Hence it was that one day when I entered my office I received instructions to proceed without delay to Siberia, in order to inspect the general condition of the prisoners and ascertain the truth of the harrowing details. The prospect of this mission delighted me, for not only was it certain to be fraught with a good deal of exciting adventure, but it would also enable me to complete the novel, already half written, and which I had been compelled to put aside owing to lack of information regarding life in the Asiatic penal settlements. That evening, after calling upon Grigorovitch and informing him of my projected journey, I returned home, and sat at my writing-table far into the night, finishing some work upon which I had been engaged. The whole of the following day I spent in packing my traps, and otherwise preparing for a long absence. In the evening, while I was busy writing some letters, the servant announced that a young lady, who refused her name, desired to see me. I was not particularly clean, and I confess that just then I was too much engaged in making arrangements for my departure to think of anything else. However, my curiosity got the better of me, and I told her to admit the stranger. "You?" I cried, when a moment later Prascovie Souvaroff entered. "Yes. Why not?" she asked, laughing, and offering me her hand. What could I say? I stammered out a greeting, invited her to be seated, and began to question her regarding her sudden disappearance. To my questions she replied-- "It was imperative. You English know nothing of the persecution which follows those who flee from the wrath of the White Tzar. We were compelled to leave hurriedly, and as the Secret Police were watching both you and me it was unsafe for us to meet. To-night I have risked coming to you for a most important purpose," she added, looking up into my face earnestly. "Oh! What's that?" I asked. "I want you to take me to Siberia." "To Siberia? You?" I repeated in astonishment. "Yes. I hear you are going. Any news affecting us travels rapidly. I--I have an intense desire to see what the country beyond the Urals is like." "Who told you I was going?" "I'm not at liberty to say," she replied. "All I ask is that I may be allowed to accompany you. I have here sufficient money to defray the cost of my journey;" and she drew from the breast of her dress a large packet of Russian bank-notes. I shook my head, replying that Siberia was no place for a delicately-reared woman, and pointed out the uninviting prospect of a winter journey of five thousand miles in a sleigh. "Besides," I added, "your connection with the Terrorists would render it unsafe for you to return to Russia; and, again, there are _les convenances_ to be studied."