American."
"Oh, an American, eh? You must be the only American in Siberia."
"I certainly hope so, sir."
"And so do I; but he wants to have you learn it so as to become a moreuseful slave. How long have you been here?"
"I came with the last consignment."
"Are you a Nihilist?" asked the old man, after a moment's silence,during which he looked at him sharply.
"No, sir; but I think the Russian police authorities will drive me tobeing one."
The old man rose quickly to a sitting position.
"What were you sent here for?"
"I was sent here by the treachery of one who has since been executed."
"Who was it?"
"Prince Mastowix."
"Mastowix!" exclaimed Batavsky, and this time he tottered to his feet.
He was trembling violently, and his eyes, before half closed, were nowwide open and glaring at Barnwell strangely.
"Prince Mastowix, did you say?"
"Yes, sir; the governor of the Bastile."
"Executed, did you say?"
"Yes, sir."
"Heaven be praised!" cried the old man, falling heavily upon his couch.
Barnwell watched him in surprise for two or three minutes, and then hespoke:
"Did you know him, sir?"
"Know him! Do my thirty-five years of exile, slavery, despair, know him?Yes, it was his treachery that consigned me here, and he was rewarded byAlexander with a title for his work. Oh, do I know him? And he is dead?Tell me all about it--he was executed--stay a moment. What is yourname?" he asked excitedly.
"William Barnwell, sir."
"Good; now tell me all about it."
"It is a long story, sir."
"Give me every word of it, boy--every word!"
He seemed indeed like a maniac now, and under some circumstancesBarnwell would have been afraid of him.
But it seemed the news he had brought had given him a favorable footingin the old man's estimation.
So he began with the story, first with his meeting Zobriskie on thesteamer, and so on until he was landed in Siberia.
Batavsky listened with the utmost attention, and at points showed muchexcitement, trembling violently and scarcely able to restrain himself.
"And the villain Mastowix had become a Nihilist?" said he.
"It would seem so, sir."
"Then he did it to betray the society, provided he could not rise higherwith it."
"Very likely, sir."
"Oh, I know him well! Oh, he was a very fiend! But he is dead?"
"Yes."
"Oh, my son, this barren waste, those deep-down mines yonder have beenpeopled by his victims. Aye, the very wolves have gnawed the bones ofhis victims until they have come to know him as a benefactor, I'll darebe sworn. But he is dead--he has been executed! Thank Heaven!" and withanother wild laugh he sank upon his couch and buried his face in thestraw.
Barnwell stood gazing at him with awe and wonder.
"What a terrible history must be his," he thought, as he regarded him.
It was some moments before the old man regained sufficient composure tocommand himself.
Barnwell could say nothing, and so he waited for the old man to resume.
Presently, with a sigh, he roused himself and sat upright on his couch.
"How is it with you, sir?"
"I--I hardly know, my son," he replied, after a pause, during which helooked earnestly at him. "I am supposed to-that is, the surgeon has beenso good as to ask me to teach you the Russian language. You have beenoutraged."
"Yes, sir; but not to the extent that you have been," said Barnwell,taking his hand.
"My son, I like you," said he, returning the pressure of his hand."There is something about you that fills a long vacant place in myheart. I will do all I can to teach you the Russian language, but at thesame time, if I find you apt, I will teach you even more than that, forthere is much more to be learned, my son."
"And I hope I may be found worthy, for I will admit that I like you muchmore than words can express. I was told something of the time you haveslaved here, and also that you were now insane, but it does not seemso."
The old man was silent a moment.
"Well, my son, I will not say but you have been rightly informed, forthere are times when I do not know myself, and it may be that I am theninsane. But what would you or any man be, suffering all I havesuffered?"
"It is a wonder that you are alive, my dear sir," said Barnwell.
"I wonder at it myself, but I have clung to life for the sake ofrevenge--for the hope I had of one day escaping from this frozen placeand killing the villain whose treachery consigned me here. And now youcome and tell me that other means have taken away my revenge! I--I feela great change creeping over me. Yes, yes--but I will do all I can toteach you the Russian language."
"But, from what I have told you, you can understand that I have not longto remain here, and probably but little use for the language."
"Poor boy!" moaned the old man, shaking his bowed head sadly.
"Why do you so exclaim?"
"You hope to escape?"
"I do."
"Ah! do not lay that flattering unction to your immortal soul, my son."
"Why not? The governor assured me that he would present my case to theauthorities."
"But he never will."
"What!"
"Or if he does it, will never be acted upon. Oh, how many have I knownin the thirty-five years that I have toiled and suffered here, who heldhopes just as bright, and whose unredeemed and unclaimed bones nowwhiten on Siberian snows! I do not wish to dishearten you, nor do I wishto buoy you up with false hopes."
"But my case is different, my dear sir."
"It may be, as one-half differs from another; but remember that once aname is obliterated and the owner of it is transported to Siberia, thereis no power on earth to reclaim him."
"But I am an American, and no criminal,"
"True; but who is to find that out, and who bring it to the notice ofthose powerful enough to demand an investigation? No; when once a personis disposed of in Russia in this way, that closes his career."
"Do you really think so, sir?" asked Barnwell, feeling his heart sinkwithin him.
"Have I not had evidence enough of it. The police are too busy at hometo notice even the recommendations of the Governor of Siberia. Theauthorities send all here--they call none back under any circumstances."
"Is that so?"
"Yes; guilty or innocent."
"And you believe that I am destined to drag out my life here?"
"Yes, unless you escape."
"Escape?"
"Yes."
"Can it be done?"
"I don't know. It may have been done, although I could never do it.There have been several mysterious disappearances during my time here,but we could never learn whether they escaped or died, or were torturedto death."
"And would you have me abandon hope?"
"Yes, of pardon and reinstatement."
"Great Scott!" exclaimed Barnwell, bowing his head abjectly.
"I give you no false hopes. I would that I could be sure of yourescape," he mused.
"Why?"
"That is, if I found you worthy."
"Of what?"
"Of the trust I would repose in some true heart," said the old man,sadly.
"You speak vaguely, sir."
"Well, I may be able to speak more plainly by and by. But in themeantime I will take particular pains to teach you the Russianlanguage."
"I thank you, but mournfully, since you lead me to believe that my onlyuse for it will be here in Siberia."
"I would not banish hope."
"Of what?"
"Of your ultimate escape from here."
"How?"
"That will be a future consideration."
"But do you believe there is a chance?"
"Yes. While the springs and muscles of youth are potent, there is alwa
ysa chance--always a hope."
"I will dare anything; but I am a stranger here, and know not, how tomove."
"Then possess your soul in peace for a while. You have not the strengthof a lion, but you may have the cunning of a fox. Assume to be contentedwith your lot, and learn all you can of your surroundings. Learn wellthe road away from here. It may take years, as it has in my case, andyou may never succeed, as I have not, but it behooves a brave man to bealways ready to take advantage of circumstances. You have not been senthere as a dangerous criminal, and will not be so closely guarded as Ihave always been, the proof of which is that the governor assigns