efore him a view of Avar: but at the very moment his exhausted horse
fell under him; the blood spouted from his open mouth, and his last
breath burst the saddle-girth.

The Khan assisted the Bek to extricate himself from the stirrups; but
observed with alarm that his efforts had displaced the bandage on
Ammalat's wounded arm, and that the blood was soaking through it afresh.
The young man, it seemed, was insensible to pain; tears were rolling
down his face upon the dead horse. So one drop fills not, but overflows
the cup. "Thou wilt never more bear me like down upon the wind," he
said, "nor hear behind thee from the dust-cloud of the race, the shouts,
unpleasing to the rival, the acclamations of the people: in the blaze of
battle no more shalt thou carry me from the iron rain of the Russian
cannon. With thee I gained the fame of a warrior--why should I survive,
or it, or thee?" He bent his face upon his knee, and remained silent a
long time, while the Khan carefully bound up his wounded arm: at length
Ammalat raised his head: "Leave me!" he cried, resolutely: "leave,
Sultan Akhmet Khan, a wretch to his fate! The way is long, and I am
exhausted. By remaining with me, you will perish in vain. See! the eagle
soars around us; he knows that my heart will soon quiver beneath his
talons, and I thank God! Better find an airy grave in the maw of a bird
of prey, than leave my corse beneath a Christian foot. Farewell, linger
not."

"For shame, Ammalat! you trip against a straw....! What the great harm?
You are wounded, and your horse is dead. Your wound will soon healed,
and we will find you a better horse! Allah sendeth not misfortunes
alone. In the flower of your age, and the full vigour of your faculties,
it is a sin to despair. Mount my horse, I will lead him by the bridle,
and by night we shall be at home. Time is precious!"

"For me, time is no more, Sultan Ahkmet Khan ... I thank you heartily
for your brotherly care, but I cannot take advantage of it ... you
yourself cannot support a march on foot after such fatigue. I repeat ...
leave me to my fate. Here, on these inaccessible heights, I will die
free and contented ... And what is there to recall me to life! My
parents lie under the earth, my wife is blind, my uncle and
father-in-law the Shamkhal are cowering at Tarki before the Russians ...
the Giaour is revelling in my native land, in my inheritance; and I
myself an a wanderer from my home, a runaway from battle. I nei