Volume Two—Chapter One.

Thus far, Ivan had been successful in the accomplishment of his journey, though there still remained many difficulties to overcome. These, however, were lessened by the presence of mind and cleverness which Javis at all times displayed. He seemed too to be possessed of noble and generous sentiments, so that, notwithstanding their difference in rank, Ivan began to feel for him a sincere friendship, independently of the gratitude due to his assistance and attention.

A change, however, had come over him, for though active and intelligent as ever, he was no longer the gay light hearted being, he had at first appeared. It was in vain, that Ivan endeavoured to discover the cause: Javis would start at times, and walk on muttering to himself, as if some important subject occupied his thoughts: his laugh was hollow, and his smile forced and painful. Young Conrin often turned an inquiring glance towards him, but seemed also equally puzzled to account for the alteration. He too had won much upon Ivan’s regard, by his gentle and unassuming behaviour, and by his evident desire to please his self-constituted masters. It was with much regret, therefore, on the morning of their departure, and while Javis had gone out to make some necessary purchases for their journey, that Ivan called the boy to him, to bid him farewell.

“We must now part, Conrin. Believe me that I do so with regret; but we return not to the place whence we came, while you must go back to your parents and friends. Here, take this small sum of money, it is all I can spare, but you may require it on your journey.”

While he spoke, the tears fell fast from the boy’s eyes. “Alas! why are you so ready to dismiss me from your company, Sir?” he said, putting aside the money. “Have I done aught to offend you? I have no home—no friends to return to—I have quitted all, and for ever! Oh, let me accompany you then as your servant, and I will serve you faithfully and truly.”

“But we go far from hence, boy,” said Ivan; “and perchance, you might never again see your own native Russia.”

“It matters not, Sir, to what part of the country, or to what part of the world you go. Whither you go, there I will follow you. But in pity, dismiss not an orphan child, who claims your protection.”

Seeing that Ivan still seemed to hesitate, he added, “Think not that I am a serf, escaping from bondage: no, I am free-born, and free alone will I live; for no proud master shall ever claim me as his slave.” The boy’s eyes flashed with a look of proud independence as he spoke.

“But, young Conrin,” answered Ivan, “I am as you see, but a poor old man, without the means of supporting you, or of giving you employment fit for your youth.”

“I seek not the wages of a servant,” answered Conrin; “perchance too, I may find the opportunity of serving you. Try me, at least, and if I prove useless, you can but dismiss me at last.”

“But suppose, that though we are old men, we may lead you into far and strange countries, where you may be exposed to hardships, under which your tender years may sink? You will then repent that you followed us,” said Ivan.

“I fear no danger that you can lead me into,” answered the boy; “and am too well accustomed to hardships to sink under them. Besides, I am older than I appear, and understand full well the task I undertake.”

Ivan still hesitated to comply with young Conrin’s extraordinary fancy, as it seemed, when Javis entered, and the boy instantly referred his cause to him. Javis, without hesitation, seconded his petition, when Ivan, at length, consented to his accompanying them.

“Oh, trust me, Sirs,” he said, “that you will not find me wanting in aught that becomes a servant. You know not how my heart is lightened by your kindness.”

The pleasure which beamed in the speaker’s eyes attested the truth of his words; yet, it had before occurred to Ivan, and now did so again, that the boy had seen through their disguise from the very first; and he was not without a suspicion, that the boy followed them thus pertinaciously, as a spy sent to betray them at the end of their journey, and in the very moment when they might have congratulated themselves on having effected their escape. Ivan knew how varied and constant are the devices made use of in Russia to entrap the unwary, and to shew that the power of that vast engine of despotism, the secret police, can extend to the very confines of the Empire.

At length, however, he dismissed the thought as contradicting the stamp which nature sets on the countenances of her children; and while looking at the boy’s face, he felt convinced he was incapable of such treachery.

That Conrin was not deceived by the disguise the fugitives had assumed, Ivan felt convinced, as he at all times addressed him in a tone and manner of respect that he would scarcely have paid to a poor peasant pilgrim, although children are early taught in Russia to treat age with respect and attention. He never, also, attempted to intrude into their presence, keeping aloof till called to approach nearer, though, several times, Ivan had discovered, as he thought, the boy’s eyes fixed on him with an earnest and inquiring gaze, as if he wished to read his very thoughts. But again, he fancied that in that idea he must have been mistaken. He saw clearly, that at all events, there was something which the boy wished to conceal, and whatever was the cause of his attachment, he felt gratified in the knowledge that there was one more human being who could care for him, in the world.

We will not accompany the travellers each day in their long and tedious journey, in company with the returning pilgrims, of whom, in a short time, they became very weary, so much so, that Javis was of opinion they might now venture to travel on at a faster speed, by themselves. For this purpose, he left the party, as they encamped, in search of some of the numerous wandering bands of his people, whom he had heard were in the neighbourhood.

He returned the next morning before break of day, with the intelligence that he had procured a telga, which was in waiting a short distance in advance, to which he led Ivan and their young companion, before the pilgrims had begun their march. These were, accordingly, soon left a long way behind. Our travellers were fortunate in procuring a constant change of horses and vehicles, from the friendly tribes of Zingani, or from peasants with whom they had communication, so that they rapidly approached the confines of the Empire, to cross which would prove another difficulty, and demand a change of disguise.

Since leaving the band of pilgrims, Ivan and his companions had kept a south-westerly course, as much as possible, by cross-roads and bye-paths, both to avoid observation, and because, in the more unfrequented parts of the country, Javis had a greater chance of encountering some of the wandering tribes of his people. Indeed, from information he had received, he expected to find a party of them encamped in the neighbourhood of the Pruth. The travellers were now approaching that river, where it divides the principality of Moldavia from the Russian province of Bessarabia, in which they now were; their greatest hazard being in passing the Russian posts on the frontier, though they had yet other dangers to encounter, from the numerous spies sent out by the Imperial government, who exercise complete influence in the principality, to the very borders of the Turkish provinces.

As they journeyed on, they observed a figure before them, jumping and singing as he went, now and then stopping to look around him, and then again pursuing his extraordinary antics. When he saw the party approaching, instead of endeavouring to escape, by increasing his speed, he turned round to meet them. In this ragged, half-witted creature, fantastically dressed in coloured rags and tatters, Javis recognised one of his own race. A few words from Javis, in the Rommany language, brought the poor being directly to their side. He gave them to understand that an encampment of his people was not far off, adding that he would lead them to the spot.

As they came in sight of the encampment, several fierce-looking men of the Zingani, on seeing strangers approach, rushed out with threatening gestures; but when Javis called to them in their own language, they gave him a hearty, though a rude welcome, and forthwith ushered the strangers within the circle of their camp.

Here all the people of the tribe gathered round the travellers, telling them that they had been already informed of their approach, and were prepared to offer them assistance. Javis, in return, explained the wishes of his friend and himself, and the necessity of proceeding without delay. Several men at once volunteered to assist them in crossing the river at an unguarded spot, and to be answerable for their safety, on condition of their assuming the dress and character of their own people, as they were in the custom of communicating with others of their tribe in Moldavia. They also advised them to continue the same disguise till they had arrived in the Turkish provinces, as numerous tribes of their people were in the country, who would assist them. Such a dress would, moreover, exempt them from the attack of the numerous robbers who infested the land, but who would not deem such poor-looking wayfarers worth pillaging.

To this proposition Ivan gladly assented; and, after a plentiful supply of provisions had been placed before them, Javis set about arranging the necessary dresses; the Zingani treating Ivan and his youthful companion with the greatest respect.

While engaged in this employment, the brow of Javis grew more clouded and uneasy than before. As he passed Ivan, he would turn a quick uncertain glance towards him, his countenance assuming an expression as if a sudden pang had tormented him, and then he would endeavour to look calm and composed as before.

Ivan, overcome with the fatigue of his journey, gladly accepted the offer made by the chief of the tribe to rest in his tent, where throwing himself on a heap of skins, he was soon wrapt in deep sleep, it yet wanting some time before it would be safe to venture across the Pruth.

The dark shades of evening were fast coming on, and the sky gave threatening warnings of a rough tempestuous night, when Javis, unperceived, as he thought, by any of the people, stole from the camp. He looked tremblingly behind him, but saw no one following, and again pursued his way. He hastened onwards at a fast rate, then stopped and hesitated; fear and doubt were working in his breast. At last he mustered all his courage, and again ran quickly on. His purpose he scarce dared utter to himself. Could he, the hitherto brave, the true, the most loved of all his tribe, be guilty of treachery?

The long-threatened storm now broke with sudden fury; the lightning flashed brightly, and the wind loudly howled. Javis kept up his speed. The Russian guard-house was in sight, when a flash brighter and more dazzling than before darted from the clouds. For a moment his eyes were blinded. He looked up, and fancied that a tall and majestic form rose before him. The attitude of this phantom of his brain was threatening; the countenance fierce and angry.

He beheld before him, as he believed, the spirit of his tribe, such as it had been described to him. He thought a voice, as if borne on the blast of the tempest, uttered these awful words:

“Cursed is he who shall hinder the friend of our tribe on his way; doubly cursed the betrayer of the confiding one, and thrice cursed the perjurer.”

The youth’s eyes rolled wildly; his heart throbbed with violent pulsation; his limbs trembled. He could not move. He fell prostrate to the earth, where he lay for some time—he knew not how long. A gentle touch on his shoulder recalled him to consciousness.

“Rise!” said a gentle voice, yet trembling as if with alarm; “rise! you could not do the vile deed. Thank the great spirit that you have been saved so cursed an act—an act so contrary to your nature. Think you thus to have won a maiden’s love? She would have doubly hated you. Rise, and return to the camp, and henceforward atone by fidelity, for your thoughts of treachery. Guard with your own life his you would have taken, and in time the curse, which hangs over you for your oath broken in thought, may be averted.”

The speaker turned, and flew towards the camp, when Javis arose, and threw himself on his knees on the ground.

“Great spirit,” he cried, “I will obey you! Take but this heavy curse from off me, and I will follow this stranger wheresoever he listeth to go. Never will I quit him until I see him in safety in his native land. Though my heart consume with hopeless love, yet will I endure all for his sake. Let this heavy trial gain me pardon.”

Javis arose, and fled back to the camp.

Ivan, unconscious of the danger and treachery he had escaped, awoke and came forth from his tent; soon after which Javis, having thrown aside all marks of age, appeared in his proper character, and Ivan gladly followed his example. Returning again to the tent, he equipped himself as a young Gipsy, Conrin having also assumed the same character.

When all was prepared, the fugitives set forward with their Gipsy guides towards the banks of the river. The weather was still dark and stormy, and the wind whistled among the few straggling trees which grew on the shore. Here and there a star glimmered forth, as the dark masses of clouds were rapidly driven across the sky. The water rushed by in turbid eddies; and for a moment the wild scene was lit up by flashes of lightning, to be again left in total darkness.

Descending a steep bank, the guides launched a small boat which had been concealed among some thick underwood, and the travellers, taking their seats, pushed off into the stream. The Gipsies, however, well knew their course, and, as they believed that none of the Russian guards were likely, on such a night, to venture away from their posts, seemed free from apprehension.

It was thus, amid storm and tempest, that Ivan bade farewell for ever to the inhospitable territories of Russia, leaving behind him few regrets, and looking forward to his future path with enthusiastic ardour and confidence.

The Gipsies pulled their slight bark boldly and safely across the boiling stream. While Ivan landed on the opposite shore, a vivid flash followed by a long continued roar of thunder, gave him the last glimpse of Russia, as he and his two companions stopped for an instant to gaze at it without speaking.

The guides now took a direction across the wild and uncultivated ground, which extends for a considerable distance along the shores of the Pruth. No rain had fallen to impede their progress, and with rapid strides they pursued their way, Javis assisting young Conrin, who could scarcely keep pace with the party. They hastened on thus, in hope of reaching some shelter, before the expected rain should fall, and having travelled some miles, the barking of dogs gave notice that they were approaching a human habitation. A loud whistle in return was given by the guides, when the fierce bark was changed into a cry of welcome, and the fugitives found themselves at the entrance of another Gipsy encampment. The chief came forward to meet them, and as soon as he had heard their story from Javis, he received them with a courteous welcome.

When the guides were about to return, Ivan offered them some remuneration for their trouble. “No,” said they, refusing it, “we take nothing from the friends of our people, and from one who is so highly esteemed by our brother near Moscow. It is from our enemies and from those who oppress us, that we exact tribute; and when they do not give we take. May a prosperous journey be your lot.”

Saying which, they hastened away on their return across the river.

Contrary to the expectations of the travellers, they had no sooner reached the encampment than the sky grew clear, the stars shone out brightly, the wind subsided, and the summer storm had passed away. They were glad to find rest and shelter in the friendly tents of these wild people, whom, however dishonest they might be towards others, Ivan had found faithful and true to him. One of their small skin-covered tents were prepared for Ivan’s accommodation, into which he was invited to enter, and repose himself. Young Conrin, seating himself at the entrance, prepared to watch his master while he slept; the boy, however, over-rated his own powers, for while he fancied that he kept guard, a deep slumber stole on his weariness.

Ivan slept soundly for some hours, fatigued as he was with the exertions of the last few days and the anxiety of his escape. As he was first returning to consciousness, the curtains of his small tent being closed, and a gentle light streaming through them, he fancied, or it might have been a waking dream, that a strain of music fell on his ear. As he listened, he was lulled into that half-dreaming, half-waking state, so delightful after the heavy slumber induced by fatigue; yet the syllables sounded distinctly, and he feared to stir, lest the sweet tones should prove but a dreamy illusion of the ear.

The words were to the following effect, sung in a clear rich voice, which Ivan fancied that he could recognise as that of young Conrin.

Far as the waves can bear
O’er the deep sea;
Far as the breezes blow
O’er vale and lea;
In whate’er lands you roam,
Leaving my father’s home,
I’ll follow thee.

O’er the blue mountain’s brow,
Joyous and free;
E’en where the desert plain
Bears not a tree,
And the dark simoon’s breath,
Comes bearing sudden death,
I’ll follow thee.

Where, in the forest, waves
Many a tree,
To those cold regions which
Day cannot see;
Over the arid sand
Of Afric’s scorching land,
I’ll follow thee.

To the proud battle-field
Bounding with glee,
Bearing thy banner high,
As the foes flee;
Or mid the raging strife,
Where fierce men seek thy life,
I’ll follow thee.

In the dark prison hold
Near thee I’ll be;
For thy lov’d service gives
Freedom to me:
Should grief or sickness come,
And when death is thy doom,
I’ll follow thee.

(See Note)

No sooner had the strain ceased, than Ivan awoke to perfect consciousness, and springing from his couch, went forth from the tent, where he found Javis and Conrin waiting his presence, and a blush stole on the boy’s cheeks at having been detected in his musical performance.

“Ah, my young page!” said Ivan, “were you the good spirit which first aroused me from slumber with your sweet strains? I knew not of your vocal skill; but now that I have discovered it, I may often call upon you to soothe my spirit when oppressed.”

“Ah! gladly would I sing to you the live long day, if I thought it would please you, Sir,” answered the boy.

“Indeed, it does please me; but how came you possessed of this art, the most prized in the sendee of a page?” asked Ivan.

“I lived with those who gained their livelihood by it; but I could never sing for pay; my voice is dumb if my words flow not from the heart.”

“Well, boy, I hope often to hear you; and now you see that I am not the decrepit old man I first seemed, still do you wish to follow my fortunes, knowing that they may be perilous ones? But I would not command you to leave me.”

“Say you so, Sir? and I would not quit you for worlds,” answered Conrin.

“Then, my good page, I hope we may not part for a long time; and I trust, moreover, that in my country you may find a home you will love more than the one you have left. But we must away on our road towards that loved land.”

The hospitable chief of the tribe, as they are here called, Tzygani, undertook to pass the travellers on from camp to camp of the numerous gangs of his people, (who wander through Moldavia), till they could reach the Danube, where it passes the Turkish provinces.

Ivan and his two companions, much refreshed by their night’s rest, after bidding farewell to the hospitable chief, set forward on the horses he had provided for them. They were accompanied by a guide, to shew them the way across the country, until they should again fall in with another camp of their people. In this way, they quickly travelled through the principality.

Moldavia, which formed part of the ancient kingdom of Dacia, for a long time groaned under the iron rule of the Turks, until freed by the victorious arms of Russia, when the people began to rejoice at the prospect of the amelioration of the country, placed under the benign protection of a Christian power. Alas! they found to their cost, that they had only changed masters, and that their new protectors were determined to rivet still more firmly the chains which enslaved them, being yet more determinately opposed to liberal institutions, and all general improvement. The wretched peasants had no sooner been relieved from their Turkish masters, by whom they had been pillaged and exhausted, than they were reduced to a state of absolute starvation by the Russian army of occupation, which took up its position in the country. Already scarcely able to find food for themselves, their corn and meat were forcibly torn from their grasp to feed their rapacious guests, and to supply provisions for the army engaged in the war against the Turks. Even a supply of corn, sent them by the benevolent inhabitants of the neighbouring Austrian provinces, was seized by the Russian soldiers, after crossing the frontier, thus depriving the famishing peasants of their last resource. On no side could they turn for assistance or sympathy, while, sinking under their misfortune, thousands died from famine and disease, the rest of Europe being kept in utter ignorance of the foul and unwarranted tyranny exercised over them.

So brutalised, indeed, have the lower orders become by a long state of vassalage, and utter insecurity of property, as to be almost insensible to the hardships of their condition, while the upper classes are most lamentably demoralised.

In consequence of this state of things, the travellers found great parts of the country an almost entire wilderness, only slight patches of cultivation appearing here and there, though the soil seemed rich and productive. They passed but few miserable villages, and those far distant from each other.

The peasants have a wild and savage appearance, increased by their black hair streaming loosely over their countenances, and by their sheepskin habits and caps, with sandals of goat skin fastened round the leg by a rope. The women are still more wretched and squalid. At each quiet and solitary farm house, at which our fugitives stopped, the poor people received them kindly, though they appeared to be in hourly alarm, from the fierce bands of robbers who were scouring the country in every direction, levying their lawless contributions alike on the peaceable villagers, and the unprotected travellers, and not unfrequently adding murder to robbery.

The paths traversed by Ivan and his companions scarcely deserved the name of roads, though the light low cart Javis had procured, carried them safely and quickly over them. Several rivers and streams interrupted their course. Some of the latter were nearly dry, and the first they passed in boats, with small parties of gipsies, whom they fell in with, and who accompanied them on purpose. As they approached the broad Danube, they proceeded on foot across the country, by paths scarcely trodden, except by their wandering guides. It was with considerable difficulty they gained the river, passing over a long distance of low marshy shore, which here forms its banks, and rousing from their rest the pelican and other wild fowl of this desert region.

On a calm and lovely night, they crossed the rapid, but smooth stream, in a boat, pulled by their friends, the Tzygani; and, in about an hour, landed in the Turkish province of Bulgaria. The spot at which they struck the Danube was considerably above the Walachian town of Galatz, near the Turkish Hirsova, situated on the summit of precipitous rocks close to the river. They did not venture to enter that now ruinous place, as most of the Turkish towns taken by the Russians in the late war, were still held by their troops.

The direct road of the travellers now lay along the southern bank of the Danube for a considerable distance, to Silistria, a wretched town with a fort, also destroyed by the Russians, who yet retained a garrison there. They therefore avoided it, keeping across the country to the left of the road.

The hamlets, through which they passed, consisted of about fifty houses, each formed of wicker work plastered over, and kept neat and clean within. The men were clad in brown sheepskin caps, jackets of undyed brown wool, white cloth trowsers, and sandals of raw leather; while the women, who appeared without hesitation before the strangers, were handsome and neatly dressed, all wearing trinkets, the girls having their heads uncovered, and their hair braided and ornamented with different coins.

Most of the villages were inhabited by Turks, except the first at which they arrived. Here our fugitives were fortunate in finding that the greater number of the simple and industrious people were Christians, by whom they were kindly and hospitably received. The villagers seemed to vie with each other in shewing them attention, insisting on their resting, and taking such refreshment as they could produce, so that in a short time they were again ready to proceed on their road.

They here again laid aside the Gipsy dress and appearance, and assumed a costume more approaching the European, and which would procure them more respect than they could expect to receive in the other. They also obtained horses to finish the journey across the Bulgarian Mountains, which form part of the great Haemus chain, to Varna, the port of their destination, expecting there to find some vessel by which they could reach any other Turkish port in communication with Circassia.

Note. The above lines have been set to music by Miss L. Kingston, and published by D’Almaine and Co.