And then, indeed, as the professor had promised, the listeners had a treat, for Mlle. Sziszkinski's voice was of a rare quality, rich, pure, flexible, clear as a silver bell, under perfect control, sympathetic, and peculiarly adapted to render with precisely the correct feeling the pleading words-- "Caro mio ben, credimi almen, senza di te languisce il cor," etcetera. Tears gathered in her fine eyes as she sang, and the final note of the song was almost a sob; for she possessed the comparatively rare ability to evolve the feeling and sentiment of the words she sang and make them her own, thus bringing them home to the hearts of those who listened. Yet she laughingly apologised for herself the next moment, as she turned away from the piano, upon receiving the hearty thanks of her little audience; for, although she was a true artist, she was entirely free from any morbidity of feeling, being, in fact, a perfectly natural, light-hearted girl. And her gay and cheerful disposition was already reasserting itself now that, if she might accept the assurances of the professor and her new-found friends, her father's troubles were nearing their end, and his deliverance from persecution was a matter of but a few hours more. Then the professor sang a rollicking German students' song. He was followed by Lady Olivia, who sang Gounod's "Ave Maria," accompanied by her husband on the piano, and the professor on the organ. Then Mildmay produced his violin. And so the time slipped rapidly on until the clock upon the mantelpiece struck the hour of midnight, when "Good-nights" were said, and the ladies retired to their respective cabins; while the four men wended their way to the pilot-house to indulge in a final smoke, and incidentally to raise the _Flying Fish_ into the air and start her upon her long flight across Russia, from north to south. CHAPTER EIGHT. THE RESCUE. It was a matter of but a few moments to raise the _Flying Fish_ five thousand feet into the air, start her engines, and head her on her course for Odessa, which lies practically due south of Saint Petersburg. Then, there being no mountains in the way--nothing, in fact, that, at the height of five thousand feet, could possibly interfere with their flight--the little party retired to their respective cabins and turned in, leaving the great ship to take care of herself and pursue her way unwatched; Mildmay and the professor undertaking to rise betimes in the morning and call the other two early enough to assist in the capture-- for that was what it amounted to--of the convict-ship.