“Do so, sir.”
“I have more than once seen the temperature fall to thirty and forty degrees below zero, and the Angara has still carried down drifting ice without entirely freezing. This is no doubt owing to the swiftness of its current. If therefore the Tartars have no other means of crossing the river, I can assure your Highness that they will not enter Irkutsk in that way.”
The governor-general confirmed this assertion.
“It is a fortunate circumstance,” responded the Grand Duke. “Nevertheless, we must hold ourselves ready for any emergency.”
He then, turning towards the head of the police, asked, “Have you nothing to say to me, sir?”
“I have your Highness,” answered the head of police, “a petition which is addressed to you through me.”
“Addressed by whom?”
“By the Siberian exiles, whom, as your Highness knows, are in the town to the number of five hundred.”
The political exiles, distributed over the province, had been collected in Irkutsk, from the beginning of the invasion. They had obeyed the order to rally in the town, and leave the villages where they exercised their different professions, some doctors, some professors, either at the Gymnasium, or at the Japanese School, or at the School of Navigation. The Grand Duke, trusting like the Czar in their patriotism, had armed them, and they had thoroughly proved their bravery.
“What do the exiles ask?” said the Grand Duke.