Sangarre was not
at all put out by the urgency with which Ogareff repeated his question.
"I am not mistaken, Ivan," she said.
"But, Sangarre, there are thousands of prisoners; and you say
that you do not know Michael Strogoff."
"No," answered the Tsigane, with a look of savage joy, "I do not know him;
but his mother knows him. Ivan, we must make his mother speak."
"To-morrow she shall speak!" cried Ogareff. So saying,
he extended his hand to the Tsigane, who kissed it; for there
is nothing servile in this act of respect, it being usual among
the Northern races.
Sangarre returned to the camp. She found out Nadia and
Marfa Strogoff, and passed the night in watching them.
Although worn out with fatigue, the old woman and the girl
did not sleep. Their great anxiety kept them awake.
Michael was living, but a prisoner. Did Ogareff know him,
or would he not soon find him out? Nadia was occupied by
the one thought that he whom she had thought dead still lived.
But Marfa saw further into the future: and, although she did
not care what became of herself, she had every reason to fear
for her son.
Sangarre, under cover of the night, had crept near the two women,
and remained there several hours listening. She heard nothing.
From an instinctive feeling of prudence not a word was exchanged between
Nadia and Marfa Strogoff. The next day, the 16th of August, about ten
in the morning, trumpet-calls resounded throughout the encampment.
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