Before narrating the adventures of these distinguished persons, let us go back twenty years, and ask what became of Natasha and Bodlevski.  When last we saw them the ship that carried them away from Russia was gliding across the Gulf of Bothnia toward the Swedish coast.  Late in the evening it slipped into the port of Stockholm, and the worthy Finn, winding in and out among the heavy hulls in the harbor—­he was well used to the job—­landed his passengers on the wharf at a lonely spot near a lonely inn, where the customs officers rarely showed their noses.  Bodlevski, who had beforehand got ready the very modest sum to pay for their passage, with pitiable looks and gestures and the few Russian phrases the good Finn could understand, assured him that he was a very poor man, and could not even pay the sum agreed on in full.  The deficit was inconsiderable, some two rubles in all, and the good Finn was magnanimous; he slapped his passenger on the shoulder, called him a “good comrade,” declared that he would not press a poor man, and would always be ready to do him a service.  He even found quarters for Bodlevski and Natasha in the inn, under his protection.  The Finn was indeed a very honest smuggler.  On the next morning, bidding a final farewell to their nautical friend, our couple made their way to the office of the British Consul, and asked for an opportunity to speak with him.  At this point Natasha played the principal role.

“My husband is a Pole,” said the handsome girl, taking a seat opposite the consul in his private office, “and I myself am Russian on the father’s side, but my mother was English.  My husband is involved in a political enterprise; he was liable to transportation to Siberia, but a chance made it possible for us to escape while the police were on their way to arrest him.  We are now political fugitives, and we intrust our lives to the protection of English law.  Be generous, protect us, and send us to England!”

The ruse, skillfully planned and admirably presented, was completely successful, and two or three days later the first passenger ship under the English flag carried the happy couple to London.

Bodlevski destroyed his own passport and that of the college assessor’s widow, Maria Solontseva, which Natasha had needed as a precaution while still on Russian soil.  When they got to England, it would be much handier to take new names.  But with their new position and these new names a great difficulty presented itself:  they could find no suitable outlet for their capital without arousing very dangerous suspicions.  The many-sided art of the London rogues is known to all the world; in their club, Bodlevski, who had lost no time in making certain pleasant and indispensable acquaintances there, soon succeeded in getting for himself and Natasha admirably counterfeited new passports, once more with new names and occupations.  With these, in a short time, they found their way to the Continent.  They both felt the full force of youth and a passionate desire to live and enjoy life; in their hot heads hummed many a golden hope and plan; they wished, to begin with, to invest their main capital somewhere, and then to travel over Europe, and to choose a quiet corner somewhere where they could settle down to a happy life.