2015년 9월 10일 목요일

By Far Euphrates A Tale 13

By Far Euphrates A Tale 13


The Vartonians considered Jack in the light of a hero. But they were
uneasy at Shushan's being left, even for the present, in a village
exposed to the attacks of the Kourds; for much more was known at Urfa
than at Biridjik about the disturbed state of the country, and the
terrible massacres that had taken place in many towns and villages. Was
not the Armenian quarter still full of the miserable refugees from
Sassoun, who had come there during the past winter--diseased, starving,
wounded, sometimes dying, and with horrible tales of the cruelties they
and theirs had suffered?
 
It was agreed on all hands that the best thing Jack could do was to
refer his case to the lady at the head of the American Mission, whose
school Shushan had attended. We shall call this heroic lady, who is
happily still living, Miss Celandine. She thought the best plan would be
to bring Shushan, as soon as she was married, back to Urfa in disguise,
since under her charge and in the mission premises she would be, for the
time, absolutely safe. She believed the English Consul would be able to
give permission for the marriage without being personally present. But
she was not certain as to where the Consul was to be found. Very likely
he was at the baths of Haran, the season being August, and very hot. She
would find out as soon as possible, and put Mr. Grayson into
communication with him.
 
Two or three days later, Jack was setting out, with one of the young
Vartonians, to explore the hill that overhangs Urfa, and to visit the
remains of the ancient citadel, and the other interesting ruins with
which it is strewn,--when Kevork Meneshian walked in. As soon as they
had got through the usual salutations, Barkev Vartonian and John Grayson
asked him together, "What has brought you here?" And Barkev added, "It
is not the time for vacation."
 
"True," answered the young man, smiling; "I did very wrong to come away.
And I am very glad I came."
 
"You speak in a riddle," said Jack.
 
"It is easily read. When Pastor Stepanian's wife died, the news came by
telegraph to Oriort Elmas in Aintab. It was in her heart to go home at
once to her father and her young brothers, who must need her sorely. But
what a journey for a girl, and a girl all alone, with only khartijes for
companions and protectors! Only think of it, four long days on
horseback, and three nights in the wayside khans! And then the perils of
the road--wild Kourds everywhere, not to speak of other robbers, more
treacherous, if less violent. I could not have it! So I told no one, but
just wrote a note of apology, and left it for the Principal, slipped out
without waiting for leave, put on a servant's dress, and became her
shadow, from the moment her lady teacher bade farewell to her in Aintab
until she fell fainting into her father's arms here in Urfa, last
night."
 
"A proper person _you_ were to act as a young lady's guardian!" said
Barkev laughing.
 
"I did not say 'guardian,' I said 'shadow,'" Kevork returned coolly.
"One's shadow is always before or behind. So I took care to keep; only
letting her know I _was_ there, if I was wanted. There were many ways I
could help her. That is how I came to be here; and I suppose the Mission
folk at Aintab will have no more of me, since I have broken all their
rules. But I have got a good deal of their learning already," he added
with some complacency. "Yon Effendi, how are my father and my mother,
and all our house in Biridjik, for we did not stay there on our way? And
what in the world has brought _you_ here?"
 
Jack answered his questions, marvelling the while at the mixture in his
character. Shrewd, practical, and almost selfish in the pursuit of his
ambition as he used to think him, he had served Elmas Stepanian with a
delicate, self-sacrificing chivalry of which any lover might have been
proud.
 
"I think," said Barkev, "you would do well to go to the Badvellie. He is
very learned, and might give you the lessons you have missed."
 
"I will not trouble the Pastor _yet_," answered Kevork with
decision--"not until I can go to him for something else. No; I shall beg
of Miss Celandine to give me work, teaching the boys that come to her
school, and study for myself in the evenings."
 
"You'll get on," said Barkev approvingly. "For you know what you want.
'A polished stone is not left on the ground.'"
 
"I might, in any other country. But," lowering his voice, "what is this
I hear of fresh massacres?"
 
"Oh, rumours, rumours! There are always rumours. I would not think too
much of them--not until we hear more."
 
"You may well talk of rumours," Kevork returned. "Some of the things
people say are past thinking for foolishness. Do you know I heard in
Aintab that some people say in Europe it is _we_ who are massacring the
Turks? As if we _could_, even suppose we would! Without firearms, or
weapons of any kind, so much as to defend ourselves from the Kourdish
robbers--good for _us_ to think of killing Turks! 'Twould be striking
the point of a goad with one's fist."
 
"The wolf eats the lamb, and cries out that the lamb is eating him,"
said Barkev. "But," he added, glancing round apprehensively, "is there
any talk of the English coming to help us?"
 
"Much talk there is of the Sultan's having consented, moved thereto no
doubt by the English and the other Christians, to grant us certain
privileges."
 
"We do not want privileges," said Barkev; "we want _justice_. We want
security for our lives and properties, and, above all, for our women."
 
"Well, that is what these reforms are intended to give us."
 
"I'll believe in them, when I see a Moslem punished for a crime against
one of _us_. And that is what my grandfather, in his seven and eighty
years, has never seen, nor I think will little Nerses, who is not weaned
yet, live to see it."
 
"Where is the use of that kind of talk, true though it be?" said Kevork;
"it only brings trouble."
 
The heart of Kevork Meneshian was not just then attuned to trouble. The
deepest gorges of the Alps have every day their gleam of sunshine,
though it be but for one short hour; so even in the most shadowed lives
there is usually some brief, golden moment, when the light in a soft eye
or the smile on a dear lip is more than the fate of nations or of
empires. It was such a moment now with Kevork; and it ought to have been
such a moment with John Grayson, only, for him, it was love itself that
hung suspended in the balance of fate.
 
Fate, for the time, seemed to have turned against him. The ride from
Biridjik to Urfa had been done at headlong speed, and he had not reached
his destination until it was almost noon, and the sun's heat absolutely
overpowering. He thought his miserable sensations afterwards were only
the result of fatigue, and kept up bravely until the coming of Kevork,
when he had to own to overpowering headache, and feverish alternations
of heat and cold. He just managed somehow to write a letter to the
Consul, which he asked the Vartonians to get Miss Celandine to forward
for him, if she could. Then he yielded to destiny. For eight days he
tossed in fever, with Kevork as his special nurse, his kind hosts also
giving him every care and attention in their power.
 
Once the fever left him however, he recovered rapidly, his good
constitution, strengthened by a simple and healthy life, coming to his
aid. As soon as he was able to be about again, he said he would go to
the Mission House, and ask Miss Celandine if she had any tidings for
him. As he spoke, he was standing near one of the few windows of the
Vartonian House which looked out upon the street. Something he saw there
made him break off suddenly, pause a moment, then utter an exclamation
of pity and horror.
 
"What is it?" asked Kevork, coming to the window, followed by Barkev,
and two of the ladies of the house, who chanced to be present.
 
Along the street passed slowly, by twos and threes, in a straggling
procession, some of the most miserable creatures the eye of man has ever
looked upon. Gaunt, half famished, with limbs reduced to skin and bone,
or else swollen out of all shape by disease, they walked on with uneven,
tottering footsteps. All were in filthy, ragged garments; some had rags
clotted with blood tied about their heads or their arms, others limped
along with the aid of sticks. Just under the window a woman dropped in
the street, and lay as one dead. The man who was walking beside her
stood and looked, without doing anything to help. How could he? Both his
hands were gone.
 
The three young men ran to the street together. Jack proved the
quickest, and was already kneeling on the ground and trying to raise the
poor woman when the others came up. "It is no use," said the man beside
her in a dreary, almost indifferent, tone. "She is dead."
 
"I don't know that," said Jack. "Give her air, for heaven's sake.
Kevork, keep back the others. Barkev, you could fetch us some cordial."
 
It was not so easy to obey him; for those before had stopped, while
those behind came crowding up, and with the strangers a few Armenians of
the town. One of these pushed through the rest with an air of authority.
"Make way, good people," he said; "I am a doctor."
 
He did not seem a very prosperous member of the fraternity, to judge by
his dress; but then he was young, and had the world before him. He felt
the woman's pulse and her heart, and said presently, "She is not dead;
but she soon will be unless she gets proper care and nourishment. Who
will help me to carry her into my dispensary close by?"
 
Jack volunteered, quite forgetting his recent illness; but Barkev raised
an objection. "Better bring her to the Mission House," he said. "Miss
Celandine has food and medicine, and will take good care of her."
 
"Miss Celandine will have her hands full. Besides, my place is near.
Yes, sir, take her feet,"--he nodded to Jack. "I'll manage the rest.
This way, please."
 
"You are a good fellow, Melkon Effendi, and I believe you are right,"
said Barkev, his attention claimed by another of the miserable group,
who was begging in God's name for a bit of bread, as they had eaten
nothing for several days but grass and roots. Jack helped Melkon to lay his patient on the surgery table, and watched his efforts to restore animation. "Who are they?" he asked.   

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