Our final glasses had been clinked; Mademoiselle had crossed herself devoutly before the _ikon_ hanging over the door of the dingy old post-house at Uziansk, at the foot of the Ourals; and in a few moments our sleigh-bells were jingling merrily, and our runners hissing over the frozen snow, as the pretty Russian and myself sped along in the bright moonlight on our journey of over two thousand miles into Siberia. I was on my way to the little town of Lebiázhia, on a secret mission, and was travelling, as usual, with a false passport. At the last moment I had been asked by my old friend, Paul Cherniávski, lieutenant in the Tzar’s Dragoons, to allow a friend of his to travel with me to Irkutsk; and having consented, I had discovered, to my surprise, that his friend—who was introduced to me only a quarter of an hour before as Mademoiselle Mariána Néstoff—was an exceedingly handsome, dark-eyed young lady of about twenty-two. Who she was I had no idea, and Paul did not enlighten me. He was the best of good fellows, but in Petersburg he had always had a reputation among the fair sex; and one or two of his little affairs of the heart had afforded subjects for gossip, notably the coupling of his name with that of La Belle Estelle—a little French circus-rider, about whom he fought a duel. But our adieux had been said; he had grumbled at being quartered in that out-of-the-world village; and soon my fair charge and I were out upon the open, snow-covered steppe, where the telegraph poles and verst-posts ran in a long black line to the horizon; and for a couple of hours the horses, eager for a spin, galloped steadily, taking us along swift as the wind. “Why are you going to Irkutsk?” I asked, after chatting for a long time with my pretty travelling companion, who, under her rich furs, had nestled warmly at my side, and was smoking a cigarette. “You will pardon me, M’sieur, if I do not answer that question,” she replied in musical French, moving uneasily. Then she whispered into my ear, “It—it is a secret!” We were silent. I drew up the collar of my heavy coat and sat silent and puzzled; while upon my fair companion the rhythmic jingle of the bells and gliding motion of the sleigh must have had a soothing effect, for very soon she closed her great lustrous eyes, and her head gradually pillowed itself upon my shoulder. She fell fast asleep, and I drew her soft otter hood across her white cheek to prevent frost-bite.