Michael Strogoff remembered—"For God, for the Czar, and for my native land," and he had by a desperate effort gone. He did not see his old mother, who had fallen back almost inanimate on a bench. But when the Postmaster hastened to assist her, the aged woman raised herself. Suddenly the thought occurred to her: She denied by her own son! It was impossible! As for being herself deceived, it was equally impossible. It was certainly her son whom she had just seen; and if he had not recognized her, it was because he would not, because he ought not, because he had some strong reason for acting thus. And then, her mother feelings arising within her, she had only one thought: Can I unwittingly have ruined him?
"I am mad," she said to her interrogators. "This young man was not my son; he had not his voice. Let us think no more of it. If we do, I shall end in finding him everywhere."
This occurrence, however, came to the knowledge of Ivan Ogareff, who was stationed in the town. To obtain possession of any official message, which, if delivered, would frustrate his plans, and to detain the courier was his great desire. He succeeded in arresting Michael Strogoff, and then sent for Marfa to appear before him. Marfa, standing before Ivan Ogareff, drew herself up, crossed her arms on her breast, and waited.
"You are Marfa Strogoff?" asked Ogareff.
"Yes."
"Do you retract what you said a few hours ago?"
"Then you do not know that your son, Michael Strogoff, Courier to the Czar, has passed through Omsk?"
"I do not know."
"And the man whom you thought you recognized as your son, was not your son?"