RECOLLECTIONS OF MY DERVISH LIFE.
On the evening of the 27th of March, 1863, my excellent friend, the
Turkish ambassador in Teheran, gave me a farewell supper, at which
all declared--to inspire me, of course with fear, and divert me
from my adventurous undertaking,--that I was for the last time in
my life to enjoy European food in the European manner. The handsome
dining room at the residence of the ambassador was brilliantly
lighted, the choicest viands were served, and the choicest wines
handed round; for the intention was clear,--to give me a strong dose
of reminiscences of European comforts on the difficult expedition
before me. My friends were for ever scrutinizing my features, to
discover whether my outward appearance might not betray some trace
of inward excitement. But they were very much mistaken. I had
ensconced myself comfortably in the velvet arm chair, which had
been brought thither from the distant land of the Franks; the wine
had tinged my face with the same colour as the fez which covered
my head. A pious dervish and wine--what a frightful antithesis!
To-night, however, I must transgress, the penance will be a long
one, whether or no....
Twenty-four hours later, in the evening of the 28th of March, I
was in the midst of my company of beggars on the road to Lar, in a
half-dilapidated mud hut, called Dagaru. The rain was pouring in
torrents. We had been pretty well wetted through during our day's
march, so that all were anxious for shelter and a dry roof; and,
the space being narrow, fate brought me the very first evening into
the closest contact with my travelling companions. Their tattered
garments, never very sweet-scented, and now thoroughly soaked with
the rain, gave out the strangest evaporations; and no wonder if,
under such circumstances, I had no great desire to take my share out
of the large wooden bowl, from which the starved Hadjis, splashing
about with their fists, were eating their supper. Moreover, hunger
tormented me less than fatigue and my wet, ragged garments, to
which I was as yet unaccustomed. Rolled up like a ball, I tried to
get to sleep; but this also was impossible, packed together as we
were in such close quarters. Now I felt the hand, now the head of
one of my neighbours, falling upon me; then my opposite companion
stretched out his foot, to scratch me behind the ears. It required
the patience of Job to defend myself against these unpleasant
civilities; and yet I might have had some sleep, but for the loud
snoring of the Tartars, and above all the loud moaning of a Persian
muleteer, who was sadly troubled with the gout.
Finding that all endeavours to close my eyes remained unsuccessful,
I rose and sat upright in the midst of this mass of people, who were
lying about in the most utter confusion. The rain kept falling, and,
as I looked out into the dark and gloomy night, my thoughts returned
to the difference in my position only twenty-four hours before, and
the sumptuous farewell supper at the splendid Turkish embassy. The
whole scene appeared to me not unlike a dramatic representation
of "King and Beggar," in which I acted the chief part. The bitter
feeling of reality, however, made little impression. I myself was
the author of this sudden metamorphosis, and I had prepared my fate
for myself.
The hard task of self-control lasted but a few days. As far as all
outward peculiarities were concerned, I soon became familiar with
the habitual as well as physical attributes of dervishism, such as
dirt, &c. I gave my better garments, which I had brought with me
from Teheran, to a weak and sickly Hadji, an act of kindness which
gained all hearts. My new uniform consisted of a felt jacket, which
I wore next my skin without any shirt, and of a _djubbe_ (upper
garment),[10] composed of innumerable pieces of stuff, and fastened
with a cord round the loins. My feet were enveloped in rags, and
an immense turban covered my head, serving as a parasol by day and
pillow by night. I had also, in conformity with the rest of the
Hadjis, hung round me a voluminous Koran in a bag, which resembled a
cartridge pouch; and, viewing myself thus, "_en pleine parade_," I
had reason proudly to exclaim: "Yes, indeed, I am born a beggar!"
[10] It is called _Hirkai dervishan_ (the dervish cloak), which
even those dervishes that are most comfortably off are obliged
to wear over their otherwise good garments. It is the symbol of
poverty, and is often composed of countless small pieces of new
patchwork, cut round the edge in points of unequal length; and,
while it is sewn together on the outside with thick packing thread
and large stitches, the lining often consists of silk or some other
valuable material. It is the _ne plus ultra_ of hypocrisy; but long
before the Romans the wise men of the East have said, _Mundus vult
decipi--ergo decipiatur_.
The outer or material part of the _incognito_ was thus easily
assumed, but the moral part presented more serious difficulties
than I expected. Although I had had the opportunity, for some years
past, of studying the contrast between European and Asiatic modes
of life, and the critical position in which I found myself made it
incumbent upon me ever to be strictly on my guard, nevertheless, I
could not avoid committing many glaring mistakes. The difference
between Eastern and Western society does not consist merely in
language, physiognomy, and dress. We Europeans eat, drink, sleep,
sit, and stand, nay, I feel inclined to say, laugh, weep, sigh,
and gesticulate otherwise than Eastern people. These things are
visible trifles, but in reality difficult ones, and yet they are as
nothing when compared with the effort required to disguise one's
feelings. When travelling, people are naturally of a more eager
and excitable temperament than in everyday life, and therefore it
costs the European an unspeakable effort to conceal his curiosity,
admiration, or any kind of emotion, when brought into intercourse
with the indolent orientals, who are for ever indifferent to all
and everything around them. Besides, the object of my travelling
was merely to travel, whilst that of my friends was to reach their
distant homes. My individual person excited their interest only
during the first moments of our acquaintance, while to me they were
each a continual study; and it certainly can never have entered the
head of any one of them that, whenever we laughed and joked most
intimately together my mind would just then be doubly occupied.
No one but he who is practically acquainted with the East, can
have any idea of the difficulty of entering into all these marked
differences. I had been pretty well schooled by a four years'
residence at Constantinople; yet there I played merely the part of
an amateur, whilst here I dared not deviate even a hair's breadth
from reality. Nay, I will make no secret of the fact, that during
the first few days the struggle, though short, was severe, and that
repentance and remorse seized me at every fresh difficulty. However,
my mind, being stimulated by vanity, was in that state of excitement
when everything had to give way before the irresistible impulse of
its ardour; and, supported in its triumph by a sound constitution,
it was enabled to bear easily whatever might happen.
I shudder even now when I think back of the fatigue I underwent
during the first few days, and how much I suffered from the wet and
cold, the uncleanliness--which makes one's hair stand on end--and
the never-ending, harassing worry with the fanatic Shiites, during
our long and tedious day-marches in Mazendran, a part of the world
of historical reputation for its bad roads. Sometimes it rained
from early in the morning until late in the evening, and, whilst
not a thread of my tattered garments remained dry, I was moreover
obliged to wade for hours knee-deep in mud. The narrow mountain-path
has become hollow by the wear of centuries, and in many places
it resembles a muddy brook, winding along between huge fragments
of pointed rock that have fallen from the heights above. It is a
sheer impossibility to remain in the saddle; and, in order to avoid
danger, the best course is to tread slowly and cautiously, sounding
the hollows with one's foot. No one will doubt that, under such
circumstances, we arrived at the station at nightfall thoroughly
exhausted and fatigued. Fire and shelter are the chief objects of
desire, for which the eye looks longingly around. They both exist
in Mazendran; but we, the Sunnitic beggars, had preferred, for the
sake of quiet, to pass the night undisturbed and far from any human
dwelling. A fire was kindled, to dry ourselves and our clothes, when
the elder of our Tartar fellow-travellers observed, that such a
proceeding would be prejudicial to health; and, indeed, they always
preferred to dry themselves in another and more singular fashion.
It is well known that, throughout the East, horse dung is dried and
then ground into powder, to serve as stabling for the horses by
night. During the day it is exposed to the sun, either spread out or
made into conical-shaped heaps; and I was not a little astonished
to see how my companions, divesting themselves entirely of their
apparel, buried their soaked bodies up to the neck in such like
_poudre de santé_. I need not add, that contact with this _poudre_,
so well known as strong and stinging, cannot be very agreeable; but
its effects are only felt during the first quarter of an hour, and I
can assert, from my subsequent personal experience, that such a bed
induces a most sweet and refreshing sleep, however it may offend the
European eye and sense of refinement.
In spite of the drawbacks, I should have felt quite contented with
my lot had it not been that, besides these fatigues common to all,
an extra share was allotted to me, being a stranger in the company.
As such, it was my duty to affect the qualities of modesty and
devotion, to show myself not only friendly, but submissive, to all;
and to endeavour to conciliate the affection of old and young, by
professing an obliging disposition, and a readiness to perform any
kind of small service. At first these offers were declined by most
of them, since they did not wish to offend in me the character
of "efendi," having made my acquaintance as such. However, it
was my duty in no case to yield, but on the contrary, to strive
continually to make myself useful to one or the other. Besides the
minor services I performed on the march, I had to try to be helpful
to every one at the station, either by preparing tea and baking
bread, or by looking after the riding horses, or by packing and
unpacking. Some of my companions were obliging to me in return for
my attention, but others, who soon had forgotten my former position,
treated me like an old fellow-traveller. Services were demanded
and performed without the smallest ceremony; and I could not help
laughing heartily, when a Hadji from Khokand once coolly handed me
his shirt for me to free it from the many "uninvited guests," he
being fully occupied in like manner on another part of his costume.
It was to be foreseen that in this way an _entente cordiale_ would
speedily ripen between us. The more I accommodated myself to my
present position, forgetting the past, the quicker also disappeared
the barrier between me and the other Hadjis. The society of others
exercises a powerful influence upon us, uniting as it does the
most opposite elements; and after I had lived for a whole month as
dervish, all appeared to me not only natural and endurable, but the
charm of novelty in the life around me had actually effaced Teheran,
Stamboul, and Europe, from my memory; and the continual excitement
in which I lived had produced in me a state of mind which was
extraordinary, it is true, but never disagreeable.
One feeling alone disquieted me: this was the fear of discovery, or,
rather, of its consequences,--the terrible death of torture which
Tartar cruelty and offended Mahometan fanaticism would have invented
for my punishment. Already during the first days of my residence
with the Turkomans I became aware that, in assuming my incognito, I
was playing a dangerous game; and, but for the unlimited confidence
I placed in the fidelity of my companions, and my own preparations,
this spectre would have haunted me every moment of my existence.
During the greater part of the day, society, occupation, and events
of various interest prevented the intrusion of these suspicions; but
at night, when everything around was hushed in silence, and I sat
alone in a solitary corner of my tent, or in the waste and barren
desert, I became absorbed in thought. Fear appeared before me in its
blackest guise and most terrible aspect; nor would it leave me for a
long, long time, however much I attempted to dispel it by sophistry
or light-heartedness. Oh, this terrible Megæra! How she tormented
me, how she tortured me, at those very moments when, seeking repose,
I was about to lose myself in contemplation on the grandeur of
nature and the wonderful constitution of man. In the long struggle
between us, fear was finally subdued; but it is this very struggle,
which I now blush to remember; for it is marvellous what efforts are
required to grow familiar with the constant and visible prospect
of death, and how great the anxiety in seeing only a doubtful
foundation for the hope of one's further existence.
No one, I am sure, will blame me for acting with precaution, nay,
at first, with scrupulous precaution; but often it degenerated into
ridiculous extremes. I was, for instance, conscious of my habit
of gesticulating with the hands when speaking,--a habit peculiar
to many Europeans, but strictly forbidden in Central Asia;--and,
fearing lest I might commit this mistake, I adopted a coercive
remedy. I pretended to suffer from pains in the arms, and strapping
them down to the body, they soon lost the habit of involuntary
movement. In like manner I seldom ventured to make a hearty meal
late in the evening, for fear of being troubled with heavy dreams,
which might cause me to speak some foreign, European language. I
laugh now at my pusillanimity, for I might have remembered that
the Tartars, being unacquainted with European languages, would not
have noticed it; and yet I rather bore in mind the words of my
companions, who observed one morning with great _naïveté_, that my
snoring sounded differently from that of the Turkestanis, whereupon
another interrupted and informed him: "Yes; thus people snore in
Constantinople."
It may be objected, that as so many of my actions might cause remark
or offence when in company with others, I must at all events have
shaken off this restraint when alone. But alas! Even then I was the
slave of precaution; and is it not striking, or rather ridiculous,
that at night, when in the boundless desert and at a considerable
distance from the caravan, I did not venture to eat the unleavened
bread, mixed up with ashes and sand, or take a draught of stinking
water without accompanying it with the customary Mahometan formula
of blessing! I might have thought to myself, no one sees you,
all around are asleep; but no! the distant sand hills appeared
to me like so many spies, who were watching whether I was saying
the Bismillah, and whether I had broken the bread in the proper
ritualistic manner. Thus it happened when in Khiva, that, when
sleeping alone in a dark cell, bolted and barred, I started up from
my couch at the call to prayer, and began the troublesome labour of
the thirteen Rikaat. When at the sixth or eighth, I had a great mind
to leave off, thinking I was safely out of sight. But no! it struck
me, that perhaps the eyes of a spy might be watching me through the
crevice in the door, and conscientiously I performed my unpleasant
duty.
Only time, the universal panacæa, could remedy this evil. Although
my moral sufferings were considerably more painful than the physical
ones, time and habit came to my aid, and gained me here also the
victory, and after having lived happily through four months, my
mind had grown as hardened to any fear or terror as my body to dirt
and uncleanliness. The epoch of indifference succeeded, and with it
I began to feel the true charms of my adventure. I was attracted
above all by the unlimited freedom of our life as vagrants, the
total absence of trouble as to food and clothing, the gratuitous
manner in which the dervish had everything provided for him, and,
in addition, the mental superiority which he exercises over the
people at large. No wonder, then, that I lost no opportunity in
amply profiting by the advantages of my position. My companions
admitted that I possessed eminent talents for the life of a dervish,
and whenever the question rose how to get money from hard-hearted
villagers, or to beg and collect a larger store of victuals, I
was always entrusted with that part of the business. I one day
brilliantly justified the confidence thus placed in me, in an
encampment of Tchandor Turkomans. These, the wildest of all nomad
people, had the reputation of being exceedingly wicked, and Hadjis,
Tshans and Dervishes habitually avoided going near their tents.
Having been told of this I set out on my way, accompanied by three
companions who were known as famous singers, and taking with me a
goodly store of holy dust, Zemzem water, tooth-picks, combs and the
like gifts, presented by pilgrims. Some received me rather coldly,
but yet the son of the desert, however wild he may be, cannot resist
the words or the mimics of a dervish's strategy, and not only did
I receive ample presents in the shape of wheat, rice, cheese and
pieces of felt, but I succeeded in persuading one of the men to
load his own ass with this harvest, and take it to our astonished
caravan.
Success leads to boldness. No wonder, then, that after several
successful expeditions, I assumed a demeanour in which many will
trace a certain degree of impudence. And, indeed, I can hardly
refute this accusation entirely, but how was I to have done
otherwise? No European can realize to himself what it is to stand,
a disguised Frenghi, (this word of terror to orientals,) face to
face with such a tyrant as the Khan of Khiva, and to have to bestow
upon him the customary benediction. If this man were to discover the
dangerous trick, this man with the sallow face and sinister look,
as he sits there surrounded by his satellites--such an idea is only
endurable to a mind steeled to the highest pitch of resolution. At
my first audience I appeared really with a step so firm and gesture
so bold, as if my presence were to bestow felicity upon the Khan.
All looked at me with astonishment, for submissiveness is befitting
to the pious and saints. However, they thought such was the custom
in Turkey, and I heard no remark made about it.
Such bold measures, however, were seldom necessary, and, in its
ordinary routine, the life of a dervish has often given me moments
of the greatest happiness. Without feeling any inclination to
imitate the Russian Count D----, who, wearied of the artificial
life of Europeans, withdrew into one of the valleys of Kashmir,
turning beggar-dervish, I must confess that a peculiar feeling
of enjoyment came over me when, basking in the warm rays of the
autumnal sun, either in some ruin or other solitary spot, I could,
in true oriental manner, absorb myself in vacant reflection. It
is inexpressibly pleasurable to be rocked in the soft cradle of
oriental repose and indifference, when one is without money or
profession, free from care and excitement. To us Europeans such an
enjoyment of course can only be of very short duration, for if our
thoughts turn at such moments toward the distant, ever-active, and
stirring west, the great contrast between these two worlds must at
once strike the eye, and instinctively we feel attracted towards
the latter. European activity and Asiatic repose are the two great
subjects which occupy the mind, but we have only to cast our look
upon the ruins scattered around us to see which of the two follows
the right philosophy of life. Here everything is on the road to
ruin and servitude, there everything leads to prosperity and the
sovereignty of the world.
These varied scenes of life, in which I moved during my incognito,
were far from being devoid of attractions, as many a prejudiced
European might imagine, although they naturally could fascinate but
for a time. I was truly frightened one day, when the Khan of Khiva
proposed to me seriously to marry and settle in Khiva, since persons
of such extensive travelling as myself were far from disagreeable
to him. The idea of spending my whole life in Turkestan, with an
Œzbeg wife for my partner, was horrible, and I should certainly
have thrown up my plans if I had been obliged to accept the offer;
but, as it is, I shall certainly never repent having spent a few
months in an adventure which ended happily. I say never, for even
the remembrance of all I experienced is indescribably sweet, and
even now, when already more than three years have elapsed since my
return, I find every circumstance as fresh in my memory, the whole
scene as near and vivid, as if I had arrived with my caravan only
last night, and were obliged to start off again on the morrow,
and load my ass for the journey; as often as I think back on my
fellow-travellers, the most pleasant feelings are re-awakened in
remembrance of that intimate and hearty friendship which existed
between us. We chatted, laughed, and bantered with each other on
our long day's march, as if we could not wish for a more enjoyable
existence; it was above all my merry humour which greatly pleased
them, and my jokes and puns afforded to them an endless source of
amusement when we were alone, for in public we all of us wore the
long, stony faces suited to the gravity of our character as holy
men. What would they say if they could see me now in the midst
of so many unbelievers, and dressed in a garment so ridiculous
in their eyes, the forked garment, as they designate European
trousers?--_me_, in whom they and the rest of the world believed to
see a true specimen of a western Mahometan Mollah! I must confess
that although the pleasant episodes of my incognito are even now
frequently the cause of cheerful moments of recollection, the sad
hours of suffering and extremity of danger loom like black clouds on
the horizon of the present. Their gloomy shadows remind me vividly
of past terrors, and even now, whenever I start up in my sleep,
haunted by oppressive dreams, it was very often His Majesty, the
Khan of Bokhara, or the frightful tortures of thirst, or a fanatic
group of Mollahs, who, hastening hither from Central Asia on the
wings of Morpheus, honoured me with a visit. How happy do I feel on
awaking, to find myself in Europe, in my dear native country, in my
peaceful home!
I have often been in critical, nay, extremely critical situations,
but on the whole only a few episodes have left behind on me such
an impression as never will be effaced, and which, from being
associated with the most imminent danger to my life, will never be
forgotten by me as long as I live.
I.
The evening in the Khalata desert, when, after having endured for
two days the torments of thirst, I felt, with the last drop of
water, my vital energies gradually ebbing away. Around me were lying
many of my fellow-travellers, suffering, probably, as acutely as
myself, to judge from their wild, haggard looks, and rigid features.
Raising my heavy head with the greatest effort, I met the glance of
those near me. They all seemed to be looking at me with expressions
of bitter resentment, for during the afternoon I had heard the old
ascetic, Kari Messud, repeat several times, "We are, alas! the
propitiatory victims for some great evil-doer who is amongst us in
our caravan." Possibly not one of them referred to me, but I felt,
nevertheless, full of anxiety. Meanwhile the hour of evening prayer
was approaching. Only a few could join in it. The sun was fast
setting, and, as the last rays lit up the unhappy group of sufferers
in that vast desert, I could not help casting a look towards
the spot, where from the horizon he sent his last beams towards
me,--that spot, which we call the west, the beloved west, which I
had little hope to live to see the next morning again; and with
unspeakable sadness I clung to the word 'west;' my half-exhausted
senses revived anew, for with the word returned the thought of
Europe, of my beloved home, my early departure from this world, the
hard struggles of my past life, the wreck of all my aspirations, of
all my pleasant hopes. My heart nearly broke with the burden of this
great sorrow; I longed to weep, but could not. This moment is one of
imperishable memory; the terror of that scene has impressed itself
indelibly on my mind, and whenever my thoughts turn towards the
Khalata desert it will rise and haunt me like a phantom.
II.
The next occasion was during my audience with the emir of Bokhara,
in the palace of Samarkand. This prince, who had been represented
to me as a person of doubtful character, had been severely examining
my countenance as I sat by his side, in order to discover in me
a Frenghi in disguise. The readers of my travels are already
acquainted with a part of the conversation that took place between
us. I hoped to gain him over to our interests, but it cost me a
giant's effort not to betray by my countenance, and especially my
eyes, the excitement within me; and, although I shook and trembled
in every nerve, I was obliged to suppress even the slightest symptom
of fear. An old adept in the part I played, I effectually succeeded
in preventing a blush, or any change of colour, but I did not feel
confident about the result. Let the reader realise my position, when
the emir, after an audience of a quarter of an hour, called to him
one of his servants, cautiously whispered something in his ear, and,
motioning to me with a serious expression of countenance, ordered me
to follow his attendant.
I rose quickly from my seat. The servant led me through room after
room, and court after court, whilst the uncertainty of my fate
filled me with alarm; and, as oppression of heart breeds none other
but images of terror, I fancied that this ominous walk was leading
me to the torture-chamber, and to that dreadful death which so often
had presented itself to my imagination. After some time we came to
a dark room, where my guide ordered me to sit down and wait for his
return. I remained standing, but in what state of mind my readers
may readily imagine. Perhaps I should have felt less terror could I
only have known what my death was to be, but this uncertainty was
like the torture of hell, and I shall never forget it as long as I
live. With a feverish impatience I counted the minutes, until the
door should open again.... A few more seconds of torture and the
servant appeared. I fixed my eyes upon him, and perceived by the
light that entered through the doorway that he did not bring with
him the dreaded instruments of the executioner, but carried under
his arm, instead, a carefully folded-up bundle. This contained
a dress of honour, presented to me by the emir, as well as the
'viaticum' for my long pilgrim road.
III.
The third instance occurred to me when waiting for the arrival of
the Herat caravan on the banks of the Oxus, during the hot days
of August, in the company of the Lebab Turkomans. I dwelt in the
court of a deserted mosque, and in the evenings the Turkomans
usually brought with them one of their collections of songs or
ballads, from which I had to read to them aloud, and it gave me
especial pleasure to witness the undivided attention with which they
listened to the deeds of some popular hero, while the silence of
the night air around us was only broken by the hollow murmur of the
rolling waters of the Oxus. One evening our reading lasted till
near midnight. I felt rather tired, and, unmindful of the advice
I had often received, not to sleep in the immediate proximity of
ruined buildings, I stretched myself out beside a wall, and soon
fell sound asleep. After about an hour I was suddenly awakened
by an indescribably violent pain in my foot, and jumping up and
screaming aloud, I felt as if hundreds of poisoned needles were
shooting through my leg, and concentrating in one small point near
the big toe of my right foot. My screams awakened the eldest of
the Turkomans, who slept near me, and without questioning me, he
exclaimed, "Poor Hadji, a scorpion has bitten thee, and that during
the unlucky period of the Saratan (the dog days!) May God help
thee!" With these words he seized my foot, and bound it up round
the ancle with such violence as if he were going to cut it in two,
then searching in all haste with his lips for the wounded spot, he
sucked with such force that I felt it all through my body. Another
soon took his place, and two more bandages having been applied they
left me with these words of comfort, that, if it be the will of
Allah, between now and the hour of the next morning prayer, it would
be seen whether I should be released from pain, or freed from the
follies of this world of vanity.
Although I felt completely maddened by the itching, pricking and
burning, which kept increasing more and more in violence, yet I
remembered the legend of the scorpions of Belkh, well known for
their venomous nature even in ancient times. The reasonable
apprehension of death rendered the pain still more unbearable,
and that, after many hours of suffering, I really did surrender
all hopes of recovery, was shown by the fact that, forgetting my
incognito, I began to pour out my lament in expressions and sounds
which, as the Tartars afterwards told me, appeared to them extremely
droll, since they are in the habit of using them when shouting for
joy. It is remarkable that the pain spread in a few minutes from the
toe to the top of the head, but only on the right side, and kept
flowing up and down me like a stream of fire. No words can describe
the torment I had to undergo the hour after midnight. Loathing any
longer to live, I was about to dash my head to pieces by beating it
upon the ground, but my companions observed my intention and tied
me fast to a tree. Thus I lay for hours, half fainting, whilst the
cold sweat of death was running down me, and my eyes turned fixedly
towards the stars. The Pleiades were gradually sinking in the west,
and whilst awaiting in perfect consciousness the voice that calls to
prayer, or rather the break of morning, a gentle sleep fell upon me,
from which I was soon roused by the monotonous la illah il Allah.
No sooner was I fully awake when I was sensible of a faint
diminution of the pain. The pricking and burning disappeared more
and more, in the same way as it had come, and the sun had not yet
risen a lance's height over the horizon when I was able, though
weak and exhausted, to rise to my feet. My companions assured me
that the devil, having entered my body through the bite of the
scorpion, had been scared away by the morning prayer, a fact I dared
not of course discredit. But that terrible night will for ever
remain engraven on my memory.
It is these three events which were the critical moments in my
adventures in Central Asia. As to the rest, the many curious eyes
that scrutinised me, the various suspicions I laboured under, as
well as the unspeakable fatigues of travelling in the guise of a
beggar, all these privations and obstacles have left behind but
few sad remembrances. The fascinations in seeing those strange
countries, for which my eyes were longing from the earliest days
of my youth, possessed in itself a charm at once animating and
invigorating, for, except in the few cases just mentioned, I felt
always particularly cheerful and happy. This much is certain, that
I often miss, in my present civilised European life, the bodily and
mental activity of those days, and who knows but that I may, in
after years, wish that time to return, when, enveloped in tatters
and without shelter, but vigorous and high in spirits, I wandered
through the steppes of Central Asia.