ed that this heir to the Shamkhalat should be
sent to the Elysian fields. Besides, I care very little to guess or
gratify the wishes of his kinsmen."

I saw that the commander-in-chief began to waver, and I urged him
more pressingly. "Let me serve for three years," said I; "do not
give me leave of absence this year--only have mercy on this young man.
He is young, and Russia may find in him a faithful servant.
Generosity is never thrown away."

Alexei Petrovitch shook his head.

"I have made many ungrateful," said he, "already; but be it so. I
pardon him, and not by halves--that is not my way. I thank you for
having helped me to be merciful, not to say weak. Only remember my
words: You wish to take him to yourself--do not trust him; do not
warm a serpent in your bosom."

I was so delighted with my success, that, hastily quitting the
commander-in-chief, I ran to the tent in which Ammalat Bek was
confined. Three sentinels were guarding him; a lantern was burning
in the midst. I entered; the prisoner was lying wrapped up in his
bourka, and tears were sparkling on his face. He did not hear my
entrance, so profoundly was he buried in thought. To whom is it
pleasant to part with life? I was rejoiced that I brought comfort to
him at so melancholy a moment.

"Ammalat," said I, "Allah is great, and the Sardar is merciful; he
has granted you your life!"

The delighted prisoner started up, and endeavoured to reply, but the
breath was stifled in his breast. Immediately, however, a shade of
gloom covered his features. "Life!" he exclaimed; "I understand this
generosity! To consign a man to a breathless dungeon, without light
or air--to send him to eternal winter, to a night never illumined by
a star--to bury him alive in the bowels of the earth--to take from
him not only the power to act, not only the means of life, but even
the privilege of telling his kinsmen of his sad lot--to deny him not
only the right to complain, but even the power of murmuring his
sorrow to the wind. And this you call life! this unceasing torment
you boast of as rare generosity! Tell the General that I want
not--that I scorn--such a life."

"You are mistaken, Ammalat," I cried; "you are fully pardoned: remain
what you were, the master of your actions and possessions. There is
your sword. The commander-in-chief is sure that in future you will
unsheathe it only for the Russians. I offer you one condition; come
and live with me till the report of your