We ought to love the griefs that come,
For they’re like clouds from heaven to throw
More radiance round the setting sun,
More splendour o’er his dying glow.
MOSULNA.
Kazim could scarcely avoid reproaching himself with extreme imprudence,
when, towards the close of his first day’s progress in the desert, he
took down Mangeli in his arms from the back of the half-starved and
jaded animal, on which she had been unavoidably riding for many hours
without intermission. He produced a store of sour milk, which he had
obtained from the good villagers; but when he offered it to Mangeli,
he thought in vain of the gushing and transparent streams which they
had left behind them, amidst the mountains of Astracan. She drank the
beverage with a cheerfulness which, notwithstanding her late illness,
and the many mortifications they had already endured, still remained
undiminished. But when Kazim looked upon the sun descending into the
bosom of the boundless waste around them, and beheld, as far as the eye
could reach, not the slightest trace of a human habitation of any sort,
he almost wished that the earth would open, and receiving them into its
most gloomy cavern, close upon them for ever.
With the night came the cold wind of the desert, often fatal even to
those who are best prepared to resist it. Kazim and Mangeli lay down
beside the poor animal that was destined to participate in all their
privations. His body protected them, in some degree, from the piercing
wind which blew over the plains with a wailing sound. The firmament
was crowded with its wonted fires, but Kazim no longer looked at them
with the interest which they had never before failed to kindle in
his breast. Mangeli and her approaching fears now absorbed his every
thought, and as she lay trembling beside him on the bare ground, he
called out, in the agony of his heart, to Allah, to protect her through
the trials she had still to encounter. But the freezing gale swept
along the desert, in howling blasts, like the voice of some enormous
beast of prey tracking them for destruction; nor did it cease to renew
its loud and lengthened roar, until the sun re-appeared on the horizon.
Warmed by its welcome rays, Kazim and Mangeli enjoyed some hours of
feverish slumber, while their less unhappy companion browsed upon some
tufts of half-parched herbage, which he found scattered on the surface
of the steppe.
When they awoke, Kazim spoke of returning to the village which they
had last left, on the borders of the desert; but Mangeli said, that
she felt much better, and as their provisions were still sufficient
for at least three or four days, by which time they were informed
that they should certainly meet with several caravans from Thibet and
Turkestan, she thought it better that they should go on, as they had
already advanced so far on their journey. Kazim reluctantly yielded
to this kind of reasoning, and they resumed their slow and melancholy
march over the plains, without meeting a single traveller, or even an
animated creature of any description, for several days in succession.
The unbounded appearance of the desert was in itself appalling; but
Kazim had no expression for the despair that brooded upon his heart,
while he was thus penetrating through a region of silence, interrupted
only by the night-winds, whose dismal tones he preferred, with all
their terrors, to the unearthly stillness of the long day in those
endless solitudes.
They had now seen the tenth sun go down upon the still expanded
waste, and no caravan had yet appeared. Their provisions were already
exhausted, when the poor animal, which still continued to bear Mangeli,
being also without food, sank upon the earth, unable to proceed any
farther. The shock brought on her pains somewhat prematurely; and in
this condition, on the naked barren sand, without shelter, without
sustenance, without even a cup of water to moisten her parched lips,
did the hapless wife of Kazim become the mother of a female infant.
Kazim wrung his hands with anguish, when he beheld his first-born thus
come into the world, without his possessing any thing to wrap it in,
save the ragged turban which he tore off his head. The babe uttered
no cry. It seemed too attenuated and feeble to live; indeed it seemed
already dead, for its tiny breathing was scarcely perceptible to its
distracted parent.
Mangeli lay insensible for several hours, while Kazim, fearful of
quitting her side for a moment, sat near her, waiting for the approach
of that death from which he now saw no expectation of release. When,
at length, she opened her once beauteous eyes, she rose up and asked
Kazim for her infant, with an energy that quite surprised him. It was
the strength of delirium; for when he placed her babe in her arms, she
seemed still unconscious of its presence, and demanded, in a voice of
lamentation that almost broke his heart, why he took away from her
the only solace that she now had in the world? Suddenly, as the child
nestled closely to her breast, where it sought in vain for its natural
nutriment, the senses of the mother returned, and betrayed to her the
whole extent of her misery.
Here it was impossible, at all events, that they could remain any
longer. No change of place could bring destruction with more certainty,
than the scene to which they were now confined. Summoning, therefore,
whatever strength he could still command, Kazim urged the prostrate
animal to rise; and the creature, as if he felt that some effort upon
his part was necessary, even to his own safety, submitted quietly,
while Mangeli once more placed upon his back, moved forward with some
appearance of renovated ability. Mangeli was too weak to bear the
infant in her arms, but Kazim, though scarcely stronger than his wife,
assured her that he could carry it while he walked by her side.
The unhappy family had been little more than an hour from their last
memorable resting-place, when Kazim, who was eagerly looking all round
the horizon, cried out that he saw a horseman in the distance, who
must, no doubt, be the precursor of one of the long expected caravans.
Laying the babe upon the earth, he ran towards the object which was
moving rapidly across the desert; he shouted with all his might, and
waved his hand over his head, still running, until he fell, utterly
overcome by the exertion which he had made. But the horseman, if such
it was, passed out of sight; and instead of that friendly spectacle,
Kazim, when he returned to himself, beheld perched near him on the
ground, an immense vulture, which, glaring upon him with its piercing
eyes, already seemed to claim him for its prey.
Had the vulture attacked him, he could not, at that moment, have
resisted it. He looked at the ill-omened bird, as it hopped around him,
with the feeling of a person oppressed in sleep by the night-mare.
There was a load upon his senses that kept him fixed to the earth,
and prevented him from throwing at the foul creature the sand which
he instinctively grasped in his hand for the purpose. Still it hopped
round and round, the slaver falling from its beak, as it feasted by
anticipation on a new victim. The approach of Mangeli, however, who
impelled her wearied steed to its last effort, put the vulture to
flight, but not to any great distance; for he now directed his course
towards the infant, which he perceived hard by. The vigour wanted by
Kazim for his own protection he found at once, when he beheld the
danger to which his offspring was exposed. Running towards the spot,
with the fleetness of an arrow, he snatched up the child with one
hand, while with the other he hurled against the ravenous intruder
some dried bones of man or beast, which he picked up on the way. From
one of these the vulture received such a blow on the head that he fled
screaming over the desert.
The horror occasioned by this incident, soon yielded to a sense of
overwhelming joy; when, after advancing for another hour or two, they
beheld, at a considerable distance, an extensive lake, upon which
vessels laden with dates and melons, grapes, oranges, and every kind of
delicious fruit, were seen in great numbers crossing and re-crossing
the surface of the waters in all directions. Islands, whose verdure was
peculiarly grateful to eyes so long dazzled by the glare of the sun on
the sand of the desert, were scattered over the lake in picturesque
groups, intersected by streams which shone like veins of silver, and
abounding with trees whose spreading branches promised a refreshing
shade. A boat, rowed by two men, put off from the principal island as
soon as the travellers were in sight, and approached the margin of the
waters for their especial accommodation.
There was already a freshness in the atmosphere, which gave new life
even to the animal that had hitherto borne Mangeli with faltering
steps, and urged him to hasten towards the lake with a rapidity which
Kazim in vain endeavoured to rival. But the greater the expedition they
used, the farther the islands, as well as the surrounding element,
receded from the view of the wearied pilgrims. During the whole day
they pursued the fleeting vision, until at length it faded, on the
approach of evening, altogether from their sight, leaving them in a
state of helplessness for which they now gave up all hope of finding
any remedy. Kazim, unable to bear the little burthen in his arms any
longer, resigned the task to Mangeli, who, sitting on the ground,
received her child with that vacant smile which denotes the return of
delirium. Her hands trembled violently, while she endeavoured to clasp
the infant to her bosom; but they fell powerless by her side, as she
swooned away in the effort, overcome by fatigue, and reduced to the
last stage of famine.
Kazim had a dim recollection, that in their haste towards the imaginary
lake they had passed a palm-tree. Returning some hundred paces, he
perceived the companion of their journey busily engaged in browsing on
the leaves and tender branches of some shrubs, near which the palm-tree
grew bearing a few dates still unripe. He plucked them in a moment,
and bringing them to Mangeli, moistened her lips with the juice of
the fruit, while he contented himself by chewing some leaves which
he had torn from the shrubs. The liquid, such as it was, revived her
for a moment, but she again relapsed into a state of insensibility
resembling death. The poor infant lay upon her knees, exposed to all
the dangers of the night. Kazim contrived to make a bed for it among
branches of the palm, which he gathered for the purpose, and placing
the babe at the foot of the tree, covered it, as well as he could,
from the inclemency of the cold blast, which had already commenced its
melancholy murmur.
When Kazim told Mangeli in the morning what he had done, he added, that
as they had no hope of finding sustenance for the babe, it would be
better to leave it in the desert than attempt to carry it any farther.
His own strength was quite gone, and, above all, he felt apprehensions
which he dared not reveal, that if another day or two passed over
without their meeting with any food, temptations of the most dreadful
description might be irresistible to both of them. Mangeli understood
her husband at once, and nodding her head in apparent acquiescence,
desired to depart without a moment’s delay. When she was seated on the
horse, she expressed a wish, however, to be led towards the palm-tree,
that she might at least once more behold the spot destined to be the
grave of her infant. She looked at the tree with silent grief for a
few minutes, and then permitting Kazim to turn the head of the animal
round, she proceeded on her journey, still keeping her eyes reverted on
the palm. When that beacon began to lessen by degrees, and at length
to escape altogether from her sight, the voice of nature resumed its
power over the heart of the agonized mother:--“My child! my child!”
she exclaimed, “give me my child, or let me perish by her side!”
Throwing herself from the horse, she attempted to run towards the
palm-tree, but she fell upon the earth, unable to move a single pace.
The prudent fears of Kazim gave way at once before the entreaties of
Mangeli, as well as to his own paternal impulses, and telling her that
he would in a moment gratify her wishes, let the consequences be what
they might, he hastened towards the tree near which the infant was
laid. But while he was removing the palm-branches, in which he had
enveloped it, he was struck with horror on perceiving a black snake, of
enormous dimensions, coiled round the child, and hissing with all its
fury, enraged at being disturbed in its preparations for devouring the
banquet it had found.
Kazim, seeing the danger to which his child was exposed, grasped the
neck of the snake in his hand with a convulsive effort, and placing it
under his foot, pressed it to the earth, while the venom flowed from
its fangs covered with foam. Then untwisting the loathsome bands in
which the babe had been folded, he took it up in his arms, and leaving
the snake to its fate, returned to Mangeli, who had witnessed the
result of the contest with a feeling of joy that appeared to give her
new life.
While the parents were examining their infant, in order to assure
themselves that the snake had done it no injury, a group of horsemen
galloped towards them, who saw, from their appearance, that they were
in a condition of the most deplorable misery. The strangers, alighting
from their steeds, produced from the wallets which were attached to
their saddles, an abundance of delicious dates and figs, together with
clusters of half-dried grapes of Ghazni, the best which are yielded
by the vineyards of Asia. Their caravan, they said, which was coming
from Ferghana, bound for Kabul, would soon be in sight, and the unhappy
travellers might expect every assistance it could afford.