Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine — Volume 53, No. 331, May, 1843

"Why, what harm is there? If even this prate is my own, it is not an earring: it will not remain hanging in your ear. When you begin your story about your goddess Seltanetta, I look at you as at the juggler, who eats fire, and winds endless ribbons from his cheeks. Love makes you talk nonsense, and the Donskoi (wine of the Don) makes me do the same. So we are quits. Now, then, to the health of the Russians!"

"What has made you like the Russians?"

"Say rather—why have you ceased to love them?"

"Because I have examined them nearer. Really they are no better than our Tartars. They are just as eager for profit, just as ready to blame others, and not with a view of improving their fellow-creatures, but to excuse themselves: and as to their laziness—don't let us speak of it. They have ruled here for a long time, and what good have they done; what firm laws have they established; what useful customs have they introduced; what have they taught us; what have they created here, or what have they constructed worthy of notice? Verkhóffsky has opened my eyes to the faults of my countrymen, but at the same time to the defects of the Russians, to whom it is more unpardonable; because they know what is right, have grown up among good examples, and here, as if they have forgotten their mission, and their active nature, they sink, little by little, into the insignificance of the beasts."

"I hope you do not include Verkhóffsky in this number."

"Not he alone, but some others, deserve to be placed in a separate circle. But then, are there many such?"

"Even the angels in heaven are numbered, Ammalát Bek: and Verkhóffsky absolutely is a man for whose justice and kindness we ought to thank heaven. Is there a single Tartar who can speak ill of him? Is there a soldier who would not give his soul for him? Abdul-Hamet, more wine! Now then, to the health of Verkhóffsky!"

"Spare me! I will not drink to Mahomet himself."

"If your heart is not as black as the eyes of Seltanetta, you will drink, even were it in the presence of the red-bearded Yakhoúnts of the Shakhéeds[9 - Shakhéeds, traders of the sect of Souni. Yakhoúnt the senior moóllah.] of Derbént: even if all the Imáms and Shieks not only licked their lips but bit their nails out of spite to you for such a sacrilege."

"I will not drink, I tell you."

"Hark ye, Ammalát: I am ready to let the devil get drunk on my blood for your sake, and you won't drink a glass of wine for mine."

"That is to say, that I will not drink because I do not wish—and I don't wish, because even without wine my blood boils in me like fermenting boozá."

"A bad excuse! It is not the first time that we have drunk, nor the first time that our blood boils. Speak plainly at once: you are angry with the Colonel."

"Very angry."

"May I know for what?"

"For much. For some time past he has begun to drop poison into the honey of his friendship: and at last these drops have filled and overflowed the cup. I cannot bear such lukewarm friends! He is liberal with his advice, not sparing with his lectures; that is, in every thing that costs him neither risk nor trouble."

"I understand, I understand! I suppose he would not let you go to Avár!"

"If you bore my heart in your bosom you would understand how I felt when I received such a refusal. He lured me on with that hope, and then all at once repulsed my most earnest prayer—dashed into dust, like a crystal kalián, my fondest hopes.... Akhmet Khan was surely softened, when he sent word that he wished to see me; and I cannot fly to him, or hurry to Seltanetta."

"Put yourself, brother, in his place, and then say whether you yourself would not have acted in the same way."

"No, not so! I should have said plainly from the very beginning, 'Ammalát, do not expect any help from me.' I even now ask him not for help. I only beg him not to hinder me. Yet no! He, hiding from me the sun of all my joy, assures me that he does this from interest in me—that this will hereafter bring me fortune. Is not this a fine anodyne?"

"No, my friend! If this is really the case, the sleeping-draught is given to you as to a person on whom they wish to perform an operation. You are thinking only of your love, and Verkhóffsky has to keep your honour and his own without spot; and you are both surrounded by ill-wishers. Believe me, either thus or otherwise, it is he alone who can cure you."

"Who asks him to cure me? This divine malady of love is my only joy: and to deprive me of it is to tear out my heart, because it cannot beat at the sound of a drum!"——

At this moment a strange Tartar entered the tent, looked suspiciously round, and bending down his head, laid his slippers before Ammalát—according to Asiatic custom, this signified that he requested a private conversation. Ammalát understood him, made a sign with his head, and both went out into the open air. The night was dark, the fires were going out, and the chain of sentinels extended far before them. "Here we are alone," said Ammalát Bek to the Tartar: "who art thou, and what dost thou want?"

"My name is Samit: I am an inhabitant of Derbénd, of the sect of Souni: and now am at present serving in the detachment of Mussulman cavalry. My commission is of greater consequence to you than to me.... The eagle loves the mountains!"

Ammalát shuddered, and looked suspiciously at the messenger. This was a watchword, the key of which Sultan Akhmet had previously written to him. "How can he but love the mountains?" ... he replied; "In the mountains there are many lambs for the eagles, and much silver for men."

"And much steel for the valiant," (yigheeds.)

Ammalát grasped the messenger by the hand. "How is Sultan Akhmet Khan?" he enquired hurriedly: "What news bring you from him—how long is it since you have seen his family?"

"Not to answer, but to question, am I come.... Will you follow me?"

"Where? for what?"

"You know who has sent me. That is enough. If you trust not him, trust not me. Therein is your will and my advantage. Instead of running my head into a noose to-night, I can return to-morrow to the Khan, and tell him that Ammalát dares not leave the camp."

The Tartar gained his point: the touchy Ammalát took fire. "Saphir Ali!" he cried loudly.

Saphir Ali started up, and ran out of the tent.

"Order horses to be brought for yourself and me, even if unsaddled; and at the same time send word to the Colonel, that I have ridden out to examine the field behind the line, to see if some rascal is not stealing in between the sentries. My gun and shashka in a twinkling!"

The horses were led up, the Tartar leaped on his own, which was tied up not far off, and all three rode off to the chain. They gave the word and the countersign, and they passed by the videttes to the left, along the bank of the swift Azen.

Saphir Ali, who had very unwillingly left his bottle, grumbled about the darkness, the underwood, the ditches, and rode swearing by Ammalát's side; but seeing that nobody began the conversation, he resolved to commence it himself.

"My ashes fall on the head of this guide! The devil knows where he is leading us, and where he will take us. Perhaps he is going to sell us to the Lezghíns for a rich ransom. I never trust these squinting fellows!"

"I trust but little even to those who have straight eyes," answered Ammalát; "but this squinting fellow is sent from a friend: he will not betray us!"

"And the very first moment he thinks of any thing like it, at his first movement I will slice him through like a melon. Ho! friend," cried Saphir Ali, to the guide; "in the name of the king of the genii, it seems you have made a compact with the thorns to tear the embroidery from my tschoukhá. Could you not find a wider road? I am really neither a pheasant nor a fox."

The guide stopped. "To say the truth, I have led a delicate fellow like you too far!" he answered. "Stay here and take care of the horses, whilst Ammalát and I will go where it is necessary."

"Is it possible you will go into the woods with such a cut-throat looking rascal, without me?" whispered Saphir Ali to Ammalát.

"That is, you are afraid to remain here without me!" replied Ammalát, dismounting from his horse, and giving him the reins: "Do not annoy yourself, my dear fellow. I leave you in the agreeable society of wolves and jackals. Hark how they are singing!"

"Pray to God that I may not have to deliver your bones from these singers," said Saphir Ali. They separated. Samit led Ammalát among the bushes, over the river, and having passed about half a verst among stones, began to descend. At the risk of their necks they clambered along the rocks, clinging by the roots of the sweet-briar, and at length, after a difficult journey, descended into the narrow mouth of a small cavern parallel with the water. It had been excavated by the washing of the stream, erewhile rapid, but now dried up. Long stalactites of lime and crystal glittered in the light of a fire piled in the middle. In the back-ground lay Sultan Akhmet Khan on a boúrka, and seemed to be waiting patiently till Ammalát should recover himself amid the thick smoke which rolled in masses through the cave. A cocked gun lay across his knees; the tuft in his cap fluttered in the wind which blew from the crevices. He rose politely as Ammalát hurried to salute him.

"I am glad to see you," he said, pressing the hands of his guest; "and I do not hide the feeling which I ought not to cherish. However, it is not for an empty interview that I have put my foot into the trap, and troubled you: sit down, Ammalát, and let us speak about an important affair."

"To me, Sultan Akhmet Khan?"

"To us both. With your father I have eaten bread and salt. There was a time when I counted you likewise as my friend."

"But counted!"

"No! you were my friend, and would ever have remained so, if the deceiver, Verkhóffsky, had not stepped between us."

"Khan, you know him not."

"Not only I, but you yourself shall soon know him. But let us begin with what regards Seltanetta. You know she cannot ever remain unmarried. This would be a disgrace to my house: and let me tell you candidly, that she has already been demanded in marriage."

Ammalát's heart seemed torn asunder. For some time he could not recover himself. At length he tremblingly asked, "Who is this bold lover?"