Ammalát was married; but, as it often happens in the East, only from motives of interest. He had never seen his bride before his marriage, and afterwards found no attraction in her which could awake his sleeping heart. In course of time, his wife became blind; and this circumstance loosened still more a tie founded on Asiatic customs rather than affection. Family disagreements with his father-in-law and uncle, the Shamkhál, still further separated the young couple, and they were seldom together. Was it strange, under the circumstances, that a young man, ardent by nature, self-willed by nature, should be inspired with a new love? To be with her was his highest happiness--to await her arrival his most delightful occupation. He ever felt a tremor when he heard her voice: each accent, like a ray of the sun, penetrated his soul. This feeling resembled pain, but a pain so delicious, that he would have prolonged it for ages. Little by little the acquaintance between the young people grew into friendship--they were almost continually together. The Khan frequently departed to the interior of Avár for business of government or military arrangements, leaving his guest to the care of his wife, a quiet, silent woman. He was not blind to the inclination of Ammalát for his daughter, and in secret rejoiced at it; it flattered his ambition, and forwarded his military views; a connexion with a Bek possessing the right to the Shamkhalát would place in his hands a thousand means of injuring the Russians. The Khánsha, occupied in her household affairs, not infrequently left Ammalát for hours together in her apartments--as he was a relation; and Seltanetta, with two or three of her personal attendants, seated on cushions, and engaged in needlework, would not remark how the hours flew by, conversing with the guest, and listening to his talk. Sometimes Ammalát would sit long, long, reclining at the feet of his Seltanetta, without uttering a word, and gazing at her dark, absorbing eyes; or enjoying the mountain prospect from her window, which opened towards the north, on the rugged banks and windings of the roaring Ouzén, over which hung the castle of the Khan. By the side of this being, innocent as a child, Ammalát forgot the desires which she as yet knew not; and, dissolving in a joy, strange, incomprehensible to himself, he thought not of the past nor of the future; he thought of nothing--he could only feel; and indolently, without taking the cup from his lips, he drained his draught of bliss, drop by drop. Thus passed a year.