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, Ammalát," 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 actions has died away. You shall be to be as a friend, as a brother." This struck the Asiatic. Tears shone in his eyes. "The Russians have conquered me," he said: "pardon me, colonel, that I thought ill of all of you. From henceforth I am a faithful servant of the Russian Tsar--a faithful friend to the Russians, soul and sword. My sword, my sword!" he cried, gazing fixedly on his costly blade; "let these tears wash from thee the Russian blood and the Tartar _naphtha_! [30] When and how can I reward you, with my service, for liberty and life?" [Footnote 30: The Tartars, to preserve their weapons, and to produce a black colour on them, smoke the metal, and then rub it with naphtha.] I am sure, my dear Maria, that you will keep me, for this, one of your sweetest kisses. Ever, ever, when feeling or acting generously, I console myself with the thought, "My Maria will praise me for this!" But when is this to happen, my darling? Fate is but a stepmother to us. Your mourning is prolonged, and the commander-in-chief has decidedly refused me leave of absence; nor am I much displeased, annoying as it is: my regiment is in a bad state of discipline--indeed, as bad as can be imagined; besides, I am charged with the construction of new barracks and the colonization of a married company. If I were absent for a month, every thing would go wrong. If I remain, what a sacrifice of my heart! Here we have been at Derbénd three days. Ammalát lives with me: he is silent, sad, and savage; but his fear is interesting, nevertheless. He speaks Russian very well, and I have commenced teaching him to read and write. His intelligence is unusually great. In time, I hope to make him a most charming Tartar. (_The conclusion of the letter has no reference to our story_.) Fragment of another letter from Colonel Verhóffsky to his _fiancée_, written six months after the preceding. From Derbénd to Smolénsk.