by Mór Jókai
CHAPTER IX
THE CIRCASSIAN AND HIS FAMILY
In those days Kasi Mollah did not go by the name of Murstud--_i.e._, apillar of the faith. He was a simple sheik at Himri, in the northernpart of the land of Circassia, a remote little place, where theMuscovite was no more than a rumor from afar.
Nature herself had fashioned a strong fortress around Himri. Immensemountain-chains enclosed it within massive walls on both sides, risingbleak, interminable, and ever upwards into the dim distance.
In the midst of this valley of eternal shadows arose a third rockymass, forming--on both sides--a steep, ladder-like wall; and, afterextending far among the other mountains, terminating in aragged-looking, concave hill, defended by the junction of theimpetuous mountain streams, which dug a deep hollow among theexcavated rocks. Along this channel, running like a spinal cordthroughout the backbone of the mountain, extended some few thousandsof acres of luxuriant corn--a long but narrow strip.
At the head of an opening in the chain a rocky scaffolding wasvisible, about one hundred feet in height, as regularly disposed as ifa number of gigantic dice had been designedly placed there one on thetop of another. By a marvellous freak of Nature, this rockyconglomeration was provided apparently with towers, bastions, andbuttresses; so that, viewed from afar, it looked like a giganticfortress, and, on the very first glance at it, the thoughtinvoluntarily occurs to one that if but four guns were planted onthose summits a few hundred men might defend themselves against anarmy-corps. At the rear of the hill, moreover, where the cataractsmake any approach impossible, the flocks and herds of the defendingarmy could go on contentedly browsing for years together.
A foolish idea! To whom would it ever occur to attack Himri, that tinyCircassian village with scarcely five hundred inhabitants, who havenothing in the world but their kine, their goats, and their prettygirls? Who would ever come against Himri with guns and anarmy--against those most worthy men who all their life long have neverdone anything but make cheese and tan hides, who only exercise theirvalor against the devastating bands of bears, and only extirpate withtheir long, far-reaching muskets the wild goats of the rocks?
They do not even build their houses on the summit of this wondrousfortress of Nature, but among the rocks below, constructing themprettily of regularly disposed logs, with roofs like dove-cots,surrounding them with linden-trees and flower-gardens. And so far fromkeeping a visitor at bay with cannon-shots, they go forth to meet him,conduct him into their villages, hospitably entertain him, insist onhis tarrying long with them; and if the visitor be a handsome youngfellow, the loveliest eyes that ever smiled and wept grow moist athis departure. Who amongst those who have been lulled to sleep inHimri by the songs of the lovely and bewitching Circassian girls couldever have dreamed that the time would come when these mountain wallsall round about would be dyed red with the blood of thousands andthousands of strangers, who came thither to seek death, and found whatthey sought?
The house of the meritorious sheik differed in no respect from thedwellings of the other inhabitants. It also was entirely built oftimber, consisted of four rooms leading one out of another, and twovenerable nut-trees stood in front of it.
Kasi Mollah sits outside, leaning tranquilly against the door-postbeneath the projecting eaves, both sides of which are covered by largescarlet-runners, plaiting with great care and solemnity a whip out oftwelve fine thongs of kid-skin hanging on a crooked nail.
Squatting on the ground beside him on a bear-skin sits apeculiar-looking stranger. Even if you had not seen it in his featuresand clothing, his mules standing before the door would have told youthat he did not belong to these parts. He was, indeed, a Greekmerchant from Smyrna, who visited Circassia every year to purchasekid-skins--or, so he said. He had three palaces in Smyrna; but it isscarcely credible that he could have acquired them by his kid-skinsonly. At any rate, his mules were laden now with whole bundles of fursand pelts, and the merchant was toasting his host in a sour beverage,made by the Circassian from horse's milk, the evil odor of which hewas striving to dispel with the smoke of good Latakia tobacco.
It was for him also that the Circassian was making that longmule-driving whip of thongs of twelve different colors, serpentine inshape, and plaited at the ends with beautiful white horse-hair; andwhen it was ready he smacked it so vigorously, by way of showing itoff, that the merchant could scarce save his eyes from it.
"A pretty whip, and a good whip," he said, at last, in order that itsowner might leave off cracking it.
"I'll very soon prove whether it is a good whip or not," said theCircassian, without moving a muscle of his brown, oval-shaped,apathetic face; and with that he began to make the handle of the whipout of fine copper wire of a fantastically ornate pattern nicelystudded with leaden stars.
"How will you prove that it is a good whip?" asked the merchant.
"Stop till my children come home."
"Your _children_?"
"Yes, naturally. I should not think of proving it on other people'schildren."
"You are surely not going to prove the whip on your own?"
"On whom else, then? Children should be whipped in order that they maybe good, that they may be kept in order, and that they may not getnonsense into their heads. 'Tis also a good thing to train thembetimes to endure greater sorrow by giving them a foretaste of lesserones, so that when they grow up to man's estate, and real misfortuneovertakes them, they may be able to bear it. My father used always tobeat me, and now I bless him for it, for it made a man of me. Childrenare always full of evil dispositions, and you do well to drive suchthings out of them with the whip."
A peculiar smile passed across the long, olive-colored face of theGreek at these words; he seemed to be only smiling to himself. Then hefixed his sly, coal-black eyes on the sheik, and inquired,sceptically:
"But surely you don't beat your children without cause?"
"Oh, there's always cause. Children are always doing something wrong;you have only to keep an eye on them to see that, and whoever neglectsto punish them acts like him who should forbear to pull up the weedsin his garden."
"Kasi Mollah," said the Greek, puffing two long clouds of smokethrough his nostrils, "I tell you, children are not your speciality,for you do not understand how to bring them up. In the whole land ofCircassia there is none who knows how to bring up children."
"Then how comes it that our girls are the fairest and our youths thebravest on the face of the earth?"
"Your girls would be still more beautiful and your lads still morevaliant if you brought them up in the land where dwell the descendantsof white-bosomed Briseis and quick-footed Achilles. O Hellas!"
The Greek began to grow rapturous at the pronunciation of theseclassical names, and in his excitement blew sufficient smoke out ofhis chibook to have clouded all Olympus.
"I tell you. Kasi Mollah," continued he, "that children are the giftsof God, and he who beats a child lifts his whip, so to speak, againstGod Himself, for His hands defend their little bodies. You do but sinagainst your children. Give them to me!"
"You are a Christian; I am a Mussulman. How, then, shall you bring upmy children?"
"Fear nothing. I do not want to keep them for myself; I mean rather toget them such positions as will enable them to rise to the utmostdistinction. I would place them with some leading pasha, perhaps withthe Padishah himself, or, at any rate, with one of his Viziers, all ofwhom have a great respect for Circassians."
"Thank you. Midas, thank you; but I don't mean to give them up."
"Prithee, prithee, call me not Midas; that is an ominous name which Ido not understand. You might have learned any time these ten years,when I first came to buy pelts from you, that my name is LeonidasArgyrocantharides, and that I am a direct descendant of the heroLeonidas, who fell at Thermopylae with his three hundred valiantSpartans. One of my great-great-grandfathers, moreover, fell at Issus,by the side of the great Alexander, from a mortal blow dealt to him bya Persian satrap. If you do not believe me, look
at this ancient coin,and at these others, and at this whole handful which are in my purse,all of which were struck under Philip of Macedon, or else under MichelKantakuzenos or Constantine Porphyrogenitus, all of whom were powerfulGreek emperors in Constantinople, which now they call Stambul, andbuilt the church of St. Sophia, where now the dervishes say theirprayers; and then look at the figures which are stamped on thesecoins, and tell me if they do not resemble me to a hair. It is so.No, you need not give me back the money; give me rather the twolittle children."
The Circassian, who had taken the purse with the simple intention ofcomparing the figures on the coins with the face of the merchant, drewthe strings of the purse tight again at this offer, and thrust it backinto the merchant's bosom.
"Thank you," said he, dryly. "I deal in the skins of goats, not in theskins of men."
The face of the merchant showed surprise in all its features. Notevery man possesses the art of controlling his countenance so quickly,especially when his self-command is put to so sudden and severe atest. The Georgians, more to the south, were a much more manageablerace of men. With them one could readily drive a bargain for theirdaughters and give them a good big sum on account for their smallestchildren. One could purchase of them children from two to three yearsof age at from ten to twenty golden denarii a head, and sell them inten years' time for just as many thousands of piastres to someillustrious pasha. This was how Leonidas was able to build himselfpalaces at Smyrna.
"You talk nonsense, my worthy Chorbadzhi," said the merchant, when hehad somewhat recovered himself. "Shall I prove it to you? Well, then,in the first place, you do not sell your children, and, in the secondplace, why shouldn't you sell them? If a Circassian wrapped in abear-skin comes to you and asks you for your daughter, would you notgive her to him? And at the very outside he would only give you adozen cows for her, and as many asses. I, on the other hand, offer youa thousand piastres for them from good, worthy, influential beys, orperhaps from the Sultan himself, and yet you haggle about it."
The sheik's face began to show wrath and irritation. He was well awarethat the merchant was now dealing in sophisms, though his simpleintellect could not quite get at the root of their fallacy. It wasplain that there was a great difference between a Circassian dressedin bear-skin, who carries off a girl in exchange for a dozen cows, andthe Captain-General of Rumelia, who is ready to give a thousand ducatsfor her--and yet he preferred the gentleman in bear-skins.
The Greek, meanwhile, appeared to be studying the features of theCircassian with an attentive eye, watching what impression his wordshad produced, like the experimenting doctor who tries the effects ofhis medicaments _in anima vili_.
"But I know that you will give them. Kasi Mollah," he resumed, fillingup his chibook. "No doubt you have promised them to another trader.Well, well! you are a cunning rogue. Merchants of Dirbend or Bagdadhave no doubt offered you more for them. They can afford it, they dosuch a roaring business. Those perfidious Armenians! They buy thechildren for a mere song, and sell them when they are eight or nineyears old to the pashas, so that not one of them lives to see histwentieth year, but all die miserably in the mean time. I don't dosuch things. I am an honest man, with whom business is but a labor oflove, and who is just to all men. It is sufficient for me to say thatI was born where Aristides used to live. Numbers and numbers of myancestors were in the Areopagus, and one of my great-great-uncles wasan archon. Do not imagine, therefore, that I would do for everyfoolish fellow what I offer to do for you. I only do kindnesses to mychosen friends; the ties of friendship are sacred to me. Castor andPollux, Theseus and Pirithous are to me majestic examples of thatexcellent brotherhood of kindred spirits which I constantly set beforeme. Wherever I have gone people have always blessed me; nay, did I butlet them, they would kiss my feet. The daughter of a Georgian peasantwhose father trusted me is now the first waiting-woman of the wife ofthe Governor of Egypt. Is that glory enough for you! The daughter of apoor goatherd, whom I picked up from the mire, is now the premierpipe-filler of the Pasha of Salonica. A high office that, if you like!What Ganymede was to Jove in those classical ages-- Ah! the tears gushfrom my eyes at the sound of that word. O Hellas!"
The Circassian allowed his good friend to weep on, considering it asufficient answer to let his dark bushy eyebrows frown still morefiercely, if possible, over his downcast eyes. Then he caught up ahammer and hammered away with great fury at the handle he had preparedfor the whip, riveting the wire with copper studs.
"Kasi Mollah, hitherto I have only been joking, but now I am going tospeak in earnest," resumed Leonidas Argyrocantharides, raising hisvoice that he might be heard through the hammering. "You shouldbethink you seriously of your children's destiny. I am your oldfriend, your old acquaintance; my sole wish is for your welfare. Ilove your children as much as if they were my own, and the tears gushfrom my eyes whenever I part from them. What will become of them whenthey grow up? I know that while you are alive it will be well withthem, but how about afterwards? You may die to-morrow, or the nextday; who can tell? We are all in the hands of God. Now I'll tell yousomething. Mind. I'm not joking or making it all up. I know forcertain that Topal Pasha has been informed that you have two lovelychildren. Some flighty traders of Erzeroum revealed the fact to him.They are wont to trade with you here, and he has paid them half thestipulated sum down on condition that they bring the children to him.Now this pasha is a filthy, brutal, rake-hell sort of fellow, thepressure of whose foot is no laughing matter, I can tell you; ahorrible, hideous, cruel man. I can give you proofs of it. And thesemerchants have made a contract with him, and have engaged, under thepenalty of losing their heads, to deliver your children to him withina twelvemonth. What do you say? You'll throw them down into the abyss,eh? Ah! they are not as foolish as I am. They will not openly professthat they have come here for your children, as I do, but they will liein wait for them when they go to the forest, and when nobody perceivesit they will clap them on the back of a horse and off they'll go withthem, so that nobody will know under what sky to look for them. Or,perhaps, when you yourself are going along the road with them, they'lllay a trap for you, shoot you neatly through the head, and bolt withyour children. Well, that will be a pretty thing, won't it? You hadbetter not throw me over."
The Circassian did not know what to answer--words were precious thingsto him--but he thought all the more. While the merchant was speakingto him, his reflections carried him far. He saw his children in thedetested marble halls, he saw them standing in shamefully gorgeousgarments, waiting upon the smiling despot, who stroked their tenderfaces with his hands, and the blood rushed to his face as he saw hischildren blush and tremble beneath that smile. Ah, at that thought hebegan to lash about him so vigorously with the whip that was in hishand, that the Greek rolled about on the bear-skin in terror, holdinghis hands to his ears.
"Do not crack that whip so loudly, my dear son," said he, "or you'lldrive away all my mules. I really believe your whip is a very goodone, but you need not test it to the uttermost. I thank you for makingit; but now, pray, put it down. I must go. It is a good thing you havenot knocked out one of my eyes. You certainly have a vigorous way ofenjoying yourself. But let us speak sensibly. Do you believe that I aman honest man, or not?"
At this the Circassian did _not_ nod his head.
"Very well, then. It is natural that you should believe, you ought tobelieve it. Since Pausanias there has not been a sharper among mynation. He was the last faithless Greek, and they walled him up in thetemple. I am a man without guile, as you are well aware. But I am morethan that, more than you suspect. Oho! in this shabby, worn-out caftanof mine dwells something which you do not dream of. Oho! I know what Ireally am. I am on friendly terms with great men, with many greatmen, standing high in the empire, whose fame has never reached yourears. In the palm of this hand I hold Hellas, in the other the realmof Osman. I shake the whole world when I move. Why do I take all thistrouble? Oh, for the sake of your holy shades, Miltiades,Themistocles, Lysippus, and Demosthene
s! for the sake of your shades,O Solon, O Lycurgus, O Pythagoras, and a time is coming in which Iwill prove it! It is thy memory, Athene, which inspires me to heap uptreasures for the future! Thou, O holy Goddess of Liberty, hathwhispered in my ear that thou canst make use of the lowly as well asof the mighty to promote thy cause!" Here the merchant leaped to hisfeet in his enthusiasm, and, extending his hand towards the Circassianexclaimed, "Kasi Mollah, you groan beneath the yoke just as much as wedo; let us join hands against our oppressors, and let us graduallymelt the hearts of their leaders by the strongest of fires, by thefire of the eyes of the Greek and Circassian maidens, and we shallcatch them in a flowery net!"
Kasi Mollah did not clasp the hand of the enthusiastic Greek; and,without turning towards him, replied, coldly, "I do not grudge you thedrink which I put before you, worthy merchant, but I perceive that ithas begun to mount into your head, or else you would not talk suchrubbish as selling free people to your enemies from motives offreedom. Nor do you say well in saying that we are under the yoke, forthat is not true. Nobody has ever made the Circassian do homage, norwould any try to conquer us for the sake of the eyes of our poordamsels. Say no more about my children. I will not give them up. Ifany one comes to visit me, I'll send him about his business; if anyone tries to deceive me, I'll cudgel him; and if any one tries to robme, I'll slay him. And tell that to the merchants of Erzeroum also.And now say no more about it."
At these words the face of the merchant grew very long indeed. In hisspite he began pulling at the stem of his chibook with such force thathis face was furrowed right down the middle, and his eyebrows ascendedto the middle of his forehead. From time to time he kept on wagginghis head, and his scarlet, mortar-shaped fez along with it, and burnedthe tips of his fingers by absently poking the red-hot bowl of hispipe. But his indignation did not go beyond a shaking of the head, andthere he wisely let the matter rest.
"Very well, Kasi Mollah. You are an honest fellow. We shall see--weshall see."
The sun was now setting, and from among the hills the bells of thehome-returning cattle resounded across the level plain which extendedin front of the rocky heights of Himri. Fifteen head of snow-whitekine strolled leisurely towards the house of Kasi Mollah, passing oneby one through the gate of their enclosure; behind the last of themcame the children of the sheik, who guarded the herd in the forest.
The boy appeared to be about twelve, and the girl a year younger, andso closely did they resemble each other that, viewed in profile, itwas impossible to distinguish one from the other. Both had the samelong, black hair, which flowed in wondrous ringlets down theirshoulders, the same soft complexion of a naive maturity, and as smoothas velvet, just as if they never walked in the sunlight, and yet theyhad no head-coverings. The youth's face revealed so much girlishtenderness, and the girl's so much vigor and expression, that bychanging their clothes it would have been possible to substitute onefor the other; and, but for the well-known, tight-fitting corset,peculiar to the Circassian maidens, which caused her figure, slenderas a delicate flower-stalk, to bend somewhat backwards, throwing intorelief the contours of her childlike breasts, it would have beenscarcely possible to have distinguished her from her brother,especially when, as now, they walked side by side, half embracing. Thesnow-white arm of the girl was round her brother's neck, and herhumidly glittering black eyes seemed to be sucking the virile couragefrom his face; the boy held the slim figure of his sister encircled byone of his arms, tapping her, from time to time, caressingly on theshoulder, while his eyes rested, full of tenderness, on her belovedface.
"What a majestic pair of children!" exclaimed LeonidasArgyrocantharides, in his enthusiasm. "What a shame it is to lock themup in this corner of the world! But what the deuce is the lad draggingalong with his left hand while he embraces his sister with his right?What _is_ it, my pretty children? Nay, don't bring it here. What sortof unclean animal is it?"
The lad, with a triumphant smile, stood before the merchant while hissister ran to her father, climbed on to his knees, and throwing herarms shamefacedly round his neck hid her face from the stranger.
"Do you not recognize the bear-skin?" cried the youth, in a strong,clear voice; and as he spoke you became aware of the light black downwhich shaded his upper lip and revealed the man, and with one of hishands he raised up the beast he was dragging after him on to its hindlegs. It was a young bear, about a year and a half old, whose head wasbattered and smashed in a good many places, thus showing what a severestruggle it had cost to bring it down.
"Where did you find that monster? Who gave it to you?" cried Leonidas,holding his hand before him as if he believed that the hideousmonster, even when dead, could clutch hold of his thin drumsticks oflegs.
"Where did I find it? Who gave it me?" cried the youth, proudly, andwith that he pointed to his sister, and, as if ashamed to speak of hisheroic deed himself, he said, "Tell him, Milieva!"
The old Circassian looked attentively at the two children. Neither ofthem perceived that their father was angry.
"We were in the forest," began the girl--her voice was like a silverybell. "Thomar was carving a fife, and I was twining a garland for hishead, because he pipes so prettily, when all at once a little kid withits mother came running towards us, and the little kid hid itselfclose to me--it trembled so, poor little thing! but its mother onlybleated and kept running round and round, just as if it wanted tospeak. Thomar looked all about, and not far from us perceived twoyoung bears running off, and one of them had another little white kidon its back, which was certainly the young one of the little she-goatthat was trying to talk to us. 'Thomar,' said I, 'if I were a boy, Iwould go after that young bear and take away the poor little kid fromit.' 'And dost thou think I will not do it?' replied Thomar, and withthat he caught up his club and went after the two young bears. One ofthem perceived him and quickly ran up a tree, but the other would notgive up his prey, but turned to face Thomar. Ah! you should have seenhow Thomar banged the wild beast on the head with his club till theblood ran down its shoulders, and suddenly it let go the white kid,which ran bleating after its mother."
The child clapped her little hands for joy, while her father softlystroked her long hair.
"But now the young bear, gnashing its teeth, rushed upon Thomar andseized the club in Thomar's hands with its teeth and claws. 'Thomar,don't let him have it!' cried I. But, indeed, he had no fear of thewild beast, for he drew his knife from his girdle and thrust it withall his might into the head of the furiously charging wild beast."
"Oho!" interrupted Thomar, "don't forget that you also rushed upon it,and gave me time to draw out my knife by seizing the ears of the bearin both hands and dragging it off me."
The father looked at the two children with an ever-darkening face, butthe merchant solemnly shook his head and raised his hands aloft withan expression of horror. "O foolish--O mad children!" cried he.
"The bear had now had enough," continued Milieva, trying to give hertalkative little mouth an earnest expression befitting her seriousnarration; "it tore itself out of our hands, and with a great roartook refuge from us in a subterranean cave, taking along with itThomar's knife, buried in its head. Now this knife we had got fromHassan Beg, so we could not afford to lose it. So what do you thinkThomar did? He dived into the narrow hole after the bear, and, seizingit there by the throat, throttled it, and dragged it out."
Cold drops of perspiration trickled down the foreheads of the two men.
"Then he caught the young bear by the foot, and as it was heavy weboth dragged it along together. We had to make haste, for the old bearhad scented our trail and was after us, and pursued us as far as theherds, where the herd-keepers shot it down, but its young one webrought along with us."
"O ye senseless children!" cried the merchant in his terror. "Oblockheads! Suppose the bear had clawed your faces, you would havebeen disfigured forevermore. It would really serve you right if yourfather gave you a good thrashing with this new whip."
And that is what really did ha
ppen.
In his wrath Kasi Mollah seized the freshly made, mule-driving whip,and cannot one imagine the fury, begotten of fear, which would takepossession of a father's heart on hearing such a hair-bristlingnarrative from the lips of his children? To poke their noses into abear's den, forsooth! The old bear would have torn the pair of them topieces had she been able to catch them! They had certainly welldeserved a thrashing, and a good thrashing too! Thomar would not havewept or groaned however many stripes he might have got; he onlyclinched his teeth, and, standing upright, bore with tearless eyes thelashing of the whip on his back and shoulders without a cry, without asob.
But Milieva cast herself, shrieking, on her father's breast, and thetears began to pour abundantly from her radiantly bright eyes. Shecaught hold of the Circassian's chastising right arm with both herhands, and begged so sweetly, "Do not hurt Thomar; do not hurt him,father! It was indeed not his fault. I assure you I set him on. I toldhim to go after them. Thomar only went because I asked him."
Kasi Mollah tried to push the child aside, whereupon she flung herarms round Thomar's neck and protected her brother's body, exclaiming,her face all aglow, "'Tis my fault, beat me, but don't hurt Thomar!"
The lad would have disengaged her arms, and, clinching his teeth forpain, said:
"'Tis not true! Milieva did not urge me to do it. Milieva was lookingon from a distance. Milieva was not there. Don't hit Milieva."
But the girl threw her arms so tightly round her father that he wasnot able to tear himself loose. At last, in sheer desperation, he wasobliged to lift the paternal instrument of admonition against the girlalso. But now the youth snatched at the whip, and exclaimed, withsparkling eyes:
"Strike her not, for she has done no wrong! Beat me as much as youlike, but do not strike Milieva. If you do I will leave your house,and you shall never see me more!"
"What, you ragged cub, you!" cried the old Circassian, infuriated bythe opposition of his son, and forcibly tearing away the whip from hishand, he struck the girl a violent blow across the shoulders with it.
Milieva ceased to weep, she only pressed her lips together, as herbrother had already taught her to do, and cast down her eyes; butThomar perceived a tremor run through her tender, maidenly bosom atthe torture.
The old Circassian himself felt sorry for the poor thing, though hewas too proud to show it; but it was plain he had put his wrath behindhim from the fact that he now began to wind the whip round its handle.
Thomar bent over the girl's shoulder, and wherever he saw one of thepainful bruises which she had got on his account he kissed it softly,and after that he kissed the girl's face, and those kisses wereparting kisses.
He said not a word to anybody in the house, but taking up hisshepherd's staff and his rustic flute, he went forth from his father'sdwelling without once looking behind him.
"Father," cried the girl, sobbing, "Thomar is going away forever!"
The old Circassian made no reply. His son did not look back at him,and he did not cast a glance after his son, and yet they were bothheart-broken on each other's account.
"He'll soon be back," thought the father to himself. "Hunger and wantwill bring him back."
It was late evening, and still the youth had not returned. The sun hadset long ago. A violent storm with thunder and lightning arose. Thewind roared among the trees of the distant woods, and the wolveshowled in the mountains.
"Father, let me go and bring back Thomar," pleaded the girl, gazingsorrowfully into the dark night through the window.
"He will come back of his own accord," replied the Circassian, and hewould not let the girl go.
"Listen, how the rain pours, and how the wild beasts are howling!Thomar is all alone there in the tempest, and it is so dark."
"'Tis a good night for a son who forsakes his father," replied thesheik. But within himself he thought, "Some neighbor is sure to takethe lad in and give him shelter."
At midnight the tempest abated, and the moon shone forth brightly.From the distant woods came floating back to the village the notes ofa rustic flute. Neither father nor daughter had had any sleep.
"Listen, father!" said Milieva. "Thomar is piping in the wood; let mego and bring him back!"
"That is not a flute, but a nightingale," replied the stony-heartedCircassian. "Lie down and sleep!"
Yet he himself could not sleep.
In the morning both the tempest and the song had ceased. The oldCircassian pretended to be asleep. Milieva softly raised her head andlooked at her father, and seeing that his eyes were closed, stealthilyput on her clothes and went out of the house on tiptoe. Her father didnot tell her not to go. He had already forgiven his son, and resolvednever to be angry with him any more. After all, it had only been anebullition of fatherly affection that had made him punish his son forjeopardizing his life so blindly.
Shortly afterwards the jingling of the asses' bells told him that theGreek, who slept on the floor outside, was getting ready to depart.The merchant seemed to be in great haste. He piled his boxes on thebacks of his beasts higgledy-piggledy, even overlooking a parcel ortwo here and there, and all the time he kept talking to himself,stopping short suddenly when he caught sight of the Circassian.
"I was just going to take leave of you, Chorbadzhi. Why do you get upso early? Go to sleep! What a nice day it is after the storm! Salamalakuem! Peace be with you! Greet my kinsmen, your sweet children. No,I will speak no more of your children. I will do as you desire, Ipromise you, and what I have once promised-- So our business is at anend? You are a worthy man, Kasi Mollah! . . . You are a good father--avery good father. I only wish every man was like you. The only thingthat grieves me is that you cannot join our holy covenant. The Helleneand the Circassian groan together beneath the yoke of a common tyrant.And then you don't reflect who are on our side. Our northern neighboris always ready to liberate us. I say no more. To a wise man a hint isa revelation. But do you not long for glory? You have no gloriousancestors. With you there are no memories of a Marathon, a Plataea.. . . God bless you, Kasi Mollah! Go on shooting lots of antelopes,and I'll come back and buy the hides from you; mind you let me havethem cheap! Take this kiss for yourself, this for your son, and thisthird one for your daughter. Then you won't give them to me, eh? Well,God bless you, Kasi Mollah!"
The sheik felt as if a great stone had rolled off his breast when atlast he saw his guest depart, though even from afar the Greek turnedback and shouted all manner of things about Leonidas and the otherheroes. But the Circassian did not listen to him. He went back intohis house again, lest he should seem to be moping for his children.
Leonidas Argyrocantharides, on the other hand, whistling merrily,proceeded with his asses on his way to the forest, and, when he foundhimself quite alone there, began to sing in a loud voice the song offreedom of the Hetairea, which put him into such a good humor that heeven began to flourish his weapon in the most warlike manner, though,unfortunately, there was nobody at hand whom he could smite.
It would be doing a great injustice to the worthy merchant, however,to suppose that he was fatiguing his precious lungs without rhyme orreason, for during this melodious song he kept on looking continuallyabout him, now to the right and now to the left. He knew what he wasabout.
Yes, he had calculated well. Any one who might happen to be hidden inthe forest was bound to hear the great blood-stirring song. He had notadvanced more than a hundred yards or so when a well-known suppliantvoice struck his ear. It came from among the thick trees.
"Oh, please! listen, please!"
At first he pretended not to know who it was, and, shading his eyeswith his hand, made a great pretence of looking hard.
"Oho, my little girl! so 'tis you, eh? Little Milieva, by all that'sholy! Come nearer, child."
The girl was not alone. She had found her brother, and was shoving andpushing the lad on in front of her, who, sulkily and with downcasteyes, was skulking about among the trees as if he were ashamed toappear before the Greek, who had been a witness of
his flogging.
Milieva had insisted on his returning home and begging his father'spardon, and the lad had consented, not for his own sake, but for hissister's.
"What a good job I've met you! Come here, little girl. Don't be afraidof me. I want to whisper something in your ear that your brother mustnot hear."
And he bent down towards the girl from the back of the ass andwhispered in her ear, it is true, but quite loud enough for herbrother to hear also:
"My dear child, don't take your brother home now, for your father isfurious with the pair of you, and is coming after you straightway.That is why I have been singing so loudly, for I thought you had comehither and might hear; and let me tell you that it will be just aswell for Thomar to hide himself for a time, for your father, when Ileft him, had shouldered his musket, and he swore in his wrath that hewould hunt his runaway son with the dogs, and shoot him down whereverhe found him."
"Let him shoot me down!" cried the lad, defiantly. He had heard thewhole of the whisper.
The good-hearted merchant shook his head reprovingly.
"Keep your temper, my son; anger is mischievous. It would be muchbetter if you left these parts for a little while, and Milieva can goback in the mean time and pacify her father. I should mention,however, that Kasi Mollah is preparing a rope in salt-water, withwhich he intends to beat her."
"What!" cried Thomar, with flashing eyes. "He would whip her again,and with a rope?"
He could say no more. The two children fell upon each other's necksand wept bitterly.
"Poor children! orphans worthy of compassion!" cried the sympatheticLeonidas, stroking their pretty heads. "It is plain that they have nomother. Willingly would I shed my blood for you. But it is vain tospeak to that savage madman. The last thing he said was that yourmother had been faithless to him, and that was why he was so furiousagainst you."
"Then he shall never see us again," said the lad, tenderly embracinghis sister. "I will go away, and I will take you with me."
"Where?" said his sister, trembling.
"The world is wide," said the lad. "I have often seen from the summitsof the mountains how far it stretches away. I will go away as far asever I can."
"But what provision have you got?" inquired the worthy merchant.
At this idea the lad seemed to hesitate, and for a moment his faceflushed red; but he soon recovered his _sang-froid_.
"You complained the other day that your ass-driver had run away, andthat you had all the trouble of looking after the beasts yourself.Take me for your ass-driver. I will do all your work for you, and Iwill ask nothing except that Milieva may come with me without doingany hard work. I will work extra in her stead."
The merchant was quite overcome by these words.
"O children, what words must I hear! Thou art the pearl of youths, myson. What a pity thou wast not born in Samos, the isle of heroes! Thoushalt be no ass-driver of mine; no, thou shalt be my own son, and thysister shall be my own daughter, and ye shall both sit on my asses,not follow after them. In the neighboring village I shall getass-drivers and to spare. I will share my last crumb with you, and yeshall dwell at home within my palace as if ye were my own children."And with that he embraced them both.
As for the children, they were overpowered by so much unexpectedgoodness, and did not hesitate to accept the offer, although Milievasaid, somewhat tremulously:
"But you will take us back afterwards to our father, won't you?"
"Certainly; is he not my good friend? When we get to my house I willlet him know that you are with me, and he will be very glad. But firstwe will go from here to splendid cities by the sea, where edificesthree stories high float on the surface of the water. There my greatpalaces are--you could put the whole of your father's house inside thehall of any one of them--and my gardens are full of those beautifulfruits which I have so often brought for you in my sack. Thomar shallhave a beautiful steed. You would like to ride a horse, my son, eh?Well, don't be afraid, and it shall fly away with you like the wind.And it shall have a mane as white as a swan's--or perhaps you'd like ablack one? I have got both, and you shall sit on which you like, witha sword dangling at your side. And when you draw that sword? Ah, ha!It shall be a bright Damascus blade, and you will be able to make itspan your body right round without breaking. I will bet anything thatamong five hundred Turkish youths you will carry off the wreath ofpearls in the sports. How nicely that wreath of pearls will becomeMilieva's head! How beautifully the folds of the silken robeembroidered with flowers will sweep around her slim figure! And thenthe palm-leaf shawl when she dances! Eh, children?"
"When will you take us back to our father?" inquired the girl,sorrowfully.
"Why, at once, of course. As soon as Thomar has become a famous man;as soon as half the world recognizes him as a valiant bey, and thefame of him spreads to the huts of Himri likewise. Then will Thomar gowith you to your father. He will sit on a proudly prancing horse,tossing its head impatiently beneath its gold trappings. A grandretinue will come riding behind him--valiant heroes, all of them, withglittering shields and lances. And after them will follow a litter ontwo white asses, with curtains of cloth of gold, and in this litterwill sit a wondrously bright and beautiful maiden, and men will standat all the gates and cry, 'Make way for the valiant lord and themajestic lady!'
"But, meanwhile, old Kasi Mollah will be sitting at his door, and,perceiving the splendid magnates, will do obeisance to them; then youwill leap from your horse, assist Milieva to descend from her litter,and will go to meet him. He, however, will not recognize you. Milievawill be so much rosier, and her figure so much more lovely; and as foryou, you will be wearing a beard and mustache, and without doubt youwill be scarred with wounds received upon the field of glory. So KasiMollah will conduct you into his house with the utmost respect andmake you sit down; but you will have victuals and sherbet brought fromyour carriages, and will constrain him to eat and drink with you. Thenyou will fall a-talking, and you will ask him whether he has anychildren, and thereupon the tears will start to his eyes."
"Oh," sighed the girl, melting at the thought.
"No, no; it would not do at all to make yourself known all at once.The joy would be too much for him; he might even have a stroke. You,little Milieva, would be content to sit and listen, leaving Thomar tospeak. And Thomar will say that he has heard tidings of Kasi Mollah'slost children, gradually leading him on from hope to joy, and at lastyou will throw yourselves on his neck, and say to him, 'I am thy sonThomar! I am thy daughter Milieva!' How beautiful that will be!"
The heads of the children were completely turned by this conversation,and they followed the merchant joyfully all the way to the nextvillage. There Leonidas Argyrocantharides rested for a little while,and made the children dismount and have some lunch in a hut. Then heproduced a gourd full of strong, sweet wine, and the children drank ofit. The wine removed whatever of sadness was still in their hearts,and they then resumed their journey. The asses he left behind, but twowell-saddled horses were awaiting them in front of the hut. On thesethe children mounted, and leaving the asses to stroll leisurely on byone road, under the charge of the hired ass-drivers, they themselvestook another. How delighted the children were with their fine steeds!
The sheik, meantime, was still awaiting the return of his children,and as they did not come back by the evening he began to makeinquiries about them. Some of his neighbors, who had been in theforest, informed him that they had seen the children with the Greekmerchant; they were riding on his asses. At this Kasi Mollah beganroaring like a wild beast.
"He has stolen my children!" he groaned in his despair, and flew backhome for his horse and his weapons, not even waiting for his comradesto take horse also. One by one they galloped after him, but could noteasily overtake him.
Riding helter-skelter he soon reached the neighboring village, buthere the track of the asses led him off on a false scent, for onlywhen he overtook them did he realize that the merchant with hischildren had gone far away in another di
rection.
With the rage of despair in his heart he galloped back again. Not tillevening did he dismount from his horse; then he watered his horse in abrook and rushed on again. Through the whole moonlit night he pursuedthe Greek, and as towards dawn Argyrocantharides looked behind him hesaw a great cloud of dust on the road rapidly approaching him, and thebright points of lances were in the midst of it.
"Well, children," said he, "here we must all die together, for yourfather is coming and will slay the three of us. But whip up yourhorses."
Then, full of terror, they bent over their horses' necks, and thedesperate race began.
The Circassian perceived the merchant and the children, and rushedafter them with a savage howl. They had better horses, but theCircassian's horses were more accustomed to mountainous paths and hadbetter riders.
The distance between the two companies was visibly diminishing. Themerchant flogged with his whip the horses on which the children wereriding. They dared not look back.
Their father shouted to them to turn their horses' reins. He calledThomar by name, and bade him tear the merchant from his saddle. Theson heard his father's voice, he heard his own name mentioned; but hefancied his father was threatening him, and clung to his horse stillmore tightly.
A steep mountain torrent ran across the road in front of them. If onlythe Greek could succeed in getting across it with but two minutes tospare, so that he might pitch the little wooden bridge over it downinto the abyss below, he would be saved, for the space between the twosteep mountain-sides was much too wide for a horse to leap, and a fordwas not to be found within an hour's ride.
By the time they came to the bridge the pursuing Circassians werescarcely distant more than three gunshots, and Kasi Mollah was ridingwell in advance of the rest. He must needs overtake them before theGreek could push the bridge over.
At that instant the horse on which Milieva sat slightly stumbled, andplunging forward on to its knees, fractured its leg.
"Hah!" cried the sheik, with wild delight, "I have got back one of mychildren, at any rate."
But how amazed was he when he saw Milieva, instead of running to himor even remaining in the road, cry out in terror to her brother andraise her arms towards him, and Thomar, never expecting to save her,bent down from his horse, and grasping his sister round the waist witha swift hand, placed her in the saddle in front of him, casting a wildlook behind him, and then galloping on farther.
Kasi Mollah suddenly reined in his flying horse and stopped short,allowing them to escape. Not a step farther did he pursue them. By thetime his comrades had joined him the Greek was well on the other sideof the bridge, and they could all see Thomar helping the merchant tocast it down.
Two burning tear-drops stood in Kasi Mollah's eyes. They reallyburned, and he felt the pain. And yet--and yet, when the two childrensat in the saddle again, Milieva extended her hands towards her fatheras if in most ardent supplication. What was the meaning of it?
The good Greek shortly afterwards arrived safely in Smyrna with thechildren, and had them taught singing, riding, and how to walk aboutin nice clothes, and some years after he sold them to the Seraglio ofthe Grand Vizier for two thousand sequins.
And all that he had said at random to the children during the journey,to cheer their spirits, actually came to pass, as we shall presentlysee.
When Sultan Mahmoud lost his favorite damsel so strangely, Milievawas brought into the Seraglio instead. The girl was then aboutfourteen years old. The Circassian girls at that age are fully mature,and the bloom of their beauty is at its prime. Milieva, from the veryfirst day when she entered the harem, became the Sultan's favoritedamsel.
Thomar joined the ranks of the ichoglanler, a band of youths who arebrought up in the outer court and form the Sultan's body-guard.
It was in this year that Mahmoud instituted the Akinji corps,selecting its members from amongst the Janissaries, and formed theminto a small regular army. Thomar very soon won for himself thecommand of a company, and continued to rise higher and higher till atlength he reached the eminence which the merchant had foretold to him;and when the course of time brought with it the day on which he was tosee Kasi Mollah again, he had become Derbend Aga, one of the Sultan'svery highest officials, and his name was mentioned respectfully by alltrue believers. And in the village of Himri his name was alsomentioned. Kasi Mollah often heard it attached to the title of "bey,"and Thomar also heard a good deal of the village of Himri and of KasiMollah, for they now called his father "murshid," and the name"murshid" is full of mournful recollections for both Moscow andPetersburg.
But of all these things we shall know more at another time.