“Young warrior, you hear what has been spoken of you by some of the most gallant chiefs of Circassia. What more would you have to absolve you from your oath?” exclaimed the Hadji with animation.
“I am overwhelmed with the proud feelings of my heart,” cried our hero. “No greater praise can I ever hope to gain. I will keep my secret no longer. The name I bore at my birth was Selem Gherrei!”
“What! speak that name again,” cried Arslan Gherrei, springing forward. Seizing his hand he held it in his grasp, while he gazed earnestly into his face.
“Noble youth, whence come you? can a blessed spirit rise from the dead? Speak, ere my heart burst with impatience; say who gave you that name?”
“My mother,” answered our hero. “When a child, I was carried away with her by a Russian commander; she continued to watch over my youth till death tore her from me.”
“It is enough; you are—you are my son, my long mourned son. I need no more to convince me,” cried the chieftain, clasping the youth in his arms, while manly tears of joy burst from the long dried up fountains of his eagle eye.
“Am I! am I, noble chief, your son?” cried the youth, no less overcome, and falling on his knees while returning his new-found father’s embrace. “Has heaven, indeed, granted me so proud a blessing? See, I have borne this amulet from childhood, and have ever religiously guarded it. This may prove my birth.”
“I need no mark to convince me that you are my son. Nature speaks loudly for you, though well do I remember that amulet,” cried the chieftain. “You are, indeed, my son, and Allah be praised for his bounty. I felt it when first I saw you, like a guardian angel, fighting by my side, and rescuing me from death; I felt it when first I heard the rich manly tones of your voice inciting your followers to the fight. Yes, my heart beat with joy that another warrior should be added to the cause of the Attèghèi; and now how proud and grateful I am, let Heaven witness. See, chiefs, I here present to you my son. Great Heaven has granted me the only boon I craved,” he added, lifting up his son. “After the witness you have borne of his bravery you all must know how proud I am of him.”
“Have I not a sister, too, my father? Let her also participate in our joy,” cried his son, hastening to embrace Ina, who, trembling with agitation, had advanced to the spot. “My sister, my sweet sister!”
“Oh, my brother! Allah be praised that I may pronounce that dear name. Now can my father’s heart rejoice that he has found his long-wished-for son. Already does my heart give some of the love our father once claimed, to you, my brother,” she said with a sweet smile beaming through her fast falling tears of joy.