'Then let one speak!'
The head of one of the most distinguished families, who was very highly respected, stepped forward, and sitting down, began to ask questions.
'Why shouldn't I take them? Don't I live on men's bounty? Haven't both you and Seltichan given me some too? The Kniaź also gave one, but he didn't ask for anything, and I promised him nothing. Is it not a sin to suspect it? How is it possible to say such a thing? The man will die! Ask his people.'
Witnesses were summoned, and the Kniaź was summoned. They all stood in the centre of the angry circle, looking rather frightened, but the enquiry led to nothing. The only thing that was clear was that Oltungaba had visited the Kniaź in his tent, as he had visited others, and had profitted by his liberality.
Stroking his ears with both hands, and swearing with quite unusual fervour, the Kniaź talked at extraordinary length of his disinterestedness, his merits, his zeal in safeguarding the interests of the tribe with the government, and, above all, of his sacrifices—in paying taxes.
Oltungaba spoke scornfully, and in monosyllables.
'You don't believe me, Seltichan,' he said finally, turning to the old man. 'Have you forgotten how I loved and taught you when you were a boy; how I advised you in difficulties, told you old legends, and about distant countries? Was I not your father's comrade,—his friend when you were still a little child, crawling on the ground? And later, when you grew up, did I not boast of you, and you, did you not listen to my advice? Who was the foremost warrior and hunter among us? Who spoke wisely and courteously?—You were always a true Tungus, Seltichan; we all know that.—Was it the worst who were offered in olden times? I swear to you, old man, and to all the tribes that I spoke the truth. I said what a voice from heaven commanded me to say! May my face be turned round to my back, and my body dried up like tobacco leaves, may my eyes fall out, and my muscles grow weak like badly dried yarn, and—may my hand burn, as the heart burns from unkindness'—here with a rapid movement he put his hand into the flame.
They all sprang up, and Seltichan drew the old man away from the fire.
'Oltungaba, forgive me, and all of you, forgive me,' he said with emotion. 'It is a sin to suspect evil. I will go,—I had already determined to do so. I am summoned, and I will go. If I stayed, you would be forced to go,—so would it be worth while? There is always one rotten egg in a nest.—Can a man be a man without reindeer? What is a Tungus without other Tungus?—I leave you, but you will not forget me!—Good-bye!—May your herds increase! May your children grow to manhood! May joy not shun your tents! May there be no lack of food in your cauldrons, of powder in your horns, and of goodness in your hearts!—I go away, but my thoughts are gentle, as the rays of the setting sun.—I am going now; I take leave of you, my people!—Farewell!'