Amongst her companions
in misfortune a young girl, remarkable for beauty and taciturnity,
seemed to have given herself the task of watching over her.
No words had been exchanged between the two captives, but the girl
was always at the old woman's side when help was useful.
At first the mute assistance of the stranger was accepted with
some mistrust. Gradually, however, the young girl's clear glance,
her reserve, and the mysterious sympathy which draws together
those who are in misfortune, thawed Marfa Strogoff's coldness.
Nadia--for it was she--was thus able, without knowing it, to render
to the mother those attentions which she had herself received
from the son. Her instinctive kindness had doubly inspired her.
In devoting herself to her service, Nadia secured to her youth
and beauty the protection afforded by the age of the old prisoner.
On the crowd of unhappy people, embittered by sufferings,
this silent pair--one seeming to be the grandmother, the other
the grand-daughter--imposed a sort of respect.
After being carried off by the Tartar scouts on the Irtych, Nadia had been
taken to Omsk. Kept prisoner in the town, she shared the fate of all
those captured by Ivan Ogareff, and consequently that of Marfa Strogoff.
If Nadia had been less energetic, she would have succumbed to this
double blow. The interruption to her journey, the death of Michael,
made her both desperate and excited. Divided, perhaps forever,
from her father, after so many happy efforts had brought her
near him, and, to crown her grief, separated from the intrepid
companion whom God seemed to have placed in her way to lead her.
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