The earth shall take my body, and heaven my soul.’
Hadji Murad always listened to this song with his eyes closed, and, as its last lingering note faded away, he would say in Russian:
‘Good song, wise song.’
With the arrival of Hadji Murad and his close acquaintance with him and his murids, Butler was even more captivated by the poetry of the peculiar, vigorous life led by the mountaineers.
He got himself a jacket, cherkeska and leggings, and he felt he was a mountaineer too, living the same life as these people.
On the day Hadji Murad was to leave Ivan Matveevich gathered a few of the officers to see him off.
The officers were sitting at two tables, one for tea, dispensed by Marya Dmitrievna, and the other laid with vodka, chikhir and hors d’oeuvre, when Hadji Murad, armed and dressed for the road, came limping with quick, soft steps into the room.
Everyone rose and one after the other shook hands with him.
Ivan Matveevich invited hem to sit on the ottoman, but Hadji Murad thanked him and sat on a chair by the window He was clearly not in the least put out by the silence which fell when he came in.
He closely studied the faces of those present then fixed his eyes indifferently on the table with the samovar and food on it.
Petrokovsky, one of the officers more spirited than the rest, who had not seen Hadji Murad before, asked him through the interpreter if he had liked Tiflis.
Maya,’ said Hadji Murad.
‘He says he does,’ the interpreter answered.
‘What did he like in particular?’
Hadji Murad made some reply.
‘He liked the theater best.’
‘Did he enjoy the commander-in-chief’s ball?’
Hadji Murad frowned.
‘Every people has its own customs.
Our women do not wear such clothes,’ he said, glancing at Marya Dmitrievna.
‘What didn’t he like?’
‘We have a saying,’ Hadji Murad said to the interpreter. ‘A dog asked a donkey to eat with him and gave him meat, the donkey asked the dog and gave him hay: they both went hungry.’
He smiled.
‘Every people finds its own ways good.’
The conversation stopped there.
The officers began drinking tea or eating.
Hadji Murad took the glass of tea he was offered and put it in front of him.
‘Now, would you like some cream?
Perhaps a bun?’ asked Marya Dmitrievna, serving him.
Hadji Murad inclined his head.
‘Well, good-bye then,’ said Butler, touching him on the knee.
‘When shall we meet again?’
‘Good-bye, good-bye,’ Hadji Murad said in Russian, smiling.
‘Kunak Bulur.
I your good kunak.
Now time — off we go,’ he said, tossing his head as if to show the direction he had to go.
Eldar appeared in the doorway with something large and white over his shoulder and a sword in his hand.
Hadji Murad beckoned him and Eldar with his long strides came over and gave him the white cloak and the sword.
Hadji Murad took the cloak and, dropping it over his arm, gave it to Marya Dmitrievnas saying something for the interpreter to translates
‘He says: you admired the cloak — take it,’ said the interpreter.
‘But what for?’ said Marya Dmitrievna, blushing.
‘Must do.
Adat tad it is the custom’, said Hadji Murad.
‘Well, thank you,’ said Marya Dmitrievna, taking the cloak.
‘God grant you may rescue your son.
He is a fine boy ulan yakshi,’ she added.
‘Tell him I hope he can rescue his family.’
Hadji Murad looked at Marya Dmitrievna and nodded in approval.
Then he took the sword from Eldar and gave it to Ivan Matveevich.
Ivan Matveevich took it and said to the interpreter: