"But do thou simply live.... Why risk thy life?"

"I can't!--You will tell me that I behave recklessly. What else can I
do?... One begins to think--and, O Lord, what comes into his head! 'T is
only the Germans who think!..."

What was the use of arguing with him? He was a reckless man--and that is
all there is to say!

I will repeat to you two or three of the Caucasian legends to which I
have alluded. One day, in the company of the officers, Mísha began to
brag of a Circassian sabre which he had obtained in barter.--"A genuine
Persian blade!"--The officers expressed doubt as to whether it were
really genuine. Mísha began to dispute.--"See here," he exclaimed at
last,--"they say that the finest judge of Circassian sabres is one-eyed
Abdulka. I will go to him and ask."--The officers were dumbfounded.

"What Abdulka? The one who lives in the mountains? The one who is not at
peace with us? Abdul-Khan?"

"The very man."

"But he will take thee for a scout, he will place thee in the
bug-house,--or he will cut off thy head with that same sabre. And how
wilt thou make thy way to him? They will seize thee immediately."

"But I will go to him, nevertheless."

"We bet that thou wilt not go!"