Short Fiction - Xavier de Maistre (the unexpected everything .txt) 📗

length, “should I delude myself? I am destined to have no other society than my own, no other friend than God. In Him we shall meet again. Farewell, kindhearted stranger, may you be happy⁠ ⁠… Farewell forever.”

The traveller withdrew. The Leper closed and fastened the gate.

The Prisoners of the Caucasus

—Speak not now⁠—o’er thine and o’er my head
Hangs the keen sabre by a single thread;
If thou hast courage still, and would’st be free,
Receive this poniard⁠—rise⁠—and follow me.

—⁠Byron

The Mountains of Caucasus have for a long time been included within the limits of the Russian Empire, without forming a part of its jurisdiction. Their uncivilized inhabitants, divided by interest and unconnected by language, form a cluster of small tribes, who have little political connection, but are equally animated by a love of independence and a spirit of rapine.

One of the most numerous and formidable of these tribes is that of the Tchetchengs,17 who inhabit the great and little Kabarda; two provinces, the high valleys of which extend to the summits of Caucasus. They are a handsome, spirited, intelligent people, but rapacious and cruel, and in a state of continual hostility with the “troops of the Line.” Under this latter name are comprehended several military posts, occupied by the Russian troops, between the Caspian and Black Seas, from the mouth of the Terek to the entrance of the Kuban.

It is in the midst of these dangerous hordes, and in the centre of this immense range of mountains, that the Russian Government has opened a road of communication with its Asiatic possessions. Redoubts built at intervals, secure the road into Georgia; but no traveller would be daring enough to traverse alone the intermediate space; twice every week a convoy of infantry, with a few field-pieces and a strong detachment of Cossacks, affords an escort to travellers and to the messengers of government. One of these fortifications, erected at the entrance of the mountains, has insensibly assumed the appearance of a well peopled village; and, from its commanding situation, it is called Vladi-Caucasus (Vladeti signifying in the Russian language, to command, domineer); and it is the residence of the officer who commands the troops engaged in the fatiguing service, which has been briefly described.

Major Kascambo, of the Wologda regiment, a Russian nobleman, but by descent a Greek, was on his way to take the command of the post of Lars, in the defiles of Caucasus. Impatient to reach his destination, and brave even to temerity, he was imprudent enough to enter on his journey with the feeble escort of fifty Cossacks,who were under his orders; and he had even the folly to boast of his daring enterprise, before he was sure he could accomplish it.

The Tchetchengs, near the frontiers, who have also the name of the “pacific,” acknowledge the power of Russia, and have therefore free passage to Mosdok.18 Most of them, notwithstanding, maintain relations with the Mountaineers, and are partners in their robberies. These latter, having been informed of Major Kascambo’s designs and movements, set out in large numbers to intercept him, and placed themselves in ambuscade. At twenty versts from Mosdok, at the turning of a small hill, covered with briers, he found himself in presence of seven hundred horsemen. There was no possibility of retreating. The troopers alighted and sustained the attack with great firmness, in the hope of being succoured by a body of soldiers stationed at the neighbouring fortification.

The Mountaineers of Caucasus, though individually very brave, are unaccustomed to act together in large bodies, and are, therefore, little dangerous to a force capable of making a stand; but they have good arms and are good marksmen. Yet their superiority of number made the struggle too unequal. After a brisk fire, kept up for some time, more than half of the detachment of Cossacks was killed or disabled, and the rest were ranged behind their dead horses, and had nearly expended their last cartridges. The Tchetchengs, who, as they commonly do, had carried with them some Russian deserters, whom they use, on such occasions, as interpreters, summoned the troops to deliver up the Major, or they would all be cut to pieces. Kascambo, seeing no other way of saving his remaining followers, determined to give himself up for them, and having left his sword to his Cossacks, he advanced alone towards the enemy, who immediately ceased to fire. They only wished to have him alive, for the ransom they expected would be paid for his liberty. He had scarcely surrendered himself into their hands, when he discerned, at a distance, the succours he had expected; but they arrived too late, and the robbers, using great despatch, were soon out of the reach of their enemies.

The Major’s Denchick, or military servant, had remained behind with the mule that carried his luggage. Concealed in a hollow place, near the roadside, he was awaiting the issue of the conflict, when the Cossacks met him, and informed him of his master’s captivity. The honest servant immediately determined to share his fate, and rode in the direction which the Tchetchengs had taken, guided by the track of their horses: when, through the obscurity of the night, he had lost the advantage of this direction, he met with a straggler of the hostile troop, who offered to conduct him to the rendezvous of the Tchetchengs.

We leave it to our readers to imagine, with what feelings the prisoner greeted his servant, who thus volunteered to share his misfortune. The robbers divided among themselves the booty, except a guitar, which they returned to the Major with derision. Honest Ivan19 seized the instrument, and refused to obey his master, who ordered him to throw it away. “Why lose courage,” exclaimed he: “the God of the Russians is great!20 The robbers are interested in the preservation of your life, and will do you no harm.”

After a halt of