They were executed, and this was the reason why not a single human being remained in Krasnoiarsk.
Michael Strogoff, Nadia, and Nicholas passed silently through the streets of the town. They felt half-stupefied. They themselves made the only sound to be heard in this dead city.
Michael allowed nothing of what he felt to appear, but he inwardly raged against the bad luck which pursued him, his hopes being again disappointed.
"Alack, alack!" cried Nicholas, "I shall never get any employment in this desert!""Friend," said Nadia, "you must go on with us.""I must indeed!" replied Nicholas. "The wire is no doubt still working between Oudinsk and Irkutsk, and there--Shall we start, little father?"
"Let us wait till to-morrow," answered Michael.
"You are right," said Nicholas. "We have the Yenisei to cross, and need light to see our way there!""To see!" murmured Nadia, thinking of her blind companion.
Nicholas heard her, and turning to Michael, "Forgive me, little father,"said he. "Alas! night and day, it is true, are all the same to you!""Do not reproach yourself, friend," replied Michael, pressing his hand over his eyes. "With you for a guide I can still act.
Take a few hours' repose. Nadia must rest too. To-morrow we will recommence our journey!"Michael and his friends had not to search long for a place of rest.
The first house, the door of which they pushed open, was empty, as well as all the others. Nothing could be found within but a few heaps of leaves. For want of better fodder the horse had to content himself with this scanty nourishment. The provisions of the kibitka were not yet exhausted, so each had a share.
Then, after having knelt before a small picture of the Panaghia, hung on the wall, and still lighted up by a flickering lamp, Nicholas and the young girl slept, whilst Michael, over whom sleep had no influence, watched.
Before daybreak the next morning, the 26th of August, the horse was drawing the kibitka through the forests of birch trees towards the banks of the Yenisei. Michael was in much anxiety.
How was he to cross the river, if, as was probable, all boats had been destroyed to retard the Tartars' march? He knew the Yenisei, its width was considerable, its currents strong.
Ordinarily by means of boats specially built for the conveyance of travelers, carriages, and horses, the passage of the Yenisei takes about three hours, and then it is with extreme difficulty that the boats reach the opposite bank. Now, in the absence of any ferry, how was the kibitka to get from one bank to the other?
Day was breaking when the kibitka reached the left bank, where one of the wide alleys of the park ended.
They were about a hundred feet above the Yenisei, and could therefore survey the whole of its wide course.
"Do you see a boat?" asked Michael, casting his eyes eagerly about from one side to the other, mechanically, no doubt, as if he could really see.
"It is scarcely light yet, brother," replied Nadia. "The fog is still thick, and we cannot see the water.""But I hear it roaring," said Michael.
Indeed, from the fog issued a dull roaring sound.
The waters being high rushed down with tumultuous violence.
All three waited until the misty curtain should rise.
The sun would not be long in dispersing the vapors.
"Well?" asked Michael.
"The fog is beginning to roll away, brother," replied Nadia, "and it will soon be clear.""Then you do not see the surface of the water yet?""Not yet."
"Have patience, little father," said Nicholas. "All this will soon disappear. Look! here comes the breeze!
It is driving away the fog. The trees on the opposite hills are already appearing. It is sweeping, flying away.
The kindly rays of the sun have condensed all that mass of mist.
Ah! how beautiful it is, my poor fellow, and how unfortunate that you cannot see such a lovely sight!""Do you see a boat?" asked Michael.
"I see nothing of the sort," answered Nicholas.
"Look well, friend, on this and the opposite bank, as far as your eye can reach. A raft, even a canoe?"Nicholas and Nadia, grasping the bushes on the edge of the cliff, bent over the water. The view they thus obtained was extensive.
At this place the Yenisei is not less than a mile in width, and forms two arms, of unequal size, through which the waters flow swiftly.
Between these arms lie several islands, covered with alders, willows, and poplars, looking like verdant ships, anchored in the river. Beyond rise the high hills of the Eastern shore, crowned with forests, whose tops were then empurpled with light.
The Yenisei stretched on either side as far as the eye could reach.
The beautiful panorama lay before them for a distance of fifty versts.
But not a boat was to be seen. All had been taken away or destroyed, according to order. Unless the Tartars should bring with them materials for building a bridge of boats, their march towards Irkutsk would certainly be stopped for some time by this barrier, the Yenisei.
"I remember," said Michael, "that higher up, on the outskirts of Krasnoiarsk, there is a little quay. There the boats touch.
Friend, let us go up the river, and see if some boat has not been forgotten on the bank."Nadia seized Michael's hand and started off at a rapid pace in the direction indicated. If only a boat or a barge large enough to hold the kibitka could be found, or even one that would carry just themselves, Michael would not hesitate to attempt the passage!
Twenty minutes after, all three had reached the little quay, with houses on each side quite down to the water's edge.
It was like a village standing beyond the town of Krasnoiarsk.
But not a boat was on the shore, not a barge at the little wharf, nothing even of which a raft could be made large enough to carry three people. Michael questioned Nicholas, who made the discouraging reply that the crossing appeared to him absolutely impracticable.
"We shall cross!" answered Michael.