The Grand Duke advances. In the body lying on the ground he
recognizes the man whom he believes to be the Czar's courier. Then in
threatening voice, "Who killed this man."
"I," answered Michael.
"Thy name? I know him! He is the Czar's courier."
"That man, your highness, is not a courier of the Czar! He is Ivan
Ogareff!"
"Ivan, the traitor?"
"Yes."
"But who are you, then?"
"Michael Strogoff."
"And you come?"
"For God, for the Czar, and for my native land!"
MRS. TREE[79]
LAURA E. RICHARDS
Mrs. Tree was over seventy, but apart from an amazing reticulation of
wrinkles netted close and fine like a woven veil, she showed little sign
of her great age. As she herself said, she had her wits and her teeth,
and she didn't see what any one wanted with more. In her afternoon gown
of plum-colored satin she was a pleasing and picturesque figure. On this
particular afternoon it was with very little ceremony that "Direxia
Hawkes," her life-long servitor, burst into the room. Direxia had been
to market and had brought all the news with her marketing.
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