The Circassian Chief: A Romance of RussiaKingston, William Henry Giles
History
The Circassian Chief: A Romance of Russia
Kingston, William Henry Giles
Caucasus -- History -- Juvenile fiction
"Is it so!" cried the officer, now growing furious at his
disappointment, and having strong suspicions that he had, in some way,
been deceived. "We shall see what efficacy there is in leather to draw
the truth from you," aiming at the same time several more blows at the
old man, which made him shrink down cowering before the barbarian,
though he uttered no words of complaint, nor could the slightest
information be elicited from him.
Since the entrance of the myrmidons of police, Azila had kept her seat
apparently unnoticed, bending down her head before the fire, her cloak
concealing her features so effectually that none could know them; at the
same time keeping a watchful eye on those whose presence caused such
risk to Ivan's safety; hoping that a woman's wit, in case of necessity,
would lead them astray. She now, however, could no longer contain her
indignation at the cowardly assault by the police officer on the
defenceless and decrepit old man, for, suddenly rising from her seat,
she boldly confronted the tyrant.
Drawing herself up to her full height, and assuming a look of proud
disdain, she thus addressed the brutal ruffian:
"Dastardly tyrant, can you not find some nobler object to vent your
unjust rage upon, and to display your power, than yonder decrepit old
man? Perchance you may deem a weak and helpless woman a fitter subject
for the exercise of your proud prerogative, if so--strike! fear not! I
can bear as much as that infirm old man--perchance more. What! are you
afraid? Then order some of your myrmidons to begin the attack; do they
also lack courage? Oh! most brave and noble band to fear an old man,
and young woman! Go your way then, if you have no better errand--or
search here first, for what you want!"
The rough natures of the men were awed by the majestic air, and
authoritative manner of Azila, for they drew back to the entrance of the
cavern; while their leader foamed with rage at finding himself baffled
by a young girl; but he meditated revenge.
Azila had shewn much tact in drawing off the officer's anger from the
old man to herself, and then working him into a fury, and increasing it
so as to confuse his faculties, and prevent him from making a stricter
search, when the retreat of the two conspirators might by chance have
been discovered. Her plan had well nigh succeeded, and the officer was
preparing to depart, when something seemed to strike him as left undone,
and turning to the old man, he seized him roughly by the shoulder
demanding his name; the latter hesitating to give this at once, brought
upon himself a fresh shower of blows.
"Stay--stay your hand!" cried he, "do you demand my name? alas! my
memory is so bad that I can scarcely remember it; but I am called
Orenoff, and I live here on the charity which a few people, whose hearts
are not yet turned to stone, bestow on me. My heart has undergone a
like fate, else I could not bear your treatment."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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