Alas!
What bad luck!"
Early in the morning the partners crossed the little bridge across the Terek river, went around the barracks, and disappeared deep into the green valley along which ran the Georgian Military Highway.
"We're in luck, Pussy," said Ostap. "It rained last night so we won't have to swallow the dust.
Breathe in the fresh air, marshal.
Sing something.
Recite some Caucasian poetry and behave as befits the occasion."
But Ippolit Matveyevich did not sing or recite poetry.
The road went uphill.
The nights spent in the open made themselves felt by pains in his side and heaviness in his legs, and the salami sausage made itself felt by a constant and griping indigestion.
He walked along, holding in his hand a five-pound loaf of bread wrapped in newspaper, his left foot dragging slightly.
On the move again!
But this time towards Tiflis; this time along the most beautiful road in the world.
Ippolit Matveyevich could not have cared less.
He did not look around him as Ostap did.
He certainly did not notice the Terek, which now could just be heard rumbling at the bottom of the valley.
It was only the ice-capped mountain-tops glistening in the sun which somehow reminded him of a sort of cross between the sparkle of diamonds and the best brocade coffins of Bezenchuk the undertaker.
After Balta the road entered and continued as a narrow ledge cut in the dark overhanging cliff.
The road spiralled upwards, and by evening the concessionaires reached the village of Lars, about three thousand feet above sea level.
They passed the night in a poor native hotel without charge and were even given a glass of milk each for delighting the owner and his guests with card tricks.
The morning was so glorious that Ippolit Matveyevich, braced by the mountain air, began to stride along more cheerfully than the day before.
Just behind Lars rose the impressive rock wall of the Bokovoi ridge.
At this point the Terek valley closed up into a series of narrow gorges.
The scenery became more and more sombre, while the inscriptions on the cliffs grew more frequent At the point where the cliffs squeezed the Terek's flow between them to the extent that the span of the bridge was no more than ten feet, the concessionaires saw so many inscriptions on the side of the gorge that Ostap forgot the majestic sight of the Daryal gorge and shouted out, trying to drown the rumble and rushing of the Terek:
"Great people!
Look at that, marshal!
Do you see it? Just a little higher than the cloud and slightly lower than the eagle!
An inscription which says,
'Micky and Mike, July 1914'.
An unforgettable sight!
Notice the artistry with which it was done.
Each letter is three feet high, and they used oil paints.
Where are you now, Nicky and Mike?"
"Pussy," continued Ostap, "let's record ourselves for prosperity, too.
I have some chalk, by the way.
Honestly, I'll go up and write
'Pussy and Ossy were here'."
And without giving it much thought, Ostap put down the supply of sausage on the wall separating the road from the seething depths of the Terek and began clambering up the rocks.
At first Ippolit Matveyevich watched the smooth operator's ascent, but then lost interest and began to survey the base of Tamara's castle, which stood on a rock like a horse's tooth.
Just at this time, about a mile away from the concessionaires, Father Theodore entered the Daryal gorge from the direction of Tiflis.
He marched along like a soldier with his eyes, as hard as diamonds, fixed ahead of him, supporting himself on a large crook.
With his last remaining money Father Theodore had reached Tiflis and was now walking home, subsisting on charity.
While crossing the Cross gap he had been bitten by an eagle.
Father Theodore hit out at the insolent bird with his crook and continued on his way.
As he went along, intermingling with the clouds, he muttered:
"Not for personal gain, but at the wishes of my wife who sent me."
The distance between the enemies narrowed.
Turning a sharp bend, Father Theodore came across an old man in a gold pince-nez.
The gorge split asunder before Father Theodore's eyes.
The Terek stopped its thousand-year-old roar.