Here, indeed, were few cultivated fields; the soil was poor, at least at the surface, but in its bowels lay hid quantities of iron, copper, platina, and gold.

How can hands be found to cultivate the land, when it pays better to burrow beneath the earth?
The pickaxe is everywhere at work; the spade nowhere.
However, Nadia's thoughts sometimes left the provinces of Lake Baikal, and returned to her present situation.

Her father's image faded away, and was replaced by that of her generous companion as he first appeared on the Vladimir railroad.

She recalled his attentions during that journey, his arrival at the police-station, the hearty simplicity with which he had called her sister, his kindness to her in the descent of the Volga, and then all that he did for her on that terrible night of the storm in the Urals, when he saved her life at the peril of his own.
Thus Nadia thought of Michael.

She thanked God for having given her such a gallant protector, a friend so generous and wise.