The moujik would come out, smiling and extending his hand to his guest.
He would offer him bread and salt, the burning charcoal would
be put into the "samovar," and he would be made quite at home.
The family would turn out themselves rather than that he should
not have room. The stranger is the relation of all.
He is "one sent by God."
On arriving that evening Michael instinctively asked the postmaster how
many hours ago the carriage which preceded them had passed that stage.
"Two hours ago, little father," replied the postmaster.
"Is it a berlin?"
"No, a telga."
"How many travelers?"
"Two."
"And they are going fast?"
"Eagles!"
"Let them put the horses to as soon as possible."
Michael and Nadia, resolved not to stop even for an hour,
traveled all night. The weather continued fine, though the
atmosphere was heavy and becoming charged with electricity.
It was to be hoped that a storm would not burst whilst they
were among the mountains, for there it would be terrible.
Being accustomed to read atmospheric signs, Michael Strogoff
knew that a struggle of the elements was approaching.
The night passed without incident. Notwithstanding the jolting
of the tarantass, Nadia was able to sleep for some hours.
The hood was partly raised so as to give as much air as there
was in the stifling atmosphere.
Michael kept awake all night, mistrusting the iemschiks, who are
apt to sleep at their posts. Not an hour was lost at the relays,
not an hour on the road.
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