The eyes of the two men met, and expressed to each other much that could not have been put into words and that was not at all what the interpreter said. Without words they told each other the whole truth. Vorontsóv’s eyes said that he did not believe a single word Hadji Murád was saying, and that he knew he was and always would be an enemy to everything Russian and had surrendered only because he was obliged to. Hadji Murád understood this and yet continued to give assurances of his fidelity. His eyes said, ‘That old man ought to be thinking of his death and not of war, but though he is old he is cunning, and I must be careful.’ Vorontsóv understood this also, but nevertheless spoke to Hadji Murád in the way he considered necessary for the success of the war.
‘Tell him’, said Vorontsóv, ‘that our sovereign is as merciful as he is mighty and will probably at my request pardon him and take him into his service.… Have you told him?’ he asked, looking at Hadji Murád.… ‘Until I receive my master’s gracious decision, tell him I take it on myself to receive him and make his sojourn among us pleasant.’
Hadji Murád again pressed his hands to the centre of his chest and began to say something with animation.
‘He says’, the interpreter translated, ‘that formerly, when he governed Avaria in 1839, he served the Russians faithfully and would never have deserted them had not his enemy, Akhmet Khan, wishing to ruin him, calumniated him to General Klügenau.’
‘I know, I know,’ said Vorontsóv (though if he had ever known he had long forgotten it). ‘I know,’ he repeated, sitting down and motioning Hadji Murád to the divan that stood beside the wall. But Hadji Murád did not sit down. Shrugging his powerful shoulders as a sign that he could not bring himself to sit in the presence of so important a man, he went on, addressing the interpreter:
‘Akhmet Khan and Shamil are both my enemies. Tell the prince that Akhmet Khan is dead and I cannot revenge myself on him, but Shamil lives and I will not die without taking vengeance on him,’ said he, knitting his brows and tightly closing his mouth.
‘Yes, yes; but how does he want to revenge himself on Shamil?’ said Vorontsóv quietly to the interpreter. ‘And tell him he may sit down.’
Hadji Murád again declined to sit down, and in answer to the question replied that his object in coming over to the Russians was to help them to destroy Shamil.
‘Very well, very well,’ said Vorontsóv; ‘but what exactly does he wish to do?… Sit down, sit down!’
Hadji Murád sat down, and said that if only they would send him to the Lesghian line and would give him an army, he would guarantee to raise the whole of Daghestan and Shamil would then be unable to hold out.
‘That would be excellent.… I’ll think it over,’ said Vorontsóv.
The interpreter translated Vorontsóv’s words to Hadji Murád.
Hadji Murád pondered.
‘Tell the Sirdar one thing more,’ Hadji Murád began again, ‘that my family are in the hands of my enemy, and that as long as they are in the mountains I am bound and cannot serve him. Shamil would kill my wife and my mother and my children if I went openly against him. Let the prince first exchange my family for the prisoners he has, and then I will destroy Shamil or die!’
‘All right, all right,’ said Vorontsóv. ‘I will think it over.… Now let him go to the chief of the staff and explain to him in detail his position, intentions, and wishes.’
Thus ended the first interview between Hadji Murád and Vorontsóv.
That evening an Italian opera was performed at the new theatre, which was decorated in Oriental style. Vorontsóv was in his box when the striking figure of the limping Hadji Murád wearing a turban appeared in the stalls. He came in with Lóris-Mélikov,15 Vorontsóv’s aide-de-camp, in whose charge he was placed, and took a seat in the front row. Having sat through the first act with Oriental Mohammedan dignity, expressing no pleasure but only obvious indifference, he rose and looking calmly round at the audience went out, drawing to himself everybody’s attention.
