th its stories and dreaming
traditions.... The Caucasus contained my world, and I peacefully slept
in that night. I thought to be famous in Daghestan--the height of glory.
And what then? History has peopled my former desert with nations,
shattering each other for glory; with heroes, terrifying the nations by
valour to which we can never rise. And where are they? Half forgotten,
they have vanished in the dust of ages. The description of the earth
shows me that the Tartars occupy a little corner of the world; that they
are miserable savages in comparison with the European nations; and that
of the existence, not only of their brave warriors, but of the whole
nation, nobody thinks, nobody knows, nobody wishes to know. It is worth
while to be a glow-worm amongst insects. Was it worth while to expand my
mind, in order to be convinced of such a bitter truth?

* * * * *

What is the use of a knowledge of the powers of nature to me, when I
cannot change my soul, master my heart? The sea teaches me to build
dykes--but I cannot restrain my tears!... I can conduct the lightning
from the roof, but I cannot throw off my sorrows! Was I not unhappy
enough from my feelings alone, without calling around me my thoughts,
like greedy vultures? What does the sick man gain by knowing that his
disease is incurable?... The tortures of my hopeless love have become
sharper, more piercing, more various, since my intellect has been
enlightened.

* * * * *

No! I am unjust. Reading shortens for me the long winter-like night--the
hours of separation. In teaching me to fix on paper my flying thoughts,
V. has given me a heartfelt enjoyment. Some day I shall meet Seltanetta,
and I shall show her these pages; in which her name is written oftener
than that of Allah in the Koran. "These are the annals of my heart," I
shall say: "Look! on such a day thus thought about you--on such a night,
I saw you thus in my dreams! By these little leaves, as by a string of
diamond beads, you may count my sighs, my tears for you." O lovely, and
beloved being! you will often smile at my strange phantasies--long will
they supply matter for our conversations. But, by your side,
enchantress, shall I be able to remember the past?... No, no!... Every
thing before me, every thing around me, will then fade away, except the
present bliss--to be with you! O, how burning, and how light will my
soul be! Liquid sunshine