He had placed the sacred picture in the breast of his caftan; but seeing the musket, he took it out and laid it on the table. "They shall not harm that, at all events," he thought.
"Tell him," said Seppel to the Pole, "that if he fails to satisfy us, we will shoot him; but that if he behaves well, we will spare his life."
The Pole interpreted, and Michael answered coolly, "Nitshevo."
"That means," the Pole explained, "'It is no matter. I do not care.'"
"Ask him," pursued Seppel, "what brought him here."
Michael, as soon as he understood the question, pointed to the picture.
Seppel laughed incredulously; and the Pole inquired of his own accord, "Is that the whole truth, Russian?"
"Da," returned the prisoner.
"He says, 'Yes,'" the Pole explained.
"Tell him he is a liar," said Seppel.
A scornful smile was the only answer, and Seppel tried another course. "Ask him," he said, "how far it is from this place to Klopti."
He did so; but Michael answered nothing.
"Tell him he must take us there to-day."
Still no answer.
"Tell him if he chooses to behave in this way he has not two minutes to live."
"Nitshevo," was the only reply.
This went on for some minutes, every inquiry being met by a dogged silence, every threat by "Nitshevo." At last Seppel lost patience, and told Féron to fire upon the prisoner.
But Féron disliked the task, for he rather admired the courage of the Russian. He slowly laid his finger on the trigger of his musket, then withdrew it again. This he did twice, keenly watching the countenance of the prisoner, which showed no
