Caucasian Legends

by Abraam Abraamovich Gul'bat

The Song of the Body-Knight

(Literal Translation)

“Why did they lead me into the high royal palace,

To thee as thy page,

Thy most winning eyes

Did fill my soul with burning fire.

“Although I descend from a powerful Vladyka

And am now at least the Tsar’s favorite knight,

Nevertheless I cannot even testify my love to thee

Nor exchange words with thee through sweet, sweet glances.

“It is as though a mighty fortress was separating us

So fearfully high and immobile,

And my humble glance does not dare to penetrate

E’en to the grand old royal window.

“In love, however, I am thy slave, O dear princess,

I am quite able to pick up a quarrel with the king,

For I do pride myself in having just as fiery a soul,

Nay, just as great a heart.

“Both of us are still in life’s early stages

And the same blood runs in our veins,

And if I cannot boast of such great royal fame

I may at least be proud of my strength and powerful determination.”

And, as though wishing to give his powerful strength a fair trial, the youth struck out with his fist against the stone and lo! the rock began to shake and split. When he looked at his fist he noticed that there was blood on it, and thereupon Mirian was more downcast and depressed than ever before.

“What possible use can my hero prince’s strength be to me when my heart is harder than stone?” he exclaimed, and again tears flowed down his face.

And so from the mixture of tears with dripping hero-blood, a little spring formed itself, which flows at the edge of a precipice—then again it makes its way through high, high stone blocks, like a wild animal and, having successfully overcome them, it cries and hops about like a child. Mikrandoukta did not at all share the intense attachment of Mirian and took no notice of it. Attaining her growth she married the Shah of Persia. On the day of her departure Mirian came to his little spring, fixed the sword between two stones and threw himself against it with such violence that the sharp blade went right through him. His youthful body slipped into the water, but the burning blood swelled the little rivulet and gave it a marvellous power of resistance. To this well known spot from that time onward, all true lovers streamed in, and if anybody has a really good chance over the turbulent, fairy-like stream, he will take to writing excellent verses and his love will be crowned with the most complete success; if, however, he expects and awaits inspiration, he must certainly give up all hope forever and his passion will, alas! slow down and come to nothing.

The first man who experienced these strange feelings and went through the whole thing was the negro Nebrotk. He fell deeply in love with his mistress, and even went so far as to venture to open his secret to her. The incensed and very frightened mistress immediately ordered that he should be drowned. They threw the unhappy “darky” in the stream of tears of the stremiannoy (body-knight) and went off; he at first lost consciousness, but later came back to his senses and came out on the opposite bank, completely cured of his useless passion. As he still felt uneasy and could not think of daring to return to his mistress, he built a little log house for himself on the bank of that ghastly precipice near which flowed the rivulet, and not knowing what to do with himself he wrote down the whole history of his life, then investigated the source and course of the remarkable stream and registered that too.

Having thoroughly established himself in this most interesting region, he began to look after all those who happened to approach these important domains of fate, invited the travellers and pilgrims to his house, asked each one the story of his or her life and diligently and carefully recorded them. Soon a whole bouquet of most varied and entertaining tales was gotten up, reminding one of the all famous Arabian stories, and I can only regret that my memory prevented me from remembering but very few of them. I can understand very well all that Nebrotk relates about himself. Once upon a time, in the night he was awakened by some sweet, sweet singing, and having hastened to rise and go out, he smelt a strong and remarkable fragrance. He turned and peeped right into the precipice.

The moon was lighting up its bottom; the enormous rocks glistened like pure silver and gold, while the water shone like the finest diamonds. With great satisfaction—nay, delight—he glanced at this heavenly picture, and suddenly his eyes were fixed on and could easily distinguish two human heads on the surface of the water. He began to pay more attention; a very handsome youth—a negro—and quite as beautiful and splendid a white girl were standing in the water up to their throats, and having lifted their arms high out of the water, they were playing with some wonderful, bright, gleaming threads. Correctly these nets were fastened and refreshed with clean, clear water, and they seemed to stay in the air without any sign of motion.

Later he distinguished the following details: These nets of threads were fastened to an immense leaf of some sea plant and in this massive, fairy-like floor, which was all aglow with emeralds and gold, there stood a figure exceeding all human beauty. The whole scene was wrapped in a slight watery fog and a soft moonlight. The longer Nebrotk paid attention and looked at the surprising spectacle the more easily he succeeded in making out that all the charm of this extraordinary scene was concentrated in the form of a perfectly magnificent woman. In her hands there was some kind of a long feather, consisting entirely of sun rays, with which in the course of her sweet swim she reached and touched the different plants and flowers, and indeed, as though subjected to her peremptory commands, they gave out an indescribable fragrance and each little flower united with the marvellous choir which had gently awakened Nebrotk and sang softly, sweetly, beautifully.

Nebrotk got perfectly passionate, so anxious was he to understand the contents and exact meaning of this fragrant, flowery little song, and holding his breath, he began to take the greatest pains and was enabled to hear: “Astkchicka! O Astkchicka! O Astkchicka! O Astkchicka!”

That struck him as most peculiar, and having once more fixed his eyes on the head of the woman, he beheld a glistening, darling little star. This was exactly Astkchicka, i.e., Venera, whom the Tsar Vachtang the First had chased out of all his temples and houses of worship, and her adorers as well as her sacrificers and those who had been so benefited by her—all without exception had to abandon her in the deepest grief and disappointment. Then, however, she found two tender lovers. He was an adventurer, viz., a fisherman, but she the daughter of a very wealthy gardener. The goddess promised them her complete protection, and they without further reflections threw away their only property, i.e., their garments, and naked they went into the water in order to construct something for their kind benefactor. And see! the expelled goddess decided to rise and establish herself near the interesting “rivulet of the tears of the body-knight” (stremiannoy), and to that spot she directed her numerous admirers.

Having seen Nebrotk, Astkchicka waved with her all shining feather, and from the motions she made, a bridge really and truly formed itself. She came down to earth, and having turned around to look, she again waved with her feather. On one side there was a bush of yellow roses, on the other side one of white roses. Their buds were instantly transformed and actually turned out as garments for her loving servants who were hastening after her. Thereupon she slowly returned to the hut of humble Nebrotk and with a new motion of her bewitching feather changed it into a perfectly marvellous, brilliant, nay, most elegant royal palace. Nebrotk stood like one struck by lightning. With a clever but sly smile upon her beautiful face, Astkchicka ordered her servants to lead him off to the stream and put him down on the estrade abandoned by her. But hardly had these orders been complied with and fulfilled when the pillars of the estrade gave way and broke down together with the negro. The terrible, yes frightful, cry of the drowning man perfectly silenced the sweet chorus of the flowers. The servants were frightened and anxiously looked at the water, and after a short time a half god came out of it; he was white with a golden crown imperial, in which only the fiery black eyes reminded one of the drowned negro.

All four settled down in the fairy-like palace and were blessed with indescribable happiness. This was indeed a kingdom of love, unhindered and unrestrained by any laws. Nebrotk perfectly adored Astkchicka, and the fisherman Naboukodonozor the gardener woman Roussoudanna. The host was quite in love with the goddess and the servant with the gardenkeeper, although both were merely common negro slaves. But even in the fairy-like palace under the protection of the very goddess of love, there happened to be a spot especially designed for animated secret conversations between lovers. In one of these unhappy moments the conditions and peculiar qualities of the stream became known to Naboukodonozor, and the fear that the magic force of the water should influence Roussoudanna found a refuge in his soul. It is of course well known to all of you that suspicion is the enemy of love. Naboukodonozor seriously began to think that Roussoudanna had fallen in love with him. Seeking the reason of this imaginary adoration he suddenly came upon the idea that she was occupied in involuntarily comparing his black skin with the most godly white complexion of Nebrotk, and in consequence of this horrid supposition his heart began to be filled with emotion and passion, while after passion came ungratefulness to Astkchicka and a very revolutionary spirit; afterwards she transformed Nebrotk, who had really done absolutely nothing for her, into a half god, while the latter, who had successfully brought her to this enchanting resort, she simply abandoned and left a negro and slave.

And during the night he walked along the bank of the stream and sang a song of his great grief, and suddenly the old cedars, the high, high peach trees, the grand old nut trees composed a beautiful chorus and an all powerful song, blowing everything before it like a huge wave, reached the palace and suddenly awakened the goddess—but Nebrotk quietly went on sleeping and heard nothing. Stepping lightly, Astkchicka softly and cautiously went out to the rivulet, where Naboukodonozor, with his back turned towards her, was bitterly crying, and blushing terribly, she knocked him over and sent him flying into the water.

Without a word or motion did Naboukodonozor enter the water, and just so he came out—more magnificent even than Nebrotk, and throwing himself at the lovely feet of the goddess he covered them with kisses. Astkchicka did not at all object to such proceedings, but did not let him get out of sight, and it seemed very evident that she also was in love with him. The slave, encouraged by the concessions of his mistress, seized the godly hands and began to kiss them just so madly. Suddenly, however, Astkchicka roughly pulled them away, passed them around his neck and having given him a kiss on his lips, she instantly disappeared. Some wonderful extraordinary fire ran over the whole body of poor Naboukodonozor from this rare, but dangerous kiss. A new feeling got hold of him, viz., a boundless desire inspired him to run off to the goddess, but the very thought that she was able to treat, nay, caress, Nebrotk in the same affectionate way, completely kept him from making a fool of himself. He threw himself on the ground and tried with all his might and main to extinguish the burning fire which was raging inside of him, rolling in the soft sweet grass and mercilessly treading down the highly fragrant flowers, while the moon seemed to be offended with its greatest favorite and bashfully hid itself behind a massive cloud. The perfect and impenetrable darkness at last forced the crank to come back to his senses; he then went home exasperated, most dissatisfied, and wicked in his intentions.

Roussoudanna was quietly sleeping and knew of nothing that had taken place in the night, and what must have been her astonishment, when in the morning she beheld Naboukodonozor with a pure white complexion and golden hair. Upon the question what had occurred to him, he passionately replied that he had just gone to a stream, let himself down into the water and had come out in the very state she saw him.

“Pay attention and be careful to remain faithful to me,” she jokingly said, and went out to gather fruit for the “déjeuner” of the goddess. After a while Nebrotk also woke up and asked Naboukodonozor the same question.

“I followed in thy steps and see! the result has proved to be the same,” was his short answer. Nebrotk looked at him rather suspiciously, and unwilling to believe the truth of the story, he went to the goddess to inquire about the affair and to see how matters were getting on in general.

“I came to a decided conclusion that it was most unkind and unjust not to do for my real savior what I had deigned to do for thee,” was the godly reply, which made Nebrotk very uneasy and filled his heart with renewed passion.

Roussoudanna wept and wept, Naboukodonozor got terribly provoked, Nebrotk was deeply impressed and full of emotion, while Astkchicka vainly exhausted all her eloquence in trying to explain that her palace was a refuge for independent love, not subjected to any laws whatsoever. General dissatisfaction, suspicion, grief, and tears were alternately seen and heard in the fairy-like palace. Poor, poor Roussoudanna could not dry her eyes. Once upon a time, going to look for fruit, she went out of her way and got completely lost. The sun was already quite red when she sat down to take a rest after such a hard, steep walk. Her dark, undecided intentions and thoughts concerned again Naboukodonozor and the magic conditions and qualities of the rushing stream, and her grieved feelings turned against the goddess.

“Why under the sun do they call thee the benefactor of men?” she passionately exclaimed. “Thou didst win and encourage us with the promise of thy protection as long as thou didst need us, but now that the situation has changed thou tookest my lover Naboukodonozor away from me and thus why should we help thee to escape and lighten the king’s terrible wrath?

“In all probability his God is far stronger than thou, when thou runnest away from him.

“O Christian God, save me!” rang out from the grieved soul of Roussoudanna.

“O Lord Jesus Christ, our God, have mercy upon us!” Such was the exclamation of an old man’s voice, and indeed unhappy Roussoudanna soon beheld an old man approaching her and making his way among the trees and bushes.

“What is the matter with thee, my dear child?” he kindly asked, coming up to her. Roussoudanna naturally said that she had lost her way, that she was very much exhausted and did not know how to continue her route.

Thereupon the old man led her to his home. He lived somewhere in the immediate neighborhood, not at all far off, in the grotto of a high, high rock where he nourished himself with the milk of wild goats and with dates. With the greatest pleasure he placed before her his whole stock of provisions, brought her a pitcher of water, carefully arranged the sofa of leaves and inviting her to take a good rest, he went out. Having refreshed herself, Roussoudanna began to watch him most attentively through the gate of the grotto and there she saw that he had walked a little way off and then had fallen on his knees and begun to pray. She witnessed how his good, kindly face suddenly lit up with some marvellous, perfectly heavenly, happy, and joyful expression, and she ardently desired to find out from the poor, but grand old man, what this sudden, really indescribable joy meant in the course of his long, laborious, honorable life.

At last the old man finished his fervent prayer and began to gather dates; having got together a huge pile, he gayly carried them into the grotto. The guest met him at the entrance.

“I thought that perhaps you would not have enough to eat with just those dates which you found in my poor dwelling house,” said the kind-hearted host, turning to her, “and see here, I am bringing thee some more still,” and he put down the deliciously sweet fruits right before her.

Roussoudanna, perfectly astounded by such unusual and unheard of goodness and thoughtfulness, thanked the old man with tears in her eyes.

“What does thy painful grief consist in?” he asked—and continued thus: “It is possible that the needs of life have been weighing down on thee?”

“Oh no, wise, dear old man, I have never known what it is to be in need.”

“Well then, did not some severe illness pull thee down and mercilessly deprive thee of thy strength?”

“I am in perfect health and have a strong constitution.”

“Perhaps some dreadful worries did not give thee rest.”

A (the woman). B (the hermit).

A: “I really have nothing to be worried about.”

B: “Then did not regularly and faithfully carried out duties exhaust thee?”

A: “No, dear hermit, for I was living in a fairy-land palace from which the following torments were entirely excluded: need, worry, work, and illness.”

B: “Worldly attractions and habits may have led thee off the good track and restrained thy liberty?”

A: “We were by no means subjected to any such rules, nor even to etiquette.”

B: “It is possible that the laws of your palace were extremely severe and therefore made you feel very depressed?”

A: “But really, we acknowledged no laws.”

B: “Well then, perhaps the wealthy proprietor of the palace abused his might and compelled you to do certain disagreeable things which were unjustifiable?”

A: “Not in the least, for Astkchicka was sole mistress and administrator of the palace.”

B: “There now remains but one supposition, viz., that she united such people as would naturally perfectly hate one another?”

A: “Why, not at all, we all gathered around her in the mighty name of love.”

B: “Ah, aha, I understand the matter,” the old man unexpectedly broke out, “you came together over there in the name of love and it is most strikingly evident that there is some defect about your love.”

A: “Thou art wrong, old man,” energetically rang out of Roussoudanna’s mouth as she suddenly interrupted him. “I can bear witness and prove that nobody ever and so strongly loved his dear ones as I loved my excellent darling Naboukodonozor!”

The grave hermit glanced at her quite differently—yes, suspiciously. “My child,” was his brief reply, “that which the idol worshippers falsely call love, is by no means that holy feeling which we understand under that term. Their love is one of those innumerable examples of self-worship and vanity.”

Roussoudanna’s face was all red from blushing, while her eyes were filled with tears.

“Oh no, that cannot be so,” she exclaimed with a trembling voice, “with the greatest joy would I suffer any possible privations, every imaginable torture, in order to give him pleasure and satisfy his desires.”

The hermit sighed deeply. “Is it possible then,” he said with a doubtful, inquiring tone, “if thou dost indeed truly love thy fellow men and women, that nobody in this wide world is either capable or strong enough to put an end to thy unhappiness? Relate to me now what the real source of thy misfortune came from and in what manner it was able to assume such tremendous dimensions.”

“Naboukodonozor, whom I love more than anybody or anything in the world, got to loving another woman!”

“Well, what of it?” quietly asked the old man, “is this the only cause of thy great sorrow? How can one call it unhappiness if this made his fortune and rendered him contented?”

“Some would have thought that she might like such a course of events instead of regretting it.”

“What is the matter with thee, O wise hermit?” She was perfectly overwhelmed with joy!

“Now, my dear woman, rely ye simply on me, for I will undertake to explain it all right to thee, as for me, it was a source of sorrow and doubt.”

“O thou remarkable man, dost thou really not understand that for me this circumstance was worse than all the tortures of poison?”

“But thou only just a short time ago didst assure me that the very height of happiness for thee was to stand every privation, nay, all sufferings, simply in order to give him pleasure and act in accordance with his wishes and aims.”

Thereupon the hermit again opened his mouth and sang songs of praise and thankfulness unto God, the Almighty Master of Heaven and earth; and see! his happiness was founded on love, but on love to a being, a being which was perfect. He always submitted his love to the righteous laws of God; this was not a senseless inspiration, but an action free of any earthly, foolish bonds, of elevated and religious aims and seeking nothing but rest and comfort for the moment—going always by the road of honesty, truth and veneration of all that is upright and good!

His love was trying to perfect itself, approach if possible that greatest example of utmost perfection which was shown to us by our Lord Jesus Christ.

“Happiness is a sweet, sweet little flower,” said he, “which is quite unable to grow among unrighteousness, unfairness and wilfulness—only by the lawful way of Christian love to God, veneration and love to his neighbors, can he strive to live properly and give those magnificent fragrant flowers, for which you are all constantly looking and which you are as yet unable to find. Following out the orders of my God it will be easy to find happiness, for His perfect and most merciful laws restrain the will of the individual man only there, where it proves necessary for his thrift and condition in general. Thou, it is true, didst live in a fairy-land palace, from which all illnesses, needs, worries, and labors had been excluded. You did not fear nor obey any legal authorities, nor laws, nor customs. It was love that firmly united you all. Well, tell me then, were you indeed happy and successful?”

“Oh! no, not at all!” answered Roussoudanna. And once more the old man tenderly addressed her and convinced Roussoudanna, baptized her, and taking a staff, at the top of which a cross was reproduced, he went off with her to the fairy-land palace. Reaching the rivulet they beheld Nebrotk gathering the necessary fruit. With despair and terror did he inform them that Astkchicka now considered Naboukodonozor her husband, while he was forced to serve his rival and nobody paid any attention to—yes, had utterly forgotten the existence of Roussoudanna. Then she asked him to sit down and told the inhabitant of the castle all that had happened to her, and in her young voice the speech about perfect endless and eternal love sounded still more convincing. Love is eternal when it is well planned and arranged, it is endless if free of sin and perfect if subjected to the almighty laws of the eternal God, Father of Heaven and earth.

All were deeply impressed, and now the hermit continued the speech and told them about the all-powerful strength of God, before whose serene appearance all false, worthless gods take to flight, and about His extreme wisdom and knowledge, rapidity of decision, mercifulness and righteousness, and see! Nebrotk immediately wished to be converted and baptized. At the end of his powerful and persuasive discourse, the old man simply touched the fairy-land palace with his staff and in a few seconds it completely disappeared like an apparition. Then he instructed Nebrotk and Roussoudanna in real Christian love and in the obligations of married life and then performed for both the wedding ceremony, and having fervently prayed to the Creator they all together went to work erecting a perfectly new log house for the young married couple, in which the happy mortals passed many blissful years, writing down the stories and tales of the various travellers. Some of them I shall perhaps tell you of another time. To my sorrow my memory did not preserve that artistic, yes, clever way of relating, which this little collection of legends more and more clearly explains to one—bringing us over and over again to the great truth.

“Happiness is within us.” The imperfection of Nebrotk and Roussoudanna came at first from the imperfection of their mutual love, which loves itself as much as the beloved. Then, however, gradually as they were taught to love their neighbor more than themselves, yes to love him so much as not to offend each other and not grumble and growl over little defects and mishaps which regarded their personalities alone and from which the neighbors should not suffer, did they teach themselves and conceive how well it was to rejoice over the blissfulness of others, to think only about others, to wish to seek pleasure and happiness only for others and to put all their energy and delight in the contentment and comfort of others; this great happiness finally made its beneficent way into their souls and admitting everything they said.

“Happiness is within us—” and then they needed no more fairy-land castle, from which all cares, illnesses, needs, and labors were banished. They found time and also strength to live an actual and true life among all its turmoils and difficulties, to know how to guarantee one’s shining happiness, and then they heard not the fairy-land song of the flowers, the fragrant song of the youngsters saved by them for a joyful, diligent, and Christian life, and they rejoiced in the song of thankful young people, who by their example of love, had been saved from many a sorrow and suffering. These young people had thoroughly learned how to live a happy life and this chorus did not stop as long as they lived on earth.

VII. The Tribute of Roses

A Legend

In our most blessed and favored country, where the sun shines so brightly, where the flowers have such a sweet, sweet fragrance, where the birds sing so melodiously, long ago in bygone times, when neither I nor my father nor my forefathers had been born, there lived a young and splendid couple in the Aule of Mokde [Note of the Translator: Aule is the common term for a very small village or rather mountain hamlet in the Caucasus.] They were always most hospitable and everybody praised them, but the Lord, who always delights in seeing the religious and the poor well treated, fully rewarded them and abundantly furnished them with rich presents, thus clearly showing them his appreciation for their good deeds. They had everything that could be desired: youth, beauty, good health, riches, and reputation, they sincerely loved one another and their inner happiness was as great as their outer appearance and great success. Their children were healthy, clever, good and lovely to look at. Their elder son, little Timitch, distinguished himself especially through his strength and ability; he was endowed with most fiery eyes, once sparkling like flashes of lightning, then again as soft and innocent as the eyes of a young mountain goat.

For nine years the happy husband and wife lived thus, when suddenly between the aules of Mokde and Khamki a very bloody strife ensued and led to much destruction of life and property. During this strife, when the father of Timitch was mercilessly killed as well as his brothers and sisters, while the mother was taken prisoner and led off as a captive, Timitch himself was saved by some inexplicable wonder and soon became the favorite and greatest pride of the whole aule. In the meantime his mother, who was still a beautiful and youthful woman [in our country the women can be married at the early age of twelve] was sold and taken away to Turkey, where her wonderful appearance was the chief ornament of the Sultan’s harem. In this select collection of beautiful and highly attractive women, her good looks and sweet disposition cast a dark shadow over all the rest—just as our bright sun dims all other planets.

The Sultan got perfectly wild with delight over her, and he incessantly showered most precious weavings, gorgeous carpets and splendid stones of one color and priceless shawls—in a word everything that the rich, rich East could produce lay at her graceful feet. Nevertheless in the midst of all these flatteries and endless temptations she always remained faithful to her husband. It needed a marvellous mind and character like hers, while utterly refusing to fulfil the wishes of the Sultan, to still remain the governess of his heart and the immediate object of his kind and thoughtful attention. In these proceedings a lucky circumstance firmly assisted her—viz., the fact that she had been preparing herself to become a mother already four months before, when she happened to be taken prisoner. The loving and enchanted Sultan decided to patiently await the birth of the baby, which was foreign to him, and then marry his unusual captive, who was of royal blood and thus fully had the right to be an empress. The nearer she approached the time when a child should be born, the gayer the future Sultana became, so that those surrounding her really imagined that she had forgotten her husband. But oh, how terribly mistaken they were! Indeed, the eventful day came and a daughter Tousholi was born.

When they brought her the baby she long looked at it and tears came in floods out of her magnificent eyes, afterwards she made the sign of the cross on it and gave orders that it should be carried off.

“Call Samson to me,” she said. Samson was the eunuch, given and attached to her personal service by the Sultan and who had faithfully done his duty by her side. She knew how to win his esteem and confidence, especially as he was himself a Christian (of course quite secretly). When he arrived she ordered him to take up the opakalo (probably a kind of Eastern fan) and protect her, while sleeping, from uncomfortable and noisy flies; but she did not want to sleep—this was simply a sly device to make everybody leave her apartment and get out. She profited by this occasion to tell Samson the following facts:

“Samson, to thee I trust the new-born daughter Tousholi, promise me if possible secretly to make a Christian of her, as sincere and earnest in her belief as thou thyself. Among all these unbelievers thou wert not a slave to me, but a true and faithful friend and a tender and thoughtful brother. By the almighty mercifulness of God I am destined to live not much longer, for I hope to-day already to be able to unite myself with my dear husband, while thee I ask to take the place of this dear orphan’s parents. Thou knowest my whole history, my strength does not enable me to speak to thee as freely as I should like. For the sake of the outward appearance I shall leave Tousholi nominally to the care of the Sultan, and I am convinced that at first everything will go right with you. When, however, your situation changes, I hope indeed that you may find means to return to Mokde and look up my first-born child, whose natural obligation it is to be the powerful protector of his defenceless sister and her very aged educator, but now give me my little kindjall (Caucasian dagger)—fear nothing, I shall not cut myself open, for I have not even the strength to do that.”

Samson placed in her now feeble hands the handsomely ornamented little kindjall, artistically decorated with precious stones and fastened to a most gorgeous girdle. This was the wedding present of her husband and she never left it out of her sight. The submissive old man, through his tears beheld how the face of the sick woman suddenly lit up and how, her eyes flashing with some extraordinary fire, she bravely pulled the little kindjall out of the sheath and put its thin blade, which was as sharp as the tongue of a snake, up to her lovely mouth.

“She sincerely kisses it,” thought Samson, and quieted himself; but the precious little kindjall had yet another resemblance with the tongue of a snake, of which the faithful servant knew nothing. It was indeed poisoned!

Having heroically swallowed the deadly poison, the sick woman commanded Samson to instantly inform the Sultan that she desired to see him. The all-powerful adorer of this Christian heroine immediately made his appearance and was utterly distressed when he saw the signs of approaching death already marked on her magnificent features. In his anger against those standing about, he threatened them with perfectly atrocious punishment if they did not that moment find doctors able to bring his favorite back to life. In the meantime with a weak but expressive and comprehensible movement of her hand, the patient showed that she desired to be left alone with him. All the rest disappeared in a second and she broke out thus:

“My minutes are counted, I am dying, not paying you back in any way for your innumerable marks of kindness to me, and nevertheless I wish to ask yet another favor of you: be a father to my new-born daughter! It is my firm and irrevocable wish that my true and ever-faithful Samson shall stay by her and bring her up in none but my own dear religion; when, however, you are tired of her, simply send them to Mokde to my son Timitch, and even if he be no longer living, I am fully convinced that the excellent daughter of my loving husband will always find protectors and friends among the good and kindly inhabitants of Mokde.” With these serene words she breathed her last breath. The tremendous fury and utter despair of the Sultan went beyond any description. The court body-doctor and the arifa (i.e., the lady who administrates the harem) were hung without delay, but Samson and his sweet little pupil were given very fine and expensive apartments with magnificent board.

Every ten days the old man was obliged to bring little Tousholi to the Sultan, who having tenderly caressed her and given riches to the faithful servant, let them retire, giving the strictest orders that those who surrounded them should never hinder, trouble, or disturb them in any way. Thus three long years easily went by. The childish features of the face of Tousholi now acquired a most striking resemblance with the marvellously beautiful features of her late mother. The courtiers began to notice repeatedly that the Sultan after a time had fallen in love with her, was earnestly reflecting about something and frequently sighing. Thus the visits, which used to last but a few minutes, now became very long indeed, while little Tousholi, with her childish caresses, gained the affection of the Sultan more and more. Immediately two parties sprang up: the first, wishing to make Tousholi their excellent instrument in order to get the upper hand and overrule the Sultan, and thus naturally, constantly and unceasingly chanting her praises and flattering her to the skies; the second, which had resolved to make her perish and from this reason never letting one occasion go by without trying to snap at her and pull her down from her exalted position.

During the fearful struggle of these two desperate parties, Tousholi’s childhood went by and she was already a grown-up maiden, when the kind-hearted Sultan died. His successor by chance belonged to the dangerous and inimical party, and so the sharp and careful Samson began to energetically demand to be allowed to go away to Mokde. The permission to start for the home journey was given with great joy and satisfaction, and very soon they had already arrived at Mokde. Here there was no difficulty in finding out Timitch. He was known by young and old alike. The old servant silently took from Tousholi’s baggage that precious girdle with the kindjall, which he had handed to her mother just a few hours before her untimely death and passed it to Timitch, drawing his attention to a splendid all-sparkling round tablet. On it were inscribed the dear names of his glorious parents.

“This is the remarkable girdle which was always around the waist of my all-beloved mother!” cried out the youth.

“Well, say now I prythee where is she staying? How can I possibly reward thee—oh, thou grand old man? Art thou sent by her?”

“I verily came to this memorable village by her sacred will,” reverently answered Samson. “While dying she ordered me to lead thy sister to thee and hand her over to thy mighty care and protection.”

“What, my sister? Well, well, is it possible that not all sisters and brothers perished together with their splendid father?”

Saying this he closely looked at the young girl and was evidently struck and impressed by her perfectly unusual beauty.

“The resemblance with your mother ought to be sufficient to convince you of the truth of my words.”

Afterwards innumerable questions and answers were mutually exchanged. The old man and Tousholi settled down in the house of Timitch and Samson heartily rejoiced, seeing soon how the youngsters became friends. But nevertheless there was nothing to rejoice about! The twenty-year-old Timitch, fiery, not given to reflections, unaccustomed to restrain himself in any way, was entertaining such intentions as would make Samson’s hair stand on end if he thoroughly understood their meaning. What is there strange in the fact that the twelve-year-old Tousholi was unable to guess at the thoughts of her brother and firmly trusted him in everything with all her simple childish sincerity of soul. The passionate attraction of Timitch grew not with days, but with hours, and once during a promenade, without being at all disturbed by the presence of grave old Samson, he actually went as far as to tell her of his peculiar intentions.

Samson, astonished and disapproving the plan, threw himself in between the young people and was stupefied when seeing a dagger pointed towards him, but the terrified Tousholi speedily hid herself near a precipice. Seeing the immediate danger, the dying faithful Samson cursed the wicked and lawless boy, and lo! suddenly a great wonder took place.

Timitch was transformed into a wind and began to crazily blow and whistle over the precipice, but the submissive and ever loyal servant was turned into a gigantic rose bush, in the midst of which a rose of unusual size was growing and constantly blooming. By the will of God, angels with marvellous, all-glorious singing slowly let themselves down into the precipice, majestically lifted out from it the magnificent body of Tousholi and carefully placed it in the very centre of the superb rose, the all-fragrant leaves of which gradually closed up and thus buried inside of them the deceased. Attracted by the all-glorious angelic singing, the faithful inhabitants of Mokde ran together in crowds to the rose and many of them clearly saw how the angels gracefully interred Tousholi in the rose. But Timitch could by no means quiet down; with anger and greatest passion he threw himself upon the rose bush and wished to break it down, but the more he shook the lovely branches, the closer and firmer did they stick to the rose and the better did they defend her from his unjustified attacks and depredations. When, however, he finally succeeded in carrying off the tender, tender leaves of the rose, Tousholi was no more to be seen, for her body had completely evaporated in the marvellous fragrance.

The religious inhabitants of Mokde enclosed the beloved holy rose with a very massive stone wall, called this spot Tousholi, and yearly when the first beautiful rose came out they celebrated a fête, which has quite a character of its own and is popularly known as “the tribute of roses.”

The ceremony consists of the following points: Every young girl gathers a tremendous full bunch of rose leaves and standing one behind the other, they await the exit of the very oldest man in the village. He comes out, dressed in a white suit and bearing in his hand a white flag, the point of which is richly decorated with roses and covered with sweet little bells, while at the end a large wax candle burns. Putting himself at the head of the procession, the old man gives a solemn signal and the procession duly and martially directs itself towards Tousholi; behind it at a considerable distance followed young people, leading sheep and bringing along with them the customary offerings, i.e., horns, balls, hatchets, silks, etc. The procession winds around Tousholi three times with beautiful singing in which is described in detail all that we have mentioned above—then the girls in their turn enter through the great fence and put down in a certain place their splendid fragrant offerings, softly adding:

“Saint Tousholi, help and assist me! Holy Samson, shield and protect me from the cursed Timitch and all of that kind!”

On the top of a pretty mound, formed by the magnificent rose leaves, the old man solemnly fixes his standard, saying: “Saint Tousholi, make me wise, Holy Samson, help me to guard and defend all these tender maids from the cursed and all-hated Timitch and all those who follow his wicked example!”

After this earnest speech the old man sits down at the foot of the graceful flag, while at his own feet the young girls settle down. Then the young people enter the enclosure and kneeling on one knee pronounce a most reverential greeting discourse to the hermit and the maidens and then they turn about and face an opposite corner, where they curse Timitch who hath wickedly cast a dark shadow over their beloved aule; afterwards they cut up the sheep and gayly feast with all those present. When I was but a very small boy I happened to be in this place and was favored with seeing with my own eyes one or two roses inside the enclosure, which it appears is existing even in our advanced and enlightened days. These roses are really unusually large in size, but nevertheless neither a grown-up girl nor even a new-born youngster can possibly find place inside the flower. I understand that at that time they used to say with regret, that the fête of “the tribute of roses” did not repeat itself yearly! Thus little by little ancient customs disappear and antique amusements are superseded by new ones, which are not always successfully chosen; only grim Timitch never changes, for he is quite as restless now as ever before, here moves and weeps like a child, there makes a row, yes rebels like a robber and lawlessly destroys whole buildings. His dislike for roses never ceases, and as soon as he sees a sweet little flower he immediately begins to blow around it with impatience and anger until he hath scattered the beautifully fragrant leaves far and wide over the country. Now the story of Tousholi is already forgotten, but her name, among the Chechenzes, is given to all such interesting places, where they go to make sacrifices and fervently pray.

VIII. The Lot of the Holy Virgin

A Tradition

When, by the special wish of the Lord, the apostles drew lots to decide who was to go out into foreign lands and preach the gospel of Christ, the enlightenment of Georgia fell to the share of the Holy Virgin. The Lord appearing to her exclaimed: “My mother, taking into account thy desires, I have come to the conclusion that this nation is more worthy than all others to have a place in the list of heavenly joys and blessings. Send thou then into this fine country, which hath fallen to thy lot, Andrew the First and hand him thy picture, which, from being placed against thee, represents thine holy face!” Then the Most Holy Mother of God announced to the apostle: “My dear pupil Andrew, I am very much grieved by the fact that the faith of the name of my son is not being preached nor advanced in the country, whose enlightenment hath fallen to my lot. When, however, I desired to start out for the journey my son and my God appeared to me and ordered that I should send to my separate province with thee my image and His, so that I should be the real cause of the conversion of these people and be their everlasting and ever tender helper and protector.” “Most holy one, yes, let at all times the will of thy Godly son and thine be carried out and fulfilled to the satisfaction of all the world.” Then the most Holy Virgin washed her face and having pressed it well against a platter, she left on it her reproduction with her predicted son in her arms. Having handed the image to Saint Andrew, she said: “Yes, may the mercifulness and the overwhelming help of Him who was born of me be with thee everywhere where thou choosest to go. I myself will invisibly help to increase the complete success of thy preaching tour and my province of future enlightenment will always remain under my constant, nay, never ceasing care and protection.” The holy apostle, having thereupon fallen at the feet of the most Holy Virgin, thanked her with tears in his eyes and joy in his heart, went to preach the faith at Trebizond, taking along with him Simon the Canonite. But here they did not remain long and continued their journey to Edjis. Seeing the perfect craziness of those stupid inhabitants, who were more like entirely senseless animals, the apostle directed himself towards Georgia, and arriving in Great Adtchara, began his holy work; for even here the inhabitants did not profess the faith of the only true and real God and committed deeds which were so shameful that it is unsuitable even to refer to them in any imaginable way. They showered many indignant insults upon the apostle, who simply and most patiently bore them all with the help of God and by being occupied in constant prayer before the image of the most Holy Virgin—and lo! the Lord fulfilled the ardent desire of his heart and brought the inhabitants upon the righteous way, but on the spot where the reproduction of the mother of our God was standing, there appeared an abundant and truly splendid fountain flowing to this day, and in which the saintly apostle baptized the inhabitants, who had gathered there from all the surrounding towns and villages.

He blessed and ordained the deacons and priests, explained to them in detail the holy principles of the faith as well as the church laws and successfully constructed there a church in honor of the Holy Virgin Mary. When, however, he wished to leave, the adoring people stopped him with the following remarkable words: “If thou art actually going away, leave us at least the image of the Mother of our God as a place of refuge and protection in case of trouble and need.” Then the Saint ordered made a platter of just the same size as the image and put them together.

Immediately the reproduction was transferred to the new slab without any injury to the former image. Immediately afterwards, the apostle handed the newly made image to the inhabitants, who, having received it with joy, placed it with great honors in their fine church, where it hath remained to the present day. Then they said good-bye to the splendid apostle, thanking him for his many good deeds, kissing him with true love and affection, and with him they sent one of the newly converted by the name of Matata. Going through the valley of Kkeniss-Tskall he led Saint Andrew up to the summit of a mountain, on which the Saint formally erected a cross in honor of our blessed Lord Jesus Christ and that was the reason why this exceptionally favored mountain began to be universally called “Rouiss-Djouar,” which means, “the iron cross.”

After that they went down into the valley of Odzrche and soon reached the frontiers of Samtske, where they took up their headquarters in the village of Mount Zaden. Seeing that the inhabitants over there bowed down to and wickedly worshipped idols, they sincerely prayed to the image, which had triumphantly accompanied them everywhere and instantly all idols fell and were broken to pieces. Then they continued their route to Astbour, which was formerly called Tchoukall-tchett (the river of lilies) in Armenian and really lies just opposite Sakrisse, and arranging themselves, they settled down to rest near an idolatrous temple, nowadays Dzvel-Eklesia. At that time this country was administrated by a widow by the name of Samsgvari, which means “frontier,” who had but one son and he too had just died among the depressed and mourning subjects of his mother. That same night from the guarding fortress a powerful light was seen over that spot where the image of the Mother of our God was placed, and at sunrise people were immediately sent to find out who was there and what their business was. Returning to the city, the envoys announced to Samsgvari, that it was the light from the reproduction of some wonderful Virgin, whom two foreigners had evidently brought with them; that they knelt and prayed before this strange image and that they preached the faith of a new God, who could make the dead rise.

The widow immediately sent for the saints and questioned Andrew: “Who are thou, whence didst thou come and what in the world is the new faith about which thou speakest so much, for verily I say unto you, up to this time nothing approaching it in the very least has ever been heard of?”

“I arrived from Jerusalem,” energetically answered the apostle, “and am the servant of our Lord Jesus Christ, who doth make the dead rise again. I preach about Him as about God and the King of all kings. Know ye then that He who believeth in Him and lets himself be baptized in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost will receive all he asketh for with true faith and will be healed of every illness.” Upon hearing these sounding words, Samsgvari fell at his feet with tears in her eyes and cried out:

“Oh, have thou pity for my widowhood and terrible unhappiness and with the strength of thy God bring back my only son to life. I will duly carry out and fulfill to general satisfaction everything that thou commandest me to do, without uttering the slightest objection, only in order that I may behold again my dear son alive, for he is the only descendant of our great family, for I have really no other children.”

“Well, if thou believest in Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the only true God, He will certainly give thee all that thou dost ask of Him with faith.” Then the widow with tears of joy said to the Saint: “O servant of the only real and true God, I do sincerely believe in Jesus Christ, of whom thou preachest and whose holy name thou announcest to the world at large. I, however, beg thee to increase my strength of belief in Him, the Saviour of the world.” Having heard these sincere words with pleasure, the apostle chased away the musicians and the curious, leaving only Samsgvari and her relations, and taking the image of the most Holy Virgin, he placed it on the corpse of the little child and falling on the ground he began to pray, the tears abundantly streaming down the fine features of his fervent face, and with many sighs he stretched out his arms towards the image and then rose, took the little boy by the hand, and truly! the boy seemed to awake as though from sweet slumber, and Saint Andrew handed him over to his mother.

All those present were silent—so struck were they with surprise, while the widow, seeing her beloved son restored to life, was filled with utmost joy, jumped up and threw herself at the feet of the Saint, gratefully thanking him and covering his knees with tears. She, with all her heart, believed in the Lord Jesus and was baptized with her son and all his household. Afterwards she sent out her servants to all the Samtsetskian mtavares with official letters, containing the following passages:

“I, Samsgvari, the widow of your kristav, do joyfully announce to you, my brethren, a most happy event for all nations, for there arrived from a strange land, a man who preacheth the faith of a new God, the reproduction of whom made my blessed son arise from the dead; hasten ye therefore, so that we may choose the only true and sincere faith and decide whom it becomes us to obey and adore.” Having heard of this wonder, the Meskhians rushed in from every spot of the monarchy in such numberless crowds that they actually filled the whole valley of Sakriss, and they all stared with perfect astonishment at the risen son of Samsgvari. But the sacrificers of Artemis and Apollo, the temple of which was situated in that part of the country, firmly resolved to oppose themselves to the Saint and cried out:

“Artemis and Apollo are great gods,” and after them many of the people shouted the same, while others nevertheless exclaimed: “We must all necessarily submit before such an unusual wonder!” Rebelling and quarrelling in every way began to make itself felt. In the end it was decided to open the gates of the temple, to solemnly place the holy image between the idols, to set up proclamations on both sides of the gates, place guardians and pass the night in religious prayers. “Pray all you want to your false gods,” said the faithful followers of Him whose religion conquereth all others, “we, however, will pray to our only real and true God, the Lord Jesus Christ, and at sunrise we shall see: if your gods get the upper hand and are victorious, we will follow your example. If, however, they are defeated by our God, then let all present give praises unto Him the Only one.”

Having carried out everything according to the agreement, at very sunrise they opened the doors of the temple and beheld the idols, fallen and broken to pieces in the dust, while the image of the Mother of our God was surrounded with glitter and light like the sun. Then they understood the importance of the new religion and the whole nation unanimously exclaimed: “Great is the God of Christians, preached about by the holy apostle Andrew,” but the sacrificers begged the Saint to forgive them their sin of unbelief, and all having assured him of their repentance, were baptized in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost and loudly sang praises unto God, who had safely saved them from the deadly grasp of the merciless devil.

Then Saint Andrew made up his mind to go into other wild countries and preach the principles of the New Testament, but the widow and the nation implored him not to go away from them until he had successfully taught them all the laws of the faith. Every single day the nation gathered in tremendous crowds and the apostle carefully explained to them the rules and details of the religion and all the necessary church rules, consecrated for their service a bishop, many priests and deacons and again started for his great and dangerous mission. Samsgvari and the nation renewed their ardent entreaties, but the Saint tenderly replied to them:

“My dear children, do not lead me into temptation, for my duty calls me and prescribes to me to render also other cities and villages happy.” “Well, if thou must absolutely abandon us,” they mournfully answered, “so leave us at least the image of the most Holy Virgin to strengthen our never-ceasing confidence in the new faith and as a means of mutual protection.” “This image,” said Saint Andrew, “formed itself from simply being touched by the body of the Mother of our God,” and he went on explaining to them how by the extreme condescension of the Lord the apostles drew lots to find out where each one should go to preach and that Samtsketia fell to the share of the Virgin Mary. He joyfully related how instead of herself she had sent her portrait into the provinces belonging to her sphere of enlightenment as a means of confirmation and protection to the true believers and promised that she would always be with them in spirit and soul now, henceforth and evermore. Messkhi and Samsgvari, having found out that they were under the spiritual regency of the Heavenly Tsaritsa, were filled with indescribable joy, but the desire to be able to possess her image made them still more radiant.

With tears of emotion in their eyes they solemnly placed it in a small church, which had been speedily constructed and consecrated in the name of the Holy Atskourian Virgin. Nowadays they usually call this church “Dzvelle-Ekletsia,” that is “ancient church,” as the present edifice is built of stones which had served to construct the first church and stands on exactly the same spot. Then Saint Andrew went to preach the Holy Gospel in Nigalia, Djavakhetia, Artakanna and Kola, where he remained very long, enlightening the depraved unbelievers. From there he directed himself to Klardjetta, then to the land of Parthia, Armenia, and for the fête of Easter safely arrived at Jerusalem.

When, however, Tsar Aderke discovered that the Kartlians and Messkhians had finally abandoned the faith of their forefathers, he sent several kristaves to them, who by force officially obliged many to return to a régime of darkness and falseness. Nevertheless some true and faithful followers succeeded in concealing images and crosses and loudly praised God that the apostle was no longer in their presence. The Tsar, however, grew very angry against the kristave of Klardjette for his not having held up the Saint, who, passing Easter Day together with the remaining apostles, again bravely started on a large preaching tour in Georgia. Crossing the lands lying near Fao as the Choroke, he thoroughly inspected the villages, preaching everywhere and to everyone the Holy Gospel of Christ, and soon reached Svanetia.

Here at that time a woman reigned, who accepted the apostle’s saintly blessing with false and pretended good feelings. Matata with the remaining pupils stayed in these domains, but Saint Andrew and Saint Simon went farther to Ossetia, where they got to the town of Posstaphore and from there they soon successfully arrived at the Bosphorus, where with the almighty and conquering help of God they were favored with the gift of being able to accomplish many wonders, and converted to the only real and true faith and baptized tremendous numbers of people. Afterwards they went back to Abkhazetia and farther to the city of Sebasst, the present Tikkoum, where many more unbelievers were also converted to the religion of Christ. Here Saint Andrew left Simon the Canaanite with several good pupils and continued his route to Djivetta, peopled by a wild vile nation, filled to overflowing with disgraceful sinfulness, love of cruelty and without any religious feeling whatever. They actually did not want to listen to him and unanimously made up their minds to kill him, but lo! the Lord protected his faithful servant, ordering him to instantly depart from the wretched creatures. But this nation remained in unbelief to this day. The tomb of Simon the Canaanite is in Nikopsia, between Abkhezethe and Djikerk, on the frontier of Greece. Having confirmed the Abkhazians and Megroes in the new faith, Saint Andrew left entirely for Skythia. Soon afterwards Tsar Aderke died and the kingdom of Georgia was divided among his two sons Bartomme and Kartamme.

During their rigid administration in the year 70 A. D., a rumor began to gain ground that the inhabitants, who were under the supreme authority of Rome, absolutely refused to submit themselves to the Emperor Vespasian and energetically rebelled. The Emperor ordered his son Fitt to persuade the Jews to quiet down, but they did not cease to make a fearful row and locked themselves up with their army in Jerusalem. Then the Romans surrounded this town and began to mercilessly besiege it. The besieged were suffering from terrible hunger and diseases and the nation from despair began a terrific civil war. In a short time there perished such a quantity of Hebrews, that they threw one hundred thousand corpses out of the town; besides that the streets and houses were filled to overflowing with dead people. In the end the Romans made their way to Jerusalem, ruined it completely and destroyed the temple, so that according to the holy words of the Saviour, not one stone remained on top of another.

Ever since then the Jews have overrun every part of the world and no longer have any own fatherland. Many of them arrived at Mtzkhet and settled down with their compatriots, among whom were also the sons of Varrava, delivered by the Hebrews instead of Jesus Christ, when they were invited to let one of their prisoners free. During the reign of the grandsons of Bartome and Kartaume the kings Azork and Armazeli, the latter found out about the existence in his monarchy of the miloti of the prophet Ilia and instantly gave orders to look for it among the Jews, but the Lord did not allow this extreme treasure to fall into the hands of the ruthless pagans, his searchings finally turned out to be vain attempts and to all questions the Hebrews simply answered that it was concealed in the earth near a magnificent cedar, which had grown over the tomb of Sidonia. Consequently Saint Nina more than once commanded Abiatkar to question his father where it indeed was situated, but the old man every time gave one and the same answer:

“The spot, where is hidden this holy garment, about which in its time the true believers will sing praises unto God, is like the place on which Jacob beheld the staircase leading up to Heaven.”

This was the only occasion when they seriously disturbed the Hebrews, all the remaining time, however, before and afterwards, they constantly received and treated them exactly according to the rules of true Eastern hospitality and made them feel quite at home in their new fatherland. In the year one hundred and eighty-six A.D., Revv ascended the Georgian throne. The word “reva” signifies “conqueror,” but the nation gave this serene sovereign a designation still more suited to him and still more honorable, for they rightly named him “the just sovereign,” for his very first great public act was the repression of privateering and robbing in the army and the prohibition to bring children to be offered to the gods.

Although Revv the Just was himself an idolator, yet he did have some kind of a vague idea of the New Testament of our Lord Jesus Christ, highly esteemed His true followers and even strictly forbade to chase the Christians, who had held their own in small numbers among the worthy descendants of the most enlightened apostles. These little marks of attention were sufficient to support Christianity, which stood high in the eyes of many men in the country. From this bright moment onwards the number of Christians began undoubtedly to increase, although of course slowly, but every year so that by the arrival of Saint Nina they were already forming a considerable and by no means to be despised class.

IX. The Comet

A Legend

On a steep, steep mountain path, leading directly to the monastery of John of Zadenne, a young girl was slowly walking. Her lovely sweet hands were all covered with blood as she was holding on with all her might and main to the prickly bushes; it being absolutely necessary to stick to them, so as not to fall into a deep abyss. Having safely reached a little square she stopped in order to quiet down and catch her breath; for in front of her another just as difficult ascent was awaiting her and she felt that it was her duty to rest and save her remaining strength. Having stood a while, she cautiously sat down and began to look at the path by which she had dared to come. Far in the distance one could see a horseman. The well trained horse like a cat hung on to the mountain, taking advantage of the most insignificant little trail or plateau and of every imaginable hardly noticeable highland road. Small stones rolled away from under its feet, the dry old branches of many a bush trembled and broke with a sharp cracking sound while the horse galloped—approaching always nearer and nearer the terribly exhausted woman-traveller.

Coming up with her, the rider reverently bowed. He also intended to let his faithful horse have a good rest on the little plateau and naturally he began a conversation with the sitting maid. From what she told him, he found out that she was called Salougvari and that she undertook this pilgrimage, wishing to pray at the sacred tomb of a most holy, saintly hermit for the restoration of her dying mother’s health. The young people went on talking for some time and the gallant rider offered her to continue her journey, holding on to the tail of his horse. This means of mountaineering is considered by us in Georgia the very safest and far less exhausting than all others. When they reached the summit he rode into a deep thicket, growing on the edge of the mountain, on which stood a monastery; the horseman’s way of treating her changed completely and his extraordinary speeches terrified Salougvari. She, having abandoned the tail of the horse, in an instant ran off to the monastery and like a frightened little bird made her way into the church.

The glances of all those praying turned with astonishment to the runaway wanderer and this unusual surprise grew still greater, when after her a horseman bounced in on a foaming steed and with his hat on his head and not paying the slightest attention to the solemn church service simply began to search with his piercing looks for poor, poor Salougvari, who had taken refuge at the very tomb of the famous saint. Having beheld his fellow-sojourner, he rashly knocked against his horse and with one bold bound, he arrived close by her side.

In that memorable moment, the ground suddenly shook and actually opened itself, swallowed up the fiery and insulting horseman and again majestically closed itself up with such marvellous rapidity that those present were struck as though by lightning and could not utter a word.

It is of course well known that somewhat below the monastery in the very mountain the temple of Zadenne was cut out, which soon became the permanent residence of demons, and indeed these latter rogues, daily coming out of their horrid dwelling places, very much disturbed Saint John and his numerous scholars until he gave orders that the entrance into the vast abandoned cave-region should be firmly barred and closely blocked up. Our bold horseman had the most peculiar—yes wonderful feeling in the neighborhood of this whole temple or house of worship. Upon a height there stood the gigantic reproduction of a handsome old man sitting on a massive throne, between his feet lay a ring-formed snake—the true symbol of eternity—while in his hand he held lightning. This was all artistically cut out in marble. The elegant crown, which decorated the wise brow of the old man, had still preserved some signs of pure gold; here and there precious stones were shining. This was decidedly the kingdom of coldness and of some secret magic-like half-darkness. The light was able to shine in only through the opening holes of the mountain and through the holes yet left between the perfectly immense stones with which the entrance was surely and safely barred.

Having thoroughly recovered after his strange incident and quite unexpected fall, Aderke (it was thus they called the horseman) began to carefully inspect and search the cave. His attention was especially drawn by one spot, shining like a diamond. It appeared that this was a tremendous piece of mountain salt, on which a ray of light which had managed to get through one of the mountain holes was gayly playing. Other such pieces were falling down in long, long divisions from the cupola-like, vaulted ceiling. Thirst was torturing Aderke. Thinking that this was simply ice, he began to direct all his efforts towards successfully breaking off a respectable piece, but notwithstanding his most desperate jumps, he could not accomplish anything. Then he naturally imagined that from the sides of the cave much lower down he might be able to get something and began to go around it in a circle, trying to find here or there some possible opening, on which he might firmly stand and make his way. Passing close by a great piece of salt, he overheard some very distant voice which was singing a soft, marvellous song. Aderke began to listen most attentively.

“Powerful sire,” called out the extraordinary secret voice, “I have been awaiting thee for many years, dispel thou as quickly as possible this darkness and lead me forth into the region of freedom. Oh! have pity upon me!—I implore to be given freedom only with the exalted aim of submitting to thee, to serve and wait upon thee, to love thee tenderly, yes, to be thine ever obedient slave. Thou didst happen to come hither, pursuing a most handsome mortal being; look now at my features; you can plainly distinguish them through my dark prison. The more the extreme brilliancy of my subterranean dwelling darkens her dreadfully poor saklia (hut) the more the glitter of my beauty darkens her exceptional charms. She did not even venture to look at thee, for she feared thy caresses. I, however, did not take my eyes off from thee from the time that thou didst fall to the feet of mighty Zadenne, I constantly admire thee with a perfectly passionate glance, I love thee, I call thee to my side: come, oh come thou quicker!”

Wild with excitement and deeply impressed by that most passionate song, Aderke entirely forgot his unhappiness, forgot also the thirst which was torturing him, he began to stare more closely at the salt masses and through their transparent grim old walls he began to be able to distinguish the tender outlines of a young and pretty woman. He knocked with his vigorous fist against the cold, cold mineral wall, but the powerful blow did not leave the slightest trace; then he pulled out his kindjall and thrust out his arm still stronger against the salt shapes, which were almost turning to stone. It slightly trembled; Aderke now turned to the pedestal of the idol, detached from it a large piece of fine marble and using it instead of a vigorous hammer, began to diligently knock it as hard as possible against the long handle of the kindjall. The opening evidently made considerable progress.

In the meantime, through the little opening which had been made in the pedestal, there slipped out a lizard, after it a snake, then a flying mouse and finally a little devil. Coming out of their wonderful ambuscade, they were all of exceedingly small proportions, but these proportions grew larger and larger every minute. The lizard seemed to possess a perfectly formless human face, the snake had wings grown on to its body, the mouse seemed to have the head of an owl with a tremendous beak and fiery sparkling eyes. The little devil, far smaller in size than the rest, cleverly jumped at the mass of marble which was nearest to Aderke and by a well known signal ordered them to begin the furious attack. First the lizard moved and trumpeted with some kind of an awful, not human voice.

“Let thou go my prisoner, insolent adventurer, or else we shall jointly cut thee up in pieces!”

Aderke, astonished by such reasoning, turned around. The unusually enormous lizard stood on its hind legs and seemed to be all prepared to attack and swallow him up. The flying mouse made a noise and waved with her big wings, howling out some terrific metallic sound; the snake stretched out and slipped up to him with perfectly awful hissing, while the beastly little devil joked and insulted him above his head and filled the air with unbearable, bad odors. Aderke, seeing what was coming, bravely pulled out the sword and daringly struck at the snake, who was just making ready to spring at and wind itself around his feet.

The excellent sword cut it right through, but unfortunately without doing it the very least harm. It quickly set to gathering together its fearful rings and went back to the idol. Aderke energetically rushed after it and fainted from terror. From the pedestal sprang out one after another innumerable and varied poisonous monsters, one more terrific—yes, fearful, than the next. Then there were also people with snakes’ heads and snakes with birds’ wings and birds with fishes’ tails and fishes with heads of living people. All these awful monsters hastened to abandon their ambuscade, crowded and pushed each other, slipped over each other, quarrelled in a most undignified manner, bit each other, struck and scolded each other; here one monster was hissing, there a second one was making a violent speech, a third one let out from his mouth such a horribly disturbing whistle that the cold ran over one’s whole body. In the midst of this tremendous row a human cry of distress reached Aderke; he turned around. The lizard was doing his best to widen out the opening which he had forced through, while the snake with an evil meaning and aggressive hissing hastened to occupy each newly opened little crack. Aderke wanted to run and help the poor, poor woman-prisoner, but the flying mouse threw itself towards the entrance and having spread out its wings guarded with its own body its outrageous comrades. In the meantime the remaining monsters seized Aderke by the legs and would not allow him to budge a step from the place where he stood. Thereupon he bravely drew out his pistol and with a sharp and rare shot smashed to pieces the salt block. At this moment the monsters unanimously took hold of him and he of course lost consciousness, so that he did not see how out of the blazing brilliant niche formed by his pistol shot, a splendid young woman rushed forth to meet him.

Before her the monsters reverently stepped aside. “Away with you!” she cried out in a most commanding voice. “Take him up cautiously and carry him after me,” pointing to Aderke, she ordered some strange bear with birds’ legs and with a crane’s beak to carry out her commands. The monster instantly submitted to the explicit instructions and, continuing to respectfully follow her imperious commands, he went in with his burden, up the steps of the pedestal to the very idol and placed Aderke at its feet. “Now,” said the young woman, “your power over me has ended, having got back all my former freedom, I have also regained all my past influence and power. Tram, tram——tara, all to your respective places!” she continued in a most decisive tone, and the horrible monsters one after another rushed back to the high pedestal. When they had taken up their proper positions, she bent down and raised the piece of marble thrown away by Aderke and cleverly——yes, powerfully, barred the entrance. After that she again went up to the idol, fell down on her knees and said: “Great Zaden! Here you have a gift fully worthy of you as a grateful reward for my happy deliverance. If it pleases your serene majesty that I should not go away from this, thine abandoned temple, trying with all my energy to be equal to the task of replacing your former most numerous servants, so for my sake give me back this dead man, call him back to life, start up in his heart a sincere attachment to me and we shall both be your constant, loyal and ever watchful servants. The heavy stone eyelids of the idol opened themselves, its eyes sparkled, and from this momentary sparkling Aderke instantly came back to life and was able to stand on his feet. At the same time the idol with a terrific crash and shaking fell to pieces and disappeared in the dust.

“Who art thou—magnificent creature?” was his first question.

“Let us go into my transparent dwelling place,” she replied, “I shall place thee on my exquisite crystal sofa and quietly entertain thee with my interesting stories and dear caresses.”

They jointly went into the niche. Through the sweet little opening a small, small ray of light streamed in and perfectly marvellously played upon a smooth, salty ceiling, showering down millions of beautiful sparks and blazing with all the colors of the rainbow. The beauty sat down, put Aderke’s head on her lovely knees and while he was endeavoring to fall asleep, she told him her whole history.

“I am the daughter of the Moon and of Zaden, they call me Aipina. My father actually decided that I should appear to the glance of people only to prophesy some peaceful event, the rest of the time I am ordered to remain secretly hidden in the grim walls of his temple, which at that time was a place of general worship and sacrifice. The people used to crowd about here from morning till night with very rich offerings. Numerous sacrificers burnt their offerings, while their female companions in long white garments sitting on golden seats prophesied the future. But notwithstanding all this excitement it was stupid for me, and one fine night, when my mother had covered everything with her soft, magic, fairy-like light, I wilfully managed to get out of the temple and flew into the sky, blazing with my highly brilliant tail. Mother became frightened by my daring to commit such an act and hastened to hide herself. Then I alone began to gayly run up and down on the horizon, busily chasing the many stars and pushing them on with my tail. Among the heavenly lighters a most astounding and terrific plot came up and they hurried to get me out of the way as quickly as possible, and my father angrily informed me that my perfectly crazy undertaking had made him fail.

“It came to pass just so, for on that day a poor, poor monk arrived and settled on the mountain. Zaden of course ordered the monsters to instantly chase him out of the dwelling which he had chosen, but the hermit by some marvellous sign of his hand deprived them entirely of any strength. Many pilgrims, who had arrived from afar with offerings to pay their sincere respects to Zaden, upon seeing the newcomer on a height, peacefully sitting between wild snakes, naturally went up to him in a wide circle and spared no time or strength in order to satisfy his intense curiosity. He, however, took full advantage of this to make them give up the faith of their forefathers and instruct them in some religion, the chief peculiarity of which was hatred of our old, old gods.

“In the end the unceasing attacks of the monsters began to bore the monk: he therefore gathered all his hearers and together with them strongly barred the grand entrance of the temple and quietly left the place. Through inexperience I had at first wickedly laughed at his great efforts: what use was it when Zaden, at his own will guiding and directing thunder and lightning, used to smash their edifices to pieces in no time at all, while the old man in going away touched the hard stones with the same marvellous movement of the hand which had destroyed the power and strength of the monsters, and Zaden immediately felt that his godly qualities and peculiarities began to abandon him forever. As a punishment for my most stupid volunteering, he deprived me of the shining form of a comet and transformed me into a woman, whom he commanded to guard the poisonous monsters. They hastened to fix me in this salt wall, but Zaden, who grew weaker every minute, in a last, but tremendous, outbreak of wrath worked out the following decision:

“‘Thou wilt be entirely in the power of these awful monsters until thou art able to find a mortal man who delivereth thee, and then they will again fully obey thee!’ This was the last sign, not only of his power, but also of the life of my father; ever since then he turned himself into a breathless idol and sat immovably on his marble throne for several centuries. Through the holes of the fallen house of public worship the water flowed unto his most royal crown and meanly washed away from it the highly precious ornaments. Lizards climbed over his face, the flying mice quite fearlessly sat down on his powerful shoulders and hands, the snakes wound around his legs! He remained insensible to everything and not strong enough to protect and defend himself. I must say I had an awfully stupid, dull time. Days, months, years, even centuries went by and actually nobody appeared. I had already quite given up all hope when kind fate led thee hither. Now we must absolutely find means to get out of this place. I for my part know that from this temple there leads a subterranean passage to the numerous catacombs with which this mountain is overfilled and from them we can go wherever it pleases us.”

“But who will show us this passage?” asked Aderke.

“I have a good friend among the monsters; it is the bear with the crane’s nose. During all the long and dreary years of my unjust confinement he daily nourished me. With his long, long beak he managed to make a little opening in my dark dwelling, looked for and gathered the hives of wild bees, who had taken refuge in the holes around here, and fed me with their honey. He was at first a man of the same faith as our enemy the hermit and chanced to be banished hither for having ridiculed some servant of his God.”

At these words Aipina struck the palm of her hand; the bear took away a stone and climbed out; then she informed him of the object of the whole undertaking and he, having warned them that the way would be long and exceedingly tiresome, hastily entered their cave and attentively and vigorously began to try with his beak where the mass of salt was thinnest. When, however, such a place had been successfully found, he and Aderke pushed against it with their whole weight and after long and repeated attempts they pierced a rather small hole, through which it was very evident that they should have to go.

First the bear slipped through, after him Aipina and Aderke. The passage was cut out in the rocky part of the mountain and was so close and small that it was necessary to go one behind the other and to stoop over. Having advanced a little farther they joyfully came out on a small square with a much higher cupola-like ceiling. Through a little crack a dim ray of light was seen. They sat down to rest and having looked about somewhat they came to notice something gleaming, yes, burning like gold. This turned out to be a fine glass vessel with four pretty handles. It was of gold color with thin white patterns and filled to overflowing with ancient Greek silver coins.

“The first thing found is naturally due to thee,” said Aipina in a very gracious tone. And the bear having taken up the vessel on his long thin beak again set forth on his journey. It was necessary to follow on by just so narrow and low a passage—only fully twice as long—as the first. It led them into a large round cave, which was exceedingly high. At the very top there was a rather large opening, through which the light could easily penetrate. At the side of one wall stood a wooden grave without a roof, and in front of it an old, old candlestick of red clay. To the tremendous surprise of our travellers, the whole room was illuminated by the fine blue flame of a very rare wick. They went nearer and saw that in the tomb there lay a hermit, very likely a saint, because his body was splendidly preserved. “Let us take a rest,” said the exhausted Aipina, sitting down on the floor. The bear slowly lowered his vessel to her feet, but Aderke did not let his eyes lose sight of the deceased, as though he was trying hard to remember some familiar features, and suddenly he succeeded in his mental researches and with awful screeching and jumping threw himself on the bare floor in front of the grave.

“Forgive me, oh, Holy God,” he cried out, “forgive me that severe insult which I inflicted upon thee in my state of craziness and for which I have been so cruelly punished.” And with most sincere and hearty repenting he prayed to God and the Saint to pardon his terrible sin. Aipina heard him with eyes and mouth wide open, but on her the words of Aderke produced quite a different impression. He understood how fearfully he had offended God and his proud heart was filled with perfect remorse.

He fell down on his knees by the side of the monster and wept bitterly and long over his wicked actions and earnestly implored to be pardoned. The all-merciful God accepted the tears of both great sinners and sent them a deliverance which was quite as marvellous as the punishment. An unusual light was shining into the cave and in a second blinded the praying men; when, however, they again began to be able to distinguish the different things, Aipina was no longer to be seen, but on the spot where she stood there shone a blindingly magnificent comet.

Aderke glanced at the bear—he had been transformed into a very handsome youth, in his hands, under the rays of the comet, burned and played with various colored fires the remarkable, ancient glass vessel. In an instant the comet began gradually to draw nearer to the opening in the vaulted ceiling. The gleaming windings of her long, long tail safely guided both the astonished persons and attracted them after her. Soon they had successfully completed the march through the long and narrow entrance road of the cave and began to rise higher and higher until they had triumphantly reached the summit of the mountain. Then the comet let herself down to the doors of that same temple, in which Aderke had so terribly misbehaved on his arrival in the said region. Aipina was again transformed into a simple woman and began to request Aderke that he should make her a slave and servant of the omnipotent God who had accomplished such great deeds of creation.

In the meantime the sunrise service was just beginning and the monks began to come out of their cells to celebrate their morning devotions. The first stroke of the bell was then heard. Aderke and his faithful companion took off their caps and reverently made the sign of the cross. In this minute to them came up the monk who usually stood at the tomb of the Saint, when poor Salougvari had taken speedy refuge near it. He found out Aderke and furiously looked at him. But the most humble and submissive speech of the really repenting man quickly quieted his anxious feelings. Aipina was converted and really and truly became the wife of Aderke, while his comrade in the hour of trial, who had made use of his fortune in order to buy up a very extensive vineyard near the poor saklia (hut) of Salougvari, happily married her and took over into his house her widowed mother. All three lived long and happily and very frequently visited Aderke and Aipina, who were by no means behind them in sincerity of love and perfect harmony.