But you
can scarcely drag yourself along, my poor Nadia!"
"Come, Michael," returned Nadia, seizing her companion's hand
and drawing him forward.
Two or three versts further the Dinka flowed across the Irkutsk road.
The young girl wished to attempt this last effort asked by her companion.
She found her way by the light from the flashes. They were then crossing
a boundless desert, in the midst of which was lost the little river.
Not a tree nor a hillock broke the flatness. Not a breath disturbed
the atmosphere, whose calmness would allow the slightest sound to travel
an immense distance.
Suddenly, Michael and Nadia stopped, as if their feet had been
fast to the ground. The barking of a dog came across the steppe.
"Do you hear?" said Nadia.
Then a mournful cry succeeded it--a despairing cry, like the last appeal
of a human being about to die.
"Nicholas! Nicholas!" cried the girl, with a foreboding of evil.
Michael, who was listening, shook his head.
"Come, Michael, come," said Nadia. And she who just now was
dragging herself with difficulty along, suddenly recovered strength,
under violent excitement.
"We have left the road," said Michael, feeling that he was treading
no longer on powdery soil but on short grass.
"Yes, we must!" returned Nadia. "It was there, on the right,
from which the cry came!"
In a few minutes they were not more than half a verst from the river.
A second bark was heard, but, although more feeble, it was
certainly nearer.
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