Travels in the Steppes of the Caspian Sea, the Crimea, the Caucasus Part 34

Countess Guacher stood with her back towards him, but he had a full view of the faces of the two other ladies. Madame de Krudener was small, delicate, and fair haired; her inspired looks and the gentleness of her countenance bespoke her boundless beneficence of soul. The Princess Gallitzin, on the contrary, had an imposing countenance, the expression of which presented a strange mixture of shrewdness, asceticism, sternness, and raillery. For a long while the pilgrims continued chanting Sclavonic psalms, the mysterious impart of which accorded with the enthusiastic disposition of their souls. Before they had ended, the sound of footsteps on the deck woke Mr. Y---- from his trance of wonder.

The new comer was the non-commissioned officer, and Mr. Y---- desired the man to announce him, although he hardly expected to be admitted at so late an hour. His visit was nevertheless accepted, and the ladies received him with as much ease as if they had been doing the honours of a drawing-room.

In spite of their religious enthusiasm, and the apostolic vocation which they attributed to themselves, it may easily be imagined that these three high-bred ladies, accustomed to all the refinements of luxury, should now and then have had their tempers a little ruffled by the hards.h.i.+ps of their journey, and that their mutual harmony should have suffered somewhat in consequence. Their wish, therefore, to separate on their arrival at Taganrok was natural enough. Countess Guacher especially, having made less progress than her companions in the path of perfection, had often revolted against the austere habits imposed on her; but these ebullitions of carnal temper were always brief and transient; and on the day after her visit to the consul, when he returned to the port to announce that the podoroshni was ready, the boat and its pa.s.sengers had disappeared, and no one could give any information about them.

II.

The apparition of these ladies in the Crimea threw the whole peninsula into commotion. Eager to make proselytes, they were seen toiling in their _beguine_ costume, with the cross and the gospel in their hands, over mountains and valleys, exploring Tatar villages, and even carrying their enthusiasm to the strange length of preaching in the open air to the amazed and puzzled Mussulmans. But as the English consul had predicted, in spite of their mystic fervour, their persuasive voices, and the originality of their enterprise, our heroines effected few conversions. They only succeeded in making themselves thoroughly ridiculous not only in the eyes of the Tatars, but in those also of the Russian n.o.bles of the vicinity, who instead of seconding their efforts, or at least giving them credit for their good intentions, regarded them only as feather-witted _illuminatae_, capable at most of catechising little children. The police, too, always prompt to take alarm, and having besides received special instructions respecting these ladies, soon threw impediments in the way of all their efforts, so that two months had scarcely elapsed before they were obliged to give up their roving ways, their preachings, and all the fine dreams they had indulged during their long and painful journey. It was a sore mortification for them to renounce the hope of planting a new Thebaid in the mountains of the Crimea. Madame de Krudener could not endure the loss of her illusions; her health, already impaired by many years of an ascetic life, declined rapidly, and within a year from the time of her arrival in the peninsula, there remained no hope of saving her life. She died in 1823, in the arms of her daughter, the Baroness Berckheim, who had been for some years resident on the southern coast, and became possessed of many doc.u.ments on the latter part of a life so rich in romantic events: but unfortunately these doc.u.ments are not destined to see the light.

Princess Gallitzin, whose religious sentiments were perhaps less sincere, thought no more of making conversions after she had installed herself in her delightful villa on the coast. Throwing off for ever the coa.r.s.e _beguine_ robe, she adopted a no less eccentric costume which she retained until her death. It was an Amazonian petticoat, with a cloth vest of a male cut. A Polish cap trimmed with fur completed her attire, that accorded well with the original character of the princess. It is in this dress she is represented in several portraits still to be seen in her villa at Koreis.

The caustic wit that led to her disgrace at the court of St. Petersburg, her stately manners, her name, her prodigious memory, and immense fortune, quickly attracted round her all the notable persons in Southern Russia. Distinguished foreigners eagerly coveted the honour of being introduced to her, and she was soon at the head of a little court, over which she presided like a real sovereign. But being by nature very capricious, the freak sometimes seized her to shut herself up for whole months in total solitude. Although she relapsed into philosophical and Voltairian notions, the remembrance of Madame de Krudener inspired her with occasional fits of devotion that oddly contrasted with her usual habits. It was during one of these visitations that she erected a colossal cross on one of the heights commanding Koreis. The cross being gilded is visible to a great distance.

Her death in 1839 left a void in Russian society which will not easily be filled. Reared in the school of the eighteenth century, well versed in the literature and the arts of France, speaking the language with an entire command of all that light, playful raillery that made it so formidable of yore; having been a near observer of all the events and all the eminent men of the empire; possessing moreover a power of apprehension and discernment that gave equal variety and point to her conversation; a man in mind and variety of knowledge, a woman in grace and frivolity; the Princess Gallitzin belonged by her brilliant qualities and her charming faults to a cla.s.s that is day by day becoming extinct.

Now that conversation is quite dethroned in France, and exists only in some few salons of Europe, it is hard to conceive the influence formerly exercised by women of talent. Those of our day, more ambitious of obtaining celebrity through the press than of reigning over a social circle, guard the treasures of their imagination and intellect with an anxious reserve that cannot but prove a real detriment to society. To write feuilletons, romances, and poetry, is all very well; but to preside over a drawing-room, like the women of the eighteenth century, has also its merit. But we must not blame the female s.e.x alone for the loss of that supremacy which once belonged to French society. The men of the present day, more serious than their predecessors, more occupied with positive, palpable interests, seem to look with cold disdain on what but lately commanded their warmest admiration.

But we have lost sight of the Countess Guacher, who is not for all that the least interesting of our heroines. Resigning herself with much more equanimity than her companions to the necessity of leaving the Tatars alone, she hired for herself, even before their complete separation, a small house standing by itself on the sea sh.o.r.e; and there she took up her abode with only one female attendant. Following the example of the Princess Gallitzin, she threw off the _beguine_ robe and a.s.sumed a kind of male attire. For some time her existence was almost unknown to her neighbours; so retired were her habits. The only occasions when she was visible was during her rides on horseback on the beach, and it was noticed that she chose the most stormy weather for these excursions.

But her recluse habits did not long conceal her from curious inquiry. A certain Colonel Ivanof, who had noticed the strange proceedings of the pilgrims from their first arrival in the Crimea, set himself to watch the countess, and at last took a house near her retreat; but in order that his presence might not scare her, he contented himself for some weeks with following her at a distance during her lonely promenades, trusting to chance for an opportunity of becoming more intimately acquainted with her. His perseverance was at last rewarded with full success.

One evening, as the colonel stood at his window observing the tokens of an approaching storm, he perceived a person on horseback galloping in the direction of his house, evidently with the intention of seeking shelter. Before this could be accomplished the storm broke out with great fury, and just then the colonel was startled by the discovery that the stranger was his mysterious neighbour. The sequel will be best told in his own words:

"Full of surprise and curiosity I hastened to meet the countess, who entered my doors without honouring me with a single look. She seemed in very bad humour, and concentrated her whole attention upon a tortoise she carried in her left hand. Without uttering a word or caring for the water that streamed from her clothes, she sat down on the divan, and remained for some moments apparently lost in thought. For my part, I continued standing before her, waiting until she should address me, and glad of the opportunity to scrutinise her appearance at my ease. She wore an Amazonian petticoat, a green cloth vest, b.u.t.toned over the bosom, a broad-brimmed felt hat, with a pair of pistols in her girdle, and, as I have said, a tortoise in her hand. Her handsome, grave countenance excited my admiration. Below her hat appeared some grey locks, that seemed whitened not so much by years as by sorrow, of which her visage bore the impress.

"Without taking off her hat, the flap of which half concealed her face, she began to warm the tortoise with her breath, calling it by the pet name _Dus.h.i.+nka_ (little soul), which duty being performed she deigned to look up, and perceived me. Her first gesture bespoke extreme surprise.

Until then, supposing she was in a Tatar house, she had taken no notice of the objects around her, but the sight of my drawing-room, my library, my piano, and myself, struck her with stupefaction. 'Where am I?' she exclaimed, in hurried alarm. 'Madam,' I replied, 'you are in the house of a man who has long lived as a hermit--a man who like you loves solitude, the sea, and meditation--who has renounced like you the society of his kind to live after his own way in this wilderness.' These words struck her forcibly. 'You, too,' she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, 'you, too, have divorced yourself from the world, and why? Ay, why?' she repeated, as if conversing with her own thoughts, 'why bury yourself alive here, without friends, without relations, without a heart to respond to yours? Why die this lingering death, when the world is open to you--the world with its delights, its b.a.l.l.s and spectacles, its pa.s.sionate adorations, with the fascinations of the court, the favour of a queen?' Imagine my astonishment to hear her thus in a sort of hallucination, revealing her secret thoughts and recollections. In these few words her whole life was set forth, the life of a beautiful woman, rich, flattered, habituated to the atmosphere of courts.

"After a pause of some duration she entered into conversation with me, questioned me at great length on the way in which I pa.s.sed my time, on my tastes, the few resources I enjoyed for cultivating the arts, &c. We chatted for more than an hour like old acquaintances, and she seemed quite to have forgotten the strange words she had uttered in the beginning of the interview. Being very much puzzled to know what pleasure she took in carrying the tortoise about with her, I asked her some questions on the subject; but with a solemnity that seemed to me strangely disproportioned to the subject, she told me she had made a vow never to separate from it. 'It is a present from the Emperor Alexander,'

she said, 'and as long as I have it near me I shall not utterly despair of my destiny.' Availing myself of this opening I tried to make her talk of the motives that had brought her to the peninsula, but she cut me short by saying that since she had become acquainted with the character of the Tatars she had given up all thought of making converts among them. 'They are men of pure feelings and pure consciences,' she said, impressively; 'why insist on their changing their creed, since they live in accordance with the principles of morality and religion? After all it matters little whether one adores Jesus Christ, Mahomet, or the Grand Lama, if one is charitable, humble, and hospitable.'

"I laughed, and said she spoke rank heresy, and that if she preached such doctrines, she ran great risk of having a bull of excommunication fulminated against her. 'It is since I have given up preaching,' she replied, 'that I have begun to think in this way; solitude makes one regard things in quite a different aspect from that in which they are seen by the world. Only three months ago I set Catholicism above all religions, and now I meditate one still more perfect and sublime. Will you be my first disciple?' she said, in a tone between jest and earnest, that left me very uncertain whether she was serious or not. When she left my house I escorted her to her own door, and promised I would call on her the next day."

The second interview was not less curious than the first: the colonel found his neighbour busily at work with a gla.s.s spinner's lamp and a blowpipe, making gla.s.s beads. She did not allow her visitor's presence to interrupt her operations, but finished before him enough to make a necklace. She then showed him several boxes filled with beads of all sorts, made by her own hands, and said very seriously, "If ever I return to the world I will wear no other ornaments than such pearls as these.

It is a stupid thing to wear true ones. See how bright, clear, and large these are! Would any one suppose they were not the produce of the Indian Ocean? So it is with every thing else: what matters the substance if the form is beautiful and pleasing to the eye?" The colonel was about to enter into a grave discussion of this very questionable moral doctrine, very common in the eighteenth century, when suddenly changing the subject, the countess took down a sword that hung at the head of her bed and laid it on his lap. "You see this weapon, colonel: it was given me by a Vendean chief in admiration of my courage; for though a woman I have fought for the good cause, and many a time smelt powder among the bushes and heaths of Bretagne. You need not wonder at my partiality for weapons and for male costume; it is a reminiscence of my youth. A Vendean at heart, I long made part in the heroic bands that withstood the republican armies, and the dangers, hards.h.i.+ps, and fiery emotions of partisan warfare are no secrets to me." "But," observed the colonel, "how is it that thus devoted as you are to the royal cause you do not return to your country, where monarchy is again triumphant?" "Hus.h.!.+" she answered, lowering her voice, "hus.h.!.+ let us say no more of the present or the past. Would you ask the shrub broken by the storm why the breath of spring does not reanimate its mutilated form? Let us leave things as they are, and not strive to repair what is irreparable. Man's justice has p.r.o.nounced its decree; let us trust in that of G.o.d, merciful and infinite, like all that is eternally just and good!"

It was in vain the colonel endeavoured by further questions to become acquainted with that mysterious past to which she could not make any allusion without extreme perturbation of mind; she remained silent, and retired to another room without renewing the conversation.

After these two interviews, Colonel Ivanof had no other opportunity of gathering any hints that could lead him towards a definite conclusion respecting this extraordinary woman, although he saw her almost daily for more than two months. She often talked to him of her residence in London, her friendly relations with the Emperor of Russia, her travels, and her fortune; but of France not a word. Not an expression of regret, not a name or allusion of any sort, afforded the colonel reason to suspect that his neighbour had left behind her in her native land any objects on which her memory still dwelt. His brain was almost turned at last by the romantic acquaintance he had made. His vanity was piqued, and his desire to solve so difficult an enigma gave him no rest. He diligently perused the history of the French Revolution, in hopes to find in it a clue to his inquiry, but it was to no purpose. He felt completely astray in such a labyrinth. Many great names successively occurred to him as likely to belong to his mysterious neighbour, but there were always some circ.u.mstances connected with them that refuted such a supposition.

Perhaps a more matter-of-fact person would at last have discovered the truth; but the colonel's lively imagination led him to embrace the oddest hypothesis. It was his belief that the countess was the illegitimate offspring of a royal amour. Setting out from this principle he put aside all the names proscribed by the revolution, and stuck obstinately to a myth. But tired at last of this pursuit of shadows, he resolved to trust to that chance which had already been so favourable for the clearing up of his uncertainty. a.s.siduously noting all the lady's eccentricities, he knew not whether to pity or admire her, though very certain that her wits wandered at times.

She frequently received despatches from St. Petersburg, and seemed, notwithstanding her exile, to have retained a certain influence over the mind of the tzar. One day she showed her neighbour a letter from a lady of the court, who thanked her warmly for having obtained from the emperor a regiment which that lady had long been ineffectually soliciting for her son.

So absorbed was the Russian officer by the interest he took in the countess, that he seemed to have forgotten all the world besides; but an unexpected event suddenly put an end to his romantic loiterings, and sent him back to the realities of life. A Frenchman, calling himself Baron X--, arrived one fine morning from St. Petersburg, and established himself without ceremony as the countess's factotum. From that moment all intimacy was broken off between the latter and Colonel Ivanof. The cold, astute behaviour of the baron, and his continual presence, obliged the colonel to retire. It may seem strange that he surrendered the field so quickly to an unknown person, but it was time for him to return to his military duties, and besides, what could he do with a man whose connexion with the countess seemed of old standing, and who watched her with a jealous vigilance enough to discourage the most intrepid curiosity? His departure was scarcely noticed by Madame Guacher, whose habits had undergone an entire change since the arrival of the baron.

The incoherence of her mind became more and more visible; it was only at long and uncertain intervals she rode out on horseback; the rest of her time was spent in enduring all sorts of extraordinary mortifications.

Baron X--remained in the Crimea until the death of the countess, which took place in 1823. Being fully acquainted with all her affairs he was her sole heir, not legally, perhaps, but _de facto_. On leaving the peninsula he proceeded to England, where a large part of our heroine's property was invested, and he afterwards returned to Russia with a considerable fortune.

A curious incident occurred after the death of the countess. As soon as the emperor was informed of the event he despatched a courier to the Crimea, with orders to bring him a casket, the form, size, and materials of which were described with the most minute exactness. The messenger, a.s.sisted by the chief of the police, at first made a fruitless search; but at last, through the information of a waiting woman, the casket was found sealed up, under the bed of the deceased lady. The courier took possession of it and returned with the utmost speed. In ten days he was in St. Petersburg.

The precious casket was delivered to the emperor in his private cabinet, in the presence of two or three courtiers. Alexander was so impatient to open it that he had the lock forced. But alas! what a sad disappointment! The casket contained only--a pair of scissors. It surely was not for the sake of a pair of scissors that Alexander had made one of his Cossacks gallop 4000 versts in a fortnight. Be that as it may, Baron X--was accused of having purloined papers of the highest importance, and unfairly possessed himself of Madame Guacher's fortune.

But as he was then on his road to London, the emperor's anger was of no avail.

At a subsequent period, the disclosures made by this man, and the discovery of a curious correspondence, at last revealed the real name of the countess; but the tardy information arrived when there was no longer any one to be interested in it; the emperor was dead, and Colonel Ivanhof was fighting in the Caucasus.

Interred in a corner of the garden belonging to her house, that mysterious woman who had been the subject of so many contradictory rumours, had not even a stone to cover her grave, and to mark to the stranger the spot where rest the remains of the _Countess de Lamothe_, who had been whipped and branded in the Place de Greve, as an accomplice in the scandalous affair of the diamond necklace.[69]

FOOTNOTES:

[69] All the facts we have related respecting Madame de Lamothe are positive and perfectly authentic: they were reported to us by persons who had known that lady particularly, and who moreover possessed substantial proofs of her ident.i.ty. It is chiefly to Mademoiselle Jacquemart, mentioned in "Marshal Marmont's Travels," that we are indebted for the details we have given respecting the arrival of our three heroines in the Crimea. We have ourselves seen in that lady's possession the sword which the countess alleged she had used in the wars of La Vendee, and sundry letters attesting the great influence she exercised over the Emperor Alexander.

CHAPTER x.x.xIX.

IALTA--KOUTCHOUK LAMPAT--PARTHENIT--THE PRINCE DE LIGNE'S HAZEL--OULOU OUZEN; A GARDEN CONVERTED INTO AN AVIARY--TATAR YOUNG WOMEN--EXCURSION TO SOUDAGH--MADEMOISELLE JACQUEMART.

The proximity of Ialta to the most remarkable places on the coast, its harbour, and its delightful situation, make it the rendezvous of all the travellers who flock to the Crimea in the fine season. A packet-boat from Odessa brings every week a large number of pa.s.sengers, and the harbour is further enlivened by a mult.i.tude of small vessels from all parts of the coast. Nothing can be more charming than the sight of that white Ialta, seated at the head of a bay like a beautiful sultana bathing her feet in the sea, and sheltering her fair forehead from the sun under rocks festooned with verdure. Elegant buildings, handsome hotels, and a comfortable, cheerful population, indicate that opulence and pleasure have taken the town under their patronage; its prosperity, indeed, depends entirely on the travellers who fill its hotels for several months of the year. When it belonged to the Greeks it was counted among the most important towns on the coast; but the successive revolutions of the Crimea were fatal to it, and for a long while it remained only a wretched village. At present a custom-house and a garrison complete its pretensions to the style and dignity of a grand town. But nature has been so liberal to it, that instead of wondering at its rapid rise one is rather disposed to think it much inferior to what it might be.

We left Ialta in a tolerably large body, some on horseback, others in carriages. Leaving behind us Aloupka, Mishkor, Koreis, and Oreanda, we soon forgot their sumptuous displays of art for the inexhaustible marvels of nature. Our road lay parallel to the coast, and the continual variations of its admirable scenery made us think the way too short. A storm of rain overtook us in the fine forest of Koutchouk Lampat, and made us all run for shelter. The more advanced of the party easily reached the house of General Borosdin the owner of the property; but those in the rear, of whom I was one, were obliged to take refuge in a pavilion. Whilst we were quietly waiting there until the storm should blow over, the people of the house were seeking for us on all sides, having been sent out by our companions. Several times we saw them pa.s.sing along at a distance armed with large umbrellas; but as there was a billiard-table in the pavilion we never showed ourselves until we had finished an interesting game. The chatelain of Koutchouk Lampat, delighted to receive so numerous a party, entertained us with an excellent collation, in which figured all the wines of France and Spain.

A few leagues from Koutchouk Lampat lies Parthenit, a village where, for the first time, I received a mark of civility from Tatar females. As I entered the place, keeping in the rear of the others according to my usual custom, I pa.s.sed in front of a house in the large balcony of which there were three veiled women. Just as I pa.s.sed beneath the balcony I slackened my horse's pace and made some friendly signals to them, whereupon, one of them, and I make no doubt the prettiest, repeatedly kissed a large bouquet of lily of the valley she held, and threw it to me so adroitly that it fell into my hand. Delighted with the present, I hastened up to my companions and showed it to them; but they were all malicious enough to a.s.sure me that the gift had been addressed not to myself but to my clothes. The reader will remember that I travelled in male costume.

At Parthenit we failed not to sit under the famous hazel-tree of the Prince de Ligne. Its foliage is so thick and spreading that it overshadows a whole _place_. The trunk is not less than eight yards in circ.u.mference, and is surrounded by a large wooden divan, almost always occupied by travellers, who use it as a tavern. The inhabitants of Parthenit regard this tree with great affection, and beneath its shade they discuss all the important affairs of the village. A limpid fountain, the waters of which are distributed through several channels, adds to the charm of the spot. Our whole cavalcade was completely sheltered under the dome of the magnificent hazel. The Tatars brought us sweetmeats, coffee, and fresh eggs, and obstinately refused to take payment for them. Almost the whole population came to see us, but their curiosity was not at all obtrusive. Such of them as had no immediate business with us kept a respectful distance.

On leaving Parthenit we pa.s.sed very close to some old fortifications covering a whole hill with their imposing ruins. At evening we arrived at the post station of Alouchta,[70] where our party was to break up.

Some of our companions returned to Ialta, others proceeded towards Simpheropol; whilst we ourselves, accompanied by a single Tatar and our dragoman, set out by the sea-coast for Oulou Ouzen. The distance was but twelve versts, but we spent several hours upon it, in consequence of the difficulty of the ground and the steepness of the cliffs which we were often obliged to ascend. We met no one on the way; this part of the coast is quite deserted and sterile.

Oulou Ouzen, our point of destination, is a narrow valley opening on the sea, and belonging to Madame Lang, who has covered it with vineyards and orchards. A week pa.s.sed quickly away in the agreeable society of our hostess, whose residence is one of the prettiest in the country. Being very fond of birds, she has succeeded by a very simple process in converting her garden into a great aviary. On the day we arrived we were surprised to see her continually a.s.sailed by a flock of pretty t.i.tmice that pecked at her hair and hands with extraordinary familiarity. They were the progeny in the third and fourth generation of a pair she had reared two years before, and had liberated in the beginning of spring. Next year they returned with a young brood that grew used by degrees to feed on the balcony, and at last to eat out of her hands. These in their turn brought her their young ones; other birds followed their example, and thus she has always a flock of gay dwellers of the air perching and fluttering about her balcony, which is covered with nets to protect them from birds of prey.

At Madame Lang's we met a very agreeable gentleman and a great admirer of the Crimea, M. Montandon, who has written an excellent itinerary of the country. We talked a great deal with him about a French lady, Mademoiselle Jacquemart, whose acquaintance my husband had made some months previously. She has resided for the last fifteen years in Soudagh, a valley near Oulou Ouzen. The Duc de Raguse speaks at great length of her in his _Excursion en Crimee_, and relates the tragic adventure of which she was the heroine some years ago, but he a.s.signs for it a romantic cause which Mademoiselle Jacquemart has absolutely contradicted.

Few ladies have pa.s.sed through a more eccentric life than Mademoiselle Jacquemart. In her young days, her beauty, her talents, and her wit invested her with a celebrity, such as rarely falls to the lot of one in the humble position of a governess. After having lived long in the great world of St. Petersburg and of Vienna, she suddenly withdrew to the Crimea, where, having like many others almost ruined herself by vintage speculations, she purchased the little property in which she now resides. Her history and her unusual energy of character led to a close intimacy between her and the old Princess Gallitzin, who was herself enough of an original character to like every thing uncommon, and Mademoiselle Jacquemart was an habitual guest at Koreis.

Before we left Oulou Ouzen we went to spend a day with Madame Lang's only neighbour, an old bachelor, who lives quite alone, not out of misanthropy, but that he may devote himself without interruption to his favourite pursuit of botany. A deep ravine between the two properties, and a steep descent overlooking the sea, render the road so dangerous that ladies can venture to traverse it only in a vehicle drawn by oxen.

It was in this strange equipage, guided by a Tatar armed with a long goad, that we reached the house of M. Faviski, who was quite delighted, but greatly puzzled to receive ladies. He did the honours of his bachelor's dwelling, nevertheless, like a very well-bred gentleman.

While we were waiting for dinner, Madame Lang conceived the happy thought of sending for all the Tatar beauties of the village that I might see them. When they arrived, the gentlemen were obliged to leave the room, which was immediately entered by a dozen of pretty bashful young women, looking like a herd of scared gazelles. But after a few words from Madame Lang, who speaks Tatar very well, they soon became familiarised with our strange faces, and grew very merry. They took off their veils and papouches at our request, and favoured us with an Oriental dance. One of them quite astonished me by the magnificent lineaments of her face, which reminded me of the head of an empress on an ancient medal. They examined all the details of our toilette with childlike curiosity, and exacted from us the same attentive notice of the embroidery on their bodices and veils. Meanwhile, so amused were we by this scene, that we had quite forgotten the gentlemen whom we had turned out, and who now began to thump l.u.s.tily at the door. The Tatar women were now thrown into the most picturesque and comical disorder, and ran about in all directions looking for their veils. In the midst of the confusion I was wicked enough to hide the veil and slippers of the young beauty, and then throw the door wide open. It was curious to see the dismay of the poor blus.h.i.+ng creature who knew not how to escape from the bold admiration of several men. She had never in her life been in such a situation before; so when I thought the gentlemen had sufficiently indulged their curiosity, I hastened to relieve her by returning her veil.

Next day, after a fatiguing journey, we reached Soudagh in the evening.

It was with no little interest I beheld the humble abode of a woman of talent, who, through some unaccountable whim, had quitted the world while still young, and retired to almost absolute solitude. She was glad to receive the visit of compatriots, and talked frankly to us of the hards.h.i.+ps and discomforts of a life she had not the courage to abandon.

The extreme loneliness of her dwelling exposed her to frequent attacks by night, and obliged her to have a brace of pistols always at the head of her bed. People stole her fruit, her poultry, and even her vines; she was kept continually on the alert, and had the fear before her of repet.i.tion of the horrible attempt to which she was once near falling a victim.

The account she herself gave us of that affair was as follows. Two days before it happened, a Greek applied to her for work and food. Not having any employment for him, she gave him some provisions, and advised him to look elsewhere for work. The next day but one, as she was returning in the evening from a geological excursion, carrying in her hand a small hatchet she used for breaking pebbles, she perceived the same man walking behind her in silence. Feeling some uneasiness, she turned round to look in the Greek's face; but at that moment she felt herself grasped round the waist, the hatchet was s.n.a.t.c.hed out of her hand, and she received several blows with it on the head that deprived her of all consciousness. When her senses returned the a.s.sa.s.sin had disappeared.

How she reached home with her skull fractured, she never could explain.

For many months her life was in imminent danger, and her reason was impaired. At the time we saw her she still suffered acutely from some splinters of a comb that remained in her head. This is a much less romantic story than that told by Marmont.