Ivan drew from his pocket the Imperial letter,
he opened it, and with supreme irony he held it up before
the sightless eyes of the Czar's courier, saying, "Read, now,
Michael Strogoff, read, and go and repeat at Irkutsk what you have read.
The true Courier of the Czar is Ivan Ogareff."
This said, the traitor thrust the letter into his breast.
Then, without looking round he left the square, followed
by the torch-bearers.
Michael was left alone, at a few paces from his mother, lying lifeless,
perhaps dead. He heard in the distance cries and songs, the varied
noises of a wild debauch. Tomsk, illuminated, glittered and gleamed.
Michael listened. The square was silent and deserted. He went,
groping his way, towards the place where his mother had fallen.
He found her with his hand, he bent over her, he put his face
close to hers, he listened for the beating of her heart.
Then he murmured a few words.
Did Marfa still live, and did she hear her son's words?
Whether she did so or not, she made not the slightest movement.
Michael kissed her forehead and her white locks. He then
raised himself, and, groping with his foot, trying to stretch
out his hand to guide himself, he walked by degrees to the edge
of the square.
Suddenly Nadia appeared. She walked straight to her companion.
A knife in her hand cut the cords which bound Michael's arms.
The blind man knew not who had freed him, for Nadia had not
spoken a word.
But this done: "Brother!" said she.
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