Under the yoke, p.41
Under the Yoke, page 41
These composed Tossoun Bey's staff. The fugitives approached
them and formed a thick group round them,
which remained there for some time. Evidently the plan
for the attack was being concerted. Soon a movement was
noticeable in that armed throng : it formed into several
groups, which separated the one from the other. Then, as
if at a given signal, all these groups rushed forward with
wild and excited cries. Some advanced along the bare
summits towards the mountain, others towards the heights
of Zli Dol, others in the direction of the Sredna Gora
towards the valley of the Stara Reka, through which lies
the pass to EJissoura, and others again towards Ognianofif's
fort. The insurgents greeted their advance with a volley
while they were yet far distant, but the Turks reserved their
fire till they came within range.
In a few minutes the fort was completely hidden in clouds
of smoke from the constant firing, but the numbers of the
garrison decreased steadily every moment. Ognianoff,black
with powder and mud, with the bullets whistling round him,
rose every moment to discharge his Martini, and then sank
down again into the trench.
From time to time he cried without turning round :
*' Let 'em have it ! fire ! courage, brothers !
"
Suddenly he heard Father Marin's voice near him ; the
old man was saying to some one :
"
Stoop doAvn, lad, can't you ? you'll be hit !
"
Ognianoff involuntarily turned to the right and saw
through the smoke an insurgent who was firing away at the
enemy, bolt upright, and completely exposed to their fire.
Such boldness was perfect madness.
Ognianoff, to his surprise, recognised Kandoff.
So struck was he that he went mechanically towards him,
and held out his hand through the smoke, saying :
" Give me your hand, brother."
The student turned, threw a calm, icy look at Ognianoff,
but pressed his hand warmly. The greeting exchanged by
the two rivals was a sign of reconciliation before their
bleeding country — ^perchance an eternal farewell.
A drop of blood fell on Ognianoff's hand as he held
Kandoff's — it fiowed from the student's arm.
Ognianoff noticed the blood, but it did not surprise him,
Q
242 UNDER THE YOKE
nor did he think at all about it. What most astonished him
was Kandoff's presence there.
In truth the student, who had been sent with the
reinforcement on the previous evening, had not yet been
noticed by Ognianoff in his feverish excitement and agitation.
Kandoff was the nocturnal somnambulist who had
made the unsuccessful attempt at suicide with his eyes fixed
on Rada's dwelling.
Ognianoff turned away and looked round him.
He then saw to his dismay that the trenches were almost
deserted. The insurgents had vanished from the fort. Only
five or six men still remained and kept up the fire, which
was gradually dying out on the other forts as well, also
deserted by their defenders. The enemy's bullets now
poured in still more frequently, and it was an enterprise of
great peril to show one's head above the trenches.
Ognianoff, despairing, beside himself with rage, maintained
with his few brave comrades the unequal combat,
resolved to die at his post. It was the only fort which still
continued to fire.
Suddenly he heard a sharp cry of pain beside him.
Ognianoff looked round trembling. Close to him lay
Vikenti, lifeless. A stream of blood was pouring from his
breast and reddening the earth beside him. That blood
had washed away his disgrace.
Father Marin carried the body under cover, where it might
be taken by others and carried into the to^^nri. But there
was no one there. The heights were deserted.
A deadly silence prevailed in the empty trenches. Only
a few shots fired now and again from the still garrisoned
forts to the north and west of the town made an echo,
perfectly useless to all intent, to Ognianoff's fort, which now
attracted all the enemy's bullets. The Turks continued to
advance, firing unceasingly. They moved cautiously
through the vineyards and rose-gardens which were still
between them and the fort, stooping behind every chance
shelter, for fear of a sudden attack from the heights above
them. One by one they reached the forts deserted in the
panic. In place of insurgents or their bodies they found
arms, knapsacks, cartridges, and other munitions of war.
They found even the cherry-tree cannons which had been
carried up the day before — two or three to each fort. These
were still loaded, no one having thought of firing them in the
RADA 243
panic of the moment : this was also the case in Ognianoff's
battery.
The Turks had now reached the heights over the town
itself. They were fired at from the streets — ^their standardbearer
and another fell. But the fate of the battle and of
the town itself was now decided in favour of Tossoun Bey's
horde. They poured down the cliffs towards unhappy
Klissoura like a black swarm of crows upon a fresh carcase,
CHAPTER XIX : RADA
As soon as the first shots on the heights above Kfissoura
announced that the fateful battle had begun, the townspeople,
overcome with wild panic, began to flee towards
Koprivshtitsa, through the Vrlishnitsa, a narrow pass over
the Sredna Gora, with a brook of the same name, that
eventually joins the Stara Reka, flowing through it, on the
south-west side of the town.
Grospoja Mouratliska, in whose house Rada was staying,
hurriedly collected together her children and the most
precious of her possessions and prepared for flight with the
rest. She went to Rada and sought to persuade her to
accompany them. But in spite of all her entreaties, the
girl remained firm. She refused to leave the house. Kind
Gospoja MouratUska besought her, on her knees, with tears
in her eyes, to leav6 at once ; she could not abandon her to
such a terrible fate. The Turks were already to be seen
on the heights over the town, and every moment was
pre"cious. You go, Anitsa dear ; take the children, but leave me
alone, I beseech you !
"
cried Rada, urging her hostess
to fly.
Gospoja Mouratliska looked at her terrified. She
clasped her hands in despair. Through the window the
Turks could be seen already nearing the town. She did not
know what to do.
Evidently it was only despair that could strengthen Rada
in her unreasoning obstinacy ; and, in truth, she was a prey
to deep despair.
Since that terrible encounter between Ognianofi and the
student, she had remained overwhelmed by the crushing
contempt of her lover. In her agitation she was unable to
justify herself, and since then she had not seen him again ;
244 UNDER THE YOKE
so that Ognianoff still persisted in his terrible infatuation,
with his heart filled with hatred and aversion towards her.
If he was killed in the fight, he would die with a curse on
his lips and with cruel sufferings at heart. The thought
filled her with dismay. She had not a moment's rest. Her
conscience upbraided her for doing nothing when she had it
in her power to comfort and convince him. The poor
fellow would die resolutely, desperately ; he had gone to
seek death — he was not afraid of it. It was her duty at
least to make his death less painful, to quiet and comfort
him wdth the thought that he died beloved and idolised.
Perhaps she might even rescue him from the jaws of death,
for then he would seek death no longer. She might preserve
him for herself and for the country. But he had never
once come down into the town. In vain she had tried
several times on various pretexts to visit the trenches and
see him just for once, even though she drew down his
wrathful glance on her. Access to the fortifications was
ruthlessly denied her. Her only consolation lay in the
visits of Staika, Kill-the-Bear's bride, and her neighbour.
Eall-the-Bear had three times come down to the town on
various errands, and each time had paid his wife a flying
visit and brought some news of Ognianoff. Thus by means
of Staika, Rada had learnt that Ognianoff was well in health,
though much dispirited ; but that was all. During those
six days, which seemed to her as long as centuries, her love
for Boicho increased with her sufferings — ^he was so brave
and so unfortunate. She almost worshipped him now. He
appeared to her such a chivalrous nature. She saw him in
the full beauty of his manhood, armed, and with the aureole
of glory round his brows, meeting death on those heights
yonder with a bitter smile on his lips, never turning back to
cast one last look, to whisper one last farewell to her who
could not live without him, and on whom he had trampled
with scorn. The night before, when she had met Ivan
EaU-the-Bear for the first time, she had been unable to
restrain her feelings, and had wept bitterly before him. The
good Ivan had consoled her as best he could, and had promised
to take a letter for her to Boicho, which she had at
once hurriedly scribbled off in pencil. (For reasons which
we have already seen this letter reached Ognianoff only as
the fight began.) But she had not received any reply, not
even a verbal message ; and her grief and despair knew no
RADA 245
bounds. She felt that life would be impossible for her if
Boicho should carry his scorn with him to the grave, to
which she had so evidently driven him. Life appeared to
her hateful, since the source of love and happiness was now
eternally dried up. What was now left to her ? Hopeless
sufferings, bitter sorrow, the contempt of the world, and
despair — everlasting despair. What was her life worth now ?
To whom could she turn without humbling herself to the
dust ? Bela Cherkva now appeared to her black and
hideous as the grave. Should she go and abase herself
before Hajji E-ovoama again ? or go and beg Marko to
protect her ? She would have died with shame rather than
face that good man now. He had surely heard foul
calumnies about her, and doubtless regretted the good he
had done her. No, no, Boicho alone could console her and
save her, and he would die up there ! This Mouratliska
was quite right in her desire to live. She had something to
live for ; she had some one to mourn for her, for there was
some one who loved her. But she, Rada ! She could not
bear the burden of her unhappiness ; she was too weak.
She had nothing left in this cruel world, to which no ties
now united her. Yes, but if Boicho survived ? How
terribly he would despise her for not being able to justify
herself ! All the appearances were against her. His wounded
vanity could not pardon her. The blow dealt to his heart
and to his pride was a crushing one, and Boicho would
never, never see her again. She knew that he was not to be
moved on the point of honour. No, no, she must die
Now she might meet an easy and even a glorious death
under the ruins, the noble ruins, of that heroic town. Let
Gospoja Mouratliska go her way ; she would stay there to
die ! Yes ! since Boicho had not bidden her to live — had
not honoured her with a single word of response — she must
die. And if death should spare him, let him know that
Rada was an honest girl, that the Bulgarian maiden does
not fear death, and that she had sacrificed herself to her
love for him.
These or such as these were the thoughts, begotten of
despair, in a tender and sentimental soul, overwhelmed with
grief, which hovered like clouds in poor Rada's head while
Gospoja Mouratliska begged and entreated her with tears
to follow her. But Rada was immovable.
At that moment cries were heard in the street, Gospoja
246 UNDER THE YOKE
Mouratliska looked out of the window : she saw the insurgents
in full flight ; she called to one of them :
"
Why, Christo, what's going on up there ? Where's
Ognianoff ? Where are you all running to ?
"
The insurgent replied, panting :
"
It's all over, Anichka, we're done for ! Ognianoff — ^he's
still there, poor fellow ! The whole world's topsy-turvy.
Fly at once towards the VrUshnitsa !
" and the insurgents
vanished from view. Evidently Christo was from OgnianofiE's
fort. Rada shrieked like a madwoman. Then
Gospoja MouratHska, seeing that all efforts were useless,
left the house.
It was high time, for not long after Rada heard women's
despairing shrieks from the northern side of the town, which
was now overrun by the Turks. As she stood overwhelmed
with grief and terror she saw from the window a crowd of
bashi-bozouks rushing down a street with drawn swords in
their hands : they caught up two Bulgarians, who were at
once cut down. She saw perfectly plainly a red flood
gushing from the fallen. She saw death — terrible death, in
its most repulsive form, and was seized with wild fear. The
desire of life awoke with redoubled force in the young girl,
and overcame all other feelings, paralysed all her resolutions
to die with which despair had inspired her.
She attempted to escape, to save herself from death, or
from the life these lewd and bloodthirsty assailants might
have granted her. She opened the door to fly downstairs,
but at that moment she heard the door of the courtyard
burst open with a loud crash and through the branches of
the fruit-trees she saw an armed basbi-bozouk followed by
another figure hurrying towards the stairs on which she was
standing transfixed with terror. She turned, fled back to
the room, bolted the door, and half dead with terror tried to
conceal herself in the opposite comer. She had scarcely
done so when a loud knock was heard at the door and a
fierce frightful voice began to roar outside. As the door
was not opened the person who sought to enter began to
kick and hammer at the door. Gradually it cracked and
yielded on one side : the barrel of a gun immediately
protruded through the chink, and the door began to be
forced open. Rada heard the boards crack as they yielded,
she saw an enormous foot pushing its Wiay through ; the
assailant was almost in the room.
THE TWO STREAMS 247
Then inexpressible terror overcame all her other thoughts.
Death appeared to her a thousand times preferable to the
terrible moment which was approaching. She flew to the
eikonostasis, lighted a taper at the lamp burning before it,
and hurried to the comer. There on the table stood a sack
of gunpowder which had evidently been forgotten by the
insurgents. Rada sat down beside it, took the taper in her
