The inhabitants of the Kumúkh aoul, Tash-Kichu, which was friendly to the Russians, respected Hadji Murád greatly and had often come to the fort merely to look at the famous naïb. They had sent messengers to him three days previously to ask him to visit their mosque on the Friday. But the Kumúkh princes who lived in Tash-Kichu hated Hadji Murád because there was a blood-feud between them, and on hearing of this invitation they announced to the people that they would not allow him to enter the mosque. The people became excited and a fight occurred between them and the princes’ supporters. The Russian authorities pacified the mountaineers and sent word to Hadji Murád not to go to the mosque.
Hadji Murád did not go and everyone supposed that the matter was settled.
But at the very moment of his departure, when he came out into the porch before which the horses stood waiting, Arslán Khan, one of the Kumúkh princes and an acquaintance of Butler and the major, rode up to the house.
When he saw Hadji Murád he snatched a pistol from his belt and took aim, but before he could fire, Hadji Murád in spite of his lameness rushed down from the porch like a cat towards Arslán Khan who missed him.
Seizing Arslán Khan’s horse by the bridle with one hand, Hadji Murád drew his dagger with the other and shouted something to him in Tartar.
Butler and Eldár both ran at once towards the enemies and caught them by the arms. The major, who had heard the shot, also came out.
‘What do you mean by it, Arslán – starting such a nasty business on my premises?’ said he, when he heard what had happened. ‘It’s not right, friend! “To the foe in the field you need not yield!” – but to start this kind of slaughter in front of my house —’
Arslán Khan, a little man with black moustaches, got off his horse pale and trembling, looked angrily at Hadji Murád, and went into the house with the major. Hadji Murád, breathing heavily and smiling, returned to the horses.
‘Why did he want to kill him?’ Butler asked the interpreter.
‘He says it is a law of theirs,’ the interpreter translated Hadji Murád’s reply. ‘Arslán must avenge a relation’s blood and so he tried to kill him.’
‘And supposing he overtakes him on the road?’ asked Butler.
Hadji Murád smiled.
‘Well, if he kills me it will prove that such is Allah’s will.… Good-bye,’ he said again in Russian, taking his horse by the withers. Glancing round at everybody who had come out to see him off, his eyes rested kindly on Márya Dmítrievna.
‘Good-bye, my lass,’ said he to her. ‘I thank you.’
‘God help you – God help you to rescue your family!’ repeated Márya Dmítrievna.
He did not understand her words, but felt her sympathy for him and nodded to her.
‘Mind, don’t forget your kunák,’ said Butler.
‘Tell him I am his true friend and will never forget him,’ answered Hadji Murád to the interpreter, and in spite of his short leg he swung himself lightly and quickly into the high saddle, barely touching the stirrup, and automatically feeling for his dagger and adjusting his sword. Then, with that peculiarly proud look with which only a Caucasian hill-man sits his horse – as though he were one with it – he rode away from the major’s house. Khanéfi and Eldár also mounted and having taken a friendly leave of their hosts and of the officers, rode off at a trot, following their murshíd.
As usual after a departure, those who remained behind began to discuss those who had left.
‘Plucky fellow! He rushed at Arslán Khan like a wolf! His face quite changed!’
‘But he’ll be up to tricks – he’s a terrible rogue, I should say,’ remarked Petróvsky.
‘It’s a pity there aren’t more Russian rogues of such a kind!’ suddenly put in Márya Dmítrievna with vexation. ‘He has lived a week with us and we have seen nothing but good from him. He is courteous, wise, and just,’ she added.
‘How did you find that out?’
‘No matter, I did find it out!’
‘She’s quite smitten, and that’s a fact!’ said the major, who had just entered the room.
‘Well, and if I am smitten? What’s that to you? Why run him down if he’s a good man? Though he’s a Tartar he’s still a good man!’
‘Quite true, Márya Dmítrievna,’ said Butler, ‘and you’re quite right to take his part!’
XXI
LIFE in our advanced forts in the Chechen lines went on as usual. Since the events last narrated there had been two alarms when the companies were called out and militiamen galloped about; but both times the mountaineers who had caused the excitement got away, and once at Vozdvízhensk they killed a Cossack and succeeded in carrying off eight Cossack horses that were being watered. There had been no further raids since the one in which the aoul was destroyed, but an expedition on a large scale was expected in consequence of the appointment of a new commander of the left flank, Prince Baryátinsky. He was an old friend of the Viceroy’s and had been in command of the Kabardá Regiment. On his arrival at Grózny as commander of the whole left flank he at once mustered a detachment to continue to carry out the Tsar’s commands as communicated by Chernyshóv to Vorontsóv. The detachment mustered at Vozdvízhensk left the fort and took up a position towards Kurín, where the troops were encamped and were felling the forest. Young Vorontsóv lived in a splendid cloth tent, and his wife, Márya Vasílevna, often came to the camp and stayed the night. Baryátinsky’s relations with Márya Vasílevna were no secret to anyone, and the officers who were not in the aristocratic set and the soldiers abused her in coarse terms – for her presence in camp caused them to be told off to lie in ambush at night. The mountaineers were in the habit of bringing guns within range and firing shells at the camp. The shells generally missed their aim and therefore at ordinary times no special measures were taken to prevent such firing, but now men were placed in ambush to hinder the mountaineers from injuring or frightening Márya Vasílevna with their cannon. To have to be always lying in ambush at night to save a lady from being frightened, offended and annoyed them, and therefore the soldiers, as well as the officers not admitted to the higher society, called Márya Vasílevna bad names.
Having obtained leave of absence from his fort, Butler came to the camp to visit some old messmates from the cadet corps and fellow officers of the Kurín regiment who were serving as adjutants and orderly officers. When he first arrived he had a very good time. He put up in Poltorátsky’s tent and there met many acquaintances who gave him a hearty welcome. He also called on Vorontsóv, whom he knew slightly, having once served in the same regiment with him. Vorontsóv received him very kindly, introduced him to Prince Baryátinsky, and invited him to the farewell dinner he was giving in honour of General Kozlóvsky, who until Baryátinsky’s arrival had been in command of the left flank.
The dinner was magnificent. Special tents were erected in a line, and along the whole length of them a table was spread as for a dinner-party, with dinner-services and bottles. Everything recalled life in the Guards in Petersburg. Dinner was served at two o’clock. Kozlóvsky sat in the middle on one side, Baryátinsky on the other. At Kozlóvsky’s right and left hand sat the Vorontsóvs, husband and wife. All along the table on both sides sat the officers of the Kabardá and Kurín regiments. Butler sat next to Poltorátsky and they both chatted merrily and drank with the officers around them. When the roast was served and the orderlies had gone round and filled the champagne glasses, Poltorátsky said to Butler, with real anxiety:
‘Our Kozlóvsky will disgrace himself!’
‘Why?’
‘Why, he’ll have to make a speech, and what good is he at that?… It’s not as easy as capturing entrenchments under fire! And with a lady beside him too, and these aristocrats!’