Collected Shorter Fiction, Volume 2 полностью

Bata nodded to show that he understood, and added that it was not money he prized, but that he was ready to serve Hadji Murád for the honour alone. Everyone in the mountains knew Hadji Murád, and how he slew the Russian swine.

‘Very well.… A rope should be long but a speech short,’ said Hadji Murád.

‘Well then I’ll hold my tongue,’ said Bata.

‘Where the river Argun bends by the cliff,’ said Hadji Murád, ‘there are two stacks in a glade in the forest – thou knowest?’

‘I know.’

‘There my four horsemen are waiting for me,’ said Hadji Murád.

‘Aye,’ answered Bata, nodding.

‘Ask for Khan Mahomá. He knows what to do and what to say. Canst thou lead him to the Russian commander, Prince Vorontsóv?’

‘Yes, I’ll take him.’

‘Canst thou take him and bring him back again?’

‘I can.’

‘Then take him there and return to the wood. I shall be there too.’

‘I will do it all,’ said Bata, rising, and putting his hands on his heart he went out.

Hadji Murád turned to his host.

‘A man must also be sent to Chekhi,’ he began, and took hold of one of the cartridge pouches of his Circassian coat, but let his hand drop immediately and became silent on seeing two women enter the sáklya.

One was Sado’s wife – the thin middle-aged woman who had arranged the cushions. The other was quite a young girl, wearing red trousers and a green beshmét. A necklace of silver coins covered the whole front of her dress, and at the end of the short but thick plait of hard black hair that hung between her thin shoulder-blades a silver ruble was suspended. Her eyes, as sloe-black as those of her father and brother, sparkled brightly in her young face which tried to be stern. She did not look at the visitors, but evidently felt their presence.

Sado’s wife brought in a low round table on which stood tea, pancakes in butter, cheese, churek (that is, thinly rolled out bread), and honey. The girl carried a basin, a ewer, and a towel.

Sado and Hadji Murád kept silent as long as the women, with their coin ornaments tinkling, moved softly about in their red soft-soled slippers, setting out before the visitors the things they had brought. Eldár sat motionless as a statue, his ram-like eyes fixed on his crossed legs, all the time the women were in the sáklya. Only after they had gone and their soft footsteps could no longer be heard behind the door, did he give a sigh of relief.

Hadji Murád having pulled out a bullet from one of the cartridge-pouches of his Circassian coat, and having taken out a rolled-up note that lay beneath it, held it out, saying:

‘To be handed to my son.’

‘Where must the answer be sent?’

‘To thee; and thou must forward it to me.’

‘It shall be done,’ said Sado, and placed the note in a cartridge-pocket of his own coat. Then he took up the metal ewer and moved the basin towards Hadji Murád.

Hadji Murád turned up the sleeves of his beshmét on his white muscular arms, held out his hands under the clear cold water which Sado poured from the ewer, and having wiped them on a clean unbleached towel, turned to the table. Eldár did the same. While the visitors ate, Sado sat opposite and thanked them several times for their visit. The boy sat by the door never taking his sparkling eyes off Hadji Murád’s face, and smiled as if in confirmation of his father’s words.

Though he had eaten nothing for more than twenty-four hours Hadji Murád ate only a little bread and cheese; then, drawing out a small knife from under his dagger, he spread some honey on a piece of bread.

‘Our honey is good,’ said the old man, evidently pleased to see Hadji Murád eating his honey. ‘This year, above all other years, it is plentiful and good.’

‘I thank thee,’ said Hadji Murád and turned from the table. Eldár would have liked to go on eating but he followed his leader’s example, and having moved away from the table, handed him the ewer and basin.

Sado knew that he was risking his life by receiving such a guest in his house, for after his quarrel with Shamil the latter had issued a proclamation to all the inhabitants of Chechnya forbidding them to receive Hadji Murád on pain of death. He knew that the inhabitants of the aoul might at any moment become aware of Hadji Murád’s presence in his house and might demand his surrender. But this not only did not frighten Sado, it even gave him pleasure: he considered it his duty to protect his guest though it should cost him his life, and he was proud and pleased with himself because he was doing his duty.

‘Whilst thou art in my house and my head is on my shoulders no one shall harm thee,’ he repeated to Hadji Murád.

Hadji Murád looked into his glittering eyes and understanding that this was true, said with some solemnity –

‘Mayest thou receive joy and life!’

Sado silently laid his hand on his heart in token of thanks for these kind words.