There was a new look of determination in Katerin’s face. “The time has come to be bold,” she said. “If Zorogoff expects us to wait here for his will or his coming, we must surprise him—we must go straight to this American officer and ask him to help us to escape the city, even if he has not been sent to us by friends. But I’m sure we will find that he has been dispatched here to rescue us.” Michael put his hands to his face and stared at Katerin, aghast at her suggestion. He turned and sat down in his chair as if he had no strength to remain standing longer. “What in the name of God are you saying?” he whispered. “Do you mean we should put ourselves at the mercy of the Ataman?” “Are we not now at the mercy of the Ataman? Are we not waiting for his men to knock at the door? How much worse off will we be if we make an attempt to reach this American?” “And how much better?” asked Michael. “Will it do us more good to be shot down by the sentries as was Ilya than to remain here waiting for some turn of fortune which will save us?” “Fortune has made the turn,” replied Katerin. “What more do we ask than that an American officer be in the city?” “But if we never reach the hotel? What good would a regiment of Americans do us if we are shot on the way?” “We must take the chance and get to the hotel,” declared Katerin. “Surely, you must see that it is better to risk ourselves for the short time necessary to get to the Dauria than to remain here and wait for certain doom.” “Madness!” exclaimed Michael. “What we would be going to would be death in the dark.” “We shall go by the first daylight, while the sentries are being changed in the streets,” said Katerin quietly. It was plain that her mind was settled upon the thing. Michael peered at her across the candle flame as if he doubted her sanity. But Katerin looked back at him without the slightest sign that she wavered in her determination to abandon the house. “I see what you mean,” said Michael sadly. “You prefer to die by bullets rather than by the poison. Perhaps it is the better way—and I shall go with you and we shall die together.” Katerin went to him and took up his hands. “I shall not cross the threshold of that Mongol’s house alive, my father. I prefer to chance death—and if we fail—then we are with God and have died as Russians. It is better to die by the bullet of a soldier than by my own hand. Remember the threat of Zorogoff and consider my reasons for not fearing death.” Michael gave the table a mighty thump with his fist. “Truth, by the Holy Saints!” he exclaimed. “But I am the one to make the attempt to get to the hotel—and find the American. I cannot see you walk into the streets with such wolves about.”