Part 16 (1/2)

”But now the young bear, gnas.h.i.+ng its teeth, rushed upon Thomar and seized the club in Thomar's hands with its teeth and claws. 'Thomar, don't let him have it!' cried I. But, indeed, he had no fear of the wild beast, for he drew his knife from his girdle and thrust it with all his might into the head of the furiously charging wild beast.”

”Oho!” interrupted Thomar, ”don't forget that you also rushed upon it, and gave me time to draw out my knife by seizing the ears of the bear in both hands and dragging it off me.”

The father looked at the two children with an ever-darkening face, but the merchant solemnly shook his head and raised his hands aloft with an expression of horror. ”O foolish--O mad children!” cried he.

”The bear had now had enough,” continued Milieva, trying to give her talkative little mouth an earnest expression befitting her serious narration; ”it tore itself out of our hands, and with a great roar took refuge from us in a subterranean cave, taking along with it Thomar's knife, buried in its head. Now this knife we had got from Ha.s.san Beg, so we could not afford to lose it. So what do you think Thomar did? He dived into the narrow hole after the bear, and, seizing it there by the throat, throttled it, and dragged it out.”

Cold drops of perspiration trickled down the foreheads of the two men.

”Then he caught the young bear by the foot, and as it was heavy we both dragged it along together. We had to make haste, for the old bear had scented our trail and was after us, and pursued us as far as the herds, where the herd-keepers shot it down, but its young one we brought along with us.”

”O ye senseless children!” cried the merchant in his terror. ”O blockheads! Suppose the bear had clawed your faces, you would have been disfigured forevermore. It would really serve you right if your father gave you a good thras.h.i.+ng with this new whip.”

And that is what really did happen.

In his wrath Kasi Mollah seized the freshly made, mule-driving whip, and cannot one imagine the fury, begotten of fear, which would take possession of a father's heart on hearing such a hair-bristling narrative from the lips of his children? To poke their noses into a bear's den, forsooth! The old bear would have torn the pair of them to pieces had she been able to catch them! They had certainly well deserved a thras.h.i.+ng, and a good thras.h.i.+ng too! Thomar would not have wept or groaned however many stripes he might have got; he only clinched his teeth, and, standing upright, bore with tearless eyes the las.h.i.+ng of the whip on his back and shoulders without a cry, without a sob.

But Milieva cast herself, shrieking, on her father's breast, and the tears began to pour abundantly from her radiantly bright eyes. She caught hold of the Circa.s.sian's chastising right arm with both her hands, and begged so sweetly, ”Do not hurt Thomar; do not hurt him, father! It was indeed not his fault. I a.s.sure you I set him on. I told him to go after them. Thomar only went because I asked him.”

Kasi Mollah tried to push the child aside, whereupon she flung her arms round Thomar's neck and protected her brother's body, exclaiming, her face all aglow, ”'Tis my fault, beat me, but don't hurt Thomar!”

The lad would have disengaged her arms, and, clinching his teeth for pain, said:

”'Tis not true! Milieva did not urge me to do it. Milieva was looking on from a distance. Milieva was not there. Don't hit Milieva.”

But the girl threw her arms so tightly round her father that he was not able to tear himself loose. At last, in sheer desperation, he was obliged to lift the paternal instrument of admonition against the girl also. But now the youth s.n.a.t.c.hed at the whip, and exclaimed, with sparkling eyes:

”Strike her not, for she has done no wrong! Beat me as much as you like, but do not strike Milieva. If you do I will leave your house, and you shall never see me more!”

”What, you ragged cub, you!” cried the old Circa.s.sian, infuriated by the opposition of his son, and forcibly tearing away the whip from his hand, he struck the girl a violent blow across the shoulders with it.

Milieva ceased to weep, she only pressed her lips together, as her brother had already taught her to do, and cast down her eyes; but Thomar perceived a tremor run through her tender, maidenly bosom at the torture.

The old Circa.s.sian himself felt sorry for the poor thing, though he was too proud to show it; but it was plain he had put his wrath behind him from the fact that he now began to wind the whip round its handle.

Thomar bent over the girl's shoulder, and wherever he saw one of the painful bruises which she had got on his account he kissed it softly, and after that he kissed the girl's face, and those kisses were parting kisses.

He said not a word to anybody in the house, but taking up his shepherd's staff and his rustic flute, he went forth from his father's dwelling without once looking behind him.

”Father,” cried the girl, sobbing, ”Thomar is going away forever!”

The old Circa.s.sian made no reply. His son did not look back at him, and he did not cast a glance after his son, and yet they were both heart-broken on each other's account.

”He'll soon be back,” thought the father to himself. ”Hunger and want will bring him back.”

It was late evening, and still the youth had not returned. The sun had set long ago. A violent storm with thunder and lightning 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 Circa.s.sian, and he would not let the girl go.

”Listen, how the rain pours, and how the wild beasts are howling!