UCSB LIBRARY // ' cast herself into bis anus." Drawn by '.TAN ETTA. The Bal of Snow Sultanetta ALEXANDRE DUMAS BOSTON LITTLE, BROWN, & COMPANY PUBLISHERS Copyright, 1896, BY LITTLE, BKOWN, AND COMPAHT. AMU b"V VM IU I THE BALL OF SNOW. i. FOKTY DEGREES IN THE SHADE. 1 THE sad, sonorous voice of the muezzin was heard as a dirge for the brilliant May day that was just sweeping into eternity. " Allah ! it is hot weather for Derbend ! Go up on the roof, Kassime, and see how the sun is setting behind the mountain. Is the west red? Are there clouds in the sky ? " "No, uncle; the west is as blue as the eyes of Kitchina; the sun is setting in all its glory; it looks like a flaming rose upon the breast of evening, and the last ray that falls upon the earth has not to pierce the slightest fog." Night has unfurled her starry fan ; the shadows have fallen. " Go up on the roof, Kassime," bade the same voice, " and see if the dew is not dripping from the rim of the moon. Is she not lurking in a misty halo, like a pearl in its brilliant shell 1 " 1 1 Reaumur is equivalent to 2^ Fahrenheit. TR. 1 2 THE BALL OF SNOW. " No, uncle ; the moon is floating in an azure ocean ; she is pouring her burning beams into the sea. The roofs are as dry as the steppes of the Mogan, and the scorpions are playing about gayly." " Ah," said the old man, with a sigh, " it means that to-morrow will be as warm as to-day. The best thing to do, Kassime, is to go to brd." And the old man falls asleep, dreaming of his silver; and his niece falls asleep dreaming of what a young girl of sixteen always dreams, whatever her nationality may be, of love; and the town falls asleep dreaming that it was Alexander the Great who had built the Caucasian Wall and forged the iron gates of Derbend. And so, toward midnight, everything slept. The only sounds to be heard, in the general still- ness, were the warnings of the sentinels to each other, * Slouchay ! " (watch!) and the moaning of the Caspian sea, as it advanced to press its humid lips upon the burning sands of the shore. One could have fancied the souls of the dead to be communing with eternity, and this conception would have been the more striking, since nothing so resembles a vast cemetery as the city of Derbend. Long before day the surface of the sea seemed ablaze. The swallows, awake before the muezzin, were singing upon the mosque. True, they did not much precede him. The sounds of his footsteps put them to flight. He advanced ii]>i> the minaret, bowing his head upon his hand, and crying out in measured tones that lent his words the effect, if not the form , of a chant, " Awake ye, arise, Mussulmans; prayer is better than leep!" One voice answered his ; it said, FORTY DEGREES IN THE SHADE. 3 " Go up on the roof, Kassime, and see if a mist is not descending from the mountains of Lesghistan. Tell me, is not the sea obscured ? " " No, uncle ; the mountains seem covered with pure gold; the sea shines like a mirror; the flag above the fortress of Nazinkale hangs in folds along its staff like a veil about a young girl's form. The sea is still; not the slightest puff of wind lifts an atom of dust from the highway; all is calm on the earth, all serene in the sky." The face of the old man became gloomy, and, after performing his ablutions, he went up on the roof to pray. He unfolded the prayer-rug that he carried under his arm and knelt upon it, and, when he had finished his prayer by rote, he began to pray from the heart. " Bismillahir rahmanir rahim ! " he cried, looking sadly about him. Which means, " May my voice resound to the glory of the holy and merciful God ! " Then he proceeded to say in Tartar what we shall say in French, at the risk of divesting the prayer of Kassime's uncle of the picturesque character imparted to it by the language of Turkestan. " clouds of spring-time, children of our world, why do ye linger on the rocky heights? why hide ye in caves, like Lesghian brigands. Ye like to rove about the mountains, and sleep upon the snowy peaks of granite. Be it so ; but could ye not find yourselves better amusement than pumping all the humidity from our plains, only to turn it upon forests that are impene- trable to man and permit to descend into our valleys naught but cataracts of flint that look like the dried bones of your victims, ye capricious children of the air? 4 THE BALL OF SNOW. See how our unhappy earth opens a thousand mouth.-'. She is parched with thirst; she implores a little rain. See how the wheat-blades shrink ; how they break when a butterfly imprudently lights upon them; how they lift their heads, hoping to inhale a little freshness, and are met by the sun's rays, which lap them like flame. The wells are dry; the flowers hold no perfume; the leaves on the trees shrivel and fall; the grass dries up; the madder is lost, the crickets grow hoarse, the death- rattle of the cicada is heard, the buffaloes fight for a strf.-unlet of mud; the children dispute over a few drops of water. God! O God! what is to become of us? Drouth is the mother of famine ; famine is the mother of pestilence; pestilence is the twin of robbery! O cool wind of the mountains, waft hither on your wings the blessing of Allah! Ye clouds, life-giving bosoms, pour the milk of heaven down upon the land! Whirl Into storms, if ye will, but refresh the earth! Strike down the wicked with your thunderbolts, if ye deem it best, but spare the innocent! Gray clouds, wings of the angels, bring us moisture; come, hasten, fly! Speed ye, and ye shall have welcome." But the old Tartar prays in vain, the clouds are in- visible. It is sultry, it is stifling, and the inhabitants of Derbend are quite prepared to seek for coolness in their ovens. And note well that this was the month of May, just when St. Petersburg hears a loud crashing at the north- east as the ice of the Ladoga breaks up and threatens to sweep away the bridges of the Neva; when a man catches cold while crossing the Place d' Isaac; when h- gets inflammation of the chest by turning the corner of the Winter Palace; when people shout at each other, from Smolnyi to the English embankment, FORTY DEGREES IN THE SHADE. 5 u You are going out? Don't forget your cloaks! " At St. Petersburg they were thinking of the spring, which was, perhaps, approaching; at Derbend they took thought of the harvesting, which was almost at hand. For five weeks, not a drop of rain had fallen in South Daghestan, and it would have been forty degrees in the shade if there had been any shade in Derbend. As a fact, it was fifty-two degrees in the sun. A drouth in the Orient is a terrible thing. It scorches the fields and deprives every living creature of nourish- ment, the birds of the air, the beasts of the field, the dwellers in cities. In a country where the transporta- tion of grain is always difficult, often impossible, drouth is invariably the forerunner of famine. An Asiatic lives from day to day, forgetful of yesterday, unmindful of to-morrow. He lives thus because ease and far niente are his dearest enjoyments; but when there is no Joseph to interpret the parable of the seven lean kine, when misfortune falls suddenly upon his shoulders in the hideous guise of famine, when to-morrow becomes to-day, he begins to complain that he is not granted the means of living. Instead of seeking them, he waxes wroth, and, when he should act, his cowardice augments the evil, as his incredulity has abridged it. You can now judge of the trouble they were in at Derbend, a city wholly Tartar, and, consequently, wholly Asiatic, when this desert heat began to destroy the prospects of both merchants and husbandmen. To tell the truth, at that time Daghestan had many reasons for anxiety; the fanatical Kasi Mullah, the adoptive father of Schamyl, was at the height of his fame; the inhabitants of Daghestan had revolted, and more bullets had been sown in their fields than wheat; fire had destroyed the houses, whose ashes the sun kept 6 THE BALL OF SNOW. hot; and the mountaineers, instead of harvesting, under the standard of Kasi Mullah or hid themselves in caves and forests to escape the Russians, or, rather, to fall upon their backs when they were least on guard. The result was not difficult to foretell, it was famine. The sowing not having been done, the ha was wanting. Anything that the war had spared silver plate, rich arms, beautiful carpets was sold for a mere trifle at the bazaar. The most beautiful necklace of pearls in Derbend could have been bought with ;i sack of flour. The man possessed of neither plate, nor arms, nor tapestries, nor pearls, began upon his flocks, eating such as had been left him by friend and foe, or Russian and mountaineer. The poor began to come down from the mountains and beg for alms in the city, while waiting until they could take without asking. At last, vessels loaded with flour arrived from Astra- khan. Through pity or fear, the rich helped the poor; the people were quieted for a time. The new harvest could yet right matters. The IV-te of the Khatil had come, and it had been celebrated by the inhabitants of Derbend. The Khatil is a religious festival in memory of the fate of Shah Hussein, the first caliph, a martyr of the sect of Ali. They made merry while it lasted, with the childish gayety of the Orientals. Thanks to this f6te, the only diversion of the people during the entire year, they had gradually forgotten Hit- crops and the heat, or, rather, they had forgotten noth- ing; no, they had in all simplicity thanked Heaven that the rain had not interfered with their pleasures. But, when the f" to was over, when they found themselves face to face with the reality, when they awoke with FORTY DEGREES IN THE SHADE. 7 parched mouths, when they saw their fields baked by the sun, they lost their heads. It was interesting then to note the wagging of red beards and black, to mark the rattling of beads as they slipped through the fingers. Every face was long, and only repinings were heard. It was really no laughing matter to lose a crop, and have to pay two roubles a measure for flour without knowing what must be paid for it later. The poor trembled for their lives, the rich for their purses. Stomachs and pockets crept close together at the mere thought of it. Then it was that the Mussulmans began to pray in the mosque. The rain came not. They prayed in the fields, thinking that in the open air they stood two chances to one, the one of being seen, the other of being heard. Not a drop of water fell. What was to be done ? They fell back on their magi. First, the boys spread their handkerchiefs in the middle of the streets and collected the coins that were thrown into them. Purchasing wax tapers and rose- water, and fastening tree branches to the body of the most beautiful boy, they decked him with flowers and covered him with ribbons, and then followed him in a procession through the streets, chanting verses to Goudoul, the god of rain. The hymn ended with a strophe of thanksgiving. They did not doubt that Goudoul would answer the prayers of his worshippers. Thus, for three days, the young boys shouted at the tops of their voices this thanksgiving, which we trans- 8 THE BALL OF SNOW. late, without any pretension of rendering otherwise than very feebly the Arabic poem : " Goudoul, Goudoul, O god of rain, The drouth has fled from mount and plain ; Thy voice from heaven the rain doth send. Then go, fair maid, unto the rill ! And high thy jar with water fill, Till thou beneath it weight doth bend." And all the youths of Derbend danced around the beribboned and garlanded Tartar, so sure of rain that, as we see, they were sending the young girls in advance to the fountain. And, in truth, clouds gathered in the sky; the sun sulked like a miser obliged to surrender the treasure that had been intrusted to him. The city took on the dreary look that dull weather imparts. But the darker the sky became, the greater was the people's joy. A few drops of rain fell. They cried out with fervor, Sekour Allah > " But their joy was short-lived; the wind blew up from Persia as hot as if it had come from a furnace, and drove away the very last remnant of a cloud, which betook itself to St. Petersburg to fall as snow. The sun glared worse than ever; the grass crumbled under the heat; the flowers bent their heads, and the faithful began to doubt, not Mahomet's might, but Goudoul 's. Another day dawned; the sun pursued his blazing path, then he sank behind the mountain, like a weary traveller in the burning sands of tin- ilt-.-i-rt. On that night and the next morning the two conversa- tions which opened this chapter took place between Kaasime and her uncle. FORTY DEGREES IN THE SHADE. 9 The old Tartar had then addressed to the clouds the prayer that we have attempted to translate. But, in spite of his fervent prayer, that day, like the preceding one, passed without a drop of rain. And on that day the commander of Derhend announced that the thermometer had registered forty-two degrees in the shade and fifty-two degrees in the sun. 10 THE BALL OF SNOW. n. A HOLY MUSSULMAN. AH! when you go to Derbend, traveller, from what- ever country you hail, whether you come from the south , the north , the east or the west, go, I entreat you, to see the principal mosque. Otherwise, as the Catholics say, you will have heen to Home without seeing the pope. What would you have to relate about Derbend, I ask, if you had not seen the great mosque ! While, if you have seen it, it is a very different matter. "The great mosque," you say, snapping your snuff- box, or flicking the ashes from your cigar, if you are only a smoker, "the mosque," you say, "was formerly a Christian church " Proceed boldly, I assume all responsibility. " It was a church, a Christian church, rather, because its face is turned to the east, while the Mussulman mosques of the northern Orient should veer southerly, iu nautical phrase, in order to look toward the two holy cities, Mecca, where the prophet was born; Medina, \vht:re he was buriol." This gives you at the outset a somewhat learned air which sits well. Proceed. " Upon entering, you discover a great court shaded by magnificent plane-trees, with a well iu the centre. A HOLY MUSSULMAN. 11 Three doors, always open, symbolically and practically summon the Mussulmans to prayer. u A verse from the Koran inscribed over the principal door attracts the attention. Enter : but first put off the shoes from your feet; put away earthly thoughts from your mind. Into the house of Allah bring not the clay of the street, nor of the mind. Fall upon your knees and lift up your prayer. Reckon not your rents, but your sins. La illah il Allah ! Mohammed rassoul Allah! that is to say: There is no God but God, and Mahomet is his prophet." Here you cough and make a pause; that was quite worth the trouble. You have an air of knowing Turk. You resume : " Mussulmans are long at their prayers, remaining on their knees or prostrate on the prayer-rug, as they pass from adoration to ecstasy, and nothing, especially in this last state, can then distract their attention." Memory then reverts to the past, and you exclaim, "Where are you, Christian builders of this temple? are you now remembered anywhere but in heaven? You are forgotten, even in the history of Derbend, and the words of the Koran echo to-day where formerly sounded the hymns of the prophet king. " And now that you have given your account, now that you have acquired the right to be a corresponding member of the section of inscriptions and belles-lettres of the French Academy, the most learned, as you know, of all academies, I again take up the thread of my history; for this, pray take note, is history. I resume then, the thread of my history. Among Mussulmans of all countries, and particularly among the Mussulmans of Daghestan, the court of the mosque is the usual place of meeting. There the mer- 12 THE BALL OF SNOW. chants gather to talk <>\IT their commercial interests, and the Tartar chiefs, their political issues. The first hav but one aim, to get the better of their customers; the second, but one hope, to throw off the yoke of their master. The former have vowed to Allah to be honest; the latter have sworn to the emperor to be faithful. But, in Asia, oddly enough, and this will astonish our public officers, our judges and senators, the oath is regarded as a simple formality, of no consequence and not binding. Does this, perchance, mean that the Asiatics, \rhm we believe to be behind us in the matter of civilization, are, on the contrary, in advance? This would be very humiliating, and, in such case, we must hasten to overtake them. You must know that at this period of frightful heat, which we have tried to depict, the court of the mosque the only place where there were any trees, conse- quently any shade, consequently only forty degrees of heat was full of people. Eifendis with white beards, muftis with red, were talking in the centre of circles more or less wide, according as they were more or less eloqui.nt; but the learning of these and the dignity .if those did not cause the sky* to sweat the least drop of moisture, and the beards of all lengths and of all colors were powerless even to invent an equivalent. They talked much, they argued still more; but at last dis- course and discussion ended this way : " Nedgeleikh ? (What shall we do now ?) " Shoulders went up to the ears, eyebrows to the papaks; many voices in many keys united in one cry, * Amanil amanif (Spare us! spare us!)* Finally, a prince began to speak. A HOLY MUSSULMAN. 13 He was not only a prince, but a saint, a combina- tion which was formerly seen in Russia and France, but which is to be met with to-day only in the Orient. It is true that his saintship, like his principality, came to him by inheritance; he was related in the sixty-second degree to Mahomet, and, as we know, all relatives of Mahomet, of whatsoever degree, are saints. His eloquence grew heated in the smoke of his kabam, and golden speech emanated from the fumes of the Turkish tobacco. "'Amanif amani/' you cry to Allah ; and think you that, for this one word, Allah will be so simple as to pardon you and put faith in your repentance without other proof? No! kiss not the Koran with lips still smeared with the fat of pork; no, you do not deceive God with your flatteries and plaintive tones. He is not a Russian governor; he has known you this long while. Your hearts are covered with more stains than there are sins in the book in which the angel Djebrael records the faults of men! Do not think to cleanse your hearts from one day to the next by prayer and fasting. God beholds your image in the sunlight of day and the starlight of night; he knows every thought of your niind, every impulse of your heart; he knows how you go to the pharmacies, and, on a pretext of buy- ing balsam, manage to get brandy under a false label. But God is not to be deceived by such means. The word of Mahomet is decisive: ' He who in this world has drunk the juice of the vine, in the other shall not drink the wine of gladness.' No! you will have no rain for your crops, because you have drained the source of the rains of heaven by exhausting the patience of the Lord! Allah is great, and you are yourselves the cause of your misery." 14 THK BALL OF SNOW. The orator ceased speaking, raise^ his eyes toward the heavens, grasped his heard with his hand: nnt, according to the Asiatic custom, with two heads lopped off and fastened to a standard taken from the enemy. The Rustfi.m ti >jn had already re-entered the town, ISKANDER BEG. 25 but a young Russian officer and a few Tartars, among whom we find Iskander Beg, had halted near the foun- tain. Bullets and balls were whistling around them; the Russian officer was at the time drinking of the pure , limpid water. Lifting his head, he saw before him Iskander Beg in simple close tunic of white satin ; his rolled-up sleeves revealed hands and arms reddened with blood to the elbow. He was leaning upon his gun, his lips curled in scorn, his eyes flashing through tears, blazing with wrath. " What is the matter, Iskander ? " demanded the Russian. " It strikes me that you have acquitted your- self well of your share of the work, and have nothing to regret. " "Hearts of hares!" he muttered. "They march regularly enough when advancing, but in retreat, they are wild goats." " Well, after all," said the young Russian, " the day seems to be ours." " Of course it is ours ; but we have left poor Ishmael over there." "Ishmael?" demanded the officer. "Isn't that the handsome lad that came to me at the beginning of the fight and begged me to give him some cartridges 1 " " Yes; he was the only one I loved in all Derbend; an angelic soul. He is lost! " And he wiped away a single tear that trembled upon his eyelid and could not decide to fall. " Is he captured ? " inquired the Russian. " He is dead ! " answered Iskander. " Braver than a man, he had all the imprudence of a child. He wanted to pick a bunch of grapes, and he cleared the space separating him from the vines. He lost his head by 26 THE BALL OF SNOW. it. Before my eyes, the Lesghians cut his throat. 1 could not help him; there were ten men to deal with. I killed three of them, that was all I could do. Just now they are retreating; they are insulting his body, the wretches! Come," cried he, turning to three or four Tartars who stood listening, " who of you still has some love, fidelity, and courage in his soul ? Let him return with me to rescue the body of a comrade." " I will go with you myself, " announced the Russian officer. " Let us go," said two of the Tartars also. And they four rushed upon the band of Lesghians, who, not expecting this sudden attack, and believing that these four men were followed by a much greater number, retreated before them ; and they advanced to the boy's body, took it up, and bore it back to the town. At her gate, the mother was waiting. She threw herself upon the decapitated body with heart-rending shrieks and tears. Iskander gazed at her, his eyebrows drawn together; an