 Book 2, Chapter 14 of Michael Strogoff, Courier of the Tsar. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Michael Strogoff by Jules Verne. Book 2, Chapter 14. The Night of the Fifth of October. Ivan Ogarev's plan had been contrived with the greatest care, and except for some unforeseen accident he believed that it must succeed. It was of importance that the Bolchaya gate should be unguarded or only feebly held when he gave it up. The attention of the besieged was therefore to be drawn to another part of the town. A diversion was agreed upon with the emir. This diversion was to be effected both up and down the river on the Irkutsk bank. The attack on these two points was to be conducted in earnest, and at the same time a feigned attempt at crossing the Angara from the left bank was to be made. The Bolchaya gate would probably be deserted so much the more because on this side the tartar outposts having drawn back would appear to have broken up. It was the fifth of October. In four and twenty hours the capital of eastern Siberia would be in the hands of the emir and the grand duke in the power of Ivan Ogarev. During the day an unusual stir was going on in the Angara camp, from the windows of the palace important preparations on the opposite shore could be distinctly seen. Numerous tartar detachments were converging towards the camp and from hour to hour reinforced the emir's troops. These movements intended to deceive the besieged were conducted in the most open manner possible before their eyes. Ogarev had warned the grand duke that an attack was to be feared. He knew, he said, that an assault was to be made both above and below the town, and he counseled the duke to reinforce the two directly threatened points. Accordingly, after a council of war had been held in the palace orders were issued to concentrate the defense on the bank of the Angara and at the two ends of the town where the earthworks protected the river. This was exactly what Ogarev wished. He did not expect that the Bolchaya gate would be left entirely without defenders, but that there would only be a small number. Besides, Ogarev meant to give such importance to the diversion that the grand duke would be obliged to oppose it with all his available forces. The traitor planned also to produce so frightful a catastrophe that terror must inevitably overwhelm the hearts of the besieged. All day the garrison and population of Irkutsk were on the alert. The measures to repel an attack on the points hitherto unassailed had been taken. The grand duke and general Voranzov visited the posts strengthened by their orders. Vasily Fedor's corps occupied the north of the town, but with orders to throw themselves where the danger was greatest. The right bank of the Angara had been protected with the few guns possessed by the defenders. With these measures taken in time, thanks to the advice so opportunely given by Ivan Ogarev, there was good reason to hope that the expected attack would be repulsed. In that case the Tartars, momentarily discouraged, would no doubt not make another attempt against the town for several days. Now the troops expected by the grand duke might arrive at any hour. The safety or the loss of Irkutsk hung only by a thread. On this day the sun, which had risen at twenty minutes to six, set at forty minutes past five, having traced its diurnal arc for eleven hours above the horizon. The twilight would struggle with the night for another two hours. Then it would be intensely dark, for the sky was cloudy and there would be no moon. This gloom would favour the plans of Ivan Ogarev. For a few days already a sharp frost had given warning of the approaching rigor of the Siberian winter, and this evening it was especially severe. The Russians posted by the Bank of the Angara, obliged to conceal their position, lighted no fires. They suffered cruelly from the low temperature. A few feet below them the ice in large masses drifted down the current. All day these masses had been seen passing rapidly between the two banks. This had been considered by the grand duke and his officers as fortunate. Should the channel of the Angara continue to be thus obstructed, the passage must be impracticable. The Tartars could use neither rafts nor boats. As to their crossing the river on the ice, that was not possible, the newly frozen plain could not bear the weight of an assaulting column. This circumstance, as it appeared favourable to the defenders of Irkutsk, Ogarev might have regretted. He did not do so, however. The traitor knew well that the Tartars would not try to pass the Angara, and that on its side at least their attempt was only a faint. About ten in the evening the state of the river sensibly improved, to the great surprise of the besieged and still more to their disadvantage. The passage till then impracticable became all at once possible. The bed of the Angara was clear. The blocks of ice, which had for some days drifted past in large numbers, disappeared down the current, and five or six only now occupied the space between the banks. The Russian officers reported this change in the river to the Grand Duke. They suggested that it was probably caused by the circumstance that in some narrower part of the Angara the blocks had accumulated so as to form a barrier. We know this was the case. The passage of the Angara was thus open to the besiegers. There was great reason for the Russians to be on their guard. Up to midnight nothing had occurred. On the eastern side, beyond the Bolchaya Gate, all was quiet. Not a glimmer was seen in the dense forest, which appeared confounded on the horizon with the masses of clouds hanging low down in the sky. Lights, flitting to and fro in the Angara camp, showed that a considerable movement was taking place. From a burst above and below the point where the scarf met the river's bank came a dull murmur, proving that the tartars were on foot expecting some signal. An hour passed, nothing new. The bell of the Irkutsk Cathedral was about to strike two o'clock in the morning, and not a movement amongst the besiegers had yet shown that they were about to commence the assault. The Grand Duke and his officers began to suspect that they had been mistaken. Had it really been the tartars planned to surprise the town, the preceding nights had not been nearly so quiet, musket re-rattling from the outposts, shells whistling through the air, and this time nothing. The officers waited, ready to give their orders according to circumstances. We have said that Ogarev occupied a room in the palace. It was a large chamber on the ground floor, its windows opening on a side terrace. By taking a few steps along this terrace, a view of the river could be obtained. Profound darkness reigned in the room. Ogarev stood by a window, awaiting the hour to act. The signal, of course, would come from him alone. This signal once given, when the greater part of the defenders of Irkutsk would be summoned to the points openly attacked, his plan was to leave the palace and hurry to the Bolchaya gate. If it was unguarded, he would open it, or at least he would direct the overwhelming mass of its assailants against the few defenders. He now crouched in the shadow like a wild beast ready to spring on its prey. A few minutes before two o'clock the Grand Duke desired that Michael Strogoff, which was the only name they could give to Ivan Ogarev, should be brought to him. An aid to camp came to the room, the door of which was closed, he called. Ogarev, motionless near the window, and invisible in the shade, did not answer. The Grand Duke was therefore informed that the czar's courier was not at that moment in the palace. Two o'clock struck. Now was the time to cause the diversion agreed upon with the Tartars waiting for the assault. Ivan Ogarev opened the window and stationed himself at the north angle of the side terrace. Below him flowed the roaring waters of the Angara. Ogarev took a match from his pocket, struck it, and lighted a small bunch of tow impregnated with priming powder which he threw into the river. It was by the orders of Ivan Ogarev that the torrents of mineral oil had been thrown on the surface of the Angara. There are numerous naphtha springs above Irkutsk on the right bank between the suburb of Poshkovsk and the town. Ogarev had resolved to employ this terrible means to carry fire into Irkutsk. He therefore took possession of the immense reservoirs which contained the combustible liquid. It was only necessary to demolish a piece of wall in order to allow it to flow out in a vast stream. This had been done that night, a few hours previously, and this was the reason that the raft which carried the true courier of the Tsar, Nadia, and the fugitives floated on a current of mineral oil. Through the breaches in these reservoirs of enormous dimensions rushed the naphtha in torrents, and following the inclination of the ground, it spread over the surface of the river where its density allowed it to float. This was the way Ivan Ogarev carried on warfare, allied with tartars he acted like a tartar and against his own countrymen. The toe had been thrown on the waters of the Angara. In an instant, with electrical rapidity, as if the current had been of alcohol, the whole river was in a blaze above and below the town. Columns of blue flames ran between the two banks. Volumes of vapor curled up above. The few pieces of ice which still drifted were seized by the burning liquid and melted like wax on the top of a furnace, the evaporated water escaping in shrill hisses. At the same moment, firing broke out on the north and south of the town. The enemy's batteries discharged their guns at random. Several thousand tartars rushed to the assault of the earthworks. The houses on the bank built of wood took fire in every direction. A bright light dissipated the darkness of the night. At last! said Ivan Ogarev. He had good reason for congratulating himself. The diversion which he had planned was terrible. The defenders of Irkutsk found themselves between the attack of the tartars and the fearful effects of fire. The bells rang, and all the able-bodied of the population ran, some towards the points attacked, and others towards the houses in the grasp of the flames, which it seemed too probable would air long envelop the whole town. The gate of Bolchaya was nearly free, only a very small guard had been left there, and by the traitor's suggestion, and in order that the event might be explained apart from him, as if by political hate, this small guard had been chosen from the little band of exiles. Ogarev re-entered his room, now brilliantly lighted by the flames from the Angara, then he made ready to go, but scarcely had he opened the door when a woman rushed into the room, her clothes drenched, her hair in disorder. Sangar! exclaimed Ogarev in the first moment of surprise, and not supposing that it could be any other woman than the gypsy. It was not Sangar, it was Nadia. At the moment when, floating on the ice, the girl had uttered a cry on seeing the fire spreading along the current, Michael had seized her in his arms and plunged with her into the river itself to seek a refuge in its depths from the flames. The block which bore them was not thirty fathoms from the first quay of Irkutsk. Swimming beneath the water, Michael managed to get a footing with Nadia on the quay. Michael Strogov had reached his journey's end. He was in Irkutsk. To the governor's palace! said he to Nadia. In less than ten minutes they arrived at the entrance to the palace. Long tongues of flame from the Angara licked its walls, but were powerless to set it on fire. Beyond the houses on the bank were in a blaze. The palace being open to all, Michael and Nadia entered without difficulty. In the confusion no one remarked them, although their garments were dripping. A crowd of officers coming for orders and of soldiers running to execute them filled the great hall on the ground floor. There, in a sudden eddy of the confused multitude, Michael and the young girl were separated from each other. Nadia ran distracted through the passages, calling her companion and asking to be taken to the grand duke. A door into a room flooded with light opened before her. She entered and found herself suddenly, face to face with the man whom she had met at Ichim, whom she had seen at Tomsk, face to face with the one whose villainous hand would an instant later betray the town. Ivan Ogarev! she cried. On hearing his name pronounced the wretch started. His real name known, all his plans would be balked. There was but one thing to be done to kill the person who had just uttered it. Ogarev darted at Nadia, but the girl, a knife in her hand, retreated against the wall, determined to defend herself. Ivan Ogarev! again cried Nadia, knowing well that so detested a name would soon bring her help. Ah! Be silent! hissed out the traitor between his clenched teeth. Ivan Ogarev! exclaimed a third time the brave young girl, in a voice to which hate had added tenfold strength. Mad with fury, Ogarev, drawing a dagger from his belt, again rushed at Nadia and compelled her to retreat into a corner of the room. Her last hope appeared gone. When the villain, suddenly lifted by an irresistible force, was dashed to the ground, Michael! cried Nadia. It was Michael Strogoff. Michael had heard Nadia's call, guided by her voice. He had just in time reached Ivan Ogarev's room and entered by the open door. Fear nothing, Nadia! said he, placing himself between her and Ogarev. Ah! cried the girl, take care, brother! The traitor is armed, he can see! Ogarev rose, and thinking that he had an immeasurable advantage over the blind man leaped upon him, but with one hand the blind man grasped the arm of his enemy, seized his weapon, and hurled him again to the ground. Pale with rage and shame, Ogarev remembered that he wore a sword. He drew it and returned a second time to the charge. A blind man! Ogarev had only to deal with a blind man! He was more than a match for him. Nadia, terrified at the danger which threatened her companion, ran to the door calling for help. Close the door, Nadia! said Michael. Call no one and leave me alone. The Tsar's courier has nothing to fear today from this villain. Let him come on if he dares. I am ready for him. In the meantime, Ogarev, gathering himself together like a tiger about to spring, uttered not a word. The noise of his footsteps, his very breathing, he endeavored to conceal from the ear of the blind man. His object was to strike before his opponent was aware of his approach, to strike him with a deadly blow. Nadia, terrified and at the same time confident, watched this terrible scene within voluntary admiration. Michael's calm bearing seems to have inspired her. Michael's sole weapon was his Siberian knife. He did not see his adversary armed with a sword, it is true, but Heaven's support seemed to be afforded him. How almost without stirring did he always face the point of the sword. Ivan Ogarev watched his strange adversary with visible anxiety. His superhuman calm had an effect upon him. In vain, appealing to his reason, did he tell himself that in so unequal a combat all the advantages were on his side. The immobility of the blind man froze him. He had settled on the place where he would strike his victim. He had fixed upon it. What then hindered him from putting an end to his blind antagonist. At last, with a spring, he drove his sword full at Michael's breast. An imperceptible movement of the blind man's knife turned aside the blow. Michael had not been touched, and coolly he awaited a second attack. Cold drops stood on Ogarev's brow. He drew back a step, then again leaped forward. But as had the first, this second attempt failed, the knife had simply parried the blow from the traitor's useless sword. Mad with rage and terror before this living statue, he gazed into the wide open eyes of the blind man. Those eyes which seemed to pierce to the bottom of his soul, and yet which did not, could not see, exercised a sort of dreadful fascination over him. All at once, Ogarev uttered a cry. A sudden light flashed across his brain. He sees, he exclaimed, he sees, and like a wild beast trying to retreat into its den. Step by step terrified, he drew back to the end of the room. Then the statue became animated. The blind man walked straight up to Ivan Ogarev, and placing himself right before him, Yes, I see, said he, I see the mark of the note which I gave you, traitor and coward. I see the place where I am about to strike you, defend your life. It is a duel I dain to offer you, my knife against your sword. He sees, said Nadia gracious, heaven, is it possible? Ogarev felt that he was lost, but mustering all his courage, he sprang forward on his impassable adversary. The two blades crossed, but at a touch from Michael's knife, wielded in the hand of the Siberian hunter, the sword flew in splinters, and the wretch, stabbed to the heart, fell lifeless on the ground. At the same moment the door was thrown open. The Grand Duke, accompanied by some of his officers, appeared on the threshold. The Grand Duke advanced. In the body lying on the ground, he recognized the man whom he believed to be the czar's courier. Then in a threatening voice, who killed that man, he asked. I replied, Michael, one of the officers put a pistol to his temple ready to fire. Your name? asked the Grand Duke, before giving the order for his brains to be blown out. Your Highness, answered Michael, ask me rather the name of the man who lies at your feet. That man, I know him, he is a servant of my brother, he is the czar's courier. That man, Your Highness, is not a courier of the czar, he is Ivan Ogarev. Ivan Ogarev exclaimed the Grand Duke, yes, Ivan the traitor, but who are you then? Michael strogoff. End of Book Two, Chapter Fourteen Book Two, Chapter Fifteen of Michael Strogoff, Courier of the Czar. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Michael Strogoff by Jules Verne. Book Two, Chapter Fifteen. Conclusion. Michael Strogoff was not, had never been, blind. A purely human phenomenon, at the same time moral and physical, had neutralized the action of the incandescent blade which Pheophar's executioner had passed before his eyes. It may be remembered that at the moment of the execution, Marfa Strogoff was present, stretching out her hands towards her son. Michael gazed at her as a son would gaze at his mother, when it is for the last time. The tears, which his pride in vain endeavored to subdue, welling up from his heart, gathered under his eyelids, and volatilizing on the cornea, had saved his sight. The vapor formed by his tears, interposing between the glowing saber and his eyeballs, had been sufficient to annihilate the action of the heat. A similar effect is produced when a workman's smelter, after dipping his hand in vapor, can with impunity hold it over a stream of melted iron. Michael had immediately understood the danger in which he would be placed should he make known his secret to any one. He at once saw, on the other hand, that he might make use of his supposed blindness for the accomplishment of his designs. Because it was believed that he was blind, he would be allowed to go free. He must therefore be blind, blind to all, even to Nadia, blind everywhere, and not a gesture at any moment must let the truth be suspected. His resolution was taken. He must risk his life even to afford to all he might meet, the proof of his want of sight. We know how perfectly he acted the part he had determined on. His mother alone knew the truth, and he had whispered it to her in Tom's Get Self, when bending over her in the dark he covered her with kisses. When Ogarev had in his cruel irony held the imperial letter before the eyes which he believed were destroyed, Michael had been able to read, and had read the letter which disclosed the odious plans of the traitor. This was the reason of the wonderful resolution he exhibited during the second part of his journey. This was the reason of his unalterable longing to reach Irkutsk, so as to perform his mission by word of mouth. He knew that the town would be betrayed. He knew that the life of the Grand Duke was threatened. The safety of the Tsar's brother and of Siberia was in his hands. This story was told in a few words to the Grand Duke, and Michael repeated also and with what emotion the part Nadia had taken in these events. Who is this girl? asked the Grand Duke. The daughter of the exile, Vasily Fedor, replied Michael. The daughter of Captain Fedor, said the Grand Duke, has ceased to be the daughter of an exile. There are no longer exiles in Irkutsk. Nadia, less strong in joy than she had been in grief, fell on her knees before the Grand Duke, who raised her with one hand while he extended the other to Michael. An hour after, Nadia was in her father's arms. Michael Strogov, Nadia, and Vasily Fedor were united. This was the height of happiness to them all. The Tartars had been repulsed in their double attack on the town. Vasily Fedor, with his little band, had driven back the first assailants who presented themselves at the Bolchaya Gate, expecting to find it open and which, by an instinctive feeling, often arising from sound judgment, he had determined to remain at and defend. At the same time as the Tartars were driven back, the besieged had mastered the fire. The liquid naptha, having rapidly burnt to the surface of the water, the flames did not go beyond the houses on the shore, and left the other quarters of the town uninjured. Before daybreak, the troops of Pheofar Khan had retreated into their camp, leaving a large number of dead on and below the ramparts. Among the dead was the Gypsy Sangar, who had mainly endeavored to join Ivan Ogarev. For two days the besiegers attempted no fresh assault. They were discouraged by the death of Ogarev. This man was the mainspring of the invasion, and he alone, by his plots long since contrived, had had sufficient influence over the Khans and their hordes to bring them to the conquest of Asiatic Russia. However, the defenders of Irkutsk kept on their guard, and the investment still continued, but on the 7th of October at daybreak, cannon boomed out from the heights around Irkutsk. It was the succoring army under the command of General Kisalev, and it was thus that he made known his welcome arrival to the Grand Duke. The Tartars did not wait to be attacked, not daring to run the risk of a battle under the walls of Irkutsk. They immediately broke up the Angara camp. Irkutsk was at last relieved. With the first Russian soldiers, two of Michael's friends entered the city. They were the inseparable Blaunt and Jolivet. On gaining the right bank of the Angara by means of the icy barrier, they had escaped, as had the other fugitives, before the flames had reached their raft. This had been noted by Alcide Jolivet in his book, in this way, ran a narrow chance of being finished up like a lemon in a bowl of punch. Their joy was great on finding Nadia and Michael safe and sound. Above all, when they learned that their brave companion was not blind, Harry Blaunt inscribed this observation, red-hot iron is insufficient in some cases to destroy the sensibility of the optic nerve. Then the two correspondents, settled for a time in Irkutsk, busied themselves in putting the notes and impressions of their journey in order. Thence were sent to London and Paris two interesting articles relative to the Tartar invasion, and which, a rare thing, did not contradict each other even on the least important points. The remainder of the campaign was unfortunate to the emir and his allies. This invasion, futile as all which attacked the Russian Colossus must be, was very fatal to them. They soon found themselves cut off by the Czar's troops, who retook in succession all the conquered towns. Besides this, the winter was terrible, and decimated by the cold, only a small part of these hordes returned to the steps of Tartary. The Irkutsk road, by way of the Ural Mountains, was now open. The Grand Duke was anxious to return to Moscow, but he delayed his journey to be present at a touching ceremony, which took place a few days after the entry of the Russian troops. Michael Strogoff sought Nadia, and in her father's presence said to her, Nadia, my sister still, when you left Riga to come to Irkutsk, did you leave it with any other regret than that for your mother? No, replied Nadia, none of any sort whatever. Then nothing of your heart remains there? Nothing, brother. Then Nadia, said Michael, I think that God, in allowing us to meet, and to go through so many severe trials together, must have meant us to be united forever. Said Nadia, falling into Michael's arms, then turning towards Vasily Fedor, my father, said she, blushing, Nadia, said Captain Fedor, it will be my joy to call you both my children. The marriage ceremony took place in Irkutsk Cathedral. Julivé and Blount very naturally assisted at this marriage, of which they wished to give an account to their readers. And doesn't it make you wish to imitate them? asked Alcide of his friend. Poor, said Blount, now if I had a cousin like you, my cousin isn't to be married, answered Alcide, laughing. So much the better, returned Blount, for they speak of difficulties arising between London and Peking. Have you no wish to go and see what is going on there? By Jove, my dear Blount, exclaimed Alcide Julivé, I was just going to make the same proposal to you. And that was how the two inseparables set off for China. A few days after the ceremony, Michael and Nadia Strogoff, accompanied by Vasily Fedor, took the route to Europe. The road so full of suffering wind going was a road of joy and returning. They travelled swiftly in one of those slays which glide like an express train across the frozen steps of Siberia. However, when they reached the banks of the Dinka, just before Bursko, they stopped for a while. Michael found the place where he had buried poor Nicholas. A cross was erected there, and Nadia prayed a last time on the grave of the humble and heroic friend whom neither of them would ever forget. At Omsk, old Marfa awaited them in the little house of the Strogoffs. She clasped passionately in her arms the girl whom in her heart she had already a hundred times called Daughter. The brave old Siberian, on that day, had the right to recognize her son and say she was proud of him. After a few days passed at Omsk, Michael and Nadia entered Europe, and Vasily Fedor settling down in St. Petersburg, neither his son nor his daughter had any occasion to leave him except to go and see their old mother. The young courier was received by the Tsar, who attached him specially to his own person, and gave him the Cross of St. George. In the course of time Michael Strogoff reached a high station in the Empire, but it is not the history of his success, but the history of his trials, which deserves to be related. End of Book Two, Chapter Fifteen End of Michael Strogoff, Courier of the Tsar, by Jules Verne