Book 1, Chapter 7 of Michael Strogoff, Courier of the Tsar. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Michael Strogoff by Jules Verne. Book 1, Chapter 7. Going Down the Volga. A little before midday the steamboat's bell drew to the wharf on the Volga an unusually large concourse of people, for not only were those about to embark who had intended to go, but the many who were compelled to go contrary to their wishes. The boilers of the Caucasus were under full pressure, a slight smoke issued from its funnel, whilst the end of the escape pipe and the lids of the valves were crowned with white vapor. It is needless to say that the police kept a close watch over the departure of the Caucasus and showed themselves pitiless to those travelers who did not satisfactorily answer their questions. This Cossacks came and went on the quay, ready to assist the agents, but they had not to interfere as no one ventured to offer the slightest resistance to their orders. Exactly at the hour the last clang of the bell sounded, the powerful wheels of the steamboat began to beat the water, and the Caucasus passed rapidly between the two towns of which Nizhni Novgorod is composed. Both Strogov and the young Livonian had taken passage on board the Caucasus. Their embarkation was made without any difficulty. As is known, the Potorozhna, drawn up in the name of Nicholas Korpenov, authorized this merchant to be accompanied on his journey to Siberia. They appeared therefore to be a brother and sister traveling under the protection of the imperial police. Both, seated together at the stern, gazed at the receding town, so disturbed by the governor's order. Michael had as yet said nothing to the girl. He had not even questioned her. He waited until she should speak to him when that was necessary. She had been anxious to leave the town, in which, but for the providential intervention of this unexpected protector, she would have remained imprisoned. She said nothing but her looks spoke her thanks. The Volga, the Ra of the ancients, the largest river in all Europe, is almost three thousand miles in length. Its waters, rather unwholesome in its upper part, are improved at Nizhni Novgorod by those of the Oka, a rapid affluent issuing from the central provinces of Russia. The system of Russian canals and rivers has been justly compared to a gigantic tree whose branches spread over every part of the empire. The Volga forms the trunk of this tree, and it has, for roots, seventy mouths opening into the Caspian Sea. It is navigable as far as Ryef, a town in the government of Tver, that is, along the greater part of its course. The steamboats plying between Perm and Nizhni Novgorod rapidly perform the two hundred and fifty miles which separate this town from the town of Kasan. It is true that these boats have only to descend the Volga, which adds nearly two miles of current per hour to their own speed, but on arriving at the confluence of the Kama, a little below Kasan, they are obliged to quit the Volga for the smaller river, up which they ascend to Perm. Powerful as were her machines, the Caucasus could not thus, after entering the Kama, make against the current more than ten miles an hour. Including an hour's stoppage at Kasan, the voyage from Nizhni Novgorod to Perm would take from between sixty to sixty-two hours. The steamer was very well arranged, and the passengers, according to their condition or resources, occupied three distinct classes on board. Michael Strogoff had taken care to engage two first-class cabins, so that his young companion might retire into hers whenever she liked. The Caucasus was loaded with passengers of every description. A number of Asiatic traders had thought it best to leave Nizhni Novgorod immediately. In that part of the steamer reserved for the first class might be seen Armenians in long robes and a sort of mitre on their heads, Jews, known by their conical caps, rich Chinese in their traditional costume, a very wide blue, violet or black robe, Turks wearing the national turban, Hindus with square caps, and a simple string for a girdle, some of which hold in their hands all the traffic of Central Asia, and lastly tartars wearing boots ornamented with many-colored braid and the breast a mass of embroidery. All these merchants had been obliged to pile up their numerous bales and chests in the hold and on the deck, and the transport of their baggage would cost them dear, for according to the regulations each person had only a right to twenty pounds weight. In the boughs of the Caucasus were more numerous groups of passengers, not only foreigners, but also Russians, who were not forbidden by the order to go back to their towns in the province. There were moujiks with caps on their heads and wearing checked shirts under their wide polices. Peasants of the Volga, with blue trousers stuffed into their boots, rose-colored cotton shirts drawn in by a cord, felt caps. A few women, habited in flowery patterned cotton dresses, gay-colored aprons, and bright handkerchiefs on their heads. These were principally third-class passengers, who were, happily, not troubled by the prospect of a long return voyage. The Caucasus passed numerous boats being towed up the stream, carrying all sorts of merchandise to Nizhni Novgorod, then passed rafts of wood interminably long, and barges loaded to the gunnel and nearly sinking under water, a bootless voyage they were making since the fare had been abruptly broken up at its outset. The waves caused by the steamer splashed on the banks, covered with flocks of wild duck who flew away uttering deafening cries. A little farther on the dry fields, bordered with willows and aspens, were scattered a few cows, sheep, and herds of pigs. Fields, sewn with thin buckwheat and rye, stretched away to a background of half-cultivated hills, offering no remarkable prospect. The pencil of an artist in quest of the picturesque would have found nothing to reproduce in this monotonous landscape. The Caucasus had been steaming on for almost two hours when the young Livonian, addressing herself to Michael, said, Are you going to Yakutsk, brother? Yes, sister, answered the young man, We are going the same way. Consequently, where I go, you shall go. Tomorrow, brother, you shall know why I left the shores of the Baltic to go beyond the Ural Mountains. I ask you nothing, sister. You shall know all, replied the girl, with a faint smile. A sister should hide nothing from her brother. But I cannot today. Fatigue and sorrow have broken me. Will you go and rest in your cabin? asked Michael Strogoff. Yes, yes, and to-morrow. Come, then. He hesitated to finish his sentence, as if he had wished to end it by the name of his companion, of which he was still ignorant. Nadia, said she, holding out her hand. Come, Nadia, answered Michael, and make what use you like of your brother Nicholas Korpenov. And he led the girl to the cabin engaged for her off the saloon. Michael Strogoff returned on deck, and eager for any news which might bear on his journey, he mingled in the groups of passengers, though without taking any part in the conversation. Should he by any chance be questioned, and obliged to reply, he would announce himself as the merchant Nicholas Korpenov, going back to the frontier, for he did not wish it to be suspected that a special permission authorized him to travel to Siberia. The foreigners in the steamer could evidently speak of nothing but the occurrences of the day, of the order and its consequences. These poor people, scarcely recovered from the fatigue of a journey across Central Asia, found themselves obliged to return, and if they did not give loud vent to their anger and despair, it was because they dared not. Fear, mingled with respect, restrained them. It was possible that inspectors of police, charged with watching the passengers, had secretly embarked on board the Caucasus, and it was just as well to keep silence. Expulsion, after all, was a good deal preferable to imprisonment in a fortress. Therefore the men were either silent, or spoke with so much caution that it was scarcely possible to get any useful information. Michael Strogoff thus could learn nothing here, but if mouths were often shut at his approach, for they did not know him, his ears were soon struck by the sound of one voice, which cared little whether it was heard or not. The man with the hearty voice spoke Russian, but with a French accent, and another speaker answered him more reservedly. What, said the First, are you on board this boat, too, my dear fellow? You whom I met at the imperial fate in Moscow, and just caught a glimpse of that evening off-grid? Yes, it's I, answered the Second dryly. Really, I didn't expect to be so closely followed. I am not following you, sir. I am preceding you. Preside, preside, little smarch abreast, keeping step like two soldiers on parade, and for the time at least, let us agree, if you will, that one shall not pass the other. On the contrary, I shall pass you. We shall see that when we are at the seat of war, but till then why let us be travelling companions. Later we shall have both time and occasion to be rivals. Enemies. Enemies, if you like, there is a precision in your words, my dear fellow, particularly agreeable to me. One may always know what one has to look for with you. What is the harm? No harm at all. So in my turn I will ask your permission to state our respective situations. State away. You are going to perm, like me, like you, and probably you will go from perm to a Ketterenberg, since that is the best and safest route by which to cross the Yoral Mountains. Probably, once pass the frontier, we shall be in Siberia. That is to say in the midst of the invasion, we shall be there. Well, then and only then will be the time to say, each for himself, and God for, for me, for you or by yourself. Very well. But since we have a week of neutral days before us, and since it is very certain that news will not shower upon us on the way, let us be friends until we become rivals again. Enemies. That's right. Yes, that's right, enemies. But till then let us act together, and not try and ruin each other. All the same, I promise you to keep to myself all that I can see, and I, all that I can hear. Is that agreed? It is agreed. Your hand? Here it is. And the hand of the first speaker, that is to say five wide open fingers vigorously shook the two fingers coolly extended by the other.  Bravo, Mr. Blanc. Very good, M. Jolliver. I will try and match that. It will be difficult. I can try, however. So saying, the French correspondent familiarly saluted the Englishmen who bowed stiffly. The governor's proclamation did not concern these two news hunters, as they were neither Russians nor foreigners of Asiatic origin. However, being urged by the same instinct, they had left Nizhny Novgorod together. It was natural that they should take the same means of transport, and that they should follow the same route to the Siberian steppes, traveling companions, whether enemies or friends, they had a week to pass together before the hunt would be open, and then success to the most expert. Alcide Jolliver had made the first advances, and Harry Blount had accepted them though he had done so coldly. That very day at dinner the Frenchmen open as ever and even too loquacious, the Englishmen still silent and grave, were seen hobnobbing at the same table, drinking genuine cliquot at six rubles the bottle made from the fresh sap of the birch trees of the country. On hearing them chatting away together, Michael Strogoff said to himself, Those are inquisitive and indiscreet fellows whom I shall probably meet again on the way. It will be prudent for me to keep them at a distance. The young Livonian did not come to dinner. She was asleep in her cabin, and Michael did not like to awaken her. It was evening before she reappeared on the deck of the Caucasus. The long twilight imparted a coolness to the atmosphere eagerly enjoyed by the passengers after the stifling heat of the day. As the evening advanced, the greater number never even thought of going into the saloon. Stretched on the benches, they inhaled with delight the slight breeze caused by the speed of the steamer. At this time of year and under this latitude, the sky scarcely darkened between sunset and dawn, and left the steersmen light enough to guide his steamer among the numerous vessels going up or down the Volga. Between eleven and two, however, the moon being new, it was almost dark. Nearly all the passengers were then asleep on the deck, and the silence was disturbed only by the noise of the paddles striking the water at regular intervals. Anxiety kept Michael Strogoff awake. He walked up and down, but always in the stern of the steamer. Once, however, he happened to pass the engine room. He then found himself in the part reserved for second and third class passengers. There, everyone was lying asleep, not only on the benches, but also on the bales, packages, and even the deck itself. Some care was necessary not to tread on the sleepers, who were lying about everywhere. They were chiefly moushiques, accustomed to hard couches, and quite satisfied with the planks of the deck, but no doubt they would, all the same, have soundly abused the clumsy fellow who roused them with an accidental kick. Michael Strogoff took care, therefore, not to disturb any one. By going thus to the end of the boat, he had no other idea but that of striving against sleep by a rather longer walk. He reached the forward deck, and was already climbing the folksal ladder, when he heard someone speaking near him. He stopped. The voices appeared to come from a group of passengers enveloped in cloaks and wraps. It was impossible to recognize them in the dark, though it sometimes happened that, when the steamer's chimney sent forth a plume of ruddy flames, the sparks seemed to fall amongst the group as though thousands of spangles had been suddenly illuminated. Michael was about to step up the ladder, when a few words reached his ear, uttered in that strange tongue which he had heard during the night at the fair. Instinctively he stopped to listen. Protected by the shadow of the folksal, he could not be perceived himself, as to seeing the passengers who were talking that was impossible, he must confine himself to listening. The first words exchanged were of no importance to him, at least, but they allowed him to recognize the voices of the man and woman whom he had heard at Nizhny Novgorod. This, of course, made him redouble his attention. It was indeed not at all impossible that these same Tziganis, now banished, should be on board the Caucasus. And it was well for him that he listened, for he distinctly heard this question and answer made in the Tartar Idiom. It is said that a courier has sent out from Moscow to Yakutsk. It is so said Zengar, but either this courier will arrive too late, or he will not arrive at all. Michael Strogov started involuntarily at this reply, which concerned him so directly. He tried to see if the man and woman who had just spoken were really those whom he suspected, but he could not succeed. In a few moments Michael Strogov had regained the stern of the vessel without having been perceived, and taking a seat by himself he buried his face in his hands. It might have been supposed that he was asleep. He was not asleep, however, and did not even think of sleeping. He was reflecting, not without a lively apprehension, who is it that knows of my departure, and who can have any interest in knowing it? End of Book 1, Chapter 7. Book 1, Chapter 8 of Michael Strogov, Courier of the Tsar. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Michael Strogov by Jules Verne. Book 1, Chapter 8, Going Up the Kamma. The next day, the 18th of July, at twenty minutes to seven in the morning, the Caucasus reached the Cassan Quay, seven bursts from the town. Cassan is situated at the confluence of the Volga and Cassanka. It is an important chief town of the government and a Greek archbishopric, as well as the seat of a university. The varied population preserves an Asiatic character, although the town was so far from the landing-place, a large crowd was collected on the Quay. They had come for news. The governor of the province had published an order identical with that of Nizhni Novgorod. Police officers and a few Cossacks kept order among the crowd, and cleared the way both for the passengers who were disembarking, and also for those who were embarking on board the Caucasus, minutely examining both classes of travelers. The one were the Asiatics who were being expelled, the other, Mujiks stopping at Cassan. Michael strogoff unconcernedly watched the bustle which occurs at all Quays on the arrival of a steam vessel. The Caucasus would stay for an hour to renew her fuel. Michael did not even think of landing. He was unwilling to leave the young Livonian girl alone on board, as she had not yet reappeared on deck. The two journalists had risen at dawn, as all good huntsmen should do. They went on shore and mingled with the crowd, each keeping to his own peculiar mode of proceeding. Harry Blount, sketching different types or noting some observation, I'll see Jolievet contenting himself with asking questions confiding in his memory which never failed him. There was a report along all the frontier that the insurrection and invasion had reached considerable proportions. Communication between Siberia and the Empire was already extremely difficult. All this Michael strogoff heard from the new arrivals. This information could not but cause him great uneasiness and increase his wish of being beyond the Ural Mountains, so as to judge for himself of the truth of these rumours, and enable him to guard against any possible contingency. He was thinking of seeking more direct intelligence from some native of Cassan when his attention was suddenly diverted. Among the passengers who were leaving the Caucasus, Michael recognized the troop of Stiganes, who the day before had appeared in the Nizhni Novgorod Fair. There, on the deck of the steamboat, were the old Bohemian and the woman. With them, and no doubt under their direction, landed about twenty dancers and singers from fifteen to twenty years of age wrapped in old cloaks which covered their spangled dresses. These dresses, just then glancing in the first rays of the sun, reminded Michael of the curious appearance which he had observed during the night. It must have been the glitter of those spangles and the bright flames issuing from the steamboat's funnel which had attracted his attention. Evidently, said Michael to himself, this troop of Stiganes, after remaining below all day, crouched under the foxhole during the night. Were these gypsies trying to show themselves as little as possible? Such is not according to the usual custom of their race. Michael stroked off no longer doubted that the expressions he had heard had proceeded from this tawny group and had been exchanged between the old gypsy and the woman to whom he gave the Mongolian name of Sangar. Michael involuntarily moved toward the gangway as the Bohemian troop was leaving the steamboat. The old Bohemian was there, in a humble attitude, little conformable with the effrontery natural to his race. One would have said that he was endeavouring rather to avoid attention than to attract it. His battered hat, browned by the suns of every climb, was pulled forward over his wrinkled face. His arched back was bent under an old cloak, wrapped closely round him, notwithstanding the heat. It would have been difficult in this miserable dress to judge of either his size or face.  She was tall and well-made, with olive complexion, magnificent eyes, and golden hair. Many of the young dancers were remarkably pretty, all possessing the clear-cut features of their race. These Tsiganis are generally very attractive, and more than one of the great Russian nobles who tried to vie with the English in eccentricity has not hesitated to choose his wife from among these gypsy girls. One of them was humming a song of strange rhythm which might be thus rendered. Little's brightly the gold in my raven-locked streaming, rich coral around my graceful neck gleaming, like a bird of the air through the wide world I roam. The laughing girl continued her song, but Michael Strogov seized to listen. It struck him just then that the Tsigani, Sangar, was regarding him with a peculiar gaze, as if to fix his features indelibly in her memory. It was but for a few moments when Sangar herself followed the old man and his troop who had already left the vessel. That's a bold gypsy, said Michael to himself. Could she have recognized me as the man she saw at Nishni Novgorod? These confounded Tsiganis have the eyes of a cat they can see in the dark, and that woman there might well know. Michael Strogov was on the point of following Sangar and the gypsy band, but he stopped. No, thought he. No unguarded proceedings. If I were to stop that old fortune teller and his companions, my incognito would run a risk of being discovered. Besides, now they have landed, before they can pass the frontier, I shall be far beyond it. They may take the route from Qassan to Ishim, but that affords no resources to travelers. Besides, a tarantass drawn by good Siberian horses will always go faster than a gypsy cart. Come, friend Korponoff, be easy. By this time the man and Sangar had disappeared. Qassan is justly called the Gate of Asia and considered as the center of Siberian and Bokharian commerce, for two roads begin here and lead across the Ural Mountains. Michael Strogov had very judiciously chosen the one by Perm and a Katrinberg. It is the great stage road, well supplied with relays kept at the expense of the government, and is prolonged from Ishim to Irkutsk. It is true that a second route, the one of which Michael had just spoken, avoiding the slight detour by Perm, also connects Qassan with Ishim. It is perhaps shorter than the others, but this advantage is much diminished by the absence of post houses, the bad roads and lack of villages. Michael Strogov was right in the choice he had made, and if, as appeared probable, the gypsies should follow the second route from Qassan to Ishim, he had every chance of arriving before them. An hour afterwards the bell rang on board the Caucasus, calling the new passengers, and recalling the former ones. It was now seven o'clock in the morning. The requisite fuel had been received on board. The whole vessel began to vibrate from the effects of the steam. She was ready to start. Passengers going from Qassan to Perm were crowding on the deck. Michael noticed that of the two reporters Blount alone had rejoined the steamer. Was Alcy Jolive about to miss his passage? But just as the ropes were being cast off Jolive appeared, tearing along, the steamer was already shearing off, the gangway had been drawn on to the quay, but Alcy Jolive would not stick at such a little thing as that. So, with a bound like a harlequin, he alighted on the deck of the Caucasus, almost in his rival's arms. I thought the Caucasus was going without you, said the latter. Bah! answered Jolive. I should soon have caught you up again, by shattering a boat at my Qassan's expense, or by traveling post at twenty Kopecks a verse, and on horseback. What could I do? It was so long away from the quay to the telegraph office. Have you been to the telegraph office? As Terry Blount, biting his lips, that's exactly where I have been, answered Jolive with his most amiable smile. And is it still working to Kolevan? But I don't know, but I cannot show you, for instance, that it is working from Qassan to Paris. You sent a dispatch to your cousin with enthusiasm. You had learnt then? Look here, little father, as the Russians say, replied Alcy Jolive. I'm a good fellow, and I don't wish to keep anything from you. The Tartars, and Fioufar Khan at their head, have passed Simepolatins, and are descending the Aetish. Do what you like with that. What! Such important news, and Terry Blount had not known it, and his rival, who had probably learned it from some inhabitant of Qassan, had already transmitted it to Paris. The English paper was distanced. Terry Blount, crossing his hands behind him, walked off, and seated himself in the stern without uttering a word. About ten o'clock in the morning, the young Livonian, leaving her cabin, appeared on deck. Michael Strogov went forward and took her hand. Look, sister! said he, leading her to the boughs of the Caucasus. The view was indeed well worth seeing. The Caucasus had reached the confluence of the Volga and the Kama. There she would leave the former river, after having descended it for nearly three hundred miles, to ascend the latter for a full three hundred. The Kama was here very wide, and its wooded banks lovely. A few white sails enlivened the sparkling water. The horizon was closed by a line of hills covered with aspens, alders, and sometimes large oaks. But these beauties of nature could not distract the thoughts of the young Livonian even for an instant. She had left her hand in that of her companion, and turning to him. At what distance are we from Moscow? she asked. Nine hundred bursts, answered Michael. Nine hundred out of seven thousand, murmured the girl. The bell now announced the breakfast hour. Nadia followed Michael Strogov to the restaurant.  Michael thought it best to content himself with the fare which satisfied his companion, and in less than twenty minutes he and Nadia returned on deck. There they seated themselves in the stern, and without preamble, Nadia, lowering her voice to be heard by him alone, began. Brother, I am the daughter of an exile. My name is Nadia Fedor. My mother died at Riga scarcely a month ago, and I am going to Irkutsk to rejoin my father and share his exile. I too am going to Irkutsk, answered Michael, and I shall thank heaven if it enables me to give Nadia Fedor safe and sound into her father's hands. Thank you, brother, replied Nadia. Michael Strogov then added that he had obtained a special proderosion for Siberia, and that the Russian authorities could in no way hinder his progress. Nadia asked nothing more. She saw in this fortunate meeting with Michael a means only of accelerating her journey to her father. I had, said she, a permit which authorized me to go to Irkutsk, but the new order annulled that, and but for you, brother, I should have been unable to leave the town, in which, without doubt, I should have perished, and dared you alone, Nadia, said Michael, attempt to cross the steppes of Siberia. The tartar invasion was not known when I left Riga. It was only at Moscow that I learnt the news, and despite it you continued your journey. It was my duty. The words showed the character of the brave girl. She then spoke of her father, Vasily Fedor. He was a much esteemed physician at Riga, but his connection with some secret society having been asserted, he received orders to start for Irkutsk. The police who brought the order conducted him without delay beyond the frontier. Vasily Fedor had but time to embrace his sick wife and his daughter, so soon to be left alone, when, shedding bitter tears, he was led away. A year and a half after her husband's departure, Madame Fedor died in the arms of her daughter, who was thus left alone and almost penniless. Nadia Fedor then asked, and easily obtained from the Russian government, an authorization to join her father at Irkutsk. She wrote and told him that she was starting, she had barely enough money for this long journey, and yet she did not hesitate to undertake it. She would do what she could, God would do the rest. The next day, the 19th of July, the Caucasus reached Perm, the last place at which she touched on the Kama. The government of which Perm is the capital is one of the largest in the Russian Empire, and extending over the Ural Mountains encroaches on Siberian territory. Marble quarries, mines of salt, platina, gold, and coal are worked here on a large scale. Although Perm, by its situation, has become an important town, it is by no means attractive, being extremely dirty and without resources. This want of comfort is of no consequence to those going to Siberia, for they come from the more civilized districts and are supplied with all necessaries. At Perm, travelers from Siberia resell their vehicles, more or less damaged by the long journey across the plains. There, too, those passing from Europe to Asia purchase carriages or slays in the winter season. Michael Strogov had already sketched out his program. A vehicle carrying the mail usually runs across the Ural Mountains, but this, of course, was discontinued. Even if it had not been so, he would not have taken it, as he wished to travel as fast as possible, without depending on any one. He wisely preferred to buy a carriage and journey by stages, simulating the zeal of the postillions by well-applied Navodku or tips. Unfortunately, in consequence of the measures taken against foreigners of Asiatic origin, a large number of travelers had already left Perm, and, therefore, conveyances were extremely rare. Michael was obliged to content himself with what had been rejected by others. As to horses, as long as the Tsar's courier was not in Siberia, he could exhibit his Potorozhna, and the postmasters would give him the preference. But, once out of Europe, he had to depend alone on the power of his rubles. But to what sort of a vehicle should he harness his horses, to a Telga or to a Terentas? The Telga is nothing but an open four-wheeled cart made entirely of wood, the pieces fastened together by means of strong rope. Nothing could be more primitive, nothing could be less comfortable, but, on the other hand, should any accident happen on the way, nothing could be more easily repaired. There is no want of furs on the Russian frontier, and axle trees grow naturally in forests. The post extraordinary, known by the name of Perkladnoy, is carried by the Telga, as any road is good enough for it. It must be confessed that sometimes the ropes which fasten the concern together break, and whilst the hinder part remains stuck in some bog, the four part arrives at the post house on two wheels, but this result is considered quite satisfactory. Michael Strogoff would have been obliged to employ a Telga if he had not been lucky enough to discover a Terentas. It is to be hoped that the invention of Russian coach-builders will devise some improvement in this last named vehicle. Springs are wanting in it as well as in the Telga. In the absence of iron, wood is not spared, but its four wheels, with eight or nine feet between them, assure a certain equilibrium over the jolting rough roads. A splashboard protects the travelers from the mud, and a strong leather hood, which may be pulled quite over the occupiers, shelters them from the great heat and violent storms of the summer. The Terentas is as solid and as easy to repair as the Telga, and is, moreover, less addicted to leaving its hinder part in the middle of the road. It was not without careful search that Michael managed to discover this Terentas, and there was probably not a second to be found in all perm. He haggled long about the price, for form's sake, to act up to his part as Nicholas Korponoff, a plain merchant of Irkutsk. Nadia had followed her companion in his search after a suitable vehicle. Although the object of each was different, both were equally anxious to arrive at their goal. One would have said the same will animated them both. Sister, said Michael, I wish I could have found a more comfortable conveyance for you. Do you say that to me, brother, when I would have gone on foot, if need were, to rejoin my father? I do not doubt your courage, Nadia, but there are physical fatigues a woman may be unable to endure. I shall endure them, whatever they be, replied the girl. If you ever hear a complaint from me, you may leave me in the road, and continue your journey alone. Half an hour later, the Poteroschna being presented by Michael, three post-horses were harnessed to the Terentas. These animals, covered with long hair, were very like long-legged bears. They were small but spirited, being of Siberian breed. The way in which the Yemchik harnessed them was thus. One, the largest, was secured between two long shafts, on whose farther end was a hoop carrying tassels and bells. The two others were simply fastened by ropes to the steps of the Terentas. This was the complete harness, with mere strings for reins. Neither Michael Strogoff nor the young Livonian girl had any baggage. The rapidity with which one wished to make the journey, and the more than modest resources of the other, prevented them from embarrassing themselves with packages. It was a fortunate thing, under the circumstances, for the Terentas could not have carried both baggage and travellers. It was only made for two persons, without counting the Yemchik, who kept his equilibrium on the narrow seat in a marvellous manner. The Yemchik is changed at every relay. The man who drove the Terentas during the first stage was, like his horses, a Siberian, and no less shaggy than they, long hair cut square on the forehead, hat with a turned up brim, red belt, coat with crossed facings and buttons stamped with the imperial cipher. The Yemchik, on coming up with his team, threw an inquisitive glance at the passengers of the Terentas. No luggage, and had there been, where in the world could he have stowed it? Rather shabby an appearance, too. He looked contemptuous. Groves, said he, without caring whether he was overheard or not, groves at six kopecks averse. No eagles, said Michael, who understood the Yemchik's slang perfectly. Eagles, do you hear, at nine kopecks averse, and a tip besides. He was answered by a merry crack of the whip. In the language of the Russian postillions the crow is the stingy or poor traveller, who at the post houses only pays two or three kopecks averse for the horses. The eagle is the traveller who does not mind expense to say nothing of liberal tips. Therefore the crow could not claim to fly as rapidly as the imperial bird. Nadia and Michael immediately took their places in the Terentas. A small store of provisions was put in the box, in case at any time they were delayed in reaching the post houses, which are very comfortably provided under the direction of the state. The hood was pulled up, as it was insupportably hot, and at twelve o'clock the Terentas left perm in a cloud of dust. The way in which the Yemchik kept up the pace of his team would have certainly astonished travellers who, being neither Russians nor Siberians, were not accustomed to this sort of thing. The leader, rather larger than the others, kept to a steady long trot, perfectly regular, whether up or down hill. The two other horses seemed to know no other pace than the gallop, though they performed many an eccentric curvette as they went along. The Yemchik, however, never touched them, only urging them on by startling cracks of his whip. But what epithets he lavished on them, including the names of all the saints in the calendar when they behaved like docile and conscientious animals. The string which served as reins would have had no influence on the spirited beasts, but the words na pravo to the right, na levo to the left, pronounced in a guttural tone, were more effectual than either bridle or snaffle.   Whether or not it was from this way of driving, which requires the Yemchiks to possess strong throats more than muscular arms, the Terentas flew along at a rate of from twelve to fourteen miles an hour. Michael Strogoff was accustomed both to the sort of vehicle and the mode of traveling. Neither jerks nor jolts incommodated him. He knew that a Russian driver never even tries to avoid either stones, ruts, bogs, fallen trees or trenches, which may happen to be in the road. He was used to all that. His companion ran a risk of being hurt by the violent jolts of the Terentas, but she would not complain. For a little while Nadia did not speak, then possessed with the one thought that of reaching her journey's end, I have calculated that there are three hundred bursts between Perm and Ekaterinburg, brother, said she. Am I right? You are quite right, Nadia, answered Michael, and when we have reached Ekaterinburg, we shall be at the foot of the Ural Mountains on the opposite side. How long will it take to get across the mountains? Forty-eight hours, for we shall travel day and night. I say day and night, Nadia, added he, for I cannot stop even for a moment. I go on without rest to wear kutsk. I shall not delay you, brother, no, not even for an hour, and we will travel day and night. Well then, Nadia, if the Tartar invasion has only left the road open, we shall arrive in twenty days. You have made this journey before, asked Nadia, many times. During winter we should have gone more rapidly and surely should we not? Yes, especially with more rapidity, but you would have suffered much from the frost and snow. What matter? Winter is the friend of Russia. Yes, Nadia, but what a constitution any one must have to endure such friendship. I have often seen the temperature in the Siberian steppes fall to more than forty degrees below freezing point. I have felt not withstanding my reindeer coat, my heart growing chill, my limbs stiffening, my feet freezing in triple-wool and socks. I have seen my sleigh horses covered with a coating of ice, their breath congealed at their nostrils. I have seen the brandy in my flask change into hard stone, on which not even my knife could make an impression. But my sleigh flew like the wind, not an obstacle on the plain, white and level farther than the eye could reach, no rivers to stop one, hard ice everywhere, the route open, the road sure. But at the price of what's suffering, Nadia, those alone could say, who have never returned, but whose bodies have been covered up by the snowstorm? However, you have returned, brother, said Nadia. Yes, but I am a Siberian, and when quite a child, I used to follow my father to the chase, and so became enured to these hardships. But when you said to me, Nadia, that winter would not have stopped you, that you would have gone alone, ready to struggle against the frightful Siberian climate, I seemed to see you lost in the snow and falling, never to rise again. How many times have you crossed the step in winter, asked the young Livonian? Three times, Nadia, when I was going to Omsk. And what were you going to do at Omsk? See my mother, who was expecting me. And I am going to Irkutsk, where my father expects me. I am taking him my mother's last words, that is, as much as to tell you, brother, that nothing would have prevented me from setting out.  All day the Tarantas was driven rapidly by the Yemchiks, who succeeded each other at every stage. The eagles of the mountain would not have found their name dishonored by these eagles of the highway. The high price paid for each horse, and the tips dealt out so freely, recommended the travellers in a special way. Perhaps the Postmasters thought it singular that, after the publication of the Order, a young man and his sister, evidently both Russians could travel freely across Siberia, which was closed to everyone else, but their papers were all on regla, and they had the right to pass. However, Michael Strogoff and Nadia were not the only travellers on their way from Perm to Ekaterinburg. At the first stages the courier of the Tsar had learnt that a carriage preceded them, but as there was no want of horses, he did not trouble himself about that. During the day, alts were made for food alone. At the post houses could be found lodging and provision. Besides, if there was not an inn, the house of the Russian peasant would have been no less hospitable. In the villages, which are almost all alike, with their white-walled, green-roofed chapels, the traveller might knock at any door and it would be opened to him. The Muzhik would come out, smiling and extending his hand to his guest. He would offer him bread and salt. The burning charcoal would be put into the samovar, and he would be made quite at home. The family would turn out themselves rather than that he should not have room. The stranger is the relation of all. He is one sent by God. On arriving that evening, Michael instinctively asked the postmaster how many hours ago the carriage which preceded them had passed that stage. Two hours ago, little father, replied the postmaster, is it a Berlin? No, a Telga. How many travellers? Two. And they are going fast? Egos. Let them put the horses, too, as soon as possible. Michael and Nadia resolved not to stop even for an hour, travelled all night. The weather continued fine, though the atmosphere was heavy and becoming charged with electricity. It was to be hoped that a storm would not burst whilst they were among the mountains, for there it would be terrible. Being accustomed to read atmospheric signs, Michael strove off new that a struggle of the elements was approaching. The night passed without incident. Notwithstanding the jolting of the Terentas, Nadia was able to sleep for some hours. The hood was partly raised so as to give as much air as there was in the stifling atmosphere. Michael kept awake all night, mistrusting the Yemchiks who are apt to sleep at their posts. Not an hour was lost at the relays, not an hour on the road. The next day, the twentieth of July, at about eight o'clock in the morning, they caught the first glimpse of the Ural mountains in the east. This important chain which separates Russia from Siberia was still at a great distance, and they could not hope to reach it until the end of the day. The passage of the mountains must necessarily be performed during the next night. The sky was cloudy all day, and the temperature was therefore more bearable, but the weather was very threatening. It would perhaps have been more prudent not to have ascended the mountains during the night, and Michael would not have done so had he been permitted to wait. But when, at the last stage, the Yemchik drew his attention to appeal of thunder reverberating among the rocks, he merely said, is a telga still before us? Yes! How long is it in advance? Nearly an hour! Forward, and a triple tip if we are at a Katerinburg to-morrow morning. CHAPTER IX The Ural Mountains extend in a length of over two thousand miles between Europe and Asia, whether they are called the Urals, which is the Tartar, or the Poyas, which is the Russian name. They are correctly so termed, for these names signify belt in both languages. Rising on the shores of the Arctic Sea, they reached the borders of the Caspian. This was the barrier to be crossed by Michael Strogoff before he could enter Siberian Russia. The mountains could be crossed in one night if no accident happened. Unfortunately, thunder muttering in the distance announced that a storm was at hand. The electric tension was such that it could not be dispersed without a tremendous explosion, which in the peculiar state of the atmosphere would be very terrible. Michael took care that his young companion should be as well protected as possible. The hood, which might have been easily blown away, was fastened more securely with ropes crossed above and at the back. The traces were doubled, and as an additional precaution the nave boxes were stuffed with straw, as much to increase the strength of the wheels as to lessen the jolting, unavoidable on a dark night. Lastly, the fore-and-hinder parts, connected simply by the axles to the body of the Tarentas, were joined one to the other by a cross-bar fixed by means of pins and screws. Nadia resumed her place in the cart, and Michael took his seat beside her, before the lowered hood hung two leather curtains which would in some degree protect the travelers against the wind and rain. Two great lanterns suspended from the Yemchik's seat, through a pale glimmer scarcely sufficient to light the way, but serving as warning lights to prevent any other carriage from running into them. It was well that all these precautions were taken, in expectation of a rough night. The road led them up towards dense masses of clouds, and should the clouds not soon resolve into rain, the fog would be such that the Tarentas would be unable to advance without danger of falling over some precipice. The Ural chain does not attain any very great height, the highest summit not being more than five thousand feet. Eternal snow is there unknown, and what is piled up by the Siberian winter is soon melted by the summer sun. Shrubs and trees grow to a considerable height. The iron and copper mines, as well as those of precious stones, draw a considerable number of workmen to that region. Also, those villages termed Gavody are there met with pretty frequently, and the road through the Great Passes is easily practicable for postcarriages. But what is easy enough in fine weather and broad daylight offers difficulties and perils when the elements are engaged in fierce warfare, and the traveler is in the midst of it. Michael Strogoff knew from former experience what a storm in the mountains was, and perhaps this would be as terrible as the snowstorms which burst forth with such vehemence in the winter. Rain was not yet falling, so Michael raised the leather curtains which protected the interior of the Tarentas and looked out, watching the sides of the road, peopled with fantastic shadows, caused by the wavering light of the lanterns. Nadia, motionless, her arms folded, gazed forth also, though without leaning forward, whilst her companion, his body half out of the carriage, examined both sky and earth. The calmness of the atmosphere was very threatening, the air being perfectly still. It was just as if nature were half stifled and could no longer breathe, her lungs, that is to say those gloomy dense clouds, not being able to perform their functions. The silence would have been complete but for the grindings of the wheels of the Tarentas over the road, the creaking of the axles, the snorting of the horses, and the clattering of their iron hoofs among the pebbles, sparks flying out on every side. The road was perfectly deserted. The Tarentas encountered neither pedestrian nor horseman, nor a vehicle of any description in the narrow defiles of the Ural on this threatening night. Not even the fire of a charcoal burner was visible in the woods, not an encampment of miners near the mines, not a hut among the brushwood. Under these peculiar circumstances it might have been allowable to postpone the journey till the morning. Michael strode off, however, had not hesitated. He had no right to stop, but then, and it began to cause him some anxiety, what possible reason could those travelers in the telga ahead have for being so imprudent? Michael remained thus on the lookout for some time. About 11 o'clock lightning began to blaze continuously in the sky. The shadows of huge pines appeared and disappeared in the rapid light. Sometimes when the Tarentas neared the side of the road, deep gulfs lit up by the flashes could be seen yawning beneath them. From time to time on their vehicle giving a worse lurch than usual, they knew that they were crossing a bridge of roughly hewn planks thrown over some chasm, thunder appearing actually to be rumbling below them. Besides this, a booming sound filled the air, which increased as they mounted higher. With these different noises rose the shouts of the yemchik, sometimes scolding, sometimes coaxing his poor beasts, who were suffering more from the oppression of the air than the roughness of the roads. Even the bells on the shafts could no longer rouse them, and they stumbled every instant. At what time shall we reach the top of the ridge? asked Michael of the yemchik. At one o'clock in the morning, if we ever get there at all, replied he with a shake of his head. Why, my friend, this will not be your first storm in the mountains, will it? No, and pray God it may not be my last. Are you afraid? No, I'm not afraid, but I repeat that I think you were wrong in starting. I should have been still more wrong had I stayed. Hold up, my pigeons! cried the yemchik. It was his business to obey, not to question. Just then a distant noise was heard, shrill whistling through the atmosphere, so calm a minute before. By the light of a dazzling flash, almost immediately followed by a tremendous clap of thunder, Michael could see huge pines on a high peak bending before the blast. The wind was unchained, but as yet it was the upper air alone which was disturbed. Successive crashes showed that many of the trees had been unable to resist the burst of the hurricane. An avalanche of shattered trunks swept across the road and dashed over the precipice on the left, two hundred feet in front of the tarantass. The horses stopped short. Get up, my pretty doves! cried the yemchik, adding the cracking of his whip to the rumbling of the thunder. Michael took Nadia's hand. Are you asleep, sister? No, brother. Be ready for anything. Here comes the storm. I am ready. Michael Strogov had only just time to draw the leather curtains when the storm was upon them. The yemchik leapt from his seat and seized the horse's heads, for terrible danger threatened the whole party. The tarantass was at a standstill at a turning of the road, down which swept the hurricane. It was absolutely necessary to hold the animal's heads to the wind, for if the carriage was taken broadside it must infallibly capsize and be dashed over the precipice. The frightened horses reared, and their driver could not manage to quiet them. His friendly expressions had been succeeded by the most insulting epithets. Nothing was of any use. The unfortunate animals, blinded by the lightning, terrified by the incessant peals of thunder, threatened every instant to break their traces and flee. The yemchik had no longer any control over his team. At that moment Michael Strogov threw himself from the tarantass and rushed to his assistance. Endowed with more than common strength, he managed, though not without difficulty, to master the horses. The storm now raged with redoubled fury, a perfect avalanche of stones and trunks of trees began to roll down the slope above them. We cannot stop here, said Michael. We cannot stop anywhere! Returned the yemchik, all his energies apparently overcome by terror. The storm will soon send us to the bottom of the mountain, and that by the shortest way. Take you that horse, coward! returned Michael. I'll look after this one. A fresh burst of the storm interrupted him. The driver and he were obliged to crouch upon the ground to avoid being blown down. The carriage, notwithstanding their efforts and those of the horses, was gradually blown back and had it not stopped by the trunk of a tree it would have gone over the edge of the precipice. Do not be afraid, Nadia! cried Michael Strogov. I'm not afraid, replied the young Livonian, her voice not betraying the slightest emotion. The rumbling of the thunder ceased for an instant. The terrible blast had swept past into the gorge below.  No, we must go on. Once past this turning we shall have the shelter of the slope, but the horses won't move. Do as I do and drag them on. The storm will come back. Do you mean to obey? Do you order it? The father orders it, answered Michael, for the first time invoking the all-powerful name of the emperor. Forward, my swallows! cried the yemchik, seizing one horse while Michael did the same to the other. Thus urged, the horses began to struggle onward. They could no longer rear, and the middle horse not being hampered by the others, could keep in the center of the road. It was with the greatest difficulty that either man or beasts could stand against the wind. And for every three steps they took in advance, they lost one, and even two, by being forced backwards. They slipped, they fell, they got up again. The vehicle ran a great risk of being smashed. If the hood had not been securely fastened, it would have been blown away long before. Michael Strogoff and the yemchik took more than two hours in getting up this bit of road, only half a verse in length, so directly exposed was it to the lashing of the storm. The danger was not only from the wind which battered against the travelers, but from the avalanche of stones and broken trunks which were hurtling through the air. Suddenly, during a flash of lightning, one of these masses was seen crashing and rolling down the mountain towards the Tarentes. The yemchik uttered a cry. Michael Strogoff in vain brought his whip down on the team. They refused to move. A few feet farther on, and the mass would pass behind them. Michael saw the Tarentes struck, his companion crushed. He saw there was no time to drag her from the vehicle. Then, possessed in this hour of peril with superhuman strength, he threw himself behind it, and planting his feet on the ground by main force placed it out of danger. The enormous mass as it passed grazed his chest, taking away his breath as though it had been a cannonball, then crushing to powder the flints on the road, it bounded into the abyss below. Oh, brother! cried Nadia, who had seen it all by the light of the flashes. Nadia! replied Michael. Fear nothing. It is not on my own account that I fear. God is with us, sister. With me truly brother, since he has sent thee in my way! murmured the young girl. The impetus the Tarentes had received was not to be lost, and the tired horses once more moved forward. Dragged, so to speak, by Michael and the Eemchik, they toiled on towards a narrow pass, lying north and south, where they would be protected from the direct sweep of the Tempest. At one end a huge rock jutted out round the summit of which world an eddy, behind the shelter of the rock there was a comparative calm, yet once within the circumference of the cyclone neither man nor beast could resist its power. Indeed some furs which towered above this protection were in a trice shorn of their tops as though a gigantic scythe had swept across them. The storm was now at its height, the lightning filled the defile, and the thunder-claps had become one continued peel. The ground, struck by the concussion, trembled as though the whole Ural chain was shaken to its foundations. Happily the Tarentes could be so placed that the storm might strike it obliquely, but the counter-currence directed towards it by the slope could not be so well avoided, and so violent were they that every instant it seemed as though it would be dashed to pieces. Nadia was obliged to leave her seat, and Michael, by the light of one of the lanterns, discovered an excavation bearing the marks of a miner's pick, where the young girl could rest in safety until they could once more start. Just then it was one o'clock in the morning, the rain began to fall in torrents, and this, in addition to the wind and lightning, made the storm truly frightful. To continue the journey at present was utterly impossible. Besides, having reached this pass, they had only to descend the slopes of the Ural Mountains, and to descend now, with the road torn up by a thousand mountain torrents in these eddies of wind and rain, was utter madness. To wait is indeed serious, said Michael, but it must certainly be done to avoid still longer detentions. The very violence of the storm makes me hope that it will not last long. About three o'clock the day will begin to break, and the descent, which we cannot risk in the dark, we shall be able, if not with ease, at least without such danger, to attempt after sunrise. Let us wait, brother, replied Nadia, but if you delay, let it not be to spare me fatigue or danger. Nadia, I know that you are ready to brave everything, but in exposing both of us, I risk more than my life, more than yours. I am not fulfilling my task, that duty which before everything else I must accomplish. A duty, murmured Nadia.   The yemchick was struck to the ground by a countershock, but regaining his feet found himself happily unhurt. Just as the last growlings of the thunder were lost in the recesses of the mountain, Michael felt Nadia's hand pressing his, and he heard her whisper these words in his ear. Crys, brother! Listen! It was an earnest appeal, evidently from some traveller in distress. Michael listened attentively. The yemchick also listened, but shook his head, as though it was impossible to help. They are travellers calling for aid, cried Nadia. They can expect nothing, replied the yemchick. Why not, cried Michael, what we not to do for them, what they would for us under similar circumstances? Surely you will not risk the courage and horses? I will go on foot, replied Michael, interrupting the yemchick. I will go too, brother, said the young girl. No, remain here, Nadia. The yemchick will stay with you. I do not wish to leave him alone. I will stay, replied Nadia. Whatever happens, do not leave this spot. You will find me where I now am. Michael pressed her hand, and turning the corner of the slope disappeared in the darkness. Your brother is wrong, said the yemchick. He is right, replied Nadia, simply. Meanwhile Strogoff strode rapidly on. If he was in a great hurry to aid the travellers, he was also very anxious to know who it was that had not been hindered from starting by the storm, for he had no doubt that the cries came from the telga which had so long preceded him. The rain had stopped, but the storm was raging with redoubled fury. The shouts, born on the air, became more distinct. Nothing was to be seen of the pass in which Nadia remained. The road wound along, and the squalls, checked by the corners, formed Eddie's highly dangerous, to pass which, without being taken off his legs, Michael had to use his utmost strength. He soon perceived that the travellers whose shouts he had heard were at no great distance. Even then, on account of the darkness, Michael could not see them, yet he heard distinctively their words. This is what he heard, and what caused him some surprise.  You shall have a taste of them out at the next stage. Do you hear you devil's postillion? Hello, bellow! This is how a carriage takes you in this country? Yes, this is what you call a telga. Oh, that abominable driver! He goes on and does not appear to have discovered that he has left us behind. Do deceive me too, me, an honourable Englishman, I will make a complaint at the Chancellor's office and have the fellow hanged. This was said in a very angry tone, but was suddenly interrupted by a burst of laughter from his companion, who exclaimed, Well, this is a good joke, I must say. You venture to laugh, said the Britain angrily. Certainly, my dear confere, and that most heartily, upon my word I never saw anything to come up to it. Just then a crashing clap of thunder re-echoed through the defile, and then died away among the distant peaks. When the sound of the last growl had ceased, the merry voice went on, Yes, he don't doubtedly is a good joke. This machine certainly never came from France, nor from England, replied the other. On the road, by the light of the flashes, Michael saw twenty yards from him, two travellers, seated side by side in a most peculiar vehicle, the wheels of which were deeply embedded in the ruts formed in the road. He approached them, the one grinning from ear to ear, and the other gloomily contemplating his situation, and recognised them as the two reporters who had been his companions on board the Caucasus. Good morning to you, sir, cried the Frenchman, Delighted Ossio here. Let me introduce you to my intimate ennemy, Mr. Ablain. The English reporter bowed, and was about to introduce in his turn his companion, Alcide Jolivet, in accordance with the rules of society when Michael interrupted him. Perfectly unnecessary, sir, we already know each other, for we travelled together on the Volga. Ah, yes, exactly so, Mr. Nicholas Korponov, merchant of Irkutsk. But may I know what happened which, though a misfortune to your companion, amuses you so much? Certainly, Mr. Korponov replied, Alcide. Fancy, our driver has gone off with the front part of this confounded carriage, and left us quietly seated in the back part.  Is it not a joke? No joke at all, said the Englishman. Indeed it is, my dear fellow. You do not know how to look on the right side of things. Our prey are we to go on, asked Blount. That is the easiest thing in the world, replied Alcide. Go and harness yourself to what remains of our cart.  Mr. Jolivet, replied the Englishman, this joking is going too far, it passes all limits, and now do be quiet, my dear sir. When you are done up, I will take your place, and call me a broken-winded snail and faint-hearted tortoise, if I don't take you over the ground at a rattling pace. Alcide said all this with such perfect good humour that Michael could not help smiling. Gentlemen, said he, here is a better plan. We have now reached the highest ridge of the Ural chain, and thus have merely to descend the slopes of the mountain. My carriage is close by, only two hundred yards behind. I will lend you one of my horses, harness it to the remains of the telga, and to-morrow, if no accident befalls us, we will arrive together at Decaterinburg. That, Mr. Kopenoff, said Alcide, is indeed a generous proposal. Indeed, sir, replied Michael, I would willingly offer you places in my tarantass, but it will only hold two, and my sister and I already fill it. Rely, sir, answered Alcide, with your horse and our demi-telga, we will go to the well's end. Sir, said Harry Blount, we most willingly accept your kind offer, and ask to that Yemchik, who I assure you that you are not the first travellers who have met with a similar misfortune, replied Michael. But why should not our driver come back? He knows perfectly well that he has left us behind, a rash that he is. He—he never suspected such a thing. What, the fellow not know that he was leaving the better half of his telga behind? Not a bit, and in all good faith is driving the four-part into Decaterinburg. Did I not tell you that it was a good joke, enfraire, cried Alcide? Then, gentlemen, if you will follow me, said Michael, we will return to my carriage, and— But that telga, observed the Englishman, there is not the slightest fear that it will fly away, my dear Blount, exclaimed Alcide. It has taken such good route in the ground, that if it were left here until next spring, it would begin to bud. Come then, gentlemen, said Michael Strogoff, and we will bring up the Tarentas. The Frenchman and the Englishman, descending from their seats, no longer the Hinder one, since the front had taken its departure, followed Michael. Walking along, Alcide Jolivet chattered away, as usual, with his invariable good humour. Faith, Mr. Kropanov, said he, you have indeed caught us out of a bad scrape. I have only done, sir, replied Michael, what any one would have done in my place. Well, sir, you have done us a good turn, and if you are going farther, we may possibly meet again, and—Alcide Jolivet did not put any direct question to Michael as to where he was going, but the latter, not wishing it to be suspected that he had anything to conceal, at once replied, I am bound for Omsk, gentlemen. Mr. Blount and I, replied Alcide, go where danger is certainly to be found, and without doubt news also. To the invaded provinces, asked Michael with some earnestness, exactly so, Mr. Kropanov, and we may possibly meet there. Indeed, sir, replied Michael, I have little love for cannonballs or lance points, and am by nature too great a lover of peace, to venture where fighting is going on. I am sorry, sir, extremely sorry. We must only regret that we shall separate so soon, but on leaving Ekaterinburg it may be a forciornut fate to travel together if only for a few days. Do you go on to Omsk? asked Michael after a moment's reflection. We know nothing as yet, replied Alcide, but we shall certainly go as far as Ishim, and once there our movements must depend on circumstances. Well then, gentlemen, said Michael, we will be fellow travellers as far as Ishim. Michael would certainly have preferred to travel alone, but he could not, without appearing at least singular, seek to separate himself from the two reporters, who were taking the same road that he was. Besides, since Alcide and his companion intended to make some stay at Ishim, he thought it rather convenient than otherwise to make that part of the journey in their company. Then, in an indifferent tone, he asked, do you know, with any certainty, where this Tartar invasion is? Indeed, sir, replied Alcide, we only know what they said at Perm. Fajofar Khan's Tatars have invaded the whole province of Simipuritinsk, and for some days, by false marshes, have been descending the Aetish. You must hurry if you wish to get to Womps before them. Indeed, I must, replied Michael. It is reported also that Colonel Ogarev has succeeded in passing the frontier in disguise, and that he may not be slow in joining the Tartar chief in their revolted country. But how do they know it? asked Michael, whom this news, more or less true, so directly concerned. Oh, as these things are always known, replied Alcide, it is in the air. Then have you really reasoned to think that Colonel Ogarev is in Siberia? I myself have heard it said that he was to take the road from Kazan to Ekaterinburg. Ah, you know that, Mr. Jolivay, said Harry Blount, roused from his silence. I knew it, replied Alcide. And do you know that he went disguised as a gypsy? asked Blount. As a gypsy, exclaimed Michael, almost involuntarily, and he suddenly remembered the look of the old Bohemian at Nishni Novgorod, his voyage on board the Caucasus and his disembarking at Kazan. Josh well enough to make a few remarks on the subject in the letter to my cousin, replied Alcide, smiling, you were of no time at Kazan, dryly observed the Englishman. No, my dear fellow. And while the Caucasus was laying in his supply of fuel, I was employed in obtaining a store of information. Michael no longer listened to the repartee which Harry Blount and Alcide exchanged. He was thinking of the gypsy troop, of the old Zikani, whose face he had not been able to see, and of the strange woman who accompanied him, and then of the peculiar glance which she had cast at him. Suddenly, close by, he heard a pistol shot. Ah, forward, sirs, cried he. Hello, said Alcide to himself, this quiet machan who always avoids bullets is in a great hurry, to go where they are flying about just now. Quickly followed by Harry Blount, who was not a man to be behind in danger, he dashed after Michael. In another instant the three were opposite the projecting rock which protected the tarantass at the turning of the road. The clump of pines struck by the lightning was still burning. There was no one to be seen. However, Michael was not mistaken. Suddenly a dreadful growling was heard, and then another report. A bear cried Michael who could not mistake the growling. Nadia! Nadia! And drawing his cutlass from his belt, Michael bounded round the buttress behind which the young girl had promised to wait. The pines completely enveloped in flames through a wild glare on the scene, as Michael reached the tarantass a huge animal retreated towards him. It was a monstrous bear. The tempest had driven it from the woods, and it had come to seek refuge in this cave, doubtless its habitual retreat, which Nadia then occupied. Two of the horses, terrified at the presence of the enormous creature breaking their traces, had escaped, and the yinchik thinking only of his beasts, leaving Nadia face-to-face with the bear, had gone in pursuit of them. But the brave girl had not lost her presence of mind, the animal which had not at first seen her was attacking the remaining horse. Nadia, leaving the shelter in which she had been crouching, had run to the carriage, taken one of Michael's revolvers, and advancing resolutely toward the bear had fired close to it. The animal, slightly wounded in the shoulder, turned on the girl, who rushed for protection behind the tarantass, but then, seeing that the horse was attempting to break its traces, and knowing that if it did so and the others were not recovered, their journey could not be continued. With the most perfect coolness, she again approached the bear, and as it raised its paws to strike her down, gave it the contents of the second barrel. This was the report which Michael had just heard. In an instant he was on the spot, another bound and he was between the bear and the girl. His arm made one movement upwards, and the enormous beast, ripped up by that terrible knife, fell to the ground, a lifeless mass. He had executed in splendid style the famous blow of the Siberian hunters, who endeavour not to damage the precious fur of the bear, which fetches a high price. You are not wounded, sister, said Michael, springing to the side of the young girl. No, brother, replied Nadia. At that moment the two journalists came up. Alcide seized the horse's head, and in an instant his strong wrist mastered it. His companion and he had seen Michael's rapid stroke. Bravo! cried Alcide, for a simple marchant, Mr. Kopinoff, you handle the hunter's knife in a most masterly fashion. Most masterly indeed, added Blount. In Siberia, replied Michael, we are obliged to do a little of everything. Alcide regarded him attentively. Seen in the bright glare, his knife gripping with blood, his tall figure, his foot firm on the huge carcass, he was indeed worth looking at. A formidable fellow, said Alcide to himself. Then, advancing respectfully, he saluted the young girl. Nadia bowed slightly. Alcide turned towards his companion. The sister worthy of the brother, said he, now, where I aber, I should not meddle with too so brave and so charming. Harry Blount, perfectly upright, stood hat in hand at some distance. His companion's easy manners only increased his usual stiffness. At that moment the Yemchik, who had succeeded in recapturing his two horses, reappeared. He cast a regretful glance at the magnificent animal lying on the ground, loathed to leave it to the birds of prey, and then proceeded once more to harness his team. Michael acquainted him with the traveler's situation and his intention of loaning one of the horses. As you please, replied the Yemchik, only you know two carriages instead of one. All right, my friend, said Alcide, who understood the insinuation, we will pay double. Then key up, my turtle-doves, cried the Yemchik. Nadia again took her place in the tarantass. Michael and his companions followed on foot. It was three o'clock. The storm still swept with terrific violence across the defile, when the first streaks of daybreak appeared the tarantass had reached the telga, which was still conscientiously embedded as far as the center of the wheel. Such being the case, it can be easily understood how a sudden jerk would separate the front from the hindered part. One of the horses was now harnessed by means of cords to the remains of the telga. The reporters took their place on the singular equipage, and the two carriages started off. They had now only to descend the Ural Slopes, in doing which there was not the slightest difficulty. Six hours afterwards the two vehicles, the tarantass preceding the telga, arrived at Ekaterinburg, nothing worthy of note having happened in the descent. The first person the reporters perceived at the door of the post-house was their Yemchik, who appeared to be waiting for them. This worthy Russian had a fine open countenance, and he smilingly approached the travelers and holding out his hand, in a quiet tone he demanded the usual pour boire. This very cool request roused Blount's ire to its highest pitch, and had not the Yemchik prudently retreated, a straight-out blow of the fist in true British boxing style would have paid his claim of Navodku. Alcide Jolivet, at this burst of anger, laughed as he had never laughed before. But the poor davelle is quite right, he cried. He is perfectly right, my dear fellow. It is not his fault if we did not know how to follow him. Then, drawing several co-pecs from his pocket, Here, my friend, said he, handing them to the Yemchik, take them. If you have not earned them, it is not your fault. This redoubled Mr. Blount's irritation. He even began to speak of a lawsuit against the owner of the telga. A lawsuit in Russia, my dear fellow, cried Alcide. Things must indeed change, should it ever be brought to a conclusion. Did you never hear the story of the wet nurse who claimed payment of twelve months nursing of some poor little infant? I never heard it, replied Harry Blount. Then you do not know what that suckling had become by the time judgment was given in favour of the nurse. What was he, pray? Colonel of the imperial guard! At this reply all burst into a laugh. Alcide, enchanted with his own joke, grew out his notebook, and in it wrote the following memorandum, destined to figure in a forthcoming French and Russian dictionary, telga, a Russian carriage with four wheels, that is when it starts, with two wheels when it arrives at its destination. CHAPTER XII. PROVOCATION A Caterinburg, geographically, is an Asiatic city, for it is situated beyond the Ural Mountains on the farthest eastern slopes of the chain. Nevertheless, it belongs to the government of Perm, and consequently is included in one of the great divisions of European Russia. It is as though a morsel of Siberia lay in Russian jaws. Neither Michael nor his companions were likely to experience the slightest difficulty in obtaining means of continuing their journey in so large a town as a Caterinburg. It was founded in 1723, and has since become a place of considerable size, for in it is the chief mint of the empire. There also are the headquarters of the officials employed in the management of the mines. Thus the town is the center of an important district, abounding in manufactories principally for the working and refining of gold and platinum. Just now the population of a Caterinburg had greatly increased, many Russians and Siberians menaced by the Tartar invasion having collected there. Thus, though it had been so troublesome a matter to find horses and vehicles when going to a Caterinburg, there was no difficulty in leaving it, for under present circumstances few travelers cared to venture on the Siberian roads. So it happened that Blount and Alcide had not the slightest trouble in replacing, by a sound telga, the famous Demi carriage which had managed to take them to a Caterinburg. As to Michael, he retained his Tarentas, which was not much the worse for its journey across the Urales, and he had only to harness three good horses to it to take him swiftly over the road to Irkutsk. As far as to Yulman, and even up to Novozemsko, this road has slight inclines, which gentle undulations are the first signs of the slopes of the Ural mountains, but after Novozemsko begins the immense step. At Ichim, as we have said, the reporters intended to stop, that is about 420 miles from a Caterinburg, there they intended to be guided by circumstances as to their route across the invaded country, either together or separately, according as their news-hunting instinct set them on one track or another. This road from a Caterinburg to Ichim, which passes through Irkutsk, was the only one which Michael could take, but as he did not run after news, and wished on the contrary to avoid the country devastated by the invaders, he determined to stop nowhere. I am very happy to make part of my journey in your company, said he to his new companions, but I must tell you that I am most anxious to reach Omsk, for my sister and I are going to rejoin our mother. Who can say whether we shall arrive before the Tartars reach the town? I must therefore stop at the post houses only long enough to change horses, and must travel day and night. That is exactly what we intend doing, replied Blount. Good, replied Michael, but do not lose an instant, buy or hire a carriage whose hind reels, added our seed, are warranted to arrive at the same time as its front wheels. Half an hour afterwards the energetic Frenchman had found a Tarentas in which he and his companion at once seated themselves. Michael and Nadia once more entered their own carriage, and at twelve o'clock the two vehicles left the town of a Caterinburg together. Nadia was at last in Siberia, on that long road which led to Irkutsk. What must then have been the thoughts of the young girl? Three strong swift horses were taking her across that land of exile where her parent was condemned to live, for how long she knew not, and so far from his native land. But she scarcely noticed those long steps over which the Tarentas was rolling, and which at one time she had disparate of ever seeing, for her eyes were gazing at the horizon beyond which she knew her banished father was. She saw nothing of the country across which she was travelling at the rate of fifteen versets an hour, nothing of these regions of western Siberia, so different from those of the East. Here indeed were few cultivated fields, the soil was poor, at least at the surface. But in its bowels lay hid quantities of iron, copper, platinum, and gold. How can hands be found to cultivate the land when it pays better to burrow beneath the earth? The pickaxe is everywhere at work, the spade nowhere. However Nadia's thoughts sometimes left the provinces of Lake Baikal and returned to her present situation. Her father's image faded away and was replaced by that of her generous companion as he first appeared on the Vladimir Railroad. She recalled his attentions during that journey, his arrival at the police station, the hearty simplicity with which he had called her sister, his kindness to her and the descent of the Volga, and then all that he did for her on that terrible night of the storm in the Urals when he saved her life at the peril of his own. Thus Nadia thought of Michael. She thanked God for having given her such a gallant protector, a friend so generous and wise. She knew that she was safe with him under his protection. No brother could have done more than he. All obstacles seemed cleared away. The performance of her journey was but a matter of time. Michael remained buried in thought. He also thanked God for having brought about this meeting with Nadia, which at the same time enabled him to do a good action and afforded him additional means for concealing his true character. He delighted in the young girl's calm intrepidity. Was she not indeed his sister, his feeling towards his beautiful and brave companion was rather respect than affection. He felt that hers was one of those pure and rare hearts which are held by all in high esteem. However, Michael's dangers were now beginning since he had reached Siberian ground. If the reporters were not mistaken, if Ivan Ogarev had really passed the frontier, all his actions must be made with extreme caution. Things were now altered, Tartar's spies swarmed in the Siberian provinces. His incognito once discovered his character as courier of the Tsar known, there was an end of his journey, and probably of his life. Michael felt now more than ever the weight of his responsibility. While such were the thoughts of those occupying the first carriage, what was happening in the second, nothing out of the way, Alcide spoke in sentences, Blount replied by monosyllables. Each looked at everything in his own light, and made notes of such incidents as occurred on the journey, few and but slightly varied, while they crossed the provinces of western Siberia. At each relay the reporters descended from their carriage and found themselves with Michael. Except when meals were to be taken at the post houses, Nadia did not leave the Tarentas. When obliged to breakfast or dine, she sat at table, but was always very reserved, and seldom joined in conversation. Alcide, without going beyond the limits of strict propriety, showed that he was greatly struck by the young girl. He admired the silent energy which she showed in bearing all the fatigues of so difficult a journey. The forced stoppages were anything but agreeable to Michael, so he hastened the departure of each relay, roused the innkeepers, urged on the yingshiks, and expedited the harnessing of the Tarentas. Then the hurried meal over, always much too hurried to agree with Blount, who was a methodical eater. They started, and were driven as eagles, for they paid like princes. It needs scarcely be said that Blount did not trouble himself about the girl at table. That gentleman was not in the habit of doing two things at once. She was also one of the few subjects of conversation which he did not care to discuss with his companion. Alcide, having asked him on one occasion how old he thought the girl, what girl, he replied quite seriously, where Nicholas Kopenoff's sister, is she his sister, nor his grandmother, replied Alcide, angry at his indifference, what age should you consider her, had I been present at her birth I might have known. Very few of the Siberian peasants were to be seen in the fields. These peasants are remarkable for their pale grave faces which a celebrated traveller has compared to those of the Castilians without the haughtiness of the latter. Here and there some villages already deserted indicated the approach of the tartar hordes. The inhabitants, having driven off their flocks of sheep, their camels, and their horses, were taking refuge in the plains of the North. Some tribes of the wandering Kyrgyz, who remained faithful, had transported their tents beyond the ear-titch to escape the depredations of the invaders. Happily post-traveling was as yet uninterrupted, and telegraphic communication could still be affected between places connected with the wire. At each relay horses were to be had on the usual conditions. At each telegraphic station the clerks transmitted messages delivered to them, delaying the state dispatches alone. Thus far, then, Michael's journey had been accomplished satisfactorily. The courier of the Tsar had in no way been impeded, for if he could only get on to Krasnoyarsk, which seemed the farthest point attained by Fyofar Khan's tartars, he knew that he could arrive at Irkutsk before them. The day after the two carriages had left at Katrinberg they reached the small town of Tolugvysk at seven o'clock in the morning, having covered two hundred and twenty verts, no event worthy of mention having occurred. The same evening, the twenty-second of July, they arrived at Tyumen. Tyumen, whose population is usually ten thousand inhabitants, then contained double that number. This, the first industrial town established by the Russians in Siberia, in which may be seen a fine metal refining factory and a bell foundry, had never before presented such an animated appearance. The correspondents immediately went off after news, that brought by Siberian fugitives from the seat of war was far from reassuring. They said, amongst other things, that Fyofar Khan's army was rapidly approaching the valley of the Ishim, and they confirmed the report that the tartar chief was soon to be joined by Colonel Algereth, if he had not been so already. Hence the conclusion was that operations would be pushed in eastern Siberia with the greatest activity. However, the loyal Cossacks of the government of Tobolsk were advancing by forced marches toward Tomsk, in the hope of cutting off the tartar columns. At midnight the town of Novosensk was reached, and the travelers now left behind them the country broken by tree-covered hills, the last remains of the Urals. Here began the regular Siberian steppe, which extends to the neighborhood of Krasnoyarsk. It is a boundless plain, a vast grassy desert. Earth and sky here form a circle as distinct as that traced by a sweep of the compasses. The steppe presents nothing to attract notice but the long line of telegraph posts, their wires vibrating in the breeze like the strings of a harp. The road could be distinguished from the rest of the plain, only by the clouds of fine dust which rose under the wheels of the Terentas. Had it not been for this white rib end which stretched away as far as the eye could reach, the travelers might have thought themselves in a desert. Michael and his companions again pressed rapidly forward. The horses, urged on by the Yemchik, seemed to fly over the ground, for there was not the slightest obstacle to impede them. The Terentas was going straight for each him, where the two correspondents intended to stop if nothing happened to make them alter their plans. A hundred and twenty miles separated Novosemsk from the town of Ychim, and before eight o'clock the next evening the distance could and should be accomplished if no time was lost. In the opinion of the Yemchiks, should the travelers not be great lords or high functionaries, they were worthy of being so if it was only for their generosity in the matter of Navodkhu. On the afternoon of the next day, the twenty-third of July, the two carriages were not more than thirty versed from Ychim. Suddenly Michael caught sight of a carriage, scarcely visible among the clouds of dust preceding them along the road. As his horses were evidently less fatigued than those of the other traveller, he would not be long in overtaking it. This was neither a Terentas nor a Telga, but a post Berlin, which looked as if it had made a long journey. The postillion was thrashing his horses with all his might, and only kept them at a gallop by dent of abuse and blows. The Berlin had certainly not passed through Novosemsk, and could only have struck the Irkutsk road by some less frequented route across the steppe. Our traveller's first thought on seeing this Berlin was to get in front of it, and arrive first at the relay so as to make sure of fresh horses.  Michael Strogoff came up first. As he passed, a head was thrust out of the window of the Berlin. He had not time to see what it was like, but as he dashed by he distinctly heard this word uttered in an imperious tone, Stop! But they did not stop. On the contrary, the Berlin was soon distanced by the two Terentases. It now became a regular race, for the horses of the Berlin, no doubt excited by the sight and pace of the others, recovered their strength and kept up for some minutes. The three Carriages were hidden in a cloud of dust. From this cloud issued the cracking of whips mingled with excited shouts and exclamations of anger. Nevertheless, the advantage remained with Michael and his companions, which might be very important to them if the relay was poorly provided with horses. Two Carriages were perhaps more than the Postmaster could provide for, at least in a short space of time. Half an hour after, the Berlin was left far behind, looking only a speck on the horizon of the steppe. It was eight o'clock in the evening when the two Carriages reached Ishim. The news was worse and worse with regard to the invasion. The town itself was menaced by the Tartar vanguard, and two days before the authorities had been obliged to retreat to Tobolsk. There was not an officer nor a soldier left in Ishim. On arriving at the relay, Michael Strogoff immediately asked for horses. He had been fortunate in distancing the Berlin. Only three horses were fit to be harnessed. The others had just come in, worn out from a long stage. As the two correspondents intended to stop at Ishim, they had not to trouble themselves to find transport and had their carriage put away. In ten minutes Michael was told that his Tarentas was ready to start. Good! said he. Then, turning to the two reporters, well, gentlemen, the time has come for us to separate. What, Mr. Korpanov, said Alcide Jolive, shall you not stop even for an hour at Ishim? No, sir, and I also wish to leave the post house before the arrival of the Berlin which we distanced. Are you afraid that the traveller would dispute the horses with you? I particularly wish to avoid any difficulty. Then, Mr. Korpanov, said Jolive, it only remains for us to thank you once more for the service you rendered us, and the pleasure we have had in travelling with you. It is possible that we shall meet you again in a few days at Omsk, added Blount. It is possible, answered Michael, since I am going straight there. Well, I wish you a safe journey, Mr. Korpanov, said Alcide, and have and preserve you from Telgaz. The two reporters held out their hands to Michael with the intention of cordially shaking his when the sound of a carriage was heard outside. Almost immediately the door was flung open and a man appeared. It was the traveller of the Berlin, a military-looking man, apparently about forty years of age, tall, robust in figure, broad-shouldered, with a strongly set head, and thick mustaches meeting red whiskers. He wore a plain uniform, a cavalry sabre hung at his side, and in his hand he held a short-handled whip. Horses! he demanded, with the air of a man accustomed to command. I have no more disposable horses, answered the postmaster, bowing. I must have some this moment. It is impossible. What are those horses which have just been harnessed to the Tarantus I saw at the door? They belong to this traveller, answered the postmaster, pointing to Michael's strove off. Take them out! said the traveller, in a tone which admitted of no reply. Michael then advanced. Those horses are engaged by me, he said. What does that matter? I must have them. Come, be quick. I have no time to lose. I have no time to lose either, replied Michael, restraining himself with difficulty. Nadia was near him, calm also, but secretly uneasy at a scene which it would have been better to avoid. Enough, said the traveller, then going up to the postmaster, let the horses be put into my Berlin, he exclaimed with a threatening gesture. The postmaster, much embarrassed, did not know whom to obey, and looked at Michael, who evidently had the right to resist the unjust demands of the traveller. Michael hesitated an instant. He did not wish to make use of his Portorozna, which would have drawn attention to him, and he was most unwilling also by giving up his horses to delay his journey, and yet he must not engage in a struggle which might compromise his mission. The two reporters looked at him ready to support him should he appeal to them. My horses will remain in my carriage, said Michael, but without raising his tone more than would be suitable for a plain Irkutsk merchant. The traveller advanced towards Michael and laid his hand heavily on his shoulder. Is it so, he said roughly, you will not give up your horses to me? No, answered Michael. Very well, they shall belong to whichever of us is able to start. Defend yourself, I shall not spare you. So, saying, the traveller drew his saber from its sheath, and Nadia threw herself before Michael. Blount and Alcide Jolivet advanced towards him. I shall not fight, said Michael quietly, folding his arms across his chest. You will not fight? No. Not even after this, exclaimed the traveller, and before anyone could prevent him he struck Michael's shoulder with the handle of the whip. At this insult Michael turned deadly pale. His hands moved convulsively as if he would have knocked the brute down, but by a tremendous effort he mastered himself. A duel. It was more than a delay. It was perhaps the failure of his mission. It would be better to lose some hours. Yes, but to swallow this affront. Will you fight now, coward? repeated the traveller, adding coarseness to brutality. No, answered Michael, without moving, but looking the other straight in the face. The horse is this moment, said the man, and left the room. The postmaster followed him, after shrugging his shoulders and bestowing on Michael a glance of anything but approbation. The effect produced on the reporters by this incident was not to Michael's advantage. Their discomforture was visible. How could this strong young man allow himself to be struck like that and not demand satisfaction for such an insult? They contented themselves with bowing to him and retired, Jolivet remarking to Harry Blount, I could not have believed that of a man who is so skillful in finishing up rural mountain bears. Is it the case that a man can be courageous at one time and a coward at another? It is quite incomprehensible. A moment afterwards the noise of wheels and whip showed that the Berlin, drawn by the Terrantass's horses, was driving rapidly away from the post-house. Nadia, unmoved, and Michael, still quivering, remained alone in the room. The courier of the Tsar, his arms crossed over his chest, was seated motionless as a statue. A color which could not have been the blush of shame, had replaced the paleness of his countenance. Nadia did not doubt that powerful reasons alone could have allowed him to suffer so great a humiliation from such a man. Going up to him as he had come to her in the police station at Nizhny Novgorod, your hand, brother, said she, and at the same time her hand, with an almost maternal gesture, wiped away a tear which sprang to her companion's eye.


Christian from the Netherlands posted the following question. Do you think the EU and the ECB will be able to reform enough to cope with another big economic crisis before it happens? Well, you know, to answer this question, it's useful to go back and assess how these countries were when they entered the crisis. And they entered the crisis with four major weaknesses. The first was that many economies in the eurozone were not competitive. The second was that public debt was high, and therefore governments didn't have the space to react to crisis, increasing their budgets, and budget deficits were also high. And also private debt, both households and firms, was high, which means that private people were not able to react to sudden losses of income through increasing their debt. The financial system, the banking system, was very weak and fragile. And our monetary union was so incomplete that it could not deal effectively with the crisis. Now, I would say significant progress has been achieved on all these fronts. Today, many economies are more competitive. Public debt has gone down, but much more should be done. Private debt has gone down, both for firms and households. So, and the financial system now has stricter rules. And the monetary union, we created a single banking supervisor. So, things have changed, but we've got to continue. We've got to continue on the competitiveness front, on the debt front and on our monetary union where we have to deepen our monetary integration. And governments are very much on this track.