in that of her companion, and turning to him, "At what distance
are we from Moscow?" she asked.

"Nine hundred versts," answered Michael.

"Nine hundred, out of seven thousand!" murmured the girl.

The bell now announced the breakfast hour. Nadia followed
Michael Strogoff to the restaurant. She ate little, and as a poor
girl whose means are small would do. 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 Strogoff then added that he had obtained a special
podorojna 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