time, which had seemed to me so happy, was it really good? And it was already so long, long ago!....

"Now let us have tea," said he, and we went together into the drawing-room. At the door we were again met by the nurse, with Vanya. I took the child in my arms, covered up his bare, red legs, pressed him to my heart, and, scarcely touching him with my lips, kissed him. He, as in a troubled dream, waved his little hand, with its spreading, dimpled fingers, and opened his troubled eyes as if he were searching or trying to remember something. Suddenly those little eyes rested on me, the spark of intelligence shone out in them, his chubby pouting lips began to pucker and parted in a smile.

"Mine, mine, mine," I repeated to myself, with a happy sensation in all my being, and I pressed him to my heart, finding it hard to keep myself from hurting him. And I began to kiss his cold feet, his little belly, his hands, and his head where the hair was just beginning to grow. My husband came to me; I quickly covered the child's face, and then uncovered it again.

"Ivan Sergyeïvitch!" exclaimed my husband, tickling him under his little chin with his finger. But I again quickly covered Ivan Sergyeitch's face. No one but me had a right to look long at him! I glanced at my husband, his eyes rested on me with a bantering expression, and for the first time for many days it was easy and pleasant to look into them.

From that day forth my romance with my husband was ended; the old feeling became a precious, irrevocable memory; but the new feeling of love to my children and to the father of my children formed the beginning of another life, happy indeed, but in an entirely different way, and this I have continued to live up to the present moment.....

A PRISONER IN THE

CAUCASUS

A

Zhilin.

CHAPTER I

RUSSIAN gentleman was serving as an officer in the army of the Caucasus. His name was

One day a letter from his home came to him. His old mother wrote him :

I am now getting along in years, and I should like to see my beloved son before I die. Come and bid me farewell, lay me in the ground, and then with my blessing return again to your service. And I have been finding a bride for you, and she is intelligent and handsome and has property. If she pleases you, why then you can marry and settle down together.

Zhilin thought the matter over.

"It is very true: the old lady has been growing feeble; maybe I shall not have a chance to see her again. I'll go, and if the girl is pretty then I might marry."

He went to his colonel, got his leave of absence, bade his comrades farewell, gave the soldiers of his command nine gallons of vodka as a parting treat, and made his arrangements to leave.

There was war at that time in the Caucasus. The roads were not open for travel either by day or night. If any Russian rode or walked outside of the fortress, the Tartars were likely either to kill him or carry him off to the mountains. And it was arranged that twice a week an escort of soldiers should go from fortress to 1 Four vedros, equivalent exactly to 8.80 gallons.

fortress. In front and behind marched the soldiers, and the travelers rode in the middle.

It was now summer-time. At sunrise the baggage train was made up behind the fortification; the guard of soldiery marched ahead, and the procession moved along the road.

Zhilin was on horseback, and his effects were on a cart which formed part of the train.

They had twenty-five versts1 to travel. The train. proceeded slowly; sometimes the soldiers halted; sometimes a wagon-wheel came off, or a horse balked, and all had to stop and wait.

The sun was already past the zenith, but the train had only gone halfway. It was dusty and hot, the sun was fierce, and there was no shelter. A bald steppe;

not a tree or a shrub along the road.

Zhilin rode on ahead, occasionally stopping and waiting till the train caught up with him. He would listen, and hear the signal on the horn to halt again. And Zhilin thought, "Had I now better go on alone without the soldiers? I have a good horse under me; if I fall in with the Tartars, I can escape. Or shall I wait?"

He kept stopping and pondering. And just then another officer, also on horseback, rode up to him; his name was Kostuilin, and he had a musket.

He said:

"Zhilin, let us ride on ahead together. I am so hungry that I cannot stand it any longer, and the heat - you could wring my shirt out!

too,

Kostuilin was a heavy, stout, ruddy man, and the sweat was dripping from him.

Zhilin reflected, and said:

"And your musket is loaded?"

"It is."

"All right, let us go. Only one condition: not to separate."

And they started on up the road. They rode along the steppe, talking and looking on each side. There was a wide sweep of view in all directions. As soon as

1 Sixteen and a half miles.

the steppe came to an end, the road went into a pass between two mountains.

And Zhilin said :

"I must ride up on that mountain, and reconnoiter; otherwise you see they might come down from the mountain and surprise us.'

"What is there to reconnoiter? Let us go ahead." Zhilin did not heed him.

"No," says he, "you wait for me here below. I'll just glance around."

And he spurred his horse up the mountain to the left.

The horse that Zhilin rode was a hunter; he had bought her out of a drove of colts, paying a hundred rubles for her, and he had himself trained her. She bore him up the steep slope as if on wings. He had hardly reached the summit when before him, on a place a little less than three acres, mounted Tartars were standing. There were thirty of them.

He saw them, and started to turn back, but the Tartars had caught sight of him; they set out in pursuit of him, unstrapping their weapons as they galloped. Zhilin dashed down the precipice with all the speed of his horse, and cried to Kostuilin :

"Fire your gun!" and to his horse he said, though not aloud:

"Little mother, carry me safely, don't stumble; if you trip up, I am lost. If we get back to the gun, we

won't fall into their hands."

But Kostuilin, as soon as he saw the Tartars, instead of waiting for him, galloped on with all his might toward the fortress. With his whip he belabored his horse, first on one side, then on the other; all that could be seen through the dust was the horse switching her tail.

Zhilin saw that his case was desperate. The gun was gone; nothing was to be done with a saber alone. He turned his horse back toward the train; he thought he might escape that way.

But in front of him he saw that six were galloping down the steep. His horse was good, but theirs were better; and besides, they had got the start of him. He attempted to wheel about, and was going to dash ahead again, but his horse had got momentum, and could not be held back; he flew straight down toward them. He saw a red-bearded Tartar approaching him on a gray horse. He was gaining on him; he was gnashing his teeth; he was getting his gun ready.

"Well," thought Zhilin, "I know you devils; if you should take me prisoner, you would put me into a hole, and flog me with a whip. I won't give myself up

alive."

Now, Zhilin was not of great size, but he was a uhlan. He drew his saber, spurred his horse straight at the red-bearded Tartar. He said to himself, "Either I will crush him with my horse, or I will hack him down with my saber."

Zhilin, however, did not reach the place on horseback; suddenly, from behind him, gunshots were fired at the horse. The horse fell headlong, and pinned Zhilin's leg to the ground.

He tried to arise; but already two ill-smelling Tartars were sitting on him, and pinioning his hands behind his back.

He burst from them, knocking the Tartars over; but three others had leaped from their horses, and began to beat him on the head with their gun-stocks.

His sight failed him, and he staggered.

The Tartars seized him, took from their saddles extra saddle-girths, bent his arms behind his back, fastened them with a Tartar knot, and lifted him up.

They took his saber from him, pulled off his boots, made a thorough search of him, relieved him of his money and his watch, and tore his clothes in pieces.

Zhilin glanced at his horse. The poor beast lay as she had fallen, on her side, and was kicking, vainly trying to rise. In her head was a hole, and from the hole the black blood was pouring; the dust for an arshin around was wet with it.