Читать книгу Caucasian Legends - Abraam Abraamovich Gul'bat - Страница 9

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In the second century BC, Armenia was governed by Valarsass, the brother of the Persian Shah Arsass the Great. At that period the countries to the north of the Arabs were called Chaldea and Pontus. In the latter lived a young hero, Morphiliziy, who at the head of his followers could not only repel all attacks of Valarsass, but even in a decisive battle completely defeated him; thereupon he annexed also the Georgian frontier counties, among others Kaeounan, and was proclaimed Tsar (King) by his grateful subjects.

It happened that just then Kaeounan was governed by John, a native of the city of Damascus, whom they therefore called Damassk, i.e., the Damascian. He was a widower and possessed but one daughter, a perfect beauty, by the name of Nina. During the battle, Damassk, through his personal bravery, attracted Morphiliziy’s attention, who challenged him to a duel. For a long time the old warrior’s experience counterbalanced the hero’s strength of the Pontitian, but in the end his old strength began to give way, his movements slackened their usual rapidity and he could not escape from Morphiliziy’s horse, which transpierced him. Dripping with blood, he fell from the faithful steed. At that moment Morphiliziy jumped off his horse and tried to revive him with all his strength. The dying man opened his eyes.

“Ask whatever favor thou wishest, old hero!” the conqueror exclaimed. “In thee I found the first man whose military adroitness excelled mine!”

“Don’t abandon my daughter,” murmured John, and thereupon died.

Entering Kaeounan, Morphiliziy first of all rushed to John’s house and was astounded by Nina’s beauty. “She shall be my wife!” he loudly broke out, and immediately appointed a day for the wedding.

With fright the unhappy orphan heard of this decision. How could she, who so dearly loved her father, become the wife of his murderer.

“Not for anything in the world,” she repeated a thousand times in one hour, and upon pronouncing that sentence, her magnificent eyes, which were usually a very ocean of goodness and mildness, were filled with some terrible fire.

We must notice that in those times it was customary among our noblemen to choose gamdelis among the Jewesses, for their daughters. John had of course followed the general custom, and little Nina, who in early childhood had lost her mother, loved her gamdela (nurse) with all the enthusiasm of her daring soul. All of the gamdela’s tastes were Nina’s. Her faith, her God were the same faith and the same God as her pupil’s. Thus the nurse was the first person to come to hear of Nina’s decision and was asked for advice. The old woman silently listened to her and long did not say a word, only the features of her face took a painful expression.

“Why art thou so silent?” impatiently remarked Nina.

“I am reflecting whether I shall tell thee still another cause for thy refusing Morphiliziy or whether it is better to say no more about it.” At last with a sad smile she broke out and at the same time her piercing glance was fixed on Nina, who flew into a passion and turned away.

“And so my supposition is true, thou dost love the aznaoure of Cicero!”

Nina threw herself on the floor and hid her grieved face between the knees of the gamdela. The old woman caressingly touched her long hair with her wrinkled hands and began to think; at last she decided to reveal the result of her reflections.

“Thou art so young that I am afraid to advise thee seriously. Could not a time well come when thou mayest be sorry to have made him thy master, who might be thy slave? Remember that Morphiliziy is a king, but Cicero does not even belong to the aristocracy. He is a simple, poor nobleman of such as thy father had many; were he alive such a marriage would hardly suit him. Besides thou art accustomed to luxury, while Cicero has absolutely nothing, also whatever thou hast thou canst never give away. The only means to unite you is for you to run immediately into the country of his forefathers and there be married. I tell thee openly: What disposes me in favor of Cicero is his constant, endless and boundless submission to thee. I noticed it long ago and have been watching him, but notwithstanding my experience and closest attention, I did not find a single instance in which he might be blamed.”

The hidden face of the young lady lit up with some roguish smile. Perhaps she thought that the nurse esteemed her sagacity too highly. Whatever may have been her feelings, the moment she raised her head from the knees of the old woman, all traces of her smiles vanished. She sat upon the floor at the nurse’s feet and for a long time they silently glanced at each other; each one had her idea. Suddenly Nina quite unexpectedly threw her white hands around the neck of the old woman, hid her face on her shoulder and loudly cried.

“Gamdela,” she passionately said, “arrange it as thou didst just now propose, arrange it all if thou lovest me and dost not wish that I should die! I don’t want, I cannot—no, I will not live without Cicero! For him I will give up with joy and distinction my riches or even the royal crown! What is all that to me if I am not to have him? Dost thou understand, dear nurse, that I love him more than I ever loved thee, or my father; that I love him more than whosoever in the world; that I love him as fishes do water. And thou sayest that he could be my slave—well, do I want such a thing? I myself desire to be his slave and do all he commands! I love him just because he is poor, unknown and a stranger to every one here!” and Nina again became hysterical.

The poor gamdela did her best to quiet the young girl with caressing movements of her aged hands, she herself trembled from emotion, quietly cried and innerly prayed. In the end she succeeded in putting Nina to bed and herself called for Cicero, and with her first glance at the young man persuaded herself that she was not mistaken as to his boundless devotion to Nina. Yesterday still all fell in love with the handsome youth, in the best of health, but now he stood before her with a rawboned pale face and castdown eyes, even the lips grew white and their edges nervously jerked.

The old woman with precaution informed him how matters stood, and immediately tried with all her might to restrain his boundless joy.

When he had reflected a little, she ordered to prepare two riding horses for the hour of midnight and advised Cicero to wait at the Western Gates, whither she promised to bring Nina, dressed in men’s clothes.

Upon this occasion he was also given a belt, richly sewn with gold. Having done there everything that was necessary, the gamdela went to Nina and prepared her for the hasty departure. Midnight came. With silent steps two shades moved through the whole house and across the court. At the Western Gates the impatient cavalier was already waiting with an extra horse.

Nina quickly mounted it, with a happy smile motioned to the dear old woman, and soon they disappeared in the darkness.

However much the gamdela wished to remain at the gates, as long as the trampling of the galloping hoofs could be heard of those horses which took away with them, perhaps forever, all that was dearest to her in the whole world, common sense did not permit this and the nurse returned home and passed the remainder of the night in tears and prayer. At sunrise the house was filled with her lamentations.

The frightened servants instantly answered her call and found her in the garden on the bank of the river. By her side lay Nina’s dress and linen. Seeing people run, she motioned to them, and wringing her hands she explained to them that Nina was drowned. Old and young rushed to the river, not only the people of the household, but the whole town joined those seeking; nevertheless all efforts proved to be in vain.

Morphiliziy’s warriors upon hearing of what had taken place immediately informed their lord, and were all without exception ordered to go to search for Nina. Morphiliziy himself rushed to the garden and began to question the grief-stricken old woman.

From her explanations, constantly interrupted by moaning, he understood that Nina long ago asked to go bathing, that the gamdela, fearing the swiftness of the river, had not given her permission, and that this day at sunrise the impatient girl had quietly slipped out into the garden while the nurse was sleeping and got what she desired. Awaking and beholding the empty bed, the gamdela immediately ran to the banks of the river, but found nothing but Nina’s dress.

Morphiliziy himself went into the water, turned over every bush and stone, swam beyond the town, but found nothing at all. Everywhere he met people who were on the same errand; the warriors searched, the men of Damask, the citizens, yes, all who could swim, were out working, but in vain. The grieved sovereign came up on the bank and declared that he would grant any reward to him who found Nina living or dead and brought her to him. A day went by—no news. And a second day went by; many of those on the lookout returned home with the discouraging news that they had not found the girl. The town again took its usual look. Morphiliziy alone did not sleep and thoughtfully sat on the roof of his house. The night was warm, with bright moonlight, and acted quietingly upon the unhappy Tsar. About midnight he beheld a shade approaching his house and began to look at it with anxiety. Soon he discovered that it was his favorite negro.

“Noy!” he cried out.

“It is I, sire,” replied the negro. “Let me immediately report.”

“Come up quickly!” and Morphiliziy’s heart was suddenly bent and frosted and beat so hard that it caused pain. The hero put his hand on his breast in the hope of quieting its movements, but it went on most painfully and his momentary joy turned to fearful worry.

In a moment Noy appeared before him. “Hast thou found her alive or dead?” he quickly asked.

“Living,” began Noy, “but. …”

“Well, where is she then? … a horse, let me have a horse this very moment!” shouted Morphiliziy, but the disappointed, almost terrified looks of Noy caused him to think the matter over.

“Why art thou thus silent?” he impatiently asked the slave.

“Sire … she is not … alone! She lives with … a young man!”

Morphiliziy turned his back upon the negro in order to hide the impression which these words had produced on him. He sat down on a stool and pointing to the carpet lying at his feet ordered Noy to relate everything in detail and without hurrying.

“Sire,” said the negro—“I wished to deceive thee! I wanted to escape bondage and return to the land of my forefathers. I thought of taking advantage of the general disorder, went into the stable, saddled thy horse, explaining that I was starting for the search, and while all the people were looking for Nina along the banks of the river, I started in the opposite direction—straight to the sea, where I dreamt of finding a ship and sailing away. At first I was unusually delighted, but little by little I began to be overpowered by the fear of being pursued. My horse flew like the wind and I induced it to go faster and faster. In the meantime my fear grew stronger at every step. It changed to terror—into some kind of despair; I no longer let the horse catch breath, but chased him like a crazy man. In the end his speed grew smaller. I became furious, tore the cloth and beat him without mercy. He still went on a little farther and beyond his strength, and then rolled into the dust. This was in a forest. I unsaddled and unbridled him, but he did not raise himself and so I continued my way on foot. Suddenly I overheard human voices; I stopped and began to listen. Evidently these were two persons in love with each other, and I had nothing to fear. I cautiously approached, continuing to hide myself in thick bushes and trying to look at those conversing.

“To my surprise I beheld two young boys; they sat together and were eating. ‘Must we ride still farther?’ asked the younger one.

“ ‘I am very tired!’

“ ‘It is no wonder you are tired, my little soul,’ replied the older boy, ‘why, see! we did not leave our horses for about twenty-four hours; I do think it would be more sensible if we remained the night here; I shall light a fire as a guard against wild beasts, put under thee my bourka [a long black cape without sleeves commonly used all over the Caucasus], and watch while thou art asleep!’

“ ‘Ah! but if we made for the village thou too couldst rest?’

“ ‘No, my joy, I am more afraid for thee of Morphiliziy and his followers than of all the wild animals of this slumbering thicket. From the latter I can always save my bride, but from Morphiliziy it is only a wonder if we escape alive!’

“I understood all, and impulsively retired. Why should I then run away, knowing that thou wouldst give me my freedom in any case. Returning to that spot whence I had descended to overhear their conversation, I suddenly came upon a little stream and sat down on its bank. My crazy race had quite exhausted my strength. I drew some bread from my pocket, picked off some wild figs and began to eat, reflecting how I should come home the quickest. Seeing where I was, there was no use of trying to return home on foot, but where should I find a horse.

“Having finished my meal, I arose and went to that place where a few hours before I had abandoned your horse; to my greatest pleasure he was munching grass. I led him to the stream, let him drink, saddled him and put on the bridle. To ride him would have had no sense. After walking an hour he grew more lively, and I began to hope that he was recovering, especially as he suddenly joyfully raised his head and neighed. I imagined that in the distance some other horse answered likewise. I hurried in that direction; after a little while the horses again exchanged compliments, and guiding myself by their voices, I soon met a young cavalier on a fine Persian horse.

“By his fashionable costume it was easy to distinguish him as one of the local aristocrats. I reverently bowed; he answered my salute and his eyes were fixed upon thy horse, which he fell in love with, like a connoisseur.

“ ‘Whither art thou, traveller?’ he asked.

“ ‘I am from afar, sir, sent by my ruler upon a hasty and important affair and must walk the rest of the way for I am incapable of managing this horse.’

“ ‘It is the very best thoroughbred Arabian steed that I have ever seen; thou didst excessively tire it and thou wilt certainly ruin this jewel for good if you do not give him rest. I don’t know thy master and don’t wish to know his name, but even on his own land I cannot allow such a treasure to be ruined. Mount then my horse, gallop away to thy lord and tell him that thou didst leave his half-dead horse at the tavad of Bidandara’s. If he wishes to sell him I shall pay any price he may demand; if he does not want to part with him, why then let him send back my horse and take back his own; at Bidandara’s everybody finds hospitality—even animals,’ and he got off his horse, took hold of and led away mine without listening to my exclamations of gratitude.

“I gave him time to go a long way and then chased his horse still more mercilessly than thine. I knew that thou wilt give him the centuple, and therefore thought only how I could reach thee the soonest. Upon entering the town he fell and I ran the rest of the way on foot. What doest thou command me to do now?”

“This moment thou wilt choose two of the best horses and lead them hither. We shall immediately start in pursuit; tell my lifeguards secretly to catch up with us. Let them have pity upon the horses and take plenty of wine and provisions with them, for thou must be quite hungry!”

In a few minutes the two cavaliers rode out of town and later on they were followed by a whole detachment of warriors, trying to catch up with them. Morphiliziy was not riding very fast, but thinking. He remembered that still a short time before, when but a simple army commander, he had no other wishes besides military glory; all his plans seemed to have been successfully carried out when he was proclaimed King and his name passed from mouth to mouth, surrounded with all the glitter of the recent victory.

The triumph over Damask, the most glorious warrior of his century, appeared to him as the height of blissfulness. He remembered also that unusual, up to this time new to him, feeling which suddenly arose in him upon beholding Nina.

The very glance at this young girl, hardly out of her teens, drove out of his heart and imagination everything in which he up to this moment had prided himself—military glory and victories over Valarsass and the accession to the throne—all vanished somewhere in the distance, occupied some remote spot and was no longer of any interest to him. And to think that this child had made fun of him! This child had managed her nurse and servants and warriors and even him, Morphiliziy, the terrible, powerful and invincible conqueror! This little girl feared not his anger, was not frightened by his forces, did not tremble before his might. His warrior’s renown, his monarchy, his personal charms had not won her. She was not at all excited or especially delighted over the impression she had produced upon the hero, and in just the same way she treated a little boy, whom he could knock down with one blow like some piece of paper!

He resolved that Nina should be his wife however difficult it might be to obtain her hand. She did not wish his love—she did not see the need of his caresses—“then,” thought he, “let her feel my strength, my might, my power—yes, my wrath!”

These reflections were interrupted by the approaching warriors. Morphiliziy turned around; the moon lit up his pale face and sparkling eyes. The soldiers were frightened, never yet had they seen him look thus.

“Give Noy wine and bread—he will eat on the way, but to you, my comrades in battle, I shall now unfold the secret of my soul. You know my whole life, you know very well that there is not a man who could boast of having conquered me; you know too that my very glance can put regiments to flight, that my name was sufficient to make kings and nations tremble, and now, when I reached the height of glory and power, I wanted to divide them with an orphan, I wanted to place her upon that throne for which I am indebted to your love and submission to me, I wished to proclaim her Tsaritsa and share with her my glory, my happiness, and my power! But she refused all these things, and me too, and ran off with a boy. Now. …”

Morphiliziy’s speech was interrupted, he sighed deeply and continued:

“We are out to pursue them. Think up some punishment worthy of their crime. What shall be done with her?”

“Kill them both!” was the unanimous reply.

“That is insufficient!” answered the Tsar.

“Drown them in the river, where they betrayed their deception!”

“Not enough!”

“Have them burned alive!”

“Still too good for them!”

“Let them be torn to pieces by wild beasts!”

“All this is very little!” replied Morphiliziy. “All this is quickly over and does not appease my desire for revenge. They must be captured alive and locked up one opposite the other, so that through the open windows of their dungeons they may see each other, and then I shall prepare my rival a spectacle that will wound him worse than fire, but afterwards I shall hand over to you Nina, and then there will be time to cut off their proud heads and throw them away to be eaten by the dogs!”

The Tsar grew silent, his face became still paler, his eyes stared out worse than before; he was so terrible to look at, that even the fearless warriors could not glance at him and hardly approached his horse and Noy’s, which they were hurrying on at full speed. The sun rose—they continued their ride, a whole day went by, the journey went on as before, and night overtook them again when they entered a forest. Noy announced that it was the same forest in which he had left the fugitives. The moon shone poorly from behind the eternal trees, it became necessary to get off the horses, which were left to the care of several warriors, but the others went on and soon found that little field of wild copse on which Cicero and Nina had rested, they even found the place where they had been sitting.

The grass was trodden down, it bore the traces of spilt wine and crumbs of bread—one large shrub was cut down—but there were no branches.

“They probably burned them in a wood-pile,” remarked Noy.

“Well, where then are the traces of the wood-pile?” replied Morphiliziy. Upon noticing that from the place where they stood onward the grass was trodden down and seemed to form a kind of road, all followed upon this track. By sunrise they left the forest and spread themselves out over a splendid meadow, which ended in a field. The track went on across the meadow to the very field, which was beginning to be worked by laborers.

Morphiliziy dispatched one of his warriors to ask to whom this field belonged and whether they had not seen two boys on horseback yesterday. The soldier returned with a peasant.

“This is the field of the tavad Bidandari, we are his men and did not work here yesterday, but we heard that our master had brought home some two youths, one of whom is ill, and to-day by the orders of the proprietor, my brother went for the znabar (a kind of doctor) on the seacoast.”

“Why, is it far to the sea?” asked Morphiliziy.

“Six or seven agatches” (an agatche is a little more than six and less than seven versts).

“What! is there no doctor nearer than that?” again asked Morphiliziy.

“Why should there not be one? We have a doctor in the village who is immediately at the side of the patient when required, but the other one is cleverer because he takes advantage of the sea tide in order to collect plants, shells, insects, and little fishes, which our own doctors do not get a chance to use for their medicine.”

“Tell thy master that the owner of the Arab horse came to thank him for his favor, to pay his debt, and asks permission to come in.”

The peasant went off, but Morphiliziy ordered his warriors to return to the forest, and taking Noy with him, followed from afar the running laborer. He was very particular in explaining to Noy why he did not wish his name to be disclosed before the right time.

Bidandari came out to meet his guest and led him to some gorgeous apartments where a number of fashionably attired servants surrounded the newcomer, offering elegant clothes, aromatic soaps, and every kind of luxury customary in those times. Having washed and dressed, Morphiliziy came into an adjoining room where a dinner was set. The host met him at the door with two large horns filled with old wine, which, joining hands, they drank at the same time, as a sign of friendship. Notwithstanding that Morphiliziy had eaten almost nothing for more than two days, the rare and numerous dishes did not dazzle him. He had to make an effort in order to pretend that he was eating. At the end of the dinner the host offered him to take a rest, but Morphiliziy said that before that he would like to talk with him alone: then Bidandari, who had not even looked as though he had recognized his sovereign, respectfully fell down on one knee and kissed the edge of the royal coat.

“You recognized me, tavad?” said the surprised King.

“Yes, your Majesty, but I did not dare to say this before the rest, because I did not know the reason you had for not speaking openly.”

“I came hither to carry out my revenge and I cannot do it without your help.”

“Pray tell, what is it you order?”

“But this is against the laws of hospitality, in which your house has always glorified itself.”

“If it be impossible to receive satisfaction for being insulted otherwise—then give orders to kill me—in such a way at least I fulfil my duty as to you, like a faithful subject, obliged to defend the honor of his sovereign even to death and shall not be responsible for what occurs in my house after my death.”

“But, tavad, you forget that in such a case I fulfil my duty neither like a Tsar, nor like a guest, but of this let us speak later. The point of the affair is that in your own house my bride is hiding, disguised as a boy, and I want to take her immediately with me. It seems to me that by handing her over to me you do nothing offensive to the rules of hospitality; as to her companion, he has insulted my royal honor, and it is only natural that every true subject should himself chase him out of his house as soon as he learns about his crime.”

Bidandari sighed and his face took a sad expression.

“I ask a favor of you, sire; sooner order that I be killed than that my guest receiveth the merited punishment and let me now tell you all that weighs on me. Before death one is permitted to put aside every etiquette and to speak with one’s sovereign without the customary court formalities, thereupon I take the liberty of treating you like a brilliant warrior.”

“You forget, tavad, that I am very much obliged to you, and that you therefore have the right to demand anything you like of me except to pardon my rival. You yourself are a young and unmarried man, is it possible you do not understand my thoughts?”

“Forgive me, sire, but I must again speak none but the bare truth! My meeting with your negro you already know about. Wishing to come home by the very most direct way, I went on a trail which by chance brought me up to two boys. The younger of them was shaking from malaria, he was pale and lay upon a bourka, but the older one sat by him in despair and wrung his hands. On this same little meadow two saddled and tired horses were feeding; by their exhausted look it was perfectly clear that the travellers came a long way. I came up from behind, and when I greeted them, the elder brother quickly jumped up and seized a kinjall (Caucasian knife or rather dagger), while the younger boy simply sighed and looked at me in a terrified way; he was evidently either too ill or too exhausted to make any kind of a movement. ‘Fear nothing,’ I said, ‘I came to offer you my hospitality, which you hardly have a right to refuse as you are on my lands.’

“ ‘Excuse me,’ suspiciously answered the older one—‘before I accept your kind offer, I should like to ask you where you took this horse from, which yesterday was still the property of the monarch?’

“I explained it. The boy reflected. ‘What dost thou think of, young man, accept quickly my offer, and together we shall carry the sick brother into a warm room, in which his illness will be over by morning, while here he may die from taking cold.’

“The boy got frightened.

“ ‘Promise me not to hand us out to Morphiliziy alive or dead, and I will readily accept your invitation with gratitude; otherwise we should both prefer to die.’

“I glanced at the sick boy, he evidently made an effort to smile and thus confirm his brother’s words, but this smile lit up his face with such an inexpressible magnificence that I began to be very much puzzled—after all was it not a woman? I accorded the desired promise. We made litters of the branches of a soft coppice. I told them that I would send horses for their conveyance, but thy horse tied itself to the girdle and we safely brought our litter to the house. During the night the patient began to groan and constantly repeated:

“ ‘Darling Cicero, if they discover us—kill me, I wish to be neither a Tsaritsa nor anything else except thy wife!’

“There was not the least doubt left by this time; this was a woman who had run away from some detested man together with her lover. Seeing that it was no longer possible to hide anything, Cicero related the whole story to me. They already loved each other, sire, when thou didst first see her. Perhaps thou wilt say that Cicero might perfectly well have conquered his attachment; taking into account that Nina was the object of this attachment—such a change was very improbable indeed. I say further that I myself was overtaken by such an extraordinary feeling of delight before this utmost perfection of beauty that I felt as though it was not worth living on earth if one could not possess Nina; and in consequence of all this, sire, thou dost partly fulfil my proper wish if thou dost order me to be executed as one bending down before thy will. To hand them out to you after my promise is beyond my powers.”

Morphiliziy walked up and down the room with huge steps and nervously twitching with his mouth.

“I wish to see her!” he said.

“Oh, monarch, be gracious! Before thy arrival here, a doctor had just attended upon her. She has a fever from terror, she frequently cries, saying:

“ ‘I am so tired that I cannot ride any farther! They pursue us—yes, they pursue us!’ If she should see thee now, death would surely set in. As a satisfaction to thy offended pride, take away my life, which has become so painful to me. I am more guilty before thee than Cicero, because I dared to fall in love with thy bride, while he just worshipped a free girl and was fervently loved by her before thou didst enter the town and becamest our ruler. Thou didst permit me to request rewards for ordinary services; don’t let Nina perish! Don’t deprive her of that happiness of which she deprived thee, and even me!” Bidandari wished to bend a knee, but the Tsar did not allow him to take such a step.

“We shall converse like young men of equal rank,” said he. “Leave me alone; in a few minutes I shall call thee.”

Bidandari went out, but Morphiliziy again paced the floor. Within him a terrible combat was going on. On one side his deceived love and wounded pride demanded cruel revenge, on the other hand the elevated thoughts of his soul, his well-known love of mercy and chivalrous nobility of soul inclined him to follow Bidandari’s advice. After walking a whole hour his bad intentions went away, and completely worn out from physical exhaustion as well as spiritual disturbance, he threw himself down upon the sofa and went to sleep with the firm resolution to pardon Nina.

But alas! Ibliss (the devil) is always angered by any noble intention, be it of a Christian, be it of a heathen, and always exerts himself in finding ways of preventing their being carried out. And thus it happened also this time. He appeared to Morphiliziy in a dream under the form of Nina; she was sitting at the feet of Bidandari and gaily joked and laughed. Morphiliziy did his best to overhear their conversation and understood that they were laughing at his confidence. Bidandari boasted about his cleverness, but Nina laughed aloud.

“I assured him that thou lovest Cicero—that once I came upon you by chance; and he believed it all like a stupid child. He allows Cicero to marry and lets you go to Rome, whither I shall soon follow you, and then only will he find out the true state of affairs. Thou must admit, my Nina, that I cleverly thought up all and am worthy of a reward!”

Instead of answering, Nina threw herself on his neck and Morphiliziy saw and heard how the mouths joined together in kissing. He awoke trembling from furor. “Noy,” he cried. The negro appeared.

“Tell the warriors to bring me immediately, all chained, Bidandari, Cicero, and her! I shall instantly ride home alone! If I stay here but a minute longer I shall choke them all, and this is little! A horse, I say, a horse!”

In a moment he was already riding off home, but at sunrise on the following day they brought to his house the three guilty ones. He came out on the roof, all wicked, dark, terrible! All his former noble feelings had disappeared for good, he gave himself up to the work of pitiless revenge. Silently he pointed to Nina and his house. The warriors understood and led her there. Cicero made a desperate effort to run after her, but the heavy chains and powerful arms of the soldiers held him fast. Then the Tsar pointed to Cicero and to the house situated opposite him. Cicero was led off there. Before him there remained but Bidandari.

“Cut off his sly head!” shouted Morphiliziy, with such anger that a flame came out of his mouth at these words. The warriors fell upon Bidandari, but hardly had his head been divided from his body, when a wonder occurred. The day was bright and clear, without a single cloud in the sky, but at this moment an immense black cloud descended unto the corpse and hid him from the eyes of those standing about. All stared with the greatest attention. Little by little the cloud went off, but on the spot where Bidandari stood a magnificent white tulip grew up.

“He is a witch!” cried Morphiliziy, and again the flame was seen coming out of his mouth and nostrils.

“Bring the messenger of charms, the old gamdela, and knock her down before this cursed tulip!”

When they cut off her head and the blood was spattered unto the tulip, its centre grew strikingly red with pale rosy stripes on the leaves, which rendered it still more beautiful.

“Now,” said Morphiliziy angrily, “drag Cicero to the window, stand by his side and don’t let him turn his head. I should like him to see everything that is going to occur opposite!”

And he roared like a madman, and the flame again came out of his mouth, nostrils and ears. “Away with the remaining people from here,” he shouted in conclusion. The square was instantly cleared.

“Hand me Nina over here!” was Morphiliziy’s last command as he entered the house and took a place at a window opposite the one to which Cicero was lashed. They brought up Nina, half dead from fear.

“God of Israel! save me!” she cried out.

“Nobody will save thee from me!” wickedly answered Morphiliziy, and seizing Nina and embracing her he brought her to the open window. Opposite, Cicero was making astounding but futile efforts to free himself from his chains.

“Call to my God—Cicero! He is stronger than that man!” cried Nina. In this moment she glanced at her feet and fainted from terror. Morphiliziy was also astounded. He saw that her feet grew together and formed one black mass. He rashly tore her clothes off her body, but the transformation took place still faster; her whole body burned and grew black, and in a few minutes from her hands there jumped out a splendid butterfly and joyfully flew across the square to meet another one who had come out of Cicero’s dungeon. Both of them hurried to the gamdela’s body and to the white tulip and circled around them.

How could one describe Morphiliziy’s wrath? To express his anger he could no longer find any human words. Some horrible, fearful sounds came out of his mouth together with flames. With terror his warriors looked on as he threw himself about on the square and as his eyes flashed. Little by little he turned completely into a flame. Fiery tongues began to climb out of the window, slipped down to the square and everywhere rose into the air, hoping to burn the poor butterflies. In vain did they fly all over the place, everywhere the flame chased them, at last they hid themselves in the tulip, which hastened to shelter them with its leaves. The whole fury of the fire was now fixed upon the unhappy little flower. Just then the body of the gamdela was transformed into a shower. As much as Morphiliziy harassed his enemy, the faithful gamdela fought against him; thus, notwithstanding all the badness of Morphiliziy, he did not succeed in burning the tulip, but the white leaves only ornamented themselves with all the colors of the flame. In the end the nurse finally conquered her enemy. He went down into the ground and shows himself only when the Lord wishes to punish sinners.

Oh, how dreadful he can then be! He shakes the whole earth, he tears to pieces its interior and forms deep precipices where formerly flourishing cities stood, lets whole villages fall to ruins, destroys hundred-year-old edifices, rips up gardens, fields, meadows, forests. In a word, Morphiliziy became a perfect subterranean fire and hourly curses new generations, while the good, faithful gamdela daily renders thanks to Him who turned her into a beneficent shower, without which men and beasts and plants and everything that is good on earth would perish.

When danger had vanished the leaves of the tulip opened themselves, the butterflies hopped out and hastened to Damassek’s house. There they took again their former aspect. They were married, sold off all of John’s wares, and with incalculable riches went away to Rome. Before their departure they dug out the tulip and took it along with them. Cicero’s country is also favored by heaven just like ours. There they purchased an elegant house, a magnificent garden, and the very best spot of this garden was reserved for the tulip. With their own hands they planted and took care of it, and soon the whole town delighted in the splendid flower, which, refreshed by frequent showers, grew in size. In a few years the whole garden became one field of tulips.

Cicero’s and Nina’s numerous children played around them, while a shower refreshed them morning and evening. Nina and Cicero always went into the garden at that time, and with gratefulness kissed the bright leaves, remembering their dear gamdela whom people now bless the world over, as a reward for her faithfulness and love.