“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?”