g arose. The
wind roared among the trees of the distant woods, and the wolves
howled in the mountains.

"Father, let me go and bring back Thomar," pleaded the girl, gazing
sorrowfully into the dark night through the window.

"He will come back of his own accord," replied the Circassian, and he
would not let the girl go.

"Listen, how the rain pours, and how the wild beasts are howling!
Thomar is all alone there in the tempest, and it is so dark."

"'Tis a good night for a son who forsakes his father," replied the
sheik. But within himself he thought, "Some neighbor is sure to take
the lad in and give him shelter."

At midnight the tempest abated, and the moon shone forth brightly.
From the distant woods came floating back to the village the notes of
a rustic flute. Neither father nor daughter had had any sleep.

"Listen, father!" said Milieva. "Thomar is piping in the wood; let me
go and bring him back!"

"That is not a flute, but a nightingale," replied the stony-hearted
Circassian. "Lie down and sleep!"

Yet he himself could not sleep.

In the morning both the tempest and the song had ceased. The old
Circassian pretended to be asleep. Milieva softly raised her head and
looked at her father, and seeing that his eyes were closed, stealthily
put on her clothes and went out of the house on tiptoe. Her father did
not tell her not to go. He had already forgiven his son, and resolved
never to be angry with him any more. After all, it had only been an
ebullition of fatherly affection that had made him punish his son for
jeopardizing his life so blindly.

Shortly afterwards the jingling of the asses' bells told him that the
Greek, who slept on the floor outside, was getting ready to depart.
The merchant seemed to be in great haste. He piled his boxes on the
backs of his beasts higgledy-piggledy, even overlooking a parcel or
two here and there, and all the time he kept talking to himself,
stopping short suddenly when he caught sight of the Circassian.

"I was just going to take leave of you, Chorbadzhi. Why do you get up
so early? Go to sleep! What a nice day it is after the storm! Salam
alakuem! Peace be with you! Greet my kinsmen, your sweet children. No,
I will speak no more of your children. I will do as you desire, I
promise you, and what I have once promised-- So our business is at an
end? You are a worthy man, Kasi Mollah! . . . You are a good father--a
very good father. I only wish every man was like you.