that which was only slightly
known, that which was not matter of conversation even
between members of the corps diplomatique, two guests,
distinguished by no uniform, no decoration, at this reception
in the New Palace, discussed in a low voice, and with ap-
parently very correct information.

By what means, by the exercise of what acuteness had
these two ordinary mortals ascertained that which so many
persons of the highest rank and importance scarcely even
suspected? It is impossible to say. Had they the gifts of
foreknowledge and foresight? Did they possess a supple-
mentary sense, which enabled them to see beyond that lim-
ited horizon which bounds all human gaze? Had they ob-
tained a peculiar power of divining the most secret events?
Was it owing to the habit, now become a second nature,
of living on information, that their mental constitution had
thus become really transformed? It was difficult to escape
from this conclusion.

Of these two men, the one was English, the other French;
both were tall and thin, but the latter was sallow as are the
southern Provencals, while the former was ruddy like a
Lancashire gentleman. The Anglo-Norman, formal, cold,
grave, parsimonious of gestures and words, appeared only
to speak or gesticulate under the influence of a spring operat-
ing at regular intervals. The Gaul, on the contrary, lively
and petulant, expressed himself with lips, eyes, hands, all at
once, having twenty different ways of explaining his
thoughts, whereas his interlocutor seemed to have only one,
immutably stereotyped on his brain.

The strong contrast they presented would at once have
struck the most superficial observer; but a physiognomist,
regarding them closely, would have defined their particular
characteristics by saying, that if the Frenchman was "all
eyes," the Englishman was "all ears."

In fact, the visual apparatus of the one had been sin-
gularly perfected by practice. The sensibility of its retina
must have been as instantaneous as that of those conjurors
who recognize a card merely by a rapid movement in cutting
the pack or by the arrangement only of marks invisible to
others. The Frenchman indeed possessed in the highest de-
gree what may be called "the memory of the eye."

The Englishman, on the contrary, appeared especially
organized to listen and to hear. When his aural apparatus
had been once struck by the sound of a voice he could not
forget it, and after ten or even twenty years he would have
recognized it among a thousand. His ears, to be sure, had
not the power of moving as freely as those of animals who
are provided with large auditory flaps; but, since scientific
men know that human ears possess, in fact, a very limited
power of movement, we should not be far wrong in affirm-
ing that those of the said Englishman became erect, and
turned in all directions while endeavoring to gather in the
sounds, in a manner apparent only to the naturalist. It
must be observed that this perfection of sight and hearing
was of wonderful assistance to these two men in their voca-
tion, for the Englishman acted as correspondent of the
Daily Telegraph, and the Frenchman, as correspondent of
what newspaper, or of what newspapers, he did not say;
and when asked, he replied in a jocular manner that he cor-
responded with "his cousin Madeleine." This Frenchman,
however, neath his careless surface, was wonderfully
shrewd and sagacious. Even while speaking at random,
perhaps the better to hide his desire to learn, he never forgot
himself. His loquacity even helped him to conceal his
thoughts, and he was perhaps even more discreet than his
confrere of the Daily Telegraph. Both were present at this
fete given at the New Palace on the night of the 15th of
July in their character of reporters.

It is needless to say that these two men were devoted to
their mission in the world -- that they delighted to throw
themselves in the track of the most unexpected intelligence
-- that nothing terrified or discouraged them from succeed-
ing -- that they possessed the imperturbable sang froid and
the genuine intrepidity of men of their calling. Enthusiastic
jockeys in this steeplechase, this hunt after information, they
leaped hedges, crossed rivers, sprang over fences, with the
ardor of pure-blooded racers, who will run "a good first"
or die!

Their journals did not restrict them with regard to money
-- the surest, the most rapid, the most perfect element of
information known to this day. It must also be added, to
their honor, that neither the one nor the other ever looked
over or listened at the walls of private life, and that they
only exercised their vocation when political or social inter-
ests were at stake. In a word, they made what has been
for some years called "the great political and military re-
ports."

It will be seen, in following them, that they had generally
an independent mode of viewing events, and, above all, their
consequences, each having his own way of observing and
appreciating.

The French correspondent was named Alcide Jolivet.
Harry Blount was the name of the Englishman. They
had just met for the first time at this fete in the New Palace,
of which they had been ordered to give an account in their
papers. The dissimilarity of their characters, added to a
certain amount of jealousy, which generally exists between
rivals in the same calling, might have rendered them but
little sympathetic. However, they did not avoid each other,
but endeavored rather to exchange with each other the chat
of the day. They were sportsmen, after all, hunting on the
same ground. That which one missed might be advan-
tageously secured by the other, and it was to their interest
to meet and converse.

This evening they were both on the look out; they felt,
in fact, that there was something in the air.

"Even should it be only a wildgoose chase," said Alcide
Jolivet to himself, "it may be worth powder and shot."

The two correspondents therefore began by cautiously
sounding each other.

"Really, my dear sir, this little fete is charming!" said
Alcide Jolivet pleasantly, thinking himself obliged to begin
the conversation with this eminently French phrase.

"I have telegraphed already, 'splendid!'" replied Harry
Blount calmly, employing the word specially devoted to ex-
pressing admiration by all subjects of the United Kingdom.

"Nevertheless," added Alcide Jolivet, "I felt compelled
to remark to my cousin --"

"Your cousin?" repeated Harry Blount in a tone of sur-
prise, interrupting his brother of the pen.

"Yes," returned Alcide Jolivet, "my cousin Madeleine.
It is with her that I correspond, and she likes to be quickly
and well informed, does my cousin. I therefore remarked
to her that, during this fete, a sort of cloud had appeared to
overshadow the sovereign's brow."

"To me, it seemed radiant," replied Harry Blount, who
perhaps, wished to conceal his real opinion on this topic.

"And, naturally, you made it 'radiant,' in the columns
of the Daily Telegraph."

"Exactly."

"Do you remember, Mr. Blount, what occurred at Zakret
in 1812?"

"I remember it as well as if I had been there, sir,"
replied the English correspondent.

"Then," continued Alcide Jolivet, "you know that, in
the middle of a fete given in his honor, it was announced
to the Emperor Alexander that Napoleon had just crossed
the Niemen with the vanguard of the French army.
Nevertheless the Emperor did not leave the fete, and not-
withstanding the extreme gravity of intelligence which
might cost him his empire, he did not allow himself to show
more uneasiness."

"Than our host exhibited when General Kissoff informed
him that the telegraphic wires had just been cut between the
frontier and the government of Irkutsk."

"Ah! you are aware of that?"

"I am!"

"As regards myself, it would be difficult to avoid know-
ing it, since my last telegram reached Udinsk," observed
Alcide Jolivet, with some satisfaction.

"And mine only as far as Krasnoiarsk," answered Harry
Blount, in a no less satisfied tone.

"Then you know also that orders have been sent to the
troops of Nikolaevsk?"

"I do, sir; and at the same time a telegram was sent
to the Cossacks of the government of Tobolsk to concentrate
their forces."

"Nothing can be more true, Mr. Blount; I was equally
well acquainted with these measures, and you may be sure
that my dear cousin shall know of them to-morrow."

"Exactly as the readers of the Daily Telegraph shall
know it also, M. Jolivet."

"Well, when one sees all that is going on. . . ."

"And when one hears all that is said. . . ."

"An interesting campaign to follow, Mr. Blount."

"I shall follow it, M. Jolivet!"

"Then it is possible that we shall find ourselves on
ground less safe, perhaps, than the floor of this ball-room."

"Less safe, certainly, but --"

"But much less slippery," added Alcide Jolivet, holding
up his companion, just as the latter, drawing back, was
about to lose his equilibrium.

Thereupon the two correspondents separated, pleased that
the one had not stolen a march on the other.

At that moment the doors of the rooms adjoining the
great reception saloon were thrown open, disclosing to view
several immense tables beautifully laid out, and groaning
under a profusion of valuable china and gold plate. On
the central table, reserved for the princes, princesses, and
members of the corps diplomatique, glittered an epergne
of inestimable price, brought from London, and around this
chef-d'oeuvre of chased gold reflected under the light of
the lusters a thousand pieces of most beautiful service
from the manufactories of Sevres.

The guests of the New Palace immediately began to
stream towards the supper-rooms.

At that moment. General Kissoff, who had just re-en-
tered, quickly approached the officer of chasseurs.

"Well?" asked the latter abruptly, as he had done the
former time.

"Telegrams pass Tomsk no longer, sire."

"A courier this moment!"

The officer left the hall and entered a large antechamber
adjoining. It was a cabinet with plain oak furniture,
situated in an angle of the New Palace. Several pictures,
amongst others some by Horace Vernet, hung on the wall.

The officer hastily opened a window, as if he felt the
want of air, and stepped out on a balcony to breathe the
pure atmosphere of a lovely July night. Beneath his eyes,
bathed in moonlight, lay a fortified inclosure, from which
rose two cathedrals, three palaces, and an arsenal. Around
this inclosure could be seen three distinct towns: Kitai-
Gorod, Beloi-Gorod, Zemlianai-Gorod -- European, Tartar,
and Chinese quarters of great extent, commanded by towers,
belfries, minarets, and the cupolas of three hundred
churches, with green domes, surmounted by the silver cross.
A little winding river, here and there reflected the rays of
the moon.

This river was the Moskowa; the town Moscow; the
fortified inclosure the Kremlin; and the officer of chasseurs
of the guard, who, with folded arms and thoughtful brow,
was listening dreamily to the sounds floating from the New
Palace over the old Muscovite city, was the Czar.

CHAPTER II
RUSSIANS AND TARTARS

THE Czar had not so suddenly left the ball-room of the
New Palace, when the fete he was giving to the civil and
military authorities and principal people of Moscow was at
the height of its brilliancy, without ample cause; for he
had just received information that serious events were tak-
ing place beyond the frontiers of the Ural. It had become
evident that a formidable rebellion threatened to wrest the
Siberian provinces from the Russian crown.

Asiatic Russia, or Siberia, covers a superficial area of
1,790,208 square miles, and contains nearly two millions of
inhabitants. Extending from the Ural Mountains, which
separate it from Russia in Europe, to the shores of the
Pacific Ocean, it is bounded on the south by Turkestan and
the Chinese Empire; on the north by the Arctic Ocean,
from the Sea of Kara to Behring's Straits. It is divided
into several governments or provinces, those of Tobolsk,
Yeniseisk, Irkutsk, Omsk, and Yakutsk; contains two dis-
tricts, Okhotsk and Kamtschatka; and possesses two coun-
tries, now under the Muscovite dominion -- that of the
Kirghiz and that of the Tshouktshes. This immense extent
of steppes, which includes more than one hundred and ten
degrees from west to east, is a land to which criminals and
political offenders are banished.

Two governor-generals represent the supreme authority
of the Czar over this vast country. The higher one resides
at Irkutsk, the far capital of Eastern Siberia. The River
Tchouna separates the two Siberias.

No rail yet furrows these wide plains, some of which
are in reality extremely fertile. No iron ways lead from
those precious mines which make the Siberian soil far richer
below than above its surface. The traveler journeys in sum-
mer in a kibick or telga; in winter, in a sledge.

An electric telegraph, with a single wire more than eight
thousand versts in length, alone affords communication be-
tween the western and eastern frontiers of Siberia. On
issuing from the Ural, it passes through Ekaterenburg,
Kasirnov, Tioumen, Ishim, Omsk, Elamsk, Kolyvan, Tomsk,
Krasnoiarsk, Nijni-Udinsk, Irkutsk, Verkne-Nertschink,
Strelink, Albazine, Blagowstenks, Radde, Orlomskaya,
Alexandrowskoe, and Nikolaevsk; and six roubles and nine-
teen copecks are paid for every word sent from one end
to the other. From Irkutsk there is a branch to Kiatka, on
the Mongolian frontier; and from thence, for thirty copecks
a word, the post conveys the dispatches to Pekin in a fort-
night.

It was this wire, extending from Ekaterenburg to Niko-
laevsk, which had been cut, first beyond Tomsk, and then
between Tomsk and Kolyvan.

This was why the Czar, to the communication made to
him for the second time by General Kissoff, had answered
by the words, "A courier this moment!"

The Czar remained motionless at the window for a few
moments, when the door was again opened. The chief of
police appeared on the threshold.

"Enter, General," said the Czar briefly, "and tell me
all you know of Ivan Ogareff."

"He is an extremely dangerous man, sire," replied the
chief of police.

"He ranked as colonel, did he not?"

"Yes, sire."

"Was he an intelligent officer?"

"Very intelligent, but a man whose spirit it was im-
possible to subdue; and possessing an ambition which stopped
at nothing, he became involved in secret intrigues, and was
degraded from his rank by his Highness the Grand Duke,
and exiled to Siberia."

"How long ago was that?"

"Two years since. Pardoned after six months of exile
by your majesty's favor, he returned to Russia."

"And since that time, has he not revisited Siberia?"

"Yes, sire; but he voluntarily returned there," replied
the chief of police, adding, and slightly lowering his voice,
"there was a time, sire, when NONE returned from Siberia."

"Well, whilst I live, Siberia is and shall be a country
whence men CAN return."

The Czar had the right to utter these words with some
pride, for often, by his clemency, he had shown that Rus-
sian justice knew how to pardon.

The head of the police did not reply to this observation,
but it was evident that he did not approve of such half-
measures. According to his idea, a man who had once
passed the Ural Mountains in charge of policemen, ought
never again to cross them. Now, it was not thus under the
new reign, and the chief of police sincerely deplored it.
What! no banishment for life for other crimes than those
against social order! What! political exiles returning from
Tobolsk, from Yakutsk, from Irkutsk! In truth, the chief
of police, accustomed to the despotic sentences of the ukase
which formerly never pardoned, could not understand this
mode of governing. But he was silent, waiting until the
Czar should interrogate him further. The questions were
not long in coming.

"Did not Ivan Ogareff," asked the Czar, "return to
Russia a second time, after that journey through the
Siberian provinces, the object of which remains unknown?"

"He did."

"And have the police lost trace of him since?"

"No, sire; for an offender only becomes really dangerous
from the day he has received his pardon."

The Czar frowned. Perhaps the chief of police feared
that he had gone rather too far, though the stubbornness
of his ideas was at least equal to the boundless devotion he
felt for his master. But the Czar, disdaining to reply to
these indirect reproaches cast on his policy, continued his
questions. "Where was Ogareff last heard of?"

"In the province of Perm."

"In what town?"

"At Perm itself."

"What was he doing?"

"He appeared unoccupied, and there was nothing sus-
picious in his conduct."

"Then he was not under the surveillance of the secret
police?"

"No, sire."

"When did he leave Perm?"

"About the month of March?"

"To go...?"

"Where, is unknown."

"And it is not known what has become of him?"

"No, sire; it is not known."

"Well, then, I myself know," answered the Czar. "I
have received anonymous communications which did not
pass through the police department; and, in the face of
events now taking place beyond the frontier, I have every
reason to believe that they are correct."

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