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Through the Desert. Henryk SienkiewiczЧитать онлайн книгу.

Through the Desert - Henryk Sienkiewicz


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      “Idris,” said Stasch, “I am not speaking to Chamis, whose head is as empty as a gourd bottle, nor to Gebhr, who is an infamous jackal, but to you; I know that you want to bring us to the Mahdi and deliver us over to Smain. But if you are doing it to gain money, then know that this little girl’s father is richer than all the Sudanese together.”

      “And what does that mean?” interrupted Idris.

      “What does it mean? Return of your own free will and the great Mehendisi will not be sparing of his money, neither will my father.”

      “Or they will hand us over to the government, and we will be hanged.”

      “No, Idris. You will certainly be hanged if you are caught in your flight—that is sure to happen. But if you return voluntarily you will not be punished; moreover, you will be rich men till the end of your days. You know that the white people of Europe always keep their word. And I give you the word of honor of both Mehendisi that it is so, and that it will be as I say.”

      Stasch was really convinced that his father and Mr. Rawlison would a thousand times rather keep the promise he made than to let them both, especially Nell, take such a terrible journey and lead a still more terrible life in the midst of the savage and angry tribes of the Mahdi. So he waited with beating heart for Idris to answer, but the latter was wrapt in silence; and after a while he merely said:

      “You say the father of the little girl and yours would give us a great deal of money?”

      “That is so.”

      “And would all their money be able to unlock the gates of Paradise for us, which the blessing of the Mahdi opens?”

      “Bismillah!” hereupon cried the two Bedouins and Gebhr and Chamis.

      Stasch now lost all hope, for he knew that though Orientals are very greedy for money and are easily corrupted, when a real Mohammedan looks at anything from a religious point of view no treasures of this world can tempt him.

      Idris, encouraged by the assenting cries of his fellows, continued to talk, not apparently in answer to Stasch, but for the purpose of gaining their further approval and praise.

      “We are fortunate enough to belong to the same tribe as the holy prophet, but the noble Fatima and her children are his relatives, and the great Mahdi loves them. So when we deliver you and this little girl into his hands he will exchange you for Fatima and her children and bless us. Know that even the water in which he bathes in the morning will, according to the Koran, heal the sick and wash away sins. How powerful must his blessing then be?”

      “Bismillah!” repeated the Sudanese and the Bedouins.

      But Stasch, grasping the last thread of hope, said: “Then take me along, but the Bedouins must return with the little girl. They will deliver Fatima and her children in exchange for me alone.”

      “They are more likely to give them up in exchange for you both.”

      Thereupon the boy turned to Chamis:

      “Your father will have to bear the brunt of your deeds.”

      “My father is now in the desert on his way to the prophet,” answered Chamis.

      “Then he will be caught and hanged.”

      But here Idris thought it better to encourage his comrades.

      “The hawks,” he said, “who are to eat the flesh of our bones are not yet hatched. We know what threatens, but we are no longer children, and we have been familiar with the desert for some time. These people,” pointing to the Bedouins, “have often been in Barbary, and they know the roads that are traversed only by gazels. There no one will find us and no one will follow us. We must go to Bahr-Yoosuf and then to the Nile to draw water, but we shall do that by night. And besides, do you suppose that there are no secret friends of the Mahdi by the river? Let me tell you that the further south we go, the surer we are of finding whole tribes and their sheiks only waiting for an occasion to grasp their swords in defense of the true faith. These tribes will give the camels food and water and set the pursuers on the wrong track. We know that the Mahdi is far away, but we also know that every day brings us nearer to the sheepskin on which the holy prophet kneels to pray.”

      “Bismillah!” cried his comrades for the third time.

      It was evident that Idris had greatly risen in their estimation. Stasch realized that everything was lost, but thinking that at any rate he could protect Nell from the fury of the Sudanese, he said: “After a ride of six hours the little lady has reached here half dead. How do you suppose that she will stand such a long journey? If she dies, I shall die, too, and who will you then have to take to the Mahdi?”

      At first Idris could not answer. Stasch, seeing this, continued:

      “And how will the Mahdi and Smain receive you when they learn that through your stupidity Fatima and her children must forfeit their lives?”

      But the Sudanese collected himself and said:

      “I saw how you seized Gebhr by the throat. By Allah, you are a young lion, and will not die, and she——”

      Here he looked at Nell’s little head leaning up against old Dinah’s knees, and in a peculiarly soft voice he concluded:

      “We will make a nest, a little bird’s nest, for her on the hump of the camel, so that she will not feel the fatigue and can sleep on the way as peacefully as she is sleeping now.”

      As he said this he went toward the camels, and with the help of the Bedouins began to prepare a seat for the girl on the back of the best dromedary. While doing this they talked a great deal, and argued a little; but at last they were able to arrange, with the help of ropes, rugs, and bamboo rods, something like a deep, immovable basket, in which Nell could either sit or lie down, but from which she could not fall. Over this seat, which was so spacious that Dinah also found room in it, they stretched a canvas roof.

      “Do you see,” said Idris to Stasch, “quails’ eggs would not break in these cloth rugs. The old woman will ride with the little lady, so that she can wait on her night and day. You will sit with me on another camel, but you can ride alongside of her and take care of her.”

      Stasch was glad that he had at last gained that much. Thinking over the situation, he became convinced that possibly they would be found before they reached the first cataract, and this thought gave him courage. But he needed sleep, and he attempted to fasten himself to the saddle with ropes, for as it was not necessary to support Nell any longer, he thought he might get a few hours’ rest.

      The night was now brighter, and the jackals stopped whining in the narrow passes. The caravan was to start directly, but first the Sudanese, on seeing the sunrise, went behind a rock a few steps off, and there began their morning ablutions, following out exactly the instructions of the Koran, but instead of water, which they wanted to save, they used sand. Then they raised their voices, and went through the first morning prayer. In the great stillness their words rang out distinctly: “In the name of the merciful and pitying God. Glory and honor be to the Lord, the ruler of the world, who shows mercy and pity on the day of judgment. We honor Thee, we confess to Thee, we beg help of Thee. Lead us on in the path of those for whom Thou dost not spare Thy benefits, but not in the ways of evil-doers, who have incurred Thy anger, and live in sin. Amen.”

      When Stasch heard these words he also raised his eyes to heaven—and in this distant country, in the midst of the yellow, silent sand of the desert plains, he began:

      “We fly to thy patronage, O holy Mother of God, despise not our petitions in our necessities!”

[2]All the relatives of the Mahdi bore the title “Noble”.
[3]A large oasis to the west of the Nile.


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