Orloff and his Wife
Khan Mosola?ma el Asvab, and he
the palace of the khans, destroyed by time, sat a group of Tatárs in gay-colored kaftans and flat caps embroidered with gold. It was evening, and the sun was sinking softly into the sea; its red rays penetrated the dark mass of verdure around the ruins, and fel
wrinkles nothing except repose; the words he had learned by heart flowed on, one after the
deal of strength and fire, and his caresses soothed and burned, and women[Pg 178] will always love those who know how to caress strongly, be
m, his great harem, where there were three hundred women from divers lands, and they were all as beautiful as the flowers of spring, and they all lived well. Many
precious stones of all colors, and music, and rare birds from distant countries, and the fiery caresses of the amorous Khan. In this tower he amused himself with her for whole days together, resting from the cares of his life, and knowing that hi
rom their bows into the eyes of the prisoners, testing their strength of arm, and again they drank, lauding the valor of Alhalla, the terror of enemies, the mainstay of the Khanate. And the[Pg 179] old Khan rej
s son the strength of his love, he said to him, in the presence of a
! Glory be to Allah, and glorif
the prophet in a chorus of mi
em,-and when the worms shall devour my breast,-I shall still live on in my son! Great is Allah, and Mahomet is his true prophet! I have a good son, his arm is strong, and
ola?k Alhalla rose to his feet, and said, with flashing eyes, black
sian prisoner, my
o long as was required to crush the shudder in his hea
ish the feast, and the
lashed[Pg 180] with the greatness of his joy; he ro
I know ... I am thy slave-thy son. Take my blood,
wed his gray head, crowned with the glory o
, and the two went silently, side b
r stars were visible for the clouds whic
walk through the darkness, an
there of fire in my breast. The fervent caresses of the kazák woman have been the light and warmth of my life.
a made no repl
my life,-that Russian girl. She knows me, she loves me,-who will love me now, when
a said
r or son, Tola?k! To a woman, we are all men, my son.... Painful will it be for me to live[Pg 181] out my days.... Bather let
heads on their breasts, they stood long before it. Gloom was round about them, and clouds race
long, father!,' s
w that she does not lo
rent when I
is my aged hea
y fell silent.
s her, and she delivers her husband over to the pangs of jealousy; when she is ugly, her husband, envying others, suffers from envy; but if die is neither
ine for an aching hea
passion on each o
is head, and gazed
ill her,'
her and me,-' said the Khan soft
is the same
n they fe
g
he Khan mournfully. He had
hall we k
up to thee, I cann
any longer-tear out my he
n made n
her into the sea f
mountain,' the Khan repeated his son's
the old Khan's eyes upon his silvery beard and gleamed in it like pearls, but his son stood with flashing eyes, and gnashing his teeth, to restrain his passion. He aroused the kazák
me, old
must come with us,'-
s in the eyes of her eagle, and she
the one nor to the other-is that what you have decided
he sea. Through narrow ways they went, and
g
wearied soon, but she was proud
rved that she did not keep pa
thou a
ng glance, and showed
ms, like a feather, and carried her; and she, as she sat in his arms, thrust aside the boughs of the trees from his face, fearing that they would strike his e
r I want to stab thee in
y desire, or forgive thee-as he wills,-but I, thy
shoreless. Its waves chanted dully at the very base of the
d the Khan, as h
Alhalla, and bow
ves were singing, and staggered back
!' she sai
took her in his arms, pressed her close to his breast, kissed he
g
nd distance, where the sea merged into the clouds, whence noisily floated the dull beating of the billows, whence flew the wind which fluttered the Khan's gray beard. Tola?k stood over him, covering his face with his hands, mot
, father,'
he Khan, as though l
the waves beat below, and the wind flew
s go, f
little lo
ce did Tola?k
s go, f
t from the place, where he had
e, strong and proud, rose, knitted
t us
ut the Khan s
I live now, when all my life was in her? I am old, no one will love me
g
lory and rich
e. There is no such love, there is no life in a man, a beggar is he, and pitiful are his days. Farewell, my son, the bles
s nothing that one can say to a man on whom death smiles, and nothing
me g
lah
knows
him back, there was no time for that. And again nothing was audible from the sea-neither shrie
alla gaze below, and
also, as stout a
t forth into the
svab, and Tola?k Alhalla became Kh