Mid the clustering forest his charger stood near.

And, his streaming mane tossing, was stamping the ground;

His squire was holding his buckler and spear,

While from far off came booming the cannon's deep sound.

One more agonised pang, and he tore him away,

And mounted his war-steed to join the affray,

But as slowly he rode through the green leafy wood,

With a lingering pace he oft turned his fond gaze,

To cast one more glance where his lov'd maiden stood,

Till soon she was hid by the thick forest maze;

Then, spurring his charger with speed o'er the lee,

Soon with fear did the foemen his dancing crest see.

Like the willow which gracefully bent o'er the stream.

The maiden stood tremb'ling and drooping with grief,

Like the dew of the morn did those precious drops seem,

When the bright sun-beams play on the spark'ling green leaf.

Ah! cruel the war that could make her thus mourn!

Ah! sad 'twas to leave that sweet maiden forlorn!

Then rising, she clomb o'er the mountain so high,

And she look'd o'er the hill and she look'd down the vale;

Saw joyous in fancy his gay banner fly,

When her ear caught the sound of a funeral wail.

Through the glen, as advancing with mournful slow tread,

A train bore the bier of a warrior dead.

Then fearful and fleet as the chas'd deer she flew,

Down the steep mountain's side, over chasm and brake.

For well the bright arms of her hero she knew;

Not the whirlwind's swift course could her flight overtake.

Then she threw herself down her slain lover beside;

She sigh'd not, she wept not, but heart-broken died.

As she finished, tears stood in her eyes, and her voice trembled at the

last lines.

"Why sing you that mournful ditty, dear Zara?" said her friend. "It is

too sad for one, whose eye sorrow has not dimmed, to sing."

"I know not why I sing it," answered Zara; "but I could not help it, the

words came flowing to my lips."

"Who taught you so sad an air?" asked Ina.

"A venerable bard who travelled once this way. His steps were feeble,

and his locks were blanched with years, and, as he rested at our house

he sang this air, gazing sorrowfully at my face, and made me learn these

words, I know not why. He went his way, nor ever have I seen him since:

but still, at times, a sadness comes upon me, and I sing this song."

A deep-drawn sob was heard from the corner of the apartment where the

young Conrin had thrown himself on a divan.

"Come hither, Conrin," said Ina, in tones of kindness. He had been

weeping; for his eyes were red and his features wore an air of sadness.

"Why do you weep, dear Conrin? What makes you thus sorrowful?"

"Sad thoughts and feelings," answered the page. "I have much to make me

weep: but it was that song overcame me. I wept for the sad forebodings

that it brought upon my soul, for myself I care not, but for those I

have learned to love."

"What causes have you for grief, dear boy?" said Ina. "Are you not

happy here, where all so love you?"

"I cannot tell you, lady," answered the page.

"Why not tell me your grief? Perchance, confiding it to me, I may aid

to mitigate it," said Ina.

"Oh no, it is impossible; my grief is too deep for consolation; it is a

secret I shall never tell," answered the page.

"But, I may find a means to soothe it," urged Ina.

"Lady, pray deem me not ungrateful; but again, I beseech you, let me

leave you," exclaimed Conrin. "I love you much; but yet, I love your

noble brother more. The only balm you can give to soothe me is to let

me go to him."

"But, why would you leave this calm retreat to hasten amidst scenes of

war and bloodshed?" said Ina.

"I would go to my master, wherever he may be, lady," answered Conrin.

"I fear some danger threatens him; I know not what, but dark forebodings

steal across my soul. I cannot look upon the future as I used to do,

hoping for days of brightness and joy; my heart no longer bounds as it

was wont, with thoughts of happiness. Oh let me seek my master, that I

may guard him from the threatened harm, if still I may! I would too,

gaze upon his loved features once again before I die, for too surely do

I feel the troubled inward spirit preparing for its flight to quit this

world. I feel that nothing can avert my death, come how it may."

"Boy, you speak of strange, mysterious things," exclaimed Ina, in an

alarmed tone. "Why think you danger threatens my dear brother? and why

these sad forebodings of your own fate?"

"Lady, I come of a race who oft see things hidden from duller eyes; and

once, it is said, our ancestors could foretell either the death of

mortals, or their destiny; but the power has passed away, as we have

mixed our blood with other tribes. Yet, even now, we often see the

shadow of a coming evil; and it is a curse upon our race, that we cannot

guard against it when it threatens ourselves. For others yet we may,

and thus I would attempt to guard my master."

"Conrin, you persuade me strongly to let you go; and for my dear

brother's sake I will, though I should be loath to part from you. Oh,

shield him, if you can, from danger, and may Allah bless you!"

"Thanks, lady, thanks! Even now my spirits lighten of their load,"

exclaimed Conrin. "I would set off this day; another may be too late."

"You cannot journey alone, on that road, dear page," said Ina; "you

shall accompany the first band of warriors who set forward for the

camp."

"Oh, I would find my way alone, through every obstacle, to meet your

noble brother," said the boy, eagerly.

"Conrin, that cannot be; you know not half the dangers which would beset

you on the road. To-morrow, perhaps, some warriors may go forth. You

said you had a secret that you would not tell; but let me hear it; for

much do I love you, for the affection which you bear my brother; and

much it pains my heart to think that yours must bleed without a

sympathising friend, to soothe your pain. Ah! how blind I have been! a

thought has opened now my eyes. Come hither; let me whisper to your

ear."

The gentle Ina bent over her page's head. A deep blush suffused the

boy's cheeks; his eyes filled with tears.

"Ah! it is so? Let me weep with you," she cried. "But, be of good

hope, all may yet be well. Such love as yours cannot go unrequited."

Old Kahija was certain to intrude when she was least wanted; and at that

instant she made her appearance, hobbling in, for she was somewhat

unwieldy in her gait. Her cheeks almost burst with impatience to

communicate some important information.

"Here's news for you, young ladies, from the camp," she exclaimed. "Ah,

Zara, my pretty maid, you'll not have to sigh much longer, I am

thinking, for the young Alp. Now, girls, what would you give to have

the information? Your best earrings, I warrant; but I am not cruel, and

will keep you no longer in suspense," she added, as eager to communicate

the news, as the fair inmates of the harem were to hear it. "Know then,

my pretty Zara, that our noble chief, your grandfather, has given his

sanction for your marriage with young Alp Beg, and in a short time, he

will be here to bear you from us."

"Speak you the words of truth, Kahija?" exclaimed Zara, blushing, but

looking perfectly happy, as she threw herself upon Ina's neck. "Oh, say

when he will come?"

"He has sent some one to deliver a message to you; therefore wrap your

features closely in a veil, and go out to the gate of the anderoon. And

that reminds me there is some one to see you, Conrin, from your master."

"Ah!" exclaimed the page, hastening to the door. "What joy to hear of

him."

"A messenger from my brother!" cried Ina. "I too, must learn what news

he brings."

At the gates of the anderoon, Conrin found Javis waiting his coming.

"I bring news from our master, for his sister," said the squire. "In a

few days he will be here, and then I must quit his service, if I can

return to Russia. I have fulfilled my oath, I have obeyed your wish; no

mortal, with a spirit that could feel, would do more."

"Javis, I owe you much;" exclaimed the page. "I would repay you with my

life; but the only reward you prize, alas! I cannot give."

"I ask for no reward," answered Javis; "the only one I prize, alas! I

cannot gain; and after that, death will be the most welcome. But I

would see my people first, and breathe my spirit out amongst them. I

have done your bidding. I vowed to do what you wished, nor stipulated

for reward. I rescued the young chief from the power of the Russians; I

have striven to wash away my thought of crime almost perpetrated; I saw

him safely landed on his native shores; I have seen him take his place

among his people, as a chieftain of Circassia: I even learned to love

him for himself, but more I cannot do. I could not bear to see him

again at your side; I must go even from you."

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Ina and Zara.

"Say, when will my brother come?" exclaimed Ina. "Oh, 'twill be joy to

see him."

"In three days hence, if the Russians move not from their encampments,"

answered Javis.

"Bring you any message for me?" said Zara, timidly addressing a young

warrior, who respectfully saluted her at her approach.

"Yes, lady, I bear a message from my friend, the gallant Alp Beg.

Before two days have passed, and ere the shade of yonder lofty tree has

reached the stream which flows a short distance from its base, he will

be here."

"You bring me grateful news, indeed. Oh, many thanks!" returned Zara.

"Say, is your friend well?"

"Yes, lady, he is well; and bears himself bravely against the foe,"

answered the messenger.

"Come, come, maidens," exclaimed Kahija, bustling up. "It is very

incorrect to stop chattering longer than is necessary at the gate of the

anderoon. If you have received your messages, come into the house, and

let the young men go their way."

Having no further excuse for remaining, the fair girls were obliged to

do as desired, though they would fain have heard more of those so dear

to them.

Volume 3, Chapter VII.

We must return again to take a glance at the patriot camp on the Ubin.

Except the slight skirmishes already described, nothing of importance

had been effected, and as the winter was now fast approaching, the

Russians appeared to contemplate no further movement.

A council of war was one day held in a grove, away from the din and

bustle of the camp, at which were present, among many of the Princes and

nobles of Circassia; Arslan Gherrei, his son and the Hadji, when shots

were heard announcing the arrival of some other chief, and presently a

band of wild horsemen were seen approaching, dressed in skins and furs,

of some of the mountain Tartar tribes.

At their head, rode the Khan Khoros Kaloret; who, after dismounting,

singly approached the council ring. The chiefs stood up as he stepped

boldly amongst them. His looks were fierce and angry, as his glance

passed round on the assembled nobles, who could ill brook his haughty

mien. At length, one of the most ancient addressed him--

"Why come you here, Khan, to interrupt our conference? Have you any

tidings of importance to communicate?"

"Why come I here?" echoed the Khan, furiously. "Think you, I come for

idle sport? No, I come to claim my brother's blood at your hands. Say,

where he is, or I may not continue to be a friend to any here. Say,

where is my brother?"

"We know not of your brother, Khan; we have spoken our answer."

"Does my brother, live? I ask you," said the Khan.

"We know not of your brother," answered the former speaker.

"To you then, Uzden Arslan Gherrei, I appeal," said the Khan. "I sent

him to you, to bring back your daughter as my bride; and since he left

your house, none of my clansmen know aught of him. At your hands, I

require him."

"Your brother, Khan, quitted my house free to go where he willed. I

cannot tell you of him more," answered the chieftain--

The Khan glanced fiercely around him for a few seconds, without

speaking; during which, the members of the council moved to a farther

distance, and resumed their seats; leaving the enraged Khan, standing

alone; a customary ana sufficient signal, that his presence was not

required. The Khan stood irresolute for a few minutes; then, against

all rules of established ceremony, again approached them.

"Chieftain," he cried, addressing Arslan Gherrei; "again, I ask you,

where is my brother? If dead, say who slew him, that I may know my

enemy; or, if he fell before the foe, why brought you not away his

corpse, and arms?"

"Khan," answered the chief; "is it not enough to say, that I cannot tell

you of your brother? then ask me no more."

Saying which, the whole body returned to their former position, leaving

the Khan alone. He again followed them, when the council slowly rising,

the aged chief, who had before spoken, again addressed him:

"Twice have we warned you, Khan, not to question us of your brother.

Now learn his fate; he died a traitor's death--fighting in our foemen's

ranks, he fell, attempting treachery. He lies now amongst a heap of

cursed Urus; his name disgraced and blotted from our memories. Now go,

and ask no more of him. His name is foul."

"Chieftain, whoever says my brother died a traitor's death, lies black

as Eblis. Back in his mouth, I'll throw the calumny," cried the Khan.

"My brother was ever a foe to Russia, and deeply will I avenge his

slandered honour."

At these words, the chiefs half drew their swords; but, recollecting

that he stood one among many, and having compassion upon him for his

grief, and his brother's crime and death, they returned them to their

scabbards, and spoke not.

"Uzden Arslan Gherrei, from henceforth know me as your deadly foe,"

cried the Khan; "whatever death my brother died, 'twas you that caused

it, and I will have revenge, if I die to gain it."

Uttering which, with a fierce tone and aspect, he strode from the spot,

mounting his war horse, rode furiously from the camp, followed by the

troop of his wild clansmen, without waiting to salute any of the chiefs

he met.

We must leave the Khan to pursue his headlong course, while we follow

the movements of the Baron Galetzoff, and the small army under his

command. After marching from Anapa, they proceeded to the newly erected

fort, we have described on the south side of the Kouban, which was built

on slightly elevated ground, at no great distance; though beyond gun

shot of the range of mountains, which girt the territories to which the

tribes of the Atteghei are now confined. On the other side extended a

broad plain, formed of the marshes of the Kouban, from which the heats

of summer draw forth the noxious miasma, so prejudicial to the health of

the soldiers; but the flat marshy nature of the country, added to the

security of the position, lessens the chance of a surprise, and gives

full scope for the deadly fire of grape and rockets.

The fort had been commenced under the protection of a large force; and

the Baron was now employed in forming fresh entrenchments, and taking

every means to strengthen his position; waiting in hopes of some

opportunity occurring to revenge himself for the losses he had

sustained. No houses had as yet been built; the troops living in

wretched huts hastily constructed of mud and boughs, and the officers in

their tents.

Towards the close of the day, the Baron was seated in his tent, when his

aide-de-camp announced to him that one of the chiefs of the enemy, with

a flag of truce, desired an audience immediately.

"Let him be admitted," said the General. "We may at length have awed

some of these barbarians into subjection."

The Baron rose to receive his guest as the officer returned, ushering in

a tall ferocious looking warrior, his heavy sword clashing against his

armour, as with a fearless step he entered the tent. The General

started when he saw him; for he thought of the young Khan to whose death

he had been instrumental, and of his squire whom he had unjustly shot,

as gazing earnestly at the stranger, he almost fancied the dead stood

before him. For a few moments neither spoke, as the civilised European

commander confronted the wild warrior of the mountains, who returned his

glance with a haughty and seemingly contemptuous stare. At length,

banishing his superstitious fears, he spoke.

"Who are you, chief, that thus venture into the camp of the Russians?"

"I am Kaloret Khan," answered the chief in a fierce tone.

At the sound of that name the Baron started, laying his hand upon his

sword to prepare himself for the expected attack.

"Fear not," said the Khan in a contemptuous tone, "I come not to do you

harm. Did I wish to kill you, I could have done so ere this. See!" he

added, pointing to the opening of the tent, before which one of his wild

clansmen was holding his war horse. "I could have struck you dead, and

mounted my fleet steed, leaping your paltry entrenchments, before one of

your slow-moving soldiers could have stopped me. No, Russian, I come

not to harm you."

"For what purpose do you come here? What ask you?" said the General.

"I come," answered the Khan, frowning darkly, and clenching his

gauntleted hand, "I come to seek revenge."

"A goodly feeling, and one that should be encouraged by all brave men,"

answered the Baron. "And on whom do you seek it?"

"On those who have injured me. On a chieftain, Arslan Gherrei, who

refused to let his daughter be my wife; and shall I tamely brook such an

insult? I would bear the girl away, in spite of her refusal; I would

revenge myself upon him for my brother's death; who is said to have come

to ask your aid to carry off the chieftain's daughter, when he died by

the hand of Selem, his newly found son."

"You have heard truly, Khan," answered the General. "Say, how can I

assist you in your wishes, and I will gladly hold the hand of friendship

forth to you."

"I would bring hither the daughter of the chieftain, for I must quit my

mountain home, my flocks and herds, and come to join you with my

followers."

"You speak wisely, Khan," said the Baron. "You shall be received with

open arms; but you must also bring this son of Arslan Gherrei, and his

youthful page, and also a Russian officer, who lately escaped when under

sentence of death. I will, in return, promise you lands, flocks, and

herds to supply those you have left."

"You speak of Selem Gherrei, Russian," exclaimed the Khan. "It were

easier far to entrap the savage boar, and bring him willingly along,

than to bring alive before you any of the chiefs of the Atteghei. But I

will try; and, if I fail, it shall not be for want of hatred and revenge

to prompt me."

"Bring him alive, if possible; if not, bring me his corpse, and you will

be welcome. There are others I would secure--his squire, and a slow,

heavy slave, who is probably about his person."

"I have already said I will do my best to please you," said the Khan

haughtily, "and now I must depart."

"Farewell, until you return with your prisoners," rejoined the Russian.

"Chieftain of Russia," responded the Khan, "you will see me soon again.

I tarry not in my revenge."

Saying which Khoros Kaloret strode from the tent with the same haughty

air with which he had entered, and, mounting his horse, galloped off.

"There goes a traitor," said the Baron, following him with his eye as he

rode off; "and if there were a few more like him, we might soon rightly

call the fair lands of Circassia our own. I think I can trust that

barbarian, with revenge for his motive of action; and if he brings

Arslan Gherrei's daughter, I shall have a hold upon him he cannot easily

break through."

He then summoned Count Erintoff to his presence.

"Ah! Colonel," he said, as the Count entered, "I have at length a hope

of punishing those who have hitherto escaped my vengeance."

"I am rejoiced to hear it, General," said the Count. "We owe it as a

duty to our country to punish those vile deserters, not to mention the

indulgence of a little private revenge. But how is it that you hope to

succeed?"

"Why it appears that the fierce Khan, Khoros Khaloret, has taken umbrage

that the Chief Arslan Gherrei refuses him his daughter--the same of whom

we heard so much, and who so narrowly escaped us at the fords of the

Mezi, when the Khan's brother led you into that desperate scrape. He

now wishes to run off with the lady, and take refuge with us: so I have

made it a condition of his being; well received, that he brings off

those deserters, Ivan Galetzoff, his page, Lieutenant Stanisloff, and

others. I fear he may not succeed in capturing Ivan Galetzoff, who, now

I hear, bears the name of Selem Gherrei; indeed, I have no doubt he is

the son of Arslan Gherrei, as I captured the boy myself, and well

remember that was the name of the chief whose village I attacked and

burned. I carried off his wife with this boy, who I knew not was her

own son, little thinking what a viper I was cherishing. I intended him

to prove a bitter enemy to this rebellious country, but I find this

woman counteracted all my intentions, by instilling into his bosom an

absurd love of country and liberty. I would give worlds to get him into

my power; and though the Khan may not succeed in entrapping him, he may

secure his page, whom he brought with him from Russia, and to whom it

seems he is much attached. I propose to work upon the boy, either by

kindness or threats of his life, to induce him to assist in some plot to

betray his master. At all events I have hopes that this young Gherrei,

when he finds we have possession of his sister and page, will attempt to

rescue them. We will be on the watch to ensure his capture, and I will

promise a reward to whoever makes him a prisoner. What say you, Count,

to my plans?"

"It is an excellent plot, and cannot fail," said his worthy officer;

"but we must also endeavour to re-capture Lieutenant Stanisloff. I have

a little private grudge against him, which I would fain indulge."

"Oh! there is but little chance of missing him," answered his superior;

"he will probably accompany Selem Gherrei into the field, and fall into

the same toil as his friend. You, Colonel, shall have the lady as your

share."

"I cannot refuse so generous an offer," said the Count. "I suppose she

must be beautiful, or she would not have inflamed the heart of the

savage Khan. I require some fair mistress to drive the Gipsy Azila out

of my head; for I could never gain any further trace of her after it was

discovered that she was implicated in that miserable conspiracy."

"A great disappointment, Colonel; but I dare say this wild mountain

beauty will recompense you for her loss," said the Baron.

"Perchance she may," answered the Count, "for it is said these

Circassian beauties may vie with the most lovely in the world. But we

must be cautious. If we deprive the fiery Khan of the lady, he may give

us some trouble. He does not appear a person who would quietly submit

to have his mistress taken from him, after the risk and danger he must

undergo to win her."

"That matters little," answered the Baron; "he will give us but slight

trouble, for we must put him out of the way on the first convenient

opportunity. I never contemplated allowing him to remain alive. I love

not these intractable mountaineers; and can never trust them. We can

let him fall into the hands of his countrymen, and they will take good

care to ease us of any further thought concerning him."

"A very good idea, General," answered the Count. "I agree with you that

these barbarians are equally troublesome whether as friends or enemies;

and I confess I did not like the scowl he cast on me and all around, as

he passed, bearing himself as proudly as if he were some conqueror

riding amidst his slaves."

"They are a detested race," exclaimed the General, grinning through his

thick-mustachioed lips; "but we will soon humble their pride, and drag

them in chains to St. Petersburg, where they shall be exhibited as a

specimen of the knights of old and we may then build our chateau, and

lay out our parks amidst these green hills and fertile valleys, without

the fear of being molested."

"You are facetious, General, at the expense of the savages," said the

Count. "But, according to my taste, this is rather too far from the

capital to build a country house. I should like, however, to transfer a

few of their fair beauties from these wilds to people my domain near

Moscow; and as for the men who have given us so much trouble, I would

shoot them all as traitors, or send them to work in the mines of

Siberia. They are too fierce to be tamed; for, like hyaenas, they would

never be at rest, and would spring upon us when we least expected it.

But, badinage aside, what do you, Baron, intend to do with the prisoners

the Khan is to bring us? They deserve severe punishment."

"Shoot them as flagrant deserters taken in arms against the Emperor,"

answered the Baron, clenching his hand, and frowning darkly. "It is too

mild a punishment for them."

"This page of Ivan Galetzoff, or Selem Gherrei, or whatever name he now

goes by, deserves punishment richly for that affair of the Mezi," said

the Count. "I saw him fighting as furiously as the oldest hands among

them. The fiery young villain shot the Khan's brother and one of our

own Cossacks, who was about to cut down his master. I fear we shall not

succeed in getting much service out of him."

"Then he must die. We must make an example of all deserters," said the

General, "or we shall find our ranks completely empty before long. What

with the desertion of these rascally slaves we have sent there as

soldiers, these cursed fevers which sweep off so many, and the atrocious

daring of these barbarous mountaineers, we have lost more men already

than we can spare. Had I my own way, I would overwhelm these

Circassians at one fell swoop, and exterminate them from the face of the

earth."

"I agree with you, General, this is the only way to treat them,"

answered the Count.

Volume 3, Chapter VIII.

With light and bounding heart, young Alp urged on his steed towards the

smiling valley of Abran Bashi, as from the summit of the last mountain

he espied amid the trees the habitation of his young and beloved Zara.

He wore a Persian suit of the finest chain armour, a gift from his

uncle, Achmet Beg, over which was thrown a cloak of blue cloth, trimmed

with gold. A belt of Turkish leather, richly embroidered in gold, (the

prized gift of his mistress, worked by her own fair hand), bound his

waist, holding his jewelled dagger; and at his side hung a well tempered

Damascus blade. Boots also of Turkish leather, and worked by the same

loved one, covered his feet. On his head, instead of the warlike

helmet, he wore a cap of cloth, trimmed with a narrow border of dark

fur, overshadowed by a plume of white feathers. He looked indeed a

noble bridegroom, worthy of the love of Circassia's lovely daughters,

the pride of his gallant old father.

By his side rode his tried and sworn friend, the son of the brave and

sturdy chief, Ali Beg, his companion in many a wild and daring

adventure, when they were boys together; and lately, in the sterner and

sanguinary scenes of warfare. He too was in his most gallant array, his

arms furbished to their utmost polish, his coat and steel almost

concealed by a gay-coloured vest, and by the cloak which hung from his

shoulders. He had been selected by his friend for the honourable and

important post of bridesman, to escort the bride to the house of her

destined lord.

In the meantime, young Zara was counting the hours, as they seemed to

crawl by, ere he came; and in spite of all old Kahija's notions of

propriety, stole often and furtively to the wicket of the enclosure

surrounding the anderoon, to throw many a searching glance up the valley

to the summit of the hill, over which she knew her knight must pass.

Then she would run back again, and pretend to be busily engaged in her

work, her ear anxiously intent to catch the sounds of his horse's hoofs,

as her eye was to search for his graceful figure. Then she would

persuade herself and her friend that she had a head-ache, and that a

little more fresh air would wonderfully benefit her; and she would seize

Ina's arm, and hurry off. Her friend fully comprehended the reasons of

her constant visits to the gate.

"Why comes he not, Ina?" at length she said. "What think you could have

delayed him on the road? He said he would come ere the shadows of

yonder tree had reached the waters of the rivulet, and see it already

touches the edge of the bank. Oh, Allah! can any harm have befallen

him? I never think of those dreadful Urus without shuddering, and Alp

is always on some hazardous expedition against them; their very name

frightens me."

"Nay," said Ina, "let not your thoughts dwell on such fears. See the

shadow has not yet reached the water, and ere it does, perhaps Alp will

be here."

"Tell me, Ina, how is it that some women of our country can be so

courageous as to rush into battle, fearing not the Urus, and bear

themselves as bravely as the men? For my part, I tremble at the report

only of a rifle, and could not fire a pistol to defend my life," said

Zara.

"Because, dearest," answered her friend, "you have been removed from the

scenes of havoc and bloodshed, which steel their hearts from all

feelings of compassion for our foes, and which nerve their arms, and

inspire them with courage to avenge their wrongs."

"It is dreadful to think of it," exclaimed Zara, shuddering. "I would

rather die at once than look on blood. The foe might kill me, but I

could not fight."

"Oh, let us pray, Allah, that the dread foe may never come near this

valley, and then you need have no cause to fear them," answered her

friend.

"I almost wish that Alp was not so great a warrior; but yet I love to

hear of his brave deeds. They say he will be equal to his father, and

he is one of the bravest heroes of Atteghei. Ina, I will tell you a

secret. I have loved Alp for a very long time--ever since I first saw

him--when he once came home, bringing two Russian prisoners. Hearing

every body praise so much, I ventured to look at him, and then I saw

what a gallant and noble youth he was. Then he danced with me at the

marriage of one of my grandfather's followers. Oh, how my heart leaped

as he pressed my hand, and led me out on the green. I did not care for

all old Kahija's frowns. And then the soft and sweet things he said to

me! I never heard words like them, and when I looked at him again, I

thought him one of the handsomest of all the youths of the Atteghei--not

in the least like his father, as people said he was. I was always happy

when he came, and used to play so many tricks to avoid old Kahija, who

makes me so obedient at other times, though I never ventured away so far

from the house as you do. Then, when he told me how much he loved me,

and that he would die, or win me, I was so happy! I did not think he

would have to die."

"Yes, dear Zara, Alp is indeed a noble youth, well worthy a lady's

love," answered Ina.

"Ah!" said Zara, clasping her friend's arm tighter, "see, Ina, see, he

comes! I see his glittering armour. I see his white plume. Ah, he

hastens onward--he looks this way, to catch a glimpse of me. Now he

looks at the shadow of the tall tree, to see if he have kept his

promised time. See the shadow scarcely yet touches the water! He flies

faster than the sun. He will be here in a few minutes. Oh, Ina, how my

heart beats! I must run away--I must hide. He will think I have been

looking for him. I ought not to stay here. What will Kahija say?"

Whatever Zara ought to have done, she showed not the slightest

inclination to move, but continued waiting the approach of Alp, who

certainly proved himself to be no dilatory lover, by the rate he

galloped on. So fast indeed did he approach, that she had not time to

retire if she would, before, leaping from his horse, he clasped her in

his arms, spite of her blushes, and the presence of Ina, whom he seemed

to have quite overlooked. He, however, now made his courtesies to her

in proper form.

"See, Zara," he said, "I sent word I would come ere the shadow of yon

tall tree had reached the stream, and it but now touches the wet grass

on its borders. I come, sweet one;" and he whispered a few magic words

in her ear which made the roses glow more brightly in her cheeks.

"My father gives me but a few days ere he will call me back to the camp,

so that we have but a short time. He will arrange all things with your

grandfather, and to-morrow my home will await your coming."

We will not dwell any longer on the interview of the lovers; nor need we

describe their words of tender endearment; for love, we believe, to be

much the same in all parts of the globe, influencing in the same way the

thoughts and feelings of all those, whose young hearts have not been

blighted and seared by the world, which too soon works a woeful change

in all that is tender, pure, and lovely. These mountain lovers might

not perhaps have used the courtly phrases of the cities of Frangistan;

but they spoke a language which both perfectly understood, and, looking

into each other's eyes, they found words unnecessary.

They did not even perceive that Ina had long left them; and were

somewhat startled in finding old Kahija standing in her place, after an

interval whose duration they had not calculated. Her appearance drove

many things, they were about to communicate to each other, out of their

heads; and so pertinaciously did the nurse keep her ground, that Alp,

who had never fled before the Russian fire, was now obliged to beat a

most unwilling retreat.

From far and near came guests to grace the bridal festival of the fair

young Zara and the gallant Alp. From the mountain villages, and

neighbouring dells, all assembled whom war had not called from their

homes, and all ranks and classes were equally welcomed by the venerable

and hospitable old chief. Parties of youths and maidens came in their

gayest attire, streaming over the hills and down the valleys; their

embroidered cloaks fluttering in the breeze, and glittering with silver

fringe, singing, as they wended their way, songs in praise of the young

couple. Here some noble gallant might be seen on his gaily caparisoned

charger, scouring along the valley to join the throng; others came in

attendance on their fair partners for the coming dance; their gallantry

more sincere, and scarcely less refined than in the civilised countries

of Europe.

The vests of the maidens were ornamented in front with silver studs, and

closed by clasps of the same metal; while a jewelled broach confined the

bands which bound their slender waists. White veils or scarfs, nearly

reaching the ground, fell from amid their braided tresses, confined at

the ends by a silver cord. They wore muslin trousers, fastened round

their ankles; their petticoats reaching to the knee, and embroidered

slippers encased their small feet. The lower ranks were dressed in less

elegant attire, though of much the same fashion; but all had done their

utmost to deck their persons to the best advantage, to add to the

brilliancy of the scene.

The feast was held in the grove close to the habitation of the Prince,

where arbours had been erected for the fairer portion of the guests. In

the principal one Zara, with Ina and old Kahija, were stationed to

receive them. Numerous bands of slaves were in attendance, bearing

tables to the green glade, from which, through an opening in the trees,

was seen the lower part of the valley; and here the old chief stood with

Alp and his friends, to receive the male guests as they quickly

assembled. The tables were spread in long rows on the grassy lawn; the

chiefs, and those of higher rank, being seated round their venerable

host, while those not of noble birth and the freemen, were placed at the

other end.

In the neighbouring thicket were numerous fires, at each of which was

suspended a nobly charged spit, or a kettle tended by female slaves

busily employed in preparing viands for the large party assembled. At a

distance stood in eager and hungry expectation, the serfs and those not

of rank sufficiently high to enjoy the privilege of sitting at table;

but to whom the remainder of the banquet was to be served when the

nobles had finished. There were minstrels also to chaunt forth the

praise of the bridegroom and his fair Zara, one taking up the strain

from the other, and each endeavouring to outdo the first in praise and

delicacy of compliment.

In the meantime, Zara and her fair companions were entertained in the

arbours, whence their light ringing laughter reached the spot where the

nobles were seated. Though many of the party where Mahometans, the cup

of sparkling wine often passed round to the sound of music; but they

remained not long seated, for eager were the youths to join the dance,

when they saw the troops of lovely maidens tripping gaily along the

verdant glade, entwining round their graceful forms wreaths of bright

flowers. The youths spiling quickly from the tables in pursuit of their

fair partners; and vain were their laughing efforts to escape from the

quick footed, active mountaineers, who soon overtook them, leading them

back no unwilling prisoners to the smoothest and most level spot for

dancing.

Then did the musicians strike up their gayest airs; the dancers moving

first to slow and measured time, in circles alternately of youths and

maids, now lifting their arms in graceful undulations aloft and now

joining their hands in the centre. Then, as the music quickened,

pursuing each other round and round; the maids wreathing their flowers

and circling the heads of the youth as they knelt at their feet. Then

springing up, they pursued their giddy course.

Alp led forth his bride elect, the last time he could thus appear with

her in public; Thaddeus, following his example with Ina; and many a

closely veiled and hooded matron of high rank conducted to the dance

their daughters to receive the hands of partners. Gracefully they moved

through the forest glades. The minstrels exerted their talents to the

utmost, and were joined, at times, by the sweet voices of the fair

dancers; while, occasionally, laughter resounded on all sides. The

elders and matrons, seated on divans and carpets in the arbours or

beneath the shade of the trees, looked on with approbation, applauding

the graceful movements and activity of their children.

The time was now approaching when Zara must leave the gay scene to be

attired in her thick veil in preparation for her journey, old Ivahija

being in waiting to carry her off to the house.

All present seemed full of happiness, except the young page, Conrin.

The joyousness of the scene grated on his feelings; and forsaking the

throng, he sought to calm his troubled thoughts at a distance in

solitude and quiet. He earnestly longed to see his master again; he was

disappointed at Selem's not arriving as he expected, and feared that the

danger he fancied was approaching, might already have overtaken him.

Javis, on perceiving his departure from the feast, followed at a

distance, in hopes of offering consolation; but Conrin seemed to avoid

him. At length, Javis came up with him.

"Have I done aught to offend you?" he said, "know you not, that I would

die an hundred deaths for your sake? Then, why do you thus shun me?"

"Oh, speak not thus," answered Conrin. "Yes, you are good, you are

kind, you are brave; and grateful, deeply grateful, am I, for all that

you have done for me; but I can give you no reward."

"I seek for no reward, but would comfort you," said Javis.

"You cannot comfort me. I have brought my misery upon myself; and on

you, my kind friend, I have brought danger and hardship; nor know I how

you may escape from them. For myself, I care not; my grief has no

cure."

"Quit this vain hope. You still may have happiness with one, who loves

you truly," answered Javis.

"While my life endures, never will I quit the country that holds the

young chief Selem. Think you, I would leave him when a career of glory

is opening out before him? I love to gaze upon his noble form, to hear

his words, though spoken to others. If he fall, I shall not survive

him. Now leave me, kind Javis, and forget the wrong I've done you.

Hark, what loud shout is that?"

The revelry still continued with unabated ardour. The green was covered

with gay and happy dancers. Alp was to lead the last round with his

sweet Zara, and then they must part, though soon to meet again. The

song, the laugh, and the cheerful sounds of the musician's strains,

filling the forest glade, gladdened the hearts of all; when a shriek

arose from the women, and a terrific yell like the cry of demons

resounded through the woods. Before the youths could draw their swords,

a fierce band of savage horsemen were upon them. Some of the affrighted

maidens fled, shrieking through the groves; others stood paralysed with

fear, clinging to the arms of their protectors. The banqueting tables

were overturned, as the pursued and the pursuers rushed across the

glade; the bright sparkling wine flowed on the grass, mingled with the

red blood of the combatants, as the young warriors bravely rallied to

withstand the overpowering attack of the fierce followers of the Khan

Khoros Kaloret; for he it was who led the band of marauders.

His eye had singled out one fair object for his prey, as he fought his

way to the spot; she was struggling to escape from the grasp of one of

his followers, who had seized her round the waist, to lift her on his

horse; when Thaddeus, escaping from those who had attacked him, rushed

forward, cleaving the savage's shoulder to the arm. He had scarcely

time to save his mistress from being crushed by the weight of the

falling body, ere the Khan fiercely set on him, endeavouring to regain

possession of his prize.

Alp had thrown himself before Zara, at the first onset of the foe,

repelling all who attacked him. He bore her in safety towards a party

of their friends, assembled round the aged chief, who were keeping the

horsemen at a distance to protect the women. Leaving his bride under

protection, he collected a few men, and hastened to assist a small party

fiercely beset by the Tartars, on whom he set with such energy, that

they were compelled to fly; but only to return with fresh fury to the

attack.

In the mean time, the Khan, finding Ina snatched from his very grasp,

threw himself on Thaddeus, with his whole force, hoping to bear him to

the ground. Thaddeus eluded his first onset, placing Ina on his left

side, and parrying with the greatest difficulty, the repeated and

furious strokes aimed at him by the Khan. He retreated fighting, as he

bore his mistress to a place of safety; when a heavy blow from the

Khan's sword brought him on his knee to the ground, though he saved his

head by a timely guard. A second stroke from his opponent's sabre would

have cut him down; but Ina threw herself before him, arresting the

Khan's arm, ere his sword descended, giving Thaddeus time to recover his

feet.

"Foolish maiden, you shall not save your lover a second time," exclaimed

the Khan, attempting to seize her, though the movement was nearly fatal

to himself; for so furious a blow did Thaddeus make at him, that he was

obliged to relinquish his hold, to parry it.

"Fly, Ina, fly! now that you are safe," exclaimed her lover. "I will

keep the savage chief at bay."

But Ina moved not from his side. At that moment, a fresh troop of

Tartars galloped to their chief's assistance. Thaddeus began to fear

that his defence had been futile; when Alp, with a few other youths,

bravely threw themselves in their way.

In a different division of the grove, many of the festive party had been

overthrown at the first surprise; but others, drawing their weapons, and

placing themselves back to back, fought so bravely, that they gave time

to their fair partners to escape; and so well did they hold their

ground, that they fully occupied the greater part of the Khan's

followers; thus preventing them from going to their chiefs assistance;

pursuing them so actively whenever they attempted to answer his

reiterated summons, that the Tartars were again obliged to turn and

defend themselves.

Yet the youths, however brave, wearing only a light gala costume, and

having no weapon of defence but their short swords, could scarcely

withstand the furious attacks of their fully equipped enemies, for whom

victory, at first wavering, was now about to declare, when the war shout

of the Atteghei was heard; and a small body of fully-armed warriors

broke through the grove, led on by Selem, who fiercely attacked the

first body of Tartars he met, and drove them before him. His arrival

turned the fortune of the day. Several of the young men flew to the

house to seize their arms, and to mount their steeds tethered in the

neighbouring thickets.

Selem, fighting his way up to the spot where Thaddeus was still

defending Ina, compelled the Khan to retreat, foaming with rage.

The events we have here described took place in a few minutes, ere the

revellers, scattered in all directions, could assemble; when the old

chief, having collected them, as also his serfs, and other retainers who

panted with indignation at the audacious outrage committed on his

territories, and at being unable to reach the perpetrators, led them

against the enemy in so determined an array, that he compelled the

Tartars to desist from the attack, and to seek their own safety in

flight. At the same moment, a party of the young warriors returned on

horseback, to fight on more equal terms; when the Khan, seeing that any

further attempt to gain possession of those he hoped to capture was

hopeless, called to his followers to retreat, leaving several of his

band dead on the field; for so flagrant was this attack, that, as any

fell, they were cut down without mercy by the Circassians.

The defeated Tartars, furious with their disappointment and disgrace,

hastily retreated, hotly pursued by the active Circassian youths on

foot, and by Selem and a few others, who were mounted; but it was

hopeless for the pedestrians to overtake them, and the horsemen were too

few in number to be able to retaliate with success. The horses of Selem

and his followers were fatigued; he, therefore, with Alp, urged their

friends to return to arm completely, and mounting fresh steeds, to

follow after the daring Khan, and take ample vengeance for the outrage

he had committed.

A few, already mounted on fleet horses, now set off to follow at a

distance, tracking his course to bring back word what route he had

taken. When at a little distance, the scouts saw the Khan's party rein

in their steeds for an instant, and seize two persons on foot, and carry

them away. They were traced towards the Kouban, in the direction of the

newly erected Russian fort; one of the scouts returning to give the

information. The young warriors hastened to their homes to arm, and to

follow Kaloret Khan. Alp, who was one of the first prepared, took a

tender farewell of the weeping Zara, and instead of then making her his

bride, was compelled to pursue the foe.

When Selem called for Javis, he was nowhere to be found; and as he

passed Ina, now with the other women assembled together, and recovering

from their terror, he also missed Conrin. No one had seen the boy. He

called for him through the grove. He answered not.

"Oh my brother!" cried Ina, "Allah forbid that he has fallen among the

slaughtered ones! For worlds I would not that poor boy should be

slain."

They searched among the dead throughout the wood, expecting every moment

to see his pallid features; but he was not to be found. There was

wailing and weeping through the grove, which had late resounded with the

sounds of merriment and song. The soft green turf, where the feet of

the young and beautiful had a short time previously so joyously trodden

in the dance, was now defiled with dark red pools of blood. Several

youths had fallen, cut down by the Tartars on their first onset; and

their female friends and relations were mourning with loud cries and

lamentations over the loved ones so barbarously murdered by those whom

they had ever looked upon as countrymen.

As Selem and Thaddeus were prepared to start, one of the scouts returned

and reported what he had seen.

"It must have been Conrin then," cried Ina. "His sad forebodings have

been fulfilled, and both he and Javis have been carried off by the Khan.

Oh haste, Selem, haste, my brother! Follow that cruel chief, for he

bears away one who loves you more than life itself, who has sacrificed

all for you. I may not say more; but for your own sake recover poor

Conrin at all risks."

"Fear not, dear Ina. We will overtake the Khan, and wreak our vengeance

on him," answered Selem.

Several other horsemen now coming up, he and Thaddeus took a fond, but

hasty, farewell of Ina, and set off in pursuit of the Khan. Though some

of their horses were of good blood and speed, yet every one of the

Khan's were picked from the fleetest he possessed, having fully

calculated on the necessity of a rapid flight; so that he kept a head of

his pursuers. None of the villagers of the hamlets, through which he

passed, were prepared to offer him any impediment, ignorant also of his

errand. Furiously and desperately he rode along, for he well knew that

he had not the remotest hope of mercy should any party of the

Circassians, outnumbering his own, succeed in overtaking him, and with

equal eagerness was he pursued.

Nothing stopped his savage band in their course; they swam their horses

across the most rapid streams, leaped terrific chasms, galloped down the

steepest hills, and urged their steeds up almost precipitous rocks. All

the remainder of that day, did they continue their headlong course. The

night stopped them not; for a few minutes, they sought repose for their

horses; but the sound of their pursuer's feet struck their ears: Again

they urged on their almost falling steeds; blood streamed from their

flanks; foam covered their mouths; their eye balls started wildly; but

still on they went. It was death to tarry.

Their pursuers caught sight of them--it was a race for life and death,

captivity, perhaps death; or freedom for the poor page. They gained the

forest which clothed the mountain, looking down upon the Russian fort;

they dashed through it, they flew along the plain; and, as Selem and his

friends gained the brow of the hill, they saw the traitor and his band

enter the gates, at which they were received as friends.

"Alas, my poor page and faithful follower," exclaimed Selem; "captivity

or death, will be your lot, if we cannot rescue you; but that we will

do, or perish in the attempt. What say you, Thaddeus? Will yonder

Russians attempt to inflict any injury on my two followers? They cannot

be such barbarians."

"I fear they will," answered Thaddeus. "Remember the fate I so narrowly

escaped; I know well the Baron seeks to make some terrible example of

all whom he can claim as deserters."

"But he cannot surely call those youths, deserters, who have never born

arms for Russia," answered Selem.

"He will call them whatever he pleases, now that they are in his power,"

said Thaddeus.

"We must, at all hazards, endeavour to recover them," exclaimed Selem.

"I know not scarcely how, but that young boy has so entwined himself

round my heart, that I would not lose him for worlds. He is a truly

noble youth, full of warm and ardent feelings. Should his strength of

body prove equal to his spirit, he will one day shew himself capable of

great deeds; but one will wear out the other, I fear. The subtle

essence will overcome the grosser matter."

Anxiously did the small band of warriors look down upon the Russian

fort, but it would have been worse than madness to attack it with their

fatigued party. Keeping, therefore, within shelter of the trees, they

watched until the lights twinkled in the camp, and the watch-fires

blazed around. Some proposed making an attack, endeavouring to take the

enemy by surprise, and so to carry off the prisoners in the confusion;

but, though Alp was eager to lead it, even Selem opposed the plan as too

rash. The only feasible scheme seemed to be to hasten to the camp on

the Ubin, and there raise a sufficient force to attack the fort with

some chance of success.

Without waiting to consult further, the young warriors turned the heads

of their weary horses towards the Ubin, where, on their arrival, they

excited the indignation of the assembled chiefs at the atrocious outrage

committed by the Khan. The Hadji, on seeing his son, embraced him.

"What, my brave Alp, have you left your pretty Zara, ere you made her

your bride to assist your friends, and for the chance of a little

fighting? Mashallah! you are well worthy of her, and she will love you

all the better for it. I am proud of you, my boy."

The old warrior was himself delighted at an excuse for attacking the

enemy, as he had begun to fear that there would be no more fighting that

year; and he eagerly exerted himself in gaining volunteers for the

enterprise. Arslan Gherrei, for his son's sake, persuaded many knights

to join him, besides his own immediate followers. Nor was Alp idle in

collecting his friends among the wild sons of the chiefs, always ready

for any daring exploit; so that, in a few hours, more than two thousand

horsemen were ready to depart. Selem strongly urged that no delay

should take place, for fear of the cruelty which the Russian general

might inflict on his prisoners.

Procuring fresh horses, therefore, the band of gallant cavaliers set out

for their exploit; one that it would have been madness to attempt,

except for the known incomplete state of the fortifications, which gave

them hope, by a sudden onset, of leaping the unfinished trenches, and

taking the garrison by surprise.

Volume 3, Chapter IX.

Three days had passed since the Baron Galetzoff had received the visit

from the treacherous Khan Khoros Kaloret; and he was now eagerly

expecting his return, with his clansmen and prisoners, when he began to

suspect that the chief had played him falsely. As each successive hour

passed by without his coming, his anger proportionably arose. He was

also under constant dread of an attack from the mountaineers, though, as

yet, he had seen few signs of them.

The troops were busily employed in digging trenches, throwing up

embankments, and finishing the fortifications. Oxen were dragging in

cartloads of provisions, or fodder for their horses. Officers were

riding about, and superintending the men. A strong detachment were sent

out, flanked with cannon, and a body of Cossacks to cut down timber for

the palisadoes. Others also were employed in cutting grass, and

bringing in wood for fuel. Sentinels were posted in every direction,

advanced guards were sent out, and the soldiers worked at all times with

their arms by their sides, for they knew not at what moment the dreaded

mountaineers might break through the covert of the wooded height, and,

with a cloud of cavalry, might come sweeping by them like a whirlwind,

ere they had time to form their ranks. Their heavy artillery, loaded to

the muzzles with grape shot, were pointed in every direction; and many

an anxious eye was cast towards the mountains, in expectation of seeing

the glittering arms of the foes about to rush down upon them.

Towards the close of the day, as the sun was sinking low on the marshes

of the Kouban, throwing a bright warm gleam of light on the rich

brown-tinted foliage of the trees, the outer guards rushed in with the

intelligence, that the enemy were upon them. The drums beat, the bugles

sounded, and the whole force flew to arms, as the sun-beams glittered on

the armour and swords of a band of mountaineers, who were seen issuing

from the woods, and galloping at full speed towards them. They were

about to receive the new comers with a shower of grape, when Count

Erintoff stopped them, as the band seemed to consist of but a small

number.

"They are friends," he cried; "harm them not." And as he saw the Khan,

he galloped out to meet him. Before him on his horse, the Khan bore a

light form, wrapped in a cloak; when the Count, eagerly expecting to

behold the beautiful features of the Circassian maid, was much

disappointed, and enraged to find only the young page, Conrin.

"How comes this, Khan?" he exclaimed; "why, you have left your chief

prize behind! Where are the other prisoners you promised to bring with

you? The General will have but little cause to thank you for your

zeal."

"I could bring only these," answered the Khan fiercely. "I have been

baffled and defeated in all my attempts, but I will yet have my revenge.

Take these two prisoners; they are Giaours, by their looks. Kill them

if you will, but ask me no questions."

"We must be content then with the prize you bring us; and may soon find

more occupation for you," replied the Count. "But how did you not

succeed in bringing off the lady?"

"I have before said, ask me no questions," replied the Khan, angrily.

"Take these prisoners, and kill them if you will."

"We are not likely to disappoint you, Khan, for if we do not get their

master by their means into our power, they will be shot to-morrow;" said

the Count.

"I care not. Their friends have given me trouble enough; and had not

your General insisted on having them, I should have killed them myself,

as I did many others," replied the Khan.

The Baron being informed of the Khan's arrival, was expecting him in his

tent. The barbarian was therefore at once conducted thither by the

Count.

"Where are the prisoners you promised to bring?" said the Baron, looking

sternly at him.

"I have brought but two, who are in the hands of my followers;" answered

the Khan.

"Who are they?" asked the Baron, eagerly.

"The page, and a Frank follower of Selem Gherrei," answered the Khan.

"Ah, I must see them immediately," exclaimed the General. "Khan, you

have not fulfilled my expectations; but you shall be welcome. You and

your followers shall be cared for here at present, until I can assign

you lands in whatever part of the neighbouring country you may choose."

With a haughty salutation, and a discontented look, the Khan left the

tent.

"Let that proud chief be well watched," continued the Baron, as he

departed. "See, that none of his followers quit the camp. I do not

trust him, even now. Had he brought off the chieftain's daughter, we

should have had a hold upon him; but he may now again escape us.

Colonel Erintoff, you have lost your mistress."

"I owe the barbarian a grudge for the disappointment," answered the

Count.

"You may soon have an opportunity of revenging yourself on him," said

the Baron. "But, now to business. Let the prisoners be brought in, and

I will see what I can make of them. Stay, and assist me."

In a few minutes, a file of soldiers conducted Javis and the young

Conrin to the door of the tent, with their arms bound. The Baron

ordered them to be brought in, when the soldiers retired. Javis looked

round him with a firm and determined air, fearless of the presence in

which he stood.

The poor page was wearied, and bruised with his rapid journey, and

attempts at escape; but a fire glowed in his eyes, as he gazed at the

Baron and the Count Erintoff, while a smile of scorn and defiance played

round his lips.

"Stand forward, boy," said the Baron, addressing him sternly. "What

induced you to leave your native land, and join the hordes of these

barbarians?"

"My own good pleasure," answered Conrin.

"Know you not, mad boy, that, by so doing you have broken your

allegiance to the Emperor, and are guilty of treason?" said the Baron.

"I owe allegiance to no man," returned Conrin, firmly and proudly. "I

have full right to go where I will."

"You are a subject of the Emperor, boy; and as such, I find you living

among his enemies," said the Baron. "Know you not, that I have power to

treat you as a traitor?"

"I am a subject of no ruler under Heaven," answered the page; "but full

well do I know your power."

"You speak foolishly; but I pity your youth, and would be lenient with

you," answered the Baron.

"If you would be merciful, then," said Conrin, still with a curl on his

lip, and in a slight tone of irony, "let me go free. I am but a youth,

and what harm can I do to the mighty power of Russia?"

"What say you, Count, shall I let this innocent boy go free?" said the

Baron, sneeringly. "Well you seem to agree with me! Now, listen, boy;

you shall be at liberty to go where you will, even to return to the

mountains, if you wish; but on one condition. You follow a master, it

seems, who led you among those barbarous hordes of savages, for which

you need owe him but little gratitude, as he has been the means of

placing you in your present danger. I will not conceal from you, that

your master is an arch-villain and traitor to Russia; and that I am

anxious to get him into my power. Now, boy, you may be instrumental in

forwarding my views; and if you will undertake to obey my orders, you

yourself shall not only be pardoned, but shall be richly rewarded. What

say you to my proposition? Do you consent?"

It was difficult at first to determine what emotions filled the boy's

heart, at hearing this proposition. The brightness of his eyes

increased, and a bitter smile played over his features. For a minute he

stood confronting the General, and appearing to seek for words to give

expression to his feelings.

"Man," said he, "Commander of thousands! go seek, among the slaves who

obey you, one who has betrayed his master, and send him to me, that I

may learn a lesson from him, and know, in future, how to mark the

features of a villain. Compare his with mine, and see if they are

alike; and then say if I am likely to accept your noble offer, if such

is to be the price of my liberty. It is useless speaking more."

"Boy, you are foolish," said the Baron, endeavouring to soften his rough

voice to a tone of kindness, and to bend his features into a look of

benignity. "What I ask of you, hundreds in like position would be found

to do for slight reward. It is not a difficult task that I wish you to

perform; and if you do it not, others will be found who will, and your

master cannot escape me. All I desire of you is to entice this young

Selem Gherrei near the fort, where I will place an ambush to capture

him. Think you I would injure him? No!--it will be but for his own

benefit, as it will rescue him from those barbarians, and restore him to

civilised life. And for yourself, I promise you a rich reward. You may

stay and join the army, or I will find you a safe conveyance to your own

country and home. Think well upon the offer which I make you."

Young Conrin threw a look of scorn at the General, turning his eyes

slowly towards the Count, and with almost a laugh of derision, he

answered--

"A noble offer, truly; could you but read my heart, you would see how

great is the chance that I should accept it. Think you that to gain

wealth, all people would become villains? that all men have a price, to

be bought and sold? I pity the wretch with such philosophy. None but

those with bad hearts could think so. No, no; such base offers are

thrown away if made to me. Give me but liberty, and I shall be

grateful."

"Once again, boy, I make an offer such as is not my wont," said the

Baron. "I know not how it is, but I feel compassion for your youth, and

would not harm you if you would obey my wishes. You shall go free, free

as the air we breathe; on this condition, you must persuade your master

to come, and I will promise you he shall receive no harm; for, in spite

of all his offences, I would wean him from the cause he advocates, and

bring him over to the side of Russia."

"No!" answered the page firmly. "Were you to offer boundless riches,

honours--such honours as you can bestow--were it even to place him on a

throne propped up by tyranny, I would not draw him from the path of

glory he follows now, fighting for his country's cause, though his home

is but a humble cot on the mountain's side."

"But suppose, boy, I offer to gain for him rank and fortune, and to

restore him to a civilised life far from these scenes of war and

bloodshed. Will not that promise tempt you?"

The page seemed to penetrate to the inmost recess of the Baron's mind,

so piercing a glance did he cast at him, as with scorn, still dwelling

on his lip, he answered, "No; I have said before, my master values such

things less, far less than honour. Did I think he would accept your

offer--and well I know he will not--I could not trust you, General! You

would impose upon my youth and innocence; but you are mistaken."

The Baron's brow grew dark as night; his voice almost trembled with rage

as he became convinced that his attempts to persuade the youth to obey

his wishes would be fruitless. "Hear me, mad boy!" he exclaimed. "You

ask for liberty. Do you hope to gain it? Never! Obey my orders, or

death and torture alone await you. You talk of leading a peaceful life;

Count Erintoff, before whom you stand, observed you at the Mezi,

following your master in the strife. Twice were you seen to slay the

Emperor's soldiers; you fought in the ranks of the rebels. That is

enough alone to condemn you to death as a traitor to Russia. Think not

to escape by a specious tale of innocence, nor hope for pardon on

account of your youth. You were old enough to wield your weapons well.

You will be condemned to die to-morrow."

"I have said before that I would not do the deed you ask; no, not for

all the riches of the East," answered Conrin firmly. "And for my life,

I do not value that so much but that I can laugh your threats to scorn.

Then do your worst upon me; I am prepared to meet your vengeance."

"Mad obstinate boy!" cried the Baron furiously, "your doom is sealed. I

will examine the other prisoner. Remove the youth."

At these words Javis, who had stood with a stern glance regarding the

Baron, sprang forward in spite of his fettered hands. "Stay, General,"

he cried earnestly; "you know not what you do. Be not thus cruel. This

seeming page is--"

"Javis!" exclaimed Conrin, "speak not a word of me, I charge you. Swear

to me that you will not, for I can soon escape their tyranny. I would

die unknown to all, but to you, my true and faithful friend. As I have

lived, I am prepared to die. Swear that you will not betray me to

mortal soul;" he hesitated. "I command you swear, or, even now, as you

well know, I have the means; you shall see me this moment die at your

feet."

"I swear to obey your wishes; but oh, save yourself. A word would do

it," cried Javis.

"Never! I fear not death half, half as much as life within the power of

these men," exclaimed Conrin.

"Boy, I give you still another chance. Let not sleep o'ercome you till

you have weighed the offer I have made, or it may prove your last," said

the Baron, as Conrin was led off.

As may be supposed, the General could not elicit a word of information

from Javis, who evaded every question which was asked of him, until the

Baron grew furious. The same tempting offers were made to him as to

Conrin, but he repelled them indignantly.

"I will not turn a traitor to my master," he said; "but I will serve you

faithfully if you will save that boy's life; or if you will take mine, I

will give it joyfully for his. You know not whom you kill."

"If you will obey my wishes," said the Baron, "not only will I pardon

the boy, but I will load you with wealth, such as you never thought

before to have."

"Oh mighty spirit of my fathers, guard my heart!" ejaculated Javis.

"No, it cannot be; not all the offers that you make me can cause my

purpose to alter. Yet you cannot be so base, so cruel a tyrant, as to

slay that young and harmless boy."

"Slave, do you speak thus to me?" exclaimed the Baron. "Think you that

you have any hopes of escaping death? If so, you are deceived. You,

too, shall die. Think well upon my words, and mark me. The boy dies

first while you are standing by. To the last moment, his life shall be

in your hands. If you would save him, consent to obey my wishes. Ere

mid-day comes to-morrow he shall die, and your death shall follow.

Think well on what I say. Obey me, or never hope again to see the sun

go down. Lead him away," he cried to the guards without, "and keep him

separate from the other prisoner. Well, Count," he said, turning to

that officer, "how think you I have managed with these traitors?"

"Admirably, Baron," answered Count Erintoff. "Yet I never saw so much

obstinacy displayed. I think you have worked upon them to comply with

your wishes; and, by their aid, I still have hopes of capturing young

Selem Gherrei."

"I know not," said the Baron; "there was a fierce stubborn look in that

boy's eye I scarce could have expected from one so young; but perhaps

the Gipsy, who seems to have a most romantic affection for him, may, for

the sake of saving him, obey my wishes. But if he does not, I swear no

power shall save them. To-morrow morning early, they must be tried: we

know the verdict. Go, Count, and make arrangements for their trial. I

would be alone."

We must hope, for the sake of human nature, that the General would, in

his cooler moments, have altered the determination he had expressed;

though the atrocious barbarities which that man was guilty of towards

his Circassian prisoners, when any, faint or senseless from their

wounds, fell into his hands, would repress any charitable construction

of his motives, and ensure only our hatred.

Conrin was removed to a rough small hut of logs, which had lately been

erected to serve the purpose of a prison; but it had, as yet, no

occupants, owing to the constant employment of the soldiers which kept

them from committing any faults. The ground was unbeaten, ends of

branches projecting from the sides, and a log being left at one end to

serve the purpose of a couch or seat for the prisoners; but as yet it

was not even hewn smooth. Conrin was thrust in by his guards, and then

left to his solitary meditations, with some black bread and almost

stagnant water; not worse fare, perhaps, than the soldiers themselves

were obliged to submit to. He threw himself on the rough log, deep sobs

breaking at times from his breast; while, with hands clasped in agony,

he turned his eyes towards Heaven, as if imploring aid.

"No! no! hopeless is my lot! I am forsaken by the mighty Spirit! and

thus to die without the slightest chance of one fond look on him for

whom I have sacrificed all on earth! Then the bitter anguish to feel he

knows me not; or, if he knew, perchance would spurn my love. Death--

annihilation would be better far. No, he shall never learn the truth.

And yet I would that he should know how true and firm a heart mine was;

and then, when I am reduced to the ashes from whence I sprung, perchance

he would cast some fond regret upon my memory. Oh! did I think that he

would love me, the very joy would make me laugh at death. But thus to

die!" The sobs of the supposed page were renewed. He started, and

strove to suppress his agitation, for he heard steps approaching.

It was now midnight--that time when the feelings are the acutest, the

nerves most easily excited; when the thoughts strive to wander o'er the

regions of boundless space to search out things mysterious and

inscrutable; when the spirit often seems to quit the bonds of this our

living mortal frame, to visit ideal regions. It is not the spirits of

the dead, which long have flown to other realms we wot not of, which

mortals fancy oft they see, but their own yet earthly souls are worked

into fever by some potent and subtle influence when the vivifying power

of the sun has been withdrawn.

Conrin listened earnestly.

"Ah! well I know that foot-fall! Oh! mine enemy, hast thou found me?

Even now I feel his baneful influence, like that dark spirit who roves

about to seek for prey. The bigot fools need not have decked him with

other attributes than those of mortal man, when foul passions gain the

mastery over him."

"Who goes there?" shouted the sentry at the door of the hut.

"Your Colonel," answered the deep tones of Count Erintoff's voice.

"Stand there, and turn not till I call you."

After which words, Conrin heard the door of his prison open, and, by the

light which faintly streamed in, he beheld the tall form of the Count,

who, closing the door, placed a lanthorn he carried in his hand on the

ground, so as to throw its rays on the features of the prisoner. The

page rose not, spoke not, but remained in the attitude in which he had

been sitting, with his hands clasped together, and his head bent down.

The visitor surveyed him earnestly ere he addressed him, meditating

apparently on what he should say.

"I am come to give you liberty and life, instead of the death you so

madly seem to seek. Think you I know you not? When yon dull sottish

bear, the General, was questioning you, I knew you by the glance of

those expressive features, that haughty brow, that lip curling in proud

disdain. Think you a boy would have stood undaunted before the furious

rage of yonder overbearing Baron, or would have returned him word for

word and glance for glance? You played your part but ill just now,

whatever you may have done before to deceive (if so you have) the youth

you followed to Circassia. Can he be so dull, so hard of heart, as not

to recognise the maid who loves him? By Heavens, I do believe his wits

so dull, his heart so careless of those charms which drove me near

distracted at their loss, that he has not yet discovered you; and loves

you not, basking, as you humbly look on in the senile character of a

page, in the bright smiles of some of those mountain beauties."

With an hysterical cry, the girl, finding further disguise was useless,

exclaimed--

"Begone, base villain. What demon prompts you to come hither to torment

me?"

"Nay, nay, my pretty page," said the Count, approaching her, "I would

not wound your feelings for the universe. I merely spoke what I know to

be most true. I ask you why, for one who loves you not, you would

sacrifice your life, and throw away all the bright offers that I have

made you, and which I would fulfil? Oh! it would be a cruel thing to

let those charms, which have enchained my heart, mingle with the dust,

to leave this bright and joyous world so full of pleasures, (to those

who have the sense to find them) to go you know not where. I do not ask

you to betray the man you loved. I am not fool enough to think you

would do so, until you should be convinced that he despises you; though

I believe that haughty rebel, young Selem Gherrei, as he is called,

cares not for you. But fly hence with me, and I can easily deceive this

brutish General. I offer you wealth and happiness, a bright and

glorious future, where such charms as yours will far eclipse the

proudest beauties of the capital. Believe me, I am not so dull a fool

as not to appreciate that bright and soaring spirit--that proud

undaunted soul--which raises you above your sex. I am not scrupulous as

fools would be. I love you more myself, now that I know your heart is

capable of so much feeling; and I would make it all my own. Then come,

loved girl. This instant you shall be free. A few days more will see

you on your road to Russia, where wealth, luxury, and happiness, await

you."

The Count approached yet nearer, and attempted to take the girl's hand.

"Man!" she exclaimed--"if you are not rather the incarnation of the evil

one, begone. Come not to torment my heart, already almost broken.

Know, then, that luxury and wealth are things I despise almost as much

as him who offers them; and as for happiness, I never in this world

shall know it again, nor have you the power to give it me. Begone, and

leave me to myself. You stir not. Then if you will not obey my

commands, but still have a soul that can be influenced by prayer, oh!

hear my earnest supplication, and leave me to myself."

"What madness makes you utter words like these?" said the Count. "Think

well of what you throw away, and of the dark fate which awaits you. The

Baron vows--and well I know he keeps his oaths when prompted by cruelty

and revenge--that you must die to-morrow; and no mortal power but mine

can save you. A word from me would rescue you. Fly with me. Ah! If

you refuse, think not the man you love will benefit by your sacrifice;

for here I swear that I will pursue him with the utmost rancour to

avenge your death, of which he has been the cause. He has crossed my

path before, and ere long I trust to see him in my power."

"You move me not by fear of any harm you can do him," answered the girl

calmly. "He is above your malice, and would despise your vows of

vengeance."

"If not for his sake then, save yourself for your own," exclaimed the

Count. "Think how you will die, disgraced, unknown till after you have

ceased to breathe; and then you will be a thing for savage soldiers to

pass their brutal jest upon. Oh, why this madness? Let me save you

from yourself, and fly with me."

The proud Count knelt at her feet, and again endeavoured to take her

hand. "See," he exclaimed, "I kneel to you to beseech that you will let

me save you from cruel death and contumely."

The girl then shrinking back, "Begone, I say, again," she cried.

"Believe me, I despise you far too much even to seek your pity."

The Count sprang to his feet. "Know then, wilful girl," he exclaimed,

"that nothing shall save you. Your cruelty will change my love to hate;

and though I still might save your life, I shall not rest until I see

you die. None shall know that Count Erintoff has humbled himself in

vain. There are yet some hours to dawn. Think on my vows, and promise

to obey my wishes. A word of yours would win my love again; else,

before the sun mounts highest in the sky, you will have become a cold

and senseless clod. I leave you now."

The girl answered not, but looked disdainfully on the Count as he

retired. Then, sinking on the hard log, she placed her hands before her

eyes--to shut out something dreadful from her sight. A terrific

struggle seemed to take place in that tender, that loving, bosom, as if

the agitated spirit were about to burst its tabernacle; but it passed,

and she was calm--so calm that it seemed she slept.

Volume 3, Chapter X.

The morning came, the glorious sun rose undimmed by clouds, and nature

wore a face of gladness; the birds sung sweetly from their leafy

coverts, the refreshing dew which sprinkled the herbage, and the

autumnal-tinted leaves, sparkled brightly. A light mist, rising from

the lowlands, faded away, and left the landscape more clear and lovely

from the contrast.

The prisoners were led forth from their places of confinement. Their

trial commenced. Undauntedly they stood before all the highest officers

of the garrison.

Several soldiers declared that they had seen them fighting on the side

of the enemy. Neither of the prisoners would answer a word to the

interrogations made to them. Their sentence was passed. Death was

recorded. Their guilt was clear, nor did they deign to sue for pardon.

As their sentence was pronounced, Javis sprang forward with an imploring

look towards the president, and was again about to utter some

exclamation; but a glance from the supposed page stopped him, and,

dejectedly he stepped back, turning a troubled and anxious eye towards

his companion, though he seemed perfectly resigned to his own fate. The

Baron hurried over the proceedings with brutal haste; and the prisoners

were ordered forthwith to be led from the camp and shot as traitors to

Russia.

They were conducted from the tent where the court martial was held,

between a file of soldiers, walking as firmly and composed as if they

had forgotten that a few minutes more were to be their last.

The fort, as we have before said, was erected on some elevated ground,

at a short distance from the mountains, rising like an island from the

plains and marshes of the Kouban. The intervening space between the

fort and the mountain, was one uninterrupted meadow, unbroken by rocks

or inclosures. The spot selected for the cruel execution, was on a

green slope reaching from the entrenchments to the plain facing the

mountains; and here a body of the troops were now drawn up while the

remainder continued at their labours digging the entrenchments, and

erecting the requisite buildings for barracks and store houses, in

preparation for the coming winter.

At a short distance from the fort, a foraging party in compact order,

accompanied by artillery and cavalry were seen marching along the plain,

from the direction of the Kouban, unaware of the execution about to take

place.

The Baron had sternly commanded the Count Erintoff to lead the troops

destined for the execution, though it seemed that he would willingly

have escaped the office; but he was compelled to obey: and he now stood

at the head of his regiment, drawn up in line on the green slope we have

described, the firing party a little in advance of the other troops.

The General himself stood at some distance on the newly raised

embankments of the fort, pacing to and fro, with a dark frown on his

brow, and his eyes glancing restlessly around. As the young prisoners

were led out from the fort, they passed the spot where he stood. He

commanded the party who guarded them to halt, and bring them before him.

The disguised page wore the same stern look as on the previous day; but

a brighter almost supernatural foe burned in her eye as she met that of

the General. Javis advanced boldly with a firm tread and perfect

composure; but as he turned his looks towards his companion, his

features would become convulsed as if some pang of agony passed through

his frame.

"Prisoners," said the Baron, "you have but a few short moments to live;

but, even now, I give you a chance of escape. Obey my orders, and I

promise to pardon you. To you, boy, I speak first. Will you do as I

wish?"

"Never!" answered the page in a deep firm voice. "I am prepared to

die."

"Then lead him on," cried the Baron furiously. "You, perchance, may

have more wisdom," he continued, addressing Javis, "than yonder

obstinate boy, who brings his own fate on himself. Will you save, not

only your own life, but his?"

"I would save his life on any terms," exclaimed Javis; "but he would be

the first to blame me. For my own, I value it not. But, Oh! spare him,

General, spare him for his youth alone. Ask him not to do that to which

he cannot consent. You know not what you do in slaying him. Spare him,

as you hope for mercy!"

"Lead off the audacious rebel," cried the Baron furiously. "Let the boy

be shot first," he added, addressing an officer who waited his commands.

"I can gain nought from him; and let his companion witness his fate:

perchance it will bring him to reason."

There was not an officer in the camp who would not, if he could, have

saved the lives of those youths at this moment; but none dared speak;

even the dull soldiers felt tears spring to their eyes. The wild Khan,

who was on horseback in company with a troop of cavalry, looked on with

astonishment; and, as he witnessed the noble bearing and bravery of the

prisoners, even he repented that he had brought this untimely fate upon

them, until he remembered that it was by the hand of one of them that

his brother fell. But of all the party the Count Erintoff seemed the

most affected. His countenance was as pale as death; he dared not turn

his eye towards the prisoners. He felt himself to be a wretch cursed by

heaven; a cold-blooded murderer, instigated by the basest, the blackest

revenge. The prisoners had reached the fatal spot, and the youngest was

placed upon the ground, while Javis was led aside: they exchanged

glances, but neither spoke. The supposed page heaved a deep-drawn sigh

as she saw the glance of agony which the faithful Javis--of whose death

she was too truly the cause--cast towards her.

A soldier advanced to bind her eyes.

"No," she cried, putting the handkerchief aside. "I would look my last

upon the bright blue heavens, to which my spirit so soon must fly. I

can face death as fearlessly as the oldest-soldier present. Let my eyes

at least be at liberty, to the last."

The soldier looked towards his officer, who ordered him to follow the

prisoner's wishes, and he returned to the ranks.

All was prepared. The girl stood undaunted; but her eyes wandered

towards the mountains with an anxious glance. What does she see there?

Is it the sun which sparkles on the shining leaves of the forest? She

stands entranced, regardless of her executioners; for a band of

steel-clad warriors, their swords flashing in the sun like a foaming

torrent, sweep downward from the mountain's brow. The wood is full of

them. On every side they pour forth from amid the trees. At their head

rides one urging on his steed at its utmost speed, and waving aloft his

sabre. The eye of love distinguishes him from afar, before the

Russians, intent on the scene of execution, have perceived their danger.

The prisoner uttered a cry of joy. "Thank thee, Great Spirit, that I

see that loved one ere I die!" she exclaimed. "Yes! yes! I'll join

you, in spite of these tyrants!"

Forgetful of her situation, forgetful of all but that he whom she loved

was approaching to her rescue, she lifted up her arms to rush to meet

him. It was the signal of her death; and Javis, breaking from his

guards, sprang forward and threw himself before her.

At that moment the foraging party reached the fort, when a soldier

rushed forward from the ranks to where the Baron stood.

"Hold! hold!" he cried with fierce excitement. "Stay the execution.

Barbarous chief! you know not what you do! Stay, or you will murder

your own daughter, who was carried off from you by the dwarf Ladislau;

she was placed in my hands for her mother's sake, a daughter of my

tribe. Know me as the Gipsy Conrad."

The Baron seemed as one who heard him not; he was astounded, and gazed

wildly at the speaker. His faculties were paralysed; his limbs

trembled. The precious moments flew by. He lifted his arm.

"Stay the execution!" he shrieked. But ere the words were uttered, the

rattle of musketry was heard. The smoke hung like a funeral pall over

the spot, as, rushing towards it, the fierce Baron fell senseless near

the slaughtered form of his daughter, the Gipsy girl, Azila; and by her

side lay the body of her humble, devoted, and despised lover, Javis.

The alarm was given that the enemy were upon them. There was no time to

retreat to their entrenchments. Fast and furious came the mountain

horsemen. The drums beat to arms, the soldiers rushed to man the guns,

and to seize their weapons. The troops drawn up outside wheeled to

receive the shock from the furious charge of the foe, the cavalry

advanced to meet them; but they were like reeds bent beneath the tiger's

spring. Men and horses trembled at the wild war shriek. None could

withstand that desperate onset; and the first, the foremost who fell,

was the traitor Khan, cut down by the sword of Thaddeus.

"A well-timed blow, brave Pole," cried the Hadji, as he swept by to

charge the Russians. "Thus die all traitors to Circassia!"

Close to him was Selem, encountering the sword of Count Erintoff, who

shouted, "Ah! we have met at length? Traitor to Russia, yield!"

"Heaven defend the right!" cried Selem, parrying his blow. Their swords

flashed quickly round, and in a moment the Count fell mortally wounded

from his horse.

The Hadji, Alp, and many other chiefs, and their followers rushed on the

bayonets of the infantry. "Ah! Allah!" shouted the old warrior, "we'll

cut through that wall of steel. Onward, men of Atteghei!" So terrific

was the onset that the two foremost ranks of the Russians trembled,

wavered, and fell back on the rear, as the dauntless warriors approached

them, driving the others in hopeless confusion, cut down by the

Circassian sabres, and trampled under foot by their war-steeds.

"Ah! Allah!" again shouted the Hadji. "Follow me, my son, and we shall

soon be within their trenches!" and attacking those who alone stood

their ground, followed by a dense cloud of horsemen, sweeping over their

prostrate foes.

The remnant of the Russian cavalry had turned, and fled towards the

entrance of their fort; but none succeeded in reaching it: the

drawbridge was drawn up, the gates were closed.

Why does Selem stay in his career of victory, his cheek blanched even

amid the excitement of the combat? On the ground weltering in blood, he

sees the slaughtered form of his faithful, loving page; he bends low

from his horse, and lifts it in his arms.

Onward, onward rushed the mountaineers towards their hoped for prize;

but as they mingled among the confused mass of flying infantry close to

the trenches, a tremendous discharge of cannon saluted them. On friend

and foe fell alike the crashing showers of deadly grape; and the

ramparts were lined with bristling rows of bayonets. Many of the

gallant patriots fell beneath the devastating fire in their career of

victory.

"Turn, turn, my noble friends!" cried the brave Chief Arslan Gherrei.

"It is madness to be exposed to this iron storm. We can never take the

fort on horseback."

At the word, the dense troop swept round. A horseman, in the uniform of

Russia, seized Selem's rein, and urged on his horse, while Thaddeus, on

the other side, joined the retreating Circassians. Before the guns

could be reloaded, they were beyond their range.

The mountaineers halted in the confines of the forest. Selem sprang to

the ground, endeavouring to staunch the blood which flowed from many

wounds in the breast of his page. He tore open his vest; his heart

turned sick with horror and grief as he discovered a woman's form. He

leant over it with deep grief. The veil which so long had obscured them

was torn from his eyes. He knew the features of Azila. In a moment he

read the history of her deep unswerving love, constant to the last

through trials, hardships, and neglect. He felt her heart to discover

if it yet beat. He tried to persuade himself that her yet warm breath

fanned his cheeks; but it was in vain. A faint smile still lingered on

her features; but no throb answered to his touch. The dark blood flowed

slowly from the wounds; her heroic, her loving, spirit had fled; Azila

was dead!

None of the chiefs, not even Selem's father, approached him. They had

witnessed the scene, and read the sad story at a glance. Long did he

bend, in deep agony, over that inanimate form.

He was aroused by the Russian deserter.

"Think you not, young chief, that I, too, have cause for grief?

Remember you not how I loved that fair and noble girl? Do you not know

me?"

"Yes, yes, I know you now, my friend," answered Selem, recognising in

the stranger the Gipsy chief who had aided his escape from Russia, the

reputed father of Azila. "You have, indeed, deep cause to grieve for

your daughter."

"Except that she sprung from my race, she is not my daughter, though I

loved her more than one. See, two of my race I have lost today most

cruelly murdered;" and he pointed to the body of Javis, which he had

also brought off on the horse of one of the slain troopers. "She, too,

murdered by her own father, though he knew it not till too late, when

madness seized his brain; and yon poor youth, he also deserves our pity,

for I know his deep, yet hopeless, love for Azila, for whose sake he

followed you."

"What say you, my old friend?" said Selem, rising from the ground

whereon he had been kneeling. "By what strange fortune came you to

learn so horrid a tale? and what wonderful chance conducted you hither

at this moment?"

"It may seem extraordinary that I am here; and yet such was the decree

of fate, when first we met beneath my tent in Russia. You were the

unconscious instrument of bringing me hither; and yet, from the remotest

period of time, this event was destined. The latest cause was this: It

was discovered that I had aided in your escape from Russia, when I and

all my tribe, who could be found, were seized and condemned to serve in

the ranks of the Russian army of the Caucasus. Azila's history, I

alone, with the dwarf Ladislau, have known from her birth. He was

another cause of these events. As you remember well, the Baron always

made him his butt, treating him with contumely, little thinking what

deep feelings of hatred and revenge rankled in the bosom of the

diminutive being. A lovely girl of our race, whose sweet voice

enraptured the proudest nobles of Moscow, won the haughty Baron's heart;

and, dazzled by his rank and wealth, she consented, at an unhappy

moment, to exchange her liberty to become the slavish wife of a

tyrannical master. She soon pined for her freedom, regretting the

miserable lot she had madly chosen; and, as her husband's admiration of

her charms wore away, he treated her with cruelty and neglect. Yet

jealous feelings, at the same time, possessed the tyrant's breast; and

he began to look with an eye of suspicion on an innocent daughter she

had just borne him.

"The broken-hearted wife of the Baron died; and Ladislau, to revenge

himself on his tyrant, brought away his child, and delivered her to me,

making me swear never to reveal her history till his death, and that I

heard of ere I left Russia. To rescue her from a life of thraldom and

neglect, I determined to keep her as my own daughter, bringing her up

with all the accomplishments I could well find means to bestow. She

became all I could wish in mind and person, wreathing herself round my

heart as much as any child of my own could do; and when she once visited

my tents, she seemed so to enjoy the wild freedom of our lives, that I

could not again part from her, intending, however, on Ladislau's death,

to make her father recognise her, and restore her to her proper rank and

fortune. When you came to my tents, knowing that you were not her

brother, I hoped in some way, through your means, to accomplish my

purpose; little thinking how deep was the love which had sprung up in

the sweet girl's bosom for you."

"Blind and dull have I been!" exclaimed Selem in a tone of anguish, "not

to have seen through her disguise before; for now, when lost to me for

ever, I feel how fondly I could have returned her love."

He knelt again over her, and took her cold lifeless hand:--"My true

Azila, faithful to death! A hundred fold has your murder added to the

debt of retribution I owe our tyrannical invaders. Yes, sweet one, I

again swear to avenge your death on every one of that cursed race who

sets foot on the shores of Circassia. Bear witness, my friend, I sign

my vow before as fair an image as nature ever formed! Let this be the

token! Where the battle is thickest, there will I bear this silken

lock."

He kissed her pallid brow, and severed with his dagger one of her long

black tresses, which he entwined through the links of his chain armour.

He knelt over the bleeding form for some moments more in silence: he

then rose, and extended his hand to the Gipsy chief.

"Welcome, my friend, to the land I call my own. I may now hope to repay

your hospitality."