On the 27th of May the travellers reached the table-lands of Korentaghi, a chain of mountains surrounded by vast valleys, to the west of which extend ruins probably of Greek origin. [{209}] The nomads who inhabit this district came in crowds to visit the caravan, and for some hours the encampment had the appearance of a bazaar. The merchants and drovers who accompanied the kervanbashi concluded important bargains with the natives, mostly on credit; but Vambéry was surprised to see the debtor, instead of giving the note as a guarantee to the creditor, tranquilly put it in his own pocket. Our European could not refrain from speaking of this, and he received from one of the merchants this answer of a patriarchal simplicity: "What should I do with the paper? it would not do me any good; but the debtor requires it in order to remind him of the amount of the debt and of the time when it is to be paid."
Two days after a dark blue cloud appeared in the horizon toward the north; this was Petit-Balkan, the elevation, the picturesque landscapes, and the rich mineral resources of which are celebrated in all Turkoman poetry. The travellers passed along the chain of mountains, perceiving here and there green and fertile prairies, and yet the profound solitude of these beautiful valleys filled the soul with a vague sadness. Beyond commences the Great Desert, where the traveller marches for many weeks without finding a drop of water to quench his thirst, or a tree to shelter him from the rays of the sun. In winter the cold is intense, in summer the heat; but the two seasons present an equal danger, and frequent tempests swallow up whole caravans under drifts of snow or whirlwinds of sand.
"In proportion," says Vambéry, "as the outlines of Balkan disappear from the horizon, the limitless desert shows itself, terrible and majestic. I had often thought that imagination and enthusiasm enter largely into the profound impression produced by the sight of these immense solitudes. I deceived myself. In my own beloved country I have often seen vast plains of sand; in Persia I have crossed the salt desert; but how different were my feelings to-day! It is not imagination, it is nature herself who lights the sacred torch of inspiration. The interminable hills of sand, the utter absence of life, the frightful calm of death, the purple tints of the sun at his rising and setting, all warn us that we are in the Great Desert, all fill our souls with an inexpressible emotion."
After travelling many days, the provision of water beginning to be exhausted, Vambéry knew for the first time the horrible tortures of thirst. "Alas!" he thought, "saving and blessed water, the most precious of all the elements, how little have I known your value! what would I not give at this moment for a few drops of your divine substance!" The unfortunate traveller had lost his appetite, he experienced an excessive prostration, a devouring fire consumed his veins, he sank upon the ground in a state of complete exhaustion. Suddenly he heard resound the magic words, "Water! water!" He looked up and saw the kervanbashi distribute to each of his companions two glasses of the precious liquid. The good Turkoman had the habit whenever he crossed the desert of hiding a certain quantity of water, which he distributed to the members of his caravan when their sufferings became intolerable. This unexpected succor revived the strength of Vambéry, and he acknowledged the justice of the Tartar proverb: "The drop of water given in the desert to the traveller dying of thirst, effaces a hundred, years of sin."
The next day numerous tracks of gazelles and wild asses announced to the travellers that springs were to be found in the neighborhood; thither they hastened to fill their bottles, and, relieved now from all anxiety lest water should fail them before their arrival at Khiva, they gave themselves up to transports of joyful enthusiasm. Toward evening they reached the table-land of Kaflankir, an island [{210}] of verdure in the midst of a sea of sand. Its fertile soil, covered with luxuriant vegetation, gives asylum to a great number of animals; two deep trenches surround this oasis, which the Turkomen say are ancient branches of the Oxus. The caravan, instead of going directly to Khiva, made a circuit to avoid a tribe of marauders; the first of June it arrived within sight of the great Tartar city, which, with its domes, its minarets, its smiling gardens, the luxuriant vegetation which surrounds it, appeared to the travellers, worn by the monotony of the desert, an epitome of the delights of nature and of civilization.
III.
On entering the city their admiration was somewhat lessened. Khiva is composed of three or four thousand houses, constructed of earth, scattered about in all directions and surrounded by a wall, also of clay, ten feet high. But at every step the pious Khivites offered them bread and dried fruits, begging their blessing. For a long time Khiva had not received within its walls so great a number of hadjis; every face expressed astonishment and admiration, and on all sides resounded acclamations of welcome. Entering into the bazaar, Hadji Bilal intoned a sacred canticle, in which his companions joined; the voice of Vambéry predominated; and his emotion was very great when he saw the surrounding crowd rush toward him, to kiss his hands, his feet covered with dust, and even the rags which composed his dress.
According to the usage of the country, the travellers returned immediately to the caravan which served as custom-house. The principal mehrum (royal chamberlain) fulfilled the functions of director; hardly had he addressed the usual questions to the kervanbashi when the miserable Afghan before spoken of, furious at having been thwarted in his avaricious designs, advancing, cried in a tone of raillery: "We have brought to Khiva three interesting quadrupeds, and a biped who is not less so." The first part of the expression, of course, alluded to the buffaloes which had been brought from Gomushtèpe; the second was pointed at Vambéry. Instantly all eyes were fixed upon him, and he could distinguish among the murmurs of the crowd the words: "Spy, European, Russian." Imagine his agitation! The khan of Khiva, a cruel fanatic, had the reputation of reducing to slavery or destroying by horrible tortures all suspected strangers. In this emergency Vambéry was not intimidated; often he had considered the possible consequences of his bold enterprise, and looked death in the face.
The mehrum, lifting his brows, considered the foreign countenance of the unknown, and rudely ordered him to approach. Vambéry was about to reply when Hadji Bilal, who did not know what was going on, eagerly entered to introduce his friend to the Khivite officer; the exterior of the Turkoman dervish inspired so much confidence that suspicions were instantly changed into respectful excuses.
This peril avoided, Vambéry could not deny that his European features raised in his way every moment new difficulties; he must have a powerful protector always ready to defend him. He presently remembered that an important man, named Shukrullah Bay, who had been for ten years ambassador to the sultan from the khan of Khiva, must know Constantinople and every official of that city. Vambéry thought he should find in this dignitary the support which he desired, and he repaired the same day to the medusse (college) of Mohammed Emin Khan, where he resided. Informed that an effendi, recently arrived from Stamboul, wished to see him, the ex-minister immediately appeared. His surprise, already very great, was not diminished when he saw enter a mendicant covered with [{211}] rags and frightfully disfigured; but after exchanging a few words with his strange visitor, his distrust vanished; he addressed him question after question regarding his friends whom he had left at Constantinople, and, from the mere pleasure of hearing him speak of them, he forgot to raise a doubt regarding the supposed quality of the traveller. "In the name of God, my dear effendi," said he at last, "how could you quit such a paradise as Stamboul to come into our frightful country?" The pretended Reschid sighed deeply. "Ah, pir!" he replied, putting a hand upon his eyes in sign of obedience. Shukrullah was too good a Mussulman not to understand these words; he was persuaded that his guest belonged to some order of dervishes, and had been charged by his pir (spiritual chief) with some mission which a disciple was bound to accomplish even at the peril of his life. Without asking any farther explanations, he merely inquired the name of the order to which Vambéry was attached. Vambéry mentioned the Nakish bendi, [Footnote 37] implying that Bokhara was the end of his pilgrimage, and he retired, leaving the Khivite minister marvelling at his learning, his wit, his sanctity, and his extensive acquaintance.