She is behind that door. Only I wanted, myself, to see her to-day and
wasn't able to. She sits in the corner, muffled in her veil, and neither
speaks nor looks up--timid as a wild chamois! I have hired the wife of
our dukhan-keeper: she knows the Tartar language, and will look after
Bela and accustom her to the idea that she belongs to me--for she shall
belong to no one else!' he added, banging his fist on the table.

"I assented to that too... What could I do? There are some people with
whom you absolutely have to agree."

"Well?" I asked Maksim Maksimych. "Did he really succeed in making
her grow accustomed to him, or did she pine away in captivity from
home-sickness?"

"Good gracious! how could she pine away from home-sickness? From
the fortress she could see the very same hills as she could from the
village--and these savages require nothing more. Besides, Grigori
Aleksandrovich used to give her a present of some kind every day. At
first she didn't utter a word, but haughtily thrust away the gifts,
which then fell to the lot of the dukhan-keeper's wife and aroused her
eloquence. Ah, presents! What won't a woman do for a coloured rag!...
But that is by the way... For a long time Grigori Aleksandrovich
persevered with her, and meanwhile he studied the Tartar language and
she began to understand ours. Little by little she grew accustomed to
looking at him, at first furtively, askance; but she still pined and
crooned her songs in an undertone, so that even I would feel heavy
at heart when I heard her from the next room. One scene I shall never
forget: I was walking past, and I looked in at the window; Bela was
sitting on the stove-couch, her head sunk on her breast, and Grigori
Aleksandrovich was standing, facing her.

"'Listen, my Peri,' he was saying. 'Surely you know that you will have
to be mine sooner or later--why, then, do you but torture me? Is it that
you are in love with some Chechene? If so, I will let you go home at
once.'

"She gave a scarcely perceptible start and shook her head.

"'Or is it,' he continued, 'that I am utterly hateful to you?'

"She heaved a sigh.

"'Or that your faith prohibits you from giving me a little of your
love?'

"She turned pale and remained silent.

"'Believe me, Allah is one and the same for all races; and, if he
permits me to love you, why, then, should he prohibit you from requiting
me by returning my love?'

"She gazed fixedly into his face, as though struck by