But Michael was not to be looking at Ivan when his eyes were put out.
Marfa Strogoff stood before him.
"My mother!" cried he. "Yes! yes! my last glance shall be
for you, and not for this wretch! Stay there, before me!
Now I see once more your well-beloved face! Now shall my eyes
close as they rest upon it . . . !"
The old woman, without uttering a word, advanced.
"Take that woman away!" said Ivan.
Two soldiers were about to seize her, but she stepped back and remained
standing a few paces from Michael.
The executioner appeared. This time, he held his saber
bare in his hand, and this saber he had just drawn from
the chafing-dish, where he had brought it to a white heat.
Michael was going to be blinded in the Tartar fashion,
with a hot blade passed before his eyes!
Michael did not attempt to resist. Nothing existed before
his eyes but his mother, whom his eyes seemed to devour.
All his life was in that last look.
Marfa Strogoff, her eyes open wide, her arms extended towards
where he stood, was gazing at him. The incandescent blade passed
before Michael's eyes.
A despairing cry was heard. His aged mother fell senseless
to the ground. Michael Strogoff was blind.
His orders executed, the Emir retired with his train.
There remained in the square only Ivan Ogareff and the torch bearers.
Did the wretch intend to insult his victim yet further,
and yet to give him a parting blow?
Ivan Ogareff slowly approached Michael, who, feeling him coming,
drew himself up.
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