It was evening before she
reappeared on the deck of the Caucasus. The long twilight imparted
a coolness to the atmosphere eagerly enjoyed by the passengers
after the stifling heat of the day. As the evening advanced,
the greater number never even thought of going into the saloon.
Stretched on the benches, they inhaled with delight the slight
breeze caused by the speed of the steamer. At this time of year,
and under this latitude, the sky scarcely darkened between sunset
and dawn, and left the steersman light enough to guide his steamer
among the numerous vessels going up or down the Volga.
Between eleven and two, however, the moon being new, it was almost dark.
Nearly all the passengers were then asleep on the deck, and the silence
was disturbed only by the noise of the paddles striking the water
at regular intervals. Anxiety kept Michael Strogoff awake.
He walked up and down, but always in the stern of the steamer.
Once, however, he happened to pass the engine-room. He then found
himself in the part reserved for second and third-class passengers.
There, everyone was lying asleep, not only on the benches,
but also on the bales, packages, and even the deck itself.
Some care was necessary not to tread on the sleepers, who were
lying about everywhere. They were chiefly mujiks, accustomed to
hard couches, and quite satisfied with the planks of the deck.
But no doubt they would, all the same, have soundly abused
the clumsy fellow who roused them with an accidental kick.
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