"'Had I a herd of a thousand mares,' said Azamat, 'I would give it to you for your Karagyoz.'

"'Iok , No, I wouldn't take it,' replied Kazbich indifferently.

"'Listen, Kazbich,' Azamat coaxed him. 'You are a good man and a brave warrior; my father fears the Russians and doesn't let me go into the mountains. Give me your horse and I'll do anything you want, I'll steal for you my father's best musket or sword, whatever you wish-and his saber is a real Gurda

"Kazbich was silent.

"'When I first saw your horse,' Azamat went on, 'prancing under you, his nostrils open wide and sparks flying under his hoofs, something strange happened in my soul, and I lost interest in everything. I have nothing but contempt now for my father's best horses, I'm ashamed to be seen riding them, and I have been sick at heart. In my misery I've spent days on end sitting on a hill, thinking of nothing but your fleet-footed Karagyoz with his proud stride and sleek back as straight as an arrow, his blazing eyes looking into mine as if he wanted to speak to me. I'll die, Kazbich, if you will not sell him to me,' said Azamat in a trembling voice.

"I thought I heard him sob; and I must tell you that Azamat was a most stubborn lad and even when he was younger nothing could ever make him cry.

"In reply to his tears I heard something like a laugh.

"'Listen!' said Azamat, his voice firm now. 'You see I am ready to do anything. I could steal my sister for you if you want. How she can dance and sing! And her gold embroidery is something wonderful! The Turkish Padishah himself never had a wife like her. If you want her, wait for me tomorrow night in the gorge where the stream flows. I'll go by with her on the way to the next village-and she'll be yours. Isn't Bela worth your steed?'

"For a long, long time Kazbich was silent. At last instead of replying, he began softly singing an old song: