Chapter XI

We ought to love the griefs that come,
For they’re like clouds from heaven to throw
More radiance round the setting sun,
More splendour o’er his dying glow.

MOSULNA.

Kazim could scarcely avoid reproaching himself with extreme imprudence, when, towards the close of his first day’s progress in the desert, he took down Mangeli in his arms from the back of the half-starved and jaded animal, on which she had been unavoidably riding for many hours without intermission. He produced a store of sour milk, which he had obtained from the good villagers; but when he offered it to Mangeli, he thought in vain of the gushing and transparent streams which they had left behind them, amidst the mountains of Astracan. She drank the beverage with a cheerfulness which, notwithstanding her late illness, and the many mortifications they had already endured, still remained undiminished. But when Kazim looked upon the sun descending into the bosom of the boundless waste around them, and beheld, as far as the eye could reach, not the slightest trace of a human habitation of any sort, he almost wished that the earth would open, and receiving them into its most gloomy cavern, close upon them for ever.

With the night came the cold wind of the desert, often fatal even to those who are best prepared to resist it. Kazim and Mangeli lay down beside the poor animal that was destined to participate in all their privations. His body protected them, in some degree, from the piercing wind which blew over the plains with a wailing sound. The firmament was crowded with its wonted fires, but Kazim no longer looked at them with the interest which they had never before failed to kindle in his breast. Mangeli and her approaching fears now absorbed his every thought, and as she lay trembling beside him on the bare ground, he called out, in the agony of his heart, to Allah, to protect her through the trials she had still to encounter. But the freezing gale swept along the desert, in howling blasts, like the voice of some enormous beast of prey tracking them for destruction; nor did it cease to renew its loud and lengthened roar, until the sun re-appeared on the horizon. Warmed by its welcome rays, Kazim and Mangeli enjoyed some hours of feverish slumber, while their less unhappy companion browsed upon some tufts of half-parched herbage, which he found scattered on the surface of the steppe.

When they awoke, Kazim spoke of returning to the village which they had last left, on the borders of the desert; but Mangeli said, that she felt much better, and as their provisions were still sufficient for at least three or four days, by which time they were informed that they should certainly meet with several caravans from Thibet and Turkestan, she thought it better that they should go on, as they had already advanced so far on their journey. Kazim reluctantly yielded to this kind of reasoning, and they resumed their slow and melancholy march over the plains, without meeting a single traveller, or even an animated creature of any description, for several days in succession. The unbounded appearance of the desert was in itself appalling; but Kazim had no expression for the despair that brooded upon his heart, while he was thus penetrating through a region of silence, interrupted only by the night-winds, whose dismal tones he preferred, with all their terrors, to the unearthly stillness of the long day in those endless solitudes.

They had now seen the tenth sun go down upon the still expanded waste, and no caravan had yet appeared. Their provisions were already exhausted, when the poor animal, which still continued to bear Mangeli, being also without food, sank upon the earth, unable to proceed any farther. The shock brought on her pains somewhat prematurely; and in this condition, on the naked barren sand, without shelter, without sustenance, without even a cup of water to moisten her parched lips, did the hapless wife of Kazim become the mother of a female infant. Kazim wrung his hands with anguish, when he beheld his first-born thus come into the world, without his possessing any thing to wrap it in, save the ragged turban which he tore off his head. The babe uttered no cry. It seemed too attenuated and feeble to live; indeed it seemed already dead, for its tiny breathing was scarcely perceptible to its distracted parent.

Mangeli lay insensible for several hours, while Kazim, fearful of quitting her side for a moment, sat near her, waiting for the approach of that death from which he now saw no expectation of release. When, at length, she opened her once beauteous eyes, she rose up and asked Kazim for her infant, with an energy that quite surprised him. It was the strength of delirium; for when he placed her babe in her arms, she seemed still unconscious of its presence, and demanded, in a voice of lamentation that almost broke his heart, why he took away from her the only solace that she now had in the world? Suddenly, as the child nestled closely to her breast, where it sought in vain for its natural nutriment, the senses of the mother returned, and betrayed to her the whole extent of her misery.

Here it was impossible, at all events, that they could remain any longer. No change of place could bring destruction with more certainty, than the scene to which they were now confined. Summoning, therefore, whatever strength he could still command, Kazim urged the prostrate animal to rise; and the creature, as if he felt that some effort upon his part was necessary, even to his own safety, submitted quietly, while Mangeli once more placed upon his back, moved forward with some appearance of renovated ability. Mangeli was too weak to bear the infant in her arms, but Kazim, though scarcely stronger than his wife, assured her that he could carry it while he walked by her side.

The unhappy family had been little more than an hour from their last memorable resting-place, when Kazim, who was eagerly looking all round the horizon, cried out that he saw a horseman in the distance, who must, no doubt, be the precursor of one of the long expected caravans. Laying the babe upon the earth, he ran towards the object which was moving rapidly across the desert; he shouted with all his might, and waved his hand over his head, still running, until he fell, utterly overcome by the exertion which he had made. But the horseman, if such it was, passed out of sight; and instead of that friendly spectacle, Kazim, when he returned to himself, beheld perched near him on the ground, an immense vulture, which, glaring upon him with its piercing eyes, already seemed to claim him for its prey.

Had the vulture attacked him, he could not, at that moment, have resisted it. He looked at the ill-omened bird, as it hopped around him, with the feeling of a person oppressed in sleep by the night-mare. There was a load upon his senses that kept him fixed to the earth, and prevented him from throwing at the foul creature the sand which he instinctively grasped in his hand for the purpose. Still it hopped round and round, the slaver falling from its beak, as it feasted by anticipation on a new victim. The approach of Mangeli, however, who impelled her wearied steed to its last effort, put the vulture to flight, but not to any great distance; for he now directed his course towards the infant, which he perceived hard by. The vigour wanted by Kazim for his own protection he found at once, when he beheld the danger to which his offspring was exposed. Running towards the spot, with the fleetness of an arrow, he snatched up the child with one hand, while with the other he hurled against the ravenous intruder some dried bones of man or beast, which he picked up on the way. From one of these the vulture received such a blow on the head that he fled screaming over the desert.

The horror occasioned by this incident, soon yielded to a sense of overwhelming joy; when, after advancing for another hour or two, they beheld, at a considerable distance, an extensive lake, upon which vessels laden with dates and melons, grapes, oranges, and every kind of delicious fruit, were seen in great numbers crossing and re-crossing the surface of the waters in all directions. Islands, whose verdure was peculiarly grateful to eyes so long dazzled by the glare of the sun on the sand of the desert, were scattered over the lake in picturesque groups, intersected by streams which shone like veins of silver, and abounding with trees whose spreading branches promised a refreshing shade. A boat, rowed by two men, put off from the principal island as soon as the travellers were in sight, and approached the margin of the waters for their especial accommodation.

There was already a freshness in the atmosphere, which gave new life even to the animal that had hitherto borne Mangeli with faltering steps, and urged him to hasten towards the lake with a rapidity which Kazim in vain endeavoured to rival. But the greater the expedition they used, the farther the islands, as well as the surrounding element, receded from the view of the wearied pilgrims. During the whole day they pursued the fleeting vision, until at length it faded, on the approach of evening, altogether from their sight, leaving them in a state of helplessness for which they now gave up all hope of finding any remedy. Kazim, unable to bear the little burthen in his arms any longer, resigned the task to Mangeli, who, sitting on the ground, received her child with that vacant smile which denotes the return of delirium. Her hands trembled violently, while she endeavoured to clasp the infant to her bosom; but they fell powerless by her side, as she swooned away in the effort, overcome by fatigue, and reduced to the last stage of famine.

Kazim had a dim recollection, that in their haste towards the imaginary lake they had passed a palm-tree. Returning some hundred paces, he perceived the companion of their journey busily engaged in browsing on the leaves and tender branches of some shrubs, near which the palm-tree grew bearing a few dates still unripe. He plucked them in a moment, and bringing them to Mangeli, moistened her lips with the juice of the fruit, while he contented himself by chewing some leaves which he had torn from the shrubs. The liquid, such as it was, revived her for a moment, but she again relapsed into a state of insensibility resembling death. The poor infant lay upon her knees, exposed to all the dangers of the night. Kazim contrived to make a bed for it among branches of the palm, which he gathered for the purpose, and placing the babe at the foot of the tree, covered it, as well as he could, from the inclemency of the cold blast, which had already commenced its melancholy murmur.

When Kazim told Mangeli in the morning what he had done, he added, that as they had no hope of finding sustenance for the babe, it would be better to leave it in the desert than attempt to carry it any farther. His own strength was quite gone, and, above all, he felt apprehensions which he dared not reveal, that if another day or two passed over without their meeting with any food, temptations of the most dreadful description might be irresistible to both of them. Mangeli understood her husband at once, and nodding her head in apparent acquiescence, desired to depart without a moment’s delay. When she was seated on the horse, she expressed a wish, however, to be led towards the palm-tree, that she might at least once more behold the spot destined to be the grave of her infant. She looked at the tree with silent grief for a few minutes, and then permitting Kazim to turn the head of the animal round, she proceeded on her journey, still keeping her eyes reverted on the palm. When that beacon began to lessen by degrees, and at length to escape altogether from her sight, the voice of nature resumed its power over the heart of the agonized mother:--“My child! my child!” she exclaimed, “give me my child, or let me perish by her side!” Throwing herself from the horse, she attempted to run towards the palm-tree, but she fell upon the earth, unable to move a single pace. The prudent fears of Kazim gave way at once before the entreaties of Mangeli, as well as to his own paternal impulses, and telling her that he would in a moment gratify her wishes, let the consequences be what they might, he hastened towards the tree near which the infant was laid. But while he was removing the palm-branches, in which he had enveloped it, he was struck with horror on perceiving a black snake, of enormous dimensions, coiled round the child, and hissing with all its fury, enraged at being disturbed in its preparations for devouring the banquet it had found.

Kazim, seeing the danger to which his child was exposed, grasped the neck of the snake in his hand with a convulsive effort, and placing it under his foot, pressed it to the earth, while the venom flowed from its fangs covered with foam. Then untwisting the loathsome bands in which the babe had been folded, he took it up in his arms, and leaving the snake to its fate, returned to Mangeli, who had witnessed the result of the contest with a feeling of joy that appeared to give her new life.

While the parents were examining their infant, in order to assure themselves that the snake had done it no injury, a group of horsemen galloped towards them, who saw, from their appearance, that they were in a condition of the most deplorable misery. The strangers, alighting from their steeds, produced from the wallets which were attached to their saddles, an abundance of delicious dates and figs, together with clusters of half-dried grapes of Ghazni, the best which are yielded by the vineyards of Asia. Their caravan, they said, which was coming from Ferghana, bound for Kabul, would soon be in sight, and the unhappy travellers might expect every assistance it could afford.