"'Hold! Is this what you call fair duel? His sword is three inches longer than mine,' Rakhan shouted, and I saw that it was just, although I had not dreamed of it. I threw away my blade, and took Stepan's,—a common short weapon, stout and broad.
"'One thing before I slay thee, Imar,' said Rakhan, with his bright Genoese on guard; and I saw that my sword was as nothing to his. 'Young man it was I who slew thy father; and now, by the same hand, thou shalt die.'
"Before the words were finished, he advanced upon me, taking the coward's advantage, as he hoped, of striking me when stricken with that shock. But I just drew back for a moment; and then, when he made sure that he had me, and the point of his weapon flashed into my breast, up flew his steel, like the sparks of a flint, and my short strong blade rushed through his heart. He gave me one glare, and he lay between my feet, with a gurgle of blood spouting out upon the snow.
"'Go home to the Devil that made thee,' I said, 'and commit adultery if thou canst, in hell!'
"Then Stepan drew the lids upon those toadstool eyes, and gazed at me with terror; for there are times when the God that made us takes us out of His own knowledge with the passions Himself has placed in us. Stepan thought that I would have slain him too, for doing this ministry to the dead; but he did not understand me. I was quiet as a lamb, and would not have resisted if any one had seized that bloody sword and driven it through my own heart too.
"'Is there any one among you men,' I asked, coming out into the road before them,—'any milk-brother of Prince Rakhan, who feels a desire to encounter me? I am weary now, and he will have fine chance. Or he can shoot at me, if he likes.' But they smoked their pipes, and hugged their knees together, and glanced at their horses, as if they loved their backs. How different it would have been with my own tribe!
"In this stir I was forgetting about Usnik and his message. 'The first half is finished. Now for the second!' I shouted to Stepan from Ardon's back, as I spurred him up the track by which the Ossets had descended. 'This must be the way to the Princess Oria.' For what else could I suppose after meeting Rakhan there?
"But the Ossets, who were departing by the road which had brought us hither, said something to Stepan, and he fetched me back, and pointed to the track upon our right hand. At the same time Usnik returned from the fire in the wood, and the result of his inquiry agreed with what Rakhan's retainers had declared. Patigorsk could be reached by either road; but the one on the left was blocked for wheels, and would soon be closed to horses. If I wished to follow the course of the troika, the road on the right was the one to choose. Moreover, at about three hours' distance, it passed a summer-house, or hunting-lodge, belonging to the Osset Chief, but at this time of year unoccupied, where, if we could get no further, as appeared too likely already, we could shelter our horses for the night, and kindle fire for ourselves. Patigorsk was the place I wanted, and I took what seemed to be the best road to it.
"As we three set forth again, with our horses looking considerate,—for these are better endowed than we are with knowledge both of sky and ground,—a little toss of white softness met us, harbouring into our eyes and beards. The ears and forelocks of our horses pricked themselves with a glittering fringe; and then their manes were like a fountain, and the bow of the saddle became an arch. Presently we could see nothing at all, but left it to them to find the way, which they did without any complaint, not even making a merit of obedience. I let the bridle fall, and wished that I could only submit to God, as these good creatures do our will, and never even seek for thanks.
"We went on thus, with the snow-cloud thickening, and black rocks or a bough of pine jumping out of the white against us, when suddenly my horse pulled up, and his chin was striking something. He seemed to know it, and so did I. It was the black rail of my troika, in which we had enjoyed so many a summer jaunt, in the days when my Oria loved me. The carriage was standing in the middle of the road, but there was no Oria in it, neither any other human being, nor even a horse in front of it. The cushions were gone: the contents were snow.