The Mongols, hearing our merry-making, came and squatted down at the entrance of our tent, and began discussing the delicate qualities of our repast, some vestiges of which they picked up from the ground with avidity. Young Kousnietzof, impatient to contribute his share to the festivity, also left the tent, but instead of returning with some dainty, came in tuning a guitar, which he played delightfully, soothing us with some of the melancholy thoughts of Wassili-Michäelovitch.
This group of five wanderers, squatting around a fire in this little habitation, the sole plot lighted in the midst of the deep solitude and silence of the immensity of the desert, with the party of Mongols grouped in their national costume at the entrance, presented a highly picturesque tableau. The hour of the night, the loneliness of the spot, our remoteness from civilized life and the strangeness of our surroundings, found us in no mood for protracted gaiety, and this soon gave way to silent reverie more in harmony with the solemn incident and the tender melancholy of the Russian airs. We should certainly, in this mood, have forgotten the hour, if our Mongol chief, more sensible to the exigencies of the desert than to the notes of the guitar, had not suddenly appeared to warn us of the necessity of departure. In a quarter of an hour the tents were folded and packed; we recommenced our march, and the little spot, that had served us as the site of our temporary habitation, no longer presented any mark to distinguish it from the rest of the desert.
CHAPTER XIX.
CARAVAN ACROSS THE DESERT OF GOBI.
A Mongolian Prince and his Court—Prayer turning—Our life in the desert—The sandy plain—Want of water—Lunar mirage—Three executions—A traveller astray in the desert—Arrival at Kalkann and the Great Wall of China.
The following morning was ushered in with a wind so violent that no one attempted to emerge from his shelter, and, singular enough, this Easter day, which ought to have been passed in rejoicing, disappeared without anyone having sought the society of his fellow travellers. The weather the following day was not better, and we had, in addition, several hail showers that quite whitened the surface of the desert. Therefore, we did not break from our long confinement till the approach of evening, when M. Schévélof descried, with the aid of his telescope, far away, a large assemblage of tents. On drawing nearer we perceived to our disappointment that they were not inhabited by Europeans; for our guide soon discovered that it was a halt of a Mongolian prince, surrounded with his court.
About a score of tents were pitched beside each other, and that of the prince was distinguished by its larger size and by its being enclosed with a kind of wall covered with coarse paintings. Another of about the same size, surrounded with praying-wheels, appeared to be the temple of the tribe. On our approach the dogs, that guarded each a tent, set up such a barking and howling that the whole community was stirred up with alarm. Many of the inhabitants seeing, in the distance, we were strangers, came out to meet us from curiosity, and, at the same time, to be assured of our pacific intentions. After an interview between one of these and M. Schévélof, the latter informed us we were to be admitted to the presence of the prince.
The simplicity and bareness of his tent astonished me. There was nothing special to be seen in the interior but a little stove, with a pipe leading from it through the top of the tent. The sole luxury, therefore, of this princely habitation, consisted in a precaution against asphyxia, a danger to which all others in tent life are exposed through the noxious and nauseous smoke. He was squatting on a carpet, and was clad in an ample blue silk robe edged with black velvet, his feet being covered with a kind of black silk boots. His belt, to which were attached all the requisites for smoking and the production of fire, as is usual with the Mongols, was embroidered with silver. His head was covered with a cap of yellow leather, having the border in fur turned up, and surmounted with a blue ball, from which hung a little tuft of hair.
As soon as we entered, he drew from his pocket a little bottle filled with essence of tobacco, which he presented to M. Schévélof. Our leader then withdrew the stopper, to which was attached a minute spoon, took in this a drop of the essence and bore it to his nose, affecting to be highly delighted with the effect, and then, replacing the stopper, passed it to M. Marine, telling him to repeat the same ceremony. When we had, all five of us, gone through this pantomime of simulated joy, for Pablo did not miss the opportunity of keeping close to my side to share in this novel ceremony, it was necessary to say something. This delicate mission, of course, was the duty of M. Schévélof, who acquitted himself of it with dignity. He then asked permission to visit the temple, and this being accorded, we went to see the lama, who offered to pray to the god to bless the remainder of our journey. As a recompense for this protection of a deity, I presented him with a brick of tea, five needles, and a bit of thread—a recompense in my estimation ample enough, considering the cost of the benediction, however highly cherished might be its effect.