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

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СКАЧАТЬ order. The Khan was never weary of questioning Ammalát about the battles, the campaigns, the tactics of the Russians; the Khánsha tired him with enquiries about the dress and customs of their women, and could not omit to call upon Allah as often as she heard that they go without veils. But with Seltanetta he enjoyed conversations and tales, to his, as well as her, heart's content. The merest trifle which had the slightest connexion with the other, could not be passed over without a minute description, without abundant repetitions and exclamations. Love, like Midas, transforms every thing it touches into gold, and, alas! often perishes, like Midas, for want of finding some material nourishment.

      But, as the strength of Seltanetta was gradually re-established, with the reappearing bloom of health on Ammalát's brow, there often appeared the shadow of grief. Sometimes, in the middle of a lively conversation, he would suddenly stop, droop his head, and his bright eyes would be dimmed with a filling of tears; heavy sighs would seem to rend his breast; he would start up, his eyes sparkling with fury; he would grasp his dagger with a bitter smile, and then, as if vanquished by an invisible hand, he would fall into a deep reverie, from whence not even the caresses of his adored Seltanetta could recall him.

      Once, at such a moment, Seltanetta, leaning enraptured on his shoulder, whispered, "Asis, (beloved,) you are sad—you are weary of me!"

      "Ah, slander not him who loves thee more than heaven!" replied Ammalát; "but I have felt the hell of separation; and can I think of it without agony? Easier, a hundred times easier, to part from life than from thee, my dark-eyed love!"

      "You are thinking of it, therefore you desire it."

      "Do not poison my wounds by doubting, Seltanetta. Till now you have known only how to bloom like a rose—to flutter like a butterfly; till now your will was your only duty. But I am a man, a friend; fate has forged for me an indestructible chain—the chain of gratitude for kindness—it drags me to Derbénd."

      "Debt! duty! gratitude!" cried Seltanetta, mournfully shaking her head. "How many gold-embroidered words have you invented to cover, as with a shawl, your unwillingness to remain here. What! Did you not give your heart to love before it was pledged to friendship? You had no right to give away what belonged to another. Oh, forget your Verkhóffsky, forget your Russian friends and the beauty of Derbénd. Forget war and murder-purchased glory. I hate blood since I saw you covered with it. I cannot think without shuddering, that each drop of it costs tears that cannot be dried, of a sister, a mother, or a fair bride. What do you need, in order to live peacefully and quietly among our mountains! Here none can come to disturb with arms the happiness of the heart. The rain pierces not our roof; our bread is not of purchased corn; my father has many horses, he has arms, and much precious gold; in my soul there is much love for you. Say, then, my beloved, you will not go away, you will remain with us!"

      "No, Seltanetta, I cannot, must not, remain here. To pass my life with you alone—for you to end it—this is my first prayer, my last desire, but its accomplishment depends on your father. A sacred tie binds me to the Russians; and while the Khan remains unreconciled with them, an open marriage with you would be impossible—the obstacle would not be the Russians, but the Khan"——

      "You know my father," sorrowfully replied Seltanetta; "for some time past his hatred of the infidels has so strengthened itself, that he hesitates not to sacrifice to it his daughter and his friend. He is particularly enraged with the Colonel for killing his favourite noúker, who was sent for medicine to the Hakím Ibrahim."

      "I have more than once begun to speak to Akhmet Khan about my hopes; but his eternal reply has been—'Swear to be the enemy of the Russians, and then I will hear you out.'"

      "We must then bid adieu to hope."

      "Why to hope, Seltanetta? Why not say only—farewell, Avár!"

      Seltanetta bent upon him her expressive eyes. "I don't understand you," she said.

      "Love me more than any thing in the world—more than your father and mother, and your fair land, and then you will understand me, Seltanetta! Live without you I cannot, and they will not let me live with you. If you love me, let us fly!"

      "Fly! the Khan's daughter fly like a slave—a criminal! This is dreadful—this is terrible!"

      "Speak not so. If the sacrifice is unusual, my love also is unusual. Command me to give my life a thousand times, and I will throw it down like a copper poull.8 I will cast my soul into hell for you—not only my life. You remind me that you are the daughter of the Khan; remember, too, that my grandfather wore, that my uncle wears, the crown of a Shamkhál! But it is not by this dignity, but by my heart, that I feel I am worthy of you; and if there be shame in being happy despite of the malice of mankind and the caprice of fate, that shame will fall on my head and not on yours."

      "But you forget my father's vengeance."

      "There will come a time when he himself will forget it. When he sees that the thing is done, he will cast aside his inflexibility; his heart is not stone; and even were it stone, tears of repentance will wear it away—our caresses will soften him. Happiness will cover us with her dove's wings, and we shall proudly say, 'We ourselves have caught her!'"

      "My beloved, I have lived not long upon earth, but something at my heart tells me that by falsehood we can never catch her. Let us wait: let us see what Allah will give! Perhaps, without this step, our union may be accomplished."

      "Seltanetta, Allah has given me this idea: it is his will. Have pity on me, I beseech you. Let us fly, unless you wish that our marriage-hour should strike above my grave! I have pledged my honour to return to Derbénd; and I must keep that pledge, I must keep it soon: but to depart without the hope of seeing you, with the dread of hearing that you are the wife of another—this would be dreadful, this would be insupportable! If not from love, then from pity, share my destiny. Do not rob me of paradise! Do not drive me to madness! You know not whither disappointed passion can carry me. I may forget hospitality and kindred, tear asunder all human ties, trample under my feet all that is holy, mingle my blood with that of those who are dearest to me, force villany to shake with terror when my name is heard, and angels to weep to see my deeds!--Seltanetta, save me from the curse of others, from my own contempt—save me from myself! My noúkers are fearless—my horses like the wind; the night is dark, let us fly to benevolent Russia, till the storm be over. For the last time I implore you. Life and death, my renown and my soul, hang upon your word. Yes or no?"

      Torn now by her maiden fear, and her respect for the customs of her forefathers, now by the passion and eloquence of her lover, the innocent Seltanetta wavered, like a light cork, upon the tempestuous billows of contending emotions. At length she arose: with a proud and steady air she wiped away the tears which, glistened on her eyelashes, like the amber-gum on the thorns of the larch-tree, and said, "Ammalát! tempt me not! The flame of love will not dazzle, the smoke of love will not suffocate, my conscience. I shall ever know what is good and what is bad; and I well know how shameful it is, how base, to desert a father's house, to afflict loving and beloved parents! I know all this—and now, measure the price of my sacrifice. I fly with you—I am yours! It is not your tongue which has convinced—it is my own heart which has vanquished me! Allah has destined me to see and love you: let, then, our hearts be united for ever—and indissolubly, though their bond be a crown of thorns! Now all is over! Your destiny is mine!"

      If heaven had clasped Ammalát in its infinite wings, and pressed him to the heart of the universe—to the sun—even then his ecstacy would have been less strong than at this divine moment. He poured forth the most incoherent cries and exclamations of gratitude. When the first transports were over, the lovers arranged all the details of their flight. СКАЧАТЬ