Russian Literature – Children Books – Russian Poetry – Leo Tolstoy – A Prisoner in the Caucasus – contents
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Chapter II
Zhilin scarcely slept that night. The nights were short. He saw through a crack that it was growing light. Zhilin got up, widened the crack, and managed to look out.
Through the crack he could see a road leading down from the mountain; at the right, a Tatar saklia[98] with two trees near it. A black dog was lying on the road; a she-goat with her kids was walking by, all of them shaking their tails.
He saw coming down the mountain a young Tatar girl in a variegated shirt, ungirdled, in pantalettes and boots; her head was covered with a kaftan, and on it she bore a great tin water-jug.
She walked along, swaying and bending her back, and holding by the hand a little Tatar urchin, with shaven head, who wore a single shirt.
After the Tatar maiden had passed with her water-jug, the red-bearded Tatar of the evening before came out, wearing a silk beshmet, a silver dagger in his belt, and sandals on his bare feet. On his head was a high cap of sheep-skin, dyed black, and with the point hanging down. He came out, stretched himself, stroked his red beard. He paused, gave some order to the servant, and went off somewhere.
Then two children on horseback came along on their way to the watering-trough. The hind-quarters of the horses were wet.
Other shaven-headed youngsters, with nothing but shirts on, and nothing on their legs, formed a little band, and came to the barn; they got a dry stick, and stuck it through the crack.
Zhilin growled “ukh” at them. The children began to cry, and scatter in every direction as fast as their legs would carry them; only their bare knees glistened. But Zhilin began to be thirsty; his throat was parched. He said to himself, “I wonder if they won’t come to look after me?”
Suddenly the barn-doors are thrown open.
The red Tatar came in, and with him another, of slighter stature and of dark complexion. His eyes were bright and black, his cheeks ruddy, his little beard well trimmed, his face jolly and always enlivened with a grin.
The dark man’s clothing was still richer: a silk beshmet of blue silk, embroidered with gold lace. In his belt, a great silver dagger; handsome morocco slippers embroidered with silver, and over the fine slippers he wore a larger pair of stout ones. His cap was tall, of white lamb’s wool.
The red Tatar came in, muttered something, gave vent to some abusive language, and then stood leaning against the wall, fingering his dagger, and scowling under his brows at Zhilin, like a wolf.
But the dark Tatar, nervous and active, and always on the go, as though he were made of springs, came straight up to Zhilin, squatted down on his heels, showed his teeth, tapped him on the shoulder, began to gabble something in his own language, winked his eyes, and, clucking his tongue, kept saying, “A fine Russ, a fine Russ!”[99]
Zhilin did not understand him, and said, “Drink; give me some water.”
The dark one grinned.
“A fine Russ!” and all the time he kept babbling.
Zhilin signified by his hands and lips that they should give him water.
The dark one understood, grinned, put his head out of the door, and cried, “Dina!”
A young girl came running in,—a slender, lean creature of thirteen, with a face like the dark man’s. Evidently she was his daughter.
She was dressed in a long blue shirt with wide sleeves and without a belt. On the bottom, on the breast, and on the cuffs it was relieved with red trimmings. She wore on her legs pantalettes and slippers, and over the slippers another pair with high heels. On her neck was a necklace wholly composed of half-ruble pieces. Her head was uncovered; she had her hair in a black braid, and on the braid was a ribbon, and to the ribbon were attached various ornaments and a silver ruble.
Her father gave her some command. She ran out, and quickly returned, bringing a little tin pitcher. After she had handed him the water, she also squatted on her heels in such a way that her knees were higher than her shoulders.
She sits that way, and opens her eyes, and stares at Zhilin while he drinks, as though he were some wild beast.
Zhilin offered to return the pitcher to her. She darted away like a wild goat. Even her father laughed.
He sent her after something else. She took the pitcher, ran out, and brought back some unleavened bread on a small round board, and again squatted down, and stared without taking her eyes from him.
The Tatars went out, and again bolted the door.
After a while the Nogáï also comes to Zhilin, and says, “Aï-da, khozyáïn, aï-da!”
But he does not know Russian either. Zhilin, however, perceived that he wished him to go somewhere.
Zhilin hobbled out with his clog; it was impossible to walk, so he had to drag one leg. The Nogáï led the way for him.
He sees before him a Tatar village, of half a score of houses, and the native mosque with its minaret.
In front of one house stood three horses saddled. Lads held them by the bridle. From this house came the dark Tatar, and waved his hand, signifying that Zhilin was to come to him. He grinned, and kept saying something in his own tongue, and went into the house.
Zhilin followed him.
The room was decent; the walls were smoothly plastered with clay. Against the front wall were placed feather-beds; on the sides hung costly rugs; on the rugs were guns, pistols, and sabres, all silver-mounted.
On one side a little oven was set in, on a level with the floor.
The floor was of earth, clean as a threshing-floor, and the whole of the front portion was covered with felt; rugs were distributed over the felt, and on the rugs were down pillows.
On the rugs were sitting some Tatars in slippers only,—the dark Tatar, the red-bearded one, and three guests. Behind their backs, down cushions were placed; and before them on wooden plates were pancakes of millet-flour, and melted butter in a cup, and the Tatar beer, called buza, in a pitcher. They ate with their fingers, and all dipped into the butter.
The dark man leaped up, bade Zhilin sit on one side, not on a rug but on the bare floor; going back again to his rug, he handed his guests cakes and buza.
The servant showed Zhilin his place; he himself took off his shoes, placed them by the door in a row with the slippers of the other guests, and took his seat on the felt as near as possible to his masters; and while they eat he looks at them, and his mouth waters.
After the Tatars had finished eating, a Tatar woman entered, dressed in the same sort of shirt as the girl wore, and in pantalettes; her head was covered with a handkerchief. She carried out the butter and the cakes, and brought a handsome finger-bowl, and a pitcher with a narrow nose.
The Tatars finished washing their hands, then they folded their arms, knelt down, and puffed on all sides, and said their prayers. They talked in their own tongue.
Then one of the guests, a Tatar, approached Zhilin, and began to speak to him in Russian. “Kazi Muhamet made you prisoner,” said he, pointing to the red-bearded Tatar; “and he has given you to Abdul Murat,” indicating the dark one. “Abdul Murat is now your master.”[100]
Zhilin said nothing.
Abdul Murat began to talk, all the time pointing toward Zhilin, and grinned as he talked-: “soldat Urus, korosho Urus.”
The interpreter went on to say, “He commands you to write a letter home, and have them send money to ransom you. As soon as money is sent, he will set you free.”
Zhilin pondered a little, and then said, “Does he wish a large ransom?”
The Tatars took counsel together, and then the interpreter said,—
“Three thousand silver rubles.”
“No,” replied Zhilin, “I can’t pay that.”
Abdul leaped up, began to gesticulate and talk to Zhilin; he seemed all the time to think that Zhilin understood him.
The interpreter translated his words. “He means,” says he, “how much will you give?”
Zhilin after pondering a little said, “Five hundred rubles.”
Then the Tatars all began to talk at once. Abdul began to scream at the red-bearded Tatar. He grew so excited as he talked, that the spittle flew from his mouth.
But the red-bearded Tatar only frowned, and clucked with his tongue.
When all became silent again, the interpreter said, “Five hundred rubles is not enough to buy you of your master. He himself has paid two hundred for you. Kazi Muhamet was in debt to him. He took you for the debt. Three thousand rubles; it is no use to send less. But if you don’t write, they will put you in a hole, and flog you with a whip.”
“Ekh!” thinks Zhilin, “the more cowardly one is, the worse it is for him.” He leaped to his feet, and said,—
“Now you tell him, dog that he is, that if he thinks he is going to frighten me, then I will not give him a single kopek nor will I write. I am not afraid of you, and you will never make me afraid of you, you dog!” The interpreter translated this, and again they all began to talk at once.
They gabbled a long time, then the dark one got up and came to Zhilin.
“Urus,” says he, “jigit, jigit Urus!”
The word jigit among them signifies a brave young man. And he grinned, said something to the interpreter, and the interpreter said, “Give a thousand rubles.” Zhilin would not give in. “I will not pay more than five hundred. But if you kill me, you will get nothing at all.”
The Tatars consulted together, sent out the servant, and they themselves looked first at the door, then at Zhilin.
The servant returned, followed by a rather stout man in bare feet and almost stripped. His feet also were in stocks.
Zhilin made an exclamation: he recognized Kostuilin.
And they brought him in, and placed him next his comrade; the two began to talk together, and the Tatars looked on and listened in silence.
Zhilin told how it had gone with him; Kostuilin told how his horse had stood stock still, and his gun had missed fire, and that this same Abdul had overtaken him and captured him.
Abdul listened, pointed to Kostuilin, and muttered something. The interpreter translated his words to mean that they now both belonged to the same master, and that the one who paid the ransom first would be freed first. “Now,” says he to Zhilin, “you lose your temper so easily, but your comrade is calm; he has written a letter home; they will send five thousand silver rubles. And so he will be well fed, and he won’t be hurt.”
And Zhilin said, “Let my comrade do as he pleases. Maybe he is rich. But I am not rich; I will do as I have already told you. Kill me if you wish, but it would not do you any good, and I will not pay you more than five hundred rubles.”
They were silent.
Suddenly Abdul leaped up, brought a little chest, took out a pen, a sheet of paper, and ink, and pushed them into Zhilin’s hands, then tapped him on the shoulder, and said by signs, “Write.” He had agreed to take the five hundred rubles.
“Wait a moment,” said Zhilin to the interpreter. “Tell him that he must feed us well, clothe us, and give us good decent foot-wear, and let us stay together. We want to have a good time. And lastly, that he take off these clogs.”
He looked at his Tatar master, and smiled. The master also smiled, and when he learned what was wanted, said,—
“I will give you the very best clothes: a cherkeska[101] and boots, fit for a wedding. And I will feed you like princes. And if you want to live together, why, you can live in the barn. But it won’t do to take away the clogs: you would run away. Only at night will I have them taken off.” Then he jumped up, tapped him on the shoulder: “You good, me good.”
Zhilin wrote his letter, but he put on it the wrong address so that it might never reach its destination. He said to himself, “I shall run away.”
They took Zhilin and Kostuilin to the barn, strewed corn-stalks, gave them water in a pitcher, and bread, two old cherkeski, and some worn-out military boots. It was evident that they had been stolen from some dead soldier. When night came they took off their clogs, and locked them up in the barn.
< < < Chapter I
Chapter III > > >
Russian Literature – Children Books – Russian Poetry – Leo Tolstoy – A Prisoner in the Caucasus – contents
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