"This man is reserved for the Emir's judgment,"
said he. "Search him!"
The letter with the imperial arms was found in Michael's bosom;
he had not had time to destroy it; it was handed to Ogareff.
The voice which had pronounced the words, "Well repaid!"
was that of no other than Alcide Jolivet. "Par-dieu!" said
he to Blount, "they are rough, these people.
Acknowledge that we owe our traveling companion a good turn.
Korpanoff or Strogoff is worthy of it. Oh, that was fine
retaliation for the little affair at Ichim."
"Yes, retaliation truly," replied Blount; "but Strogoff is a dead man.
I suspect that, for his own interest at all events, it would have been
better had he not possessed quite so lively a recollection of the event."
"And let his mother perish under the knout?"
"Do you think that either she or his sister will be a bit better
off from this outbreak of his?"
"I do not know or think anything except that I should have done
much the same in his position," replied Alcide. "What a scar
the Colonel has received! Bah! one must boil over sometimes.
We should have had water in our veins instead of blood had it been
incumbent on us to be always and everywhere unmoved to wrath."
"A neat little incident for our journals," observed Blount,
"if only Ivan Ogareff would let us know the contents of that letter."
Ivan Ogareff, when he had stanched the blood which was trickling
down his face, had broken the seal. He read and re-read
the letter deliberately, as if he was determined to discover
everything it contained.
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