"Tell him, my friend, that if he really had love for his children, he would have quietly let himself be taken to Russia, instead of trying to escape at the risk of death. On his return, he could have taken up their education again. It would not have been a long interval, only some months."
Mahmoud Bey replied sadly: "If our wives and kinsmen knew what the Russians really are, they would all have quietly remained at home, waiting our return. But no! In a few days from now the whole population will have fled, and soon as your soldiers arrive in sight of Adrianople, the town will be abandoned by the inhabitants. Only the Christians will remain.
"You asked me just now," he continued with a sudden heat, "why I escaped from the generous officer in whose charge I was. Simply on account of my family. I wished to go and save my wife and children. You who talk to me about them, do you know what will become of them? I will tell you. My wife will be panic-struck and begin by abandoning the house, the kitchen-garden and everything. It will all become the prey of some Greek or Armenian. My wife will depart for Constantinople, taking the children with her. When she has arrived there, she will get no help from the Government, for where do you think there will be money enough to satisfy the needs of so many ruined families? There are more than a hundred thousand of them. Then they will be sent over to Asia Minor, to Scutari, where they will be forgotten. What will she do herself alone? There will be only one result. My daughters being beautiful and healthy, she will be able to sell them to harems, where the poor young things will forget the very name of their father. My boys will become slaves, while my daughters will be sold again some day to some rich old man of Aleppo or Damascus. As to my wife, her first grief once over, she also will go into some harem. And after a year, when I return, what shall I find? Nothing, neither house, nor family! I shall not even know where they are gone; people will not be able to give me any information. I shall have lost all that I possess, and my house will have changed its master.
"You asked why I escaped. Because I could not support the mental anguish which tortured me. I wept all the night, previous to taking flight; I knew I was exposing myself to the risk of death. But at such a time, to live or to die—is it not the same thing? If I had succeeded, I would have saved my children; I have not succeeded—well, I shall die. Kismet! It is not that death frightens me. Since the beginning of the war I have been exposed to it every day, and have been accustomed to face it without trembling. What dismays me is to know that my family are deserted, unhappy and dying of hunger—to know that they are quite near me and that I cannot fly to their help...."
The old Turk, burying his head in his hands, began to sob, to the great embarrassment of the officers. The Colonel leaped from his seat, and began to stride up and down the room. He made a gesture with his hand, as though he wished to brush away something which prevented him seeing distinctly; then he got angry with himself.
"The deuce!" he said, "I was nearly becoming a woman." He looked at the Major, who as pale as himself, remained sitting at the table, on which his fingers were tracing strange designs.
"Yes, war is a dreadful thing," he murmured.
The prisoner resumed his talk. "Before this war I had never left my house. I had seen all my children born and watched their growth every day. As they grew, their minds developed; no details escaped me; neither the moment when they recognized me for the first time, nor the moment when they began to stammer their first letters. I remember everything, everything—their little limbs when still weak ... their mouths open like nestlings. Who will bring them their daily food now? Their mother? She is in danger herself. Only the other day...."
He could not finish; his strength failed him.
"Just as it is with us at home, my friend. The same thing exactly," said the Colonel, pacing nervously up and down the room.