Hadji Murád Leo Tolstoy (inspirational books for women txt) 📖

had reported it to the Tsar: as a brilliant achievement of the Russian army. But the word “rescue” plainly indicated that it was not a brilliant victory but a blunder costing many lives. Everybody understood this, and some pretended not to notice the meaning of the General’s words, others nervously waited to see what would follow, while a few exchanged glances and smiled. Only the carroty General with the bristly mustaches noticed nothing, and carried away by his narrative, quietly replied:

“At the rescue, your Excellency.”

Having started on his favorite theme, the General recounted circumstantially how Hadji Murád had so cleverly cut the detachment in two, that if the rescue party had not arrived (he seemed to be particularly fond of repeating the word “rescue”) not a man in the division would have escaped, because⁠ ⁠… The General did not finish his story, for Manana Orbelyáni, having understood what was happening, interrupted him by asking if he had found comfortable quarters in Tiflis. The General, surprised, glanced at everybody all round and saw his aides-de-camp from the end of the table looking fixedly and significantly at him, and suddenly he understood! Without replying to the Princess’s question, he frowned, became silent, and began hurriedly eating, without chewing, the delicacy that lay on his plate, both the appearance and taste of which completely mystified him.

Everybody felt uncomfortable, but the discomfort of the situation was relieved by the Georgian prince⁠—a very stupid man, but an extraordinarily refined and artful flatterer and courtier⁠—who sat on the other side of Princess Vorontsóva. Without seeming to have noticed anything, he began to relate how Hadji Murád had carried off the widow of Akhmet Khan of Mekhtulí.

“He came into the village at night, seized what he wanted, and galloped off again with the whole party.”

“Why did he want that particular woman?” asked the Princess.

“Oh, he was her husband’s enemy, and pursued him, but could never once succeed in meeting him right up to the time of his death, so he revenged himself on the widow.”

The Princess translated this into French for her old friend Countess Choiseuil, who sat next to the Georgian prince.

“Quelle horreur!”24 said the countess, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

“Oh no!” said Vorontsóv, smiling. “I have been told that he treated his captive with chivalrous respect and afterwards released her.”

“Yes, for a ransom!”

“Well, of course. But all the same he acted honorably.”

These words of the Prince’s set the tone for the further conversation. The courtiers understood that the more importance was attributed to Hadji Murád the better the Prince would be pleased.

“The man’s audacity is amazing. A remarkable man!”

“Why, in 1849 he dashed into Temir Khan Shurá, and plundered the shops in broad daylight.”

An Armenian sitting at the end of the table, who had been in Temir Khan Shurá at the time, related the particulars of that exploit of Hadji Murád’s.

In fact, Hadji Murád was talked about during the whole dinner.

Everybody in succession praised his courage, his ability, and his magnanimity. Someone mentioned his having ordered twenty six prisoners to be slain; but that too was met by the usual rejoinder, “What’s to be done? À la guerre, comme à la guerre!”25

“He is a great man.”

“Had he been born in Europe he might have been another Napoleon,” said the stupid Georgian prince with a gift of flattery.

He knew that every mention of Napoleon was pleasant to Vorontsóv, who wore the White Cross at his neck as a reward for having defeated him.

“Well, not Napoleon, perhaps, but a gallant cavalry general, if you like,” said Vorontsóv.

“If not Napoleon, then Murat.”

“And his name is Hadji Murád!”

“Hadji Murád has surrendered, and now there’ll be an end to Shamil also,” someone remarked.

“They feel that now”⁠—this “now” meant under Vorontsóv⁠—“they can’t hold out,” remarked another.

“Tout cela est grâce à vous!”26 said Manana Orbelyáni.

Prince Vorontsóv tried to moderate the waves of flattery which began to flow over him. Still, it was pleasant, and in the best of spirits he led his lady back into the drawing room.

After dinner, when coffee was being served in the drawing room, the Prince was particularly amiable to everybody, and going up to the General with the red bristly mustaches he tried to appear not to have noticed his blunder.

Having made a round of the visitors, he sat down to the card table. He only played the old-fashioned game of ombre. His partners were the Georgian prince, an Armenian general (who had learned the game of ombre from Prince Vorontsóv’s valet), and Doctor Andréevsky, a man remarkable for the great influence he exercised.

Placing beside him his gold snuffbox, with a portrait of Aleksandr I on the lid, the Prince tore open a pack of highly-glazed cards, and was going to spread them out, when his Italian valet, Giovanni, brought him a letter on a silver tray.

“Another courier, your Excellency.”

Vorontsóv laid down the cards, excused himself, opened the letter, and began to read.

The letter was from his son, who described Hadji Murád’s surrender and his own encounter with Meller-Zakomélsky.

The Princess came up and inquired what their son had written.

“It’s all about the same matter.⁠ ⁠… Il a eu quelques désagréments avec le commandant de la place. Simon a eu tort.⁠ ⁠…27 But ‘All’s well that ends well,’ ” he added in English, handing the letter to his wife; and turning to his respectfully waiting partners, he asked them to draw cards.

When the first round had been dealt, Vorontsóv did what he was in the habit of doing when in a particularly pleasant mood: with his white, wrinkled old hand he took out a pinch of French snuff, carried it to his nose, and released it.

X

When, next day, Hadji Murád appeared at the Prince’s palace, the waiting room was already full of people. Yesterday’s general with the bristly mustaches was there in full uniform, with all his decorations, having come to take leave.