It is not in accordance with Asiatic manners, much less with Asiatic customs, to bid farewell to the women when departing for a long or even an unlimited period. This privilege belongs only to relations, and it is but rarely that it is granted to a guest. Ammalát, therefore, glanced with a sigh at the window of Seltanetta, and went with lingering steps to the mosque. There, already awaited him the elders of the village, and a crowd of curious idlers. By an ancient custom of Avár, the hunters were obliged to swear upon the Koran, that they would not desert one another, either in the combat with the beast or in the chase; that they would not quit each other when wounded; if fate willed that the animal should attack them, that they would defend each other to the last, and die side by side, careless of life; and that in any case they would not return without the animal's skin; that he who betrayed this oath, should be hurled from the rocks, as a coward and traitor. The moollah armed them, the companions embraced, and they set out on their journey amid the acclamations of the whole crowd. "Both, or neither!" they cried after them. "We will slay him, or die!" answered the hunters.
A day had passed. A second had sunk below the snowy summits. The old men had wearied their eyes in gazing from their roofs along the road. The boys had gone far on the hills that crested the village, to meet the hunters—but no tidings of them. Throughout all Khounzákh, at every fireside, either from interest or idleness, they were talking of this; but above all, Seltanetta was sad. At every voice in the courtyard, at every sound on the staircase, all her blood flew to her face, and her heart beat with anxiety. She would start up, and run to the window or the door; and then, disappointed for the twentieth time, with downcast eyes would return slowly to her needlework, which, for the first time, appeared tiresome and endless. At last, succeeding doubt, fear laid its icy hand upon the maiden's heart. She demanded of her father, her brothers, the guests, whether the wounds given by a tiger were dangerous?—was this animal far from the villages? And ever and anon, having counted the moments, she would wring her hands, and cry, "They have perished!" and silently bowed her head on her agitated breast, while large tears flowed down her fair face.
On the third day, it was clear that the fears of all were not idle. The Ouzdén, Ammalát's companion to the chase, crawled with difficulty, alone, into Khounzákh. His coat was torn by the claws of some wild beast; he himself was as pale as death from exhaustion, hunger, and fatigue. Young and old surrounded him with eager curiosity; and having refreshed himself with a cup of milk and a piece of tchourek, [19] he related as follows:—"On the same day that we left this place, we found the track of the tiger. We discovered him asleep among the thick hazels—may Allah keep me from them!"
[Footnote 19: "Tchourek," a kind of bread.]
Drawing lots, it fell to my chance to fire: I crept gently up, and aiming well, I fired—but for my sorrow, the beast was sleeping with his face covered by his paw; and the ball, piercing the paw, hit him in the neck. Aroused by the report and by the pain, the tiger gave a roar, and with a couple of bounds, dashed at me before I had time to draw my dagger: with one leap, he hurled me on the ground, trode on me with his hind feet, and I only know that at this moment there resounded a cry, and the shot of Ammalát, and afterwards a deafening and tremendous roar. Crushed by the weight, I lost sense and memory, and how long I lay in this fainting fit, I know not.
"When I opened my eyes all was still around me, a small rain was falling from a thick mist … was it evening or morning? My gun, covered with rust, lay beside me, Ammalát's not far off, broken in two; here and there the stones were stained with blood … but whose? The tiger's or Ammalát's? How can I tell? Broken twigs lay around … the brute must have broken them in his mad boundings. I called on my comrade as loudly as I could. No answer. I sat down, and shouted again … but in vain. Neither animal nor bird passed by. Many times did I endeavour to find traces of Ammalát, either to discover him alive, or to die upon his corpse—that I might avenge on the beast the death of the brave man; but I had no strength. I wept bitterly: why have I perished both in life and honour! I determined to await the hour of death in the wilderness; but hunger conquered me. Alas! thought I, let me carry to Khounzákh the news that Ammalát has perished; let me at least die among my own people! Behold me, then; I have crept hither like a serpent. Brethren, my head is before you: judge me as Allah inclines your hearts. Sentence me to life; I will live, remembering your justice: condemn me to death; your will be done! I will die innocent, Allah is my witness: I did what I could!"
A murmur arose among the people, as they listened to the new comer. Some excused, others condemned, though all regretted him. "Every one must take care of himself," said some of the accusers: "who can say that he did not fly? He has no wound, and, therefore, no proof … but that he has abandoned his comrade is most certain." "Not only abandoned, but perhaps betrayed him," said others—"they talked not as friends together!" The Khan's noúkers went further: they suspected that the Ouzdén had killed Ammalát out of jealousy: "he looked too lovingly on the Khan's daughter, but the Khan's daughter found one far his superior in Ammalát."
Sultan Akhmet Khan, learning what the people were assembling about in the street, rode up to the crowd. "Coward!" he cried with mingled anger and contempt to the Ouzdén: "you are a disgrace to the name of Avarétz. Now every Tartar may say, that we let wild beasts devour our guests, and that we know not how to defend them! At least we know how to avenge him: you have sworn upon the Koran, after the ancient usage of Avár, never to abandon your comrade in distress, and if he fall, not to return home without the skin of the beast … thou hast broken thine oath … but we will not break our law: perish! Three days shall be allowed thee to prepare thy soul; but then—if Ammalát be not found, thou shalt be cast from the rock. You shall answer for his head with your own!" he added, turning to his noúkers, pulling his cap over his eyes and directing his horse towards his home. Thirty mountaineers rushed in different directions from Khounzákh, to search for at least the remains of the Bek of Bouináki. Among the mountaineers it is considered a sacred duty to bury with honour their kinsmen and comrades, and they will sometimes, like the heroes of Homer, rush into the thickest of the battle to drag from the hands of the Russians the body of a companion, and will fall in dozens round the corpse rather than abandon it.
The unfortunate Ouzdén was conducted to the stable of the Khan; a place frequently used as a prison. The people, discussing what had happened, separated sadly, but without complaining, for the sentence of the Khan was in accordance with their customs.
The melancholy news soon reached Seltanetta, and though they tried to soften it, it struck terribly a maiden who loved so deeply. Nevertheless, contrary to their expectation, she appeared tranquil; she neither wept nor complained, but she smiled no more, and uttered not a word. Her mother spoke to her; she heard her not. A spark from her father's pipe burned her dress; she saw it not. The cold wind blew upon her bosom; she felt it not. All her feelings seemed to retire into her heart to torture her; but that heart was hidden from the view, and nothing was reflected in her proud features. The Khan's daughter was struggling with the girl: it was easy to see which would yield first.