“What is the news Ilya brings?” she asked gently, afraid that her father might say something which would discourage Wassili from permitting Ilya to tell his story. “There is an American officer come to Chita to find the Excellence,” said Wassili, with a bow. “I do not know—it is Ilya Andreitch who says it and he——” Katerin struck her hands together and gave a cry of joy. “An American!” she cried. “Can it be, my father, that our friends have at last sent help to us?” “You say an officer?” exclaimed Michael, his eyes on Wassili, and burning with an eager light. “So it is said, master.” “By the Holy Saints!” exclaimed Michael. “We shall escape Zorogoff if this is true! Who else can have sent him but our friends?” Katerin was crying with joy. She threw her arms about her father’s neck and kissed him. Till now she had restrained her emotions, hidden her fears, and faced death calmly, but the news that aid was at hand released all her terrors and flooded them with a burst of happiness. “True, our friends have got our letters and have sent an American to save us!” she exclaimed through her tears. “God of the heavens is good to us, and has answered our prayers at last, so that we shall have peace and safety. This is the end of your tortures, my father!” “It is of you I think, Katerin Stephanovna,” said Michael, and he grasped her hands and pulled them to his mouth to kiss them. “What I have suffered I have suffered for you, for death means nothing to me if you can be safe.” “Tell us, Wassili,” urged Katerin. “Did the American officer bring word from friends? Is he to come here for us and take us away? And did he say who sent him?” The gray old head of Michael snapped forward, the wisps of white hair waving gently. His eyes bored into Wassili while waiting for the _moujik_ to answer. “Ilya Andreitch told me but little, master. At first I thought he was drunk and did not trust him. And when I told him that he must tell me, he said he would talk with no one but Excellence, and that it was secret. Thus I would not bring him up till you had given the order for his coming.” “Then he is below now? Bring him up, and hasten, for we have no time to lose. Zorogoff may be here again with the light of morning and I am but now writing what shall be done when he has killed me. We must see this American officer with all speed before the Ataman is able to balk him. By the Holy Saints! This will save my daughter from death—for she will die before she submits to the will of this Mongol brigand! Go! Bring Ilya Andreitch before me and we shall hear his say!” Wassili ran out into the hall and down the stairs, well pleased with the results of his report to his master, for he had feared that he had made a mistake in admitting Ilya at all.