Jules Verne Michael Strogoff

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It has been already said that Russians of all conditions had found a
place on the raft. Indeed, to the poor moujiks, the women, old men, and
children, were joined two or three pilgrims, surprised on their journey by the
invasion; a few monks, and a priest. The pilgrims carried a staff, a gourd
hung at the belt, and they chanted psalms in a plaintive voice: one came from
the Ukraine, another from the Yellow sea, and a third from the Finland
provinces. This last, who was an aged man, carried at his waist a little
padlocked collecting-box, as if it had been hung at a church door. Of all that
he collected during his long and fatiguing pilgrimage, nothing was for
himself; he did not even possess the key of the box, which would only be
opened on his return.
The monks came from the North of the Empire. Three months before they had
left the town of Archangel. They had visited the sacred islands near the coast
of Carelia, the convent of Solovetsk, the convent of Troitsa, those of Saint
Antony and Saint Theodosia, at Kiev, that of Kazan, as well as the church of
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the Old Believers, and they were now on their way to Irkutsk, wearing the
robe, the cowl, and the clothes of serge.
As to the papa, or priest, he was a plain village pastor, one of the six
hundred thousand popular pastors which the Russian Empire contains. He was
clothed as miserably as the moujiks, not being above them in social position;
in fact, laboring like a peasant on his plot of ground; baptis-ing, marrying,
burying. He had been able to protect his wife and children from the brutality
of the Tartars by sending them away into the Northern provinces. He himself
had stayed in his parish up to the last moment; then he was obliged to fly,
and, the Irkutsk road being stopped, had come to Lake Baikal.
These priests, grouped in the forward part of the raft, prayed at regular
intervals, raising their voices in the silent night, and at the end of each
sentence of their prayer, the "Slava Bogu," Glory to God! issued from their
lips.
No incident took place during the night. Nadia remained in a sort of
stupor, and Michael watched beside her; sleep only overtook him at long
intervals, and even then his brain did not rest. At break of day, the raft,
delayed by a strong breeze, which counteracted the course of the current, was
still forty versts from the mouth of the Angara. It seemed probable that the
fugitives could not reach it before three or four o'clock in the evening. This
did not trouble them; on the contrary, for they would then descend the river
during the night, and the darkness would also favor their entrance into
Irkutsk.
The only anxiety exhibited at times by the old boatman was concerning the
formation of ice on the surface of the water. The night had been excessively
cold; pieces of ice could be seen drifting towards the West. Nothing was to be
dreaded from these, since they could not drift into the Angara, having already
passed the mouth; but pieces from the Eastern end of the lake might be drawn
by the current between the banks of the river; this would cause difficulty,
possibly delay, and perhaps even an insurmountable obstacle which would stop
the raft.
Michael therefore took immense interest in ascertaining what was the
state of the lake, and whether any large number of ice blocks appeared. Nadia
being now awake, he questioned her often, and she gave him an account of all
that was going on.
Whilst the blocks were thus drifting, curious phenomena were taking place
on the surface of the Baikal. Magnificent jets, from springs of boiling water,
shot up from some of those artesian wells which Nature has bored in the very
bed of the lake. These jets rose to a great height and spread out in vapor,
which was illuminated by the solar rays, and almost immediately condensed by
the cold. This curious sight would have assuredly amazed a tourist traveling
in peaceful times on this Siberian sea.
At four in the evening, the mouth of the Angara was signaled by the old
boatman, between the high granite rocks of the shore. On the right bank could
be seen the little port of Livenitchnaia, its church, and its few houses built
on the bank. But the serious thing was that the ice blocks from the East were
already drifting between the banks of the Angara, and consequently were
descending towards Irkutsk. However, their number was not yet great enough to
obstruct the course of the raft, nor the cold great enough to increase their
number.
The raft arrived at the little port and there stopped. The old boatman
wished to put into harbor for an hour, in order to make some repairs. The
trunks threatened to separate, and it was important to fasten them more
securely together to resist the rapid current of the Angara.
The old boatman did not expect to receive any fresh fugitives at
Livenitchnaia, and yet, the moment the raft touched, two passengers, issuing
from a deserted house, ran as fast as they could towards the beach.
Nadia seated on the raft, was abstractedly gazing at the shore. A cry was
about to escape her. She seized Michael's hand, who at that moment raised his
head.
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"What is the matter, Nadia?" he asked.
"Our two traveling companions, Michael."
"The Frenchman and the Englishman whom we met in the defiles of the
Ural?"
"Yes."
Michael started, for the strict incognito which he wished to keep ran a [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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