AMMALÁT BEK.

A TRUE TALE OF THE CAUCASUS. FROM THE RUSSIAN OF MARLÍNSKI.

CHAPTER X.


"Will you hold your tongue, little serpent?" said an old Tartar woman to
her grandson, who, having awakened before daylight, was crying for want
of something better to do. "Be quiet, or I will kick you into the
street."

This old woman was Ammalát's nurse: the hut in which she lived stood
close to the tents of the Begs, and had been given to her by her
foster-son, Ammalát. It was composed of two clean whitewashed rooms, the
floor of both was strewed with coarse mats, (ghasil;) in niches close to
each other, for the room was without windows, stood boxes bound with
iron, and on them were arranged a feather-bed, blankets, and all the
utensils. On the cornices, at half the height of the wall, were ranged
porcelain cups for pillau, having tin covers in the form of helmets, and
little plates hanging side by side on wires: the holes with which they
were pierced showing that they served not for use, but for ornament. The
face of the old woman was covered with wrinkles, and expressed a sort of
malicious sorrow: the usual consequence of the lonely pleasureless life
of a Mussulman woman. As a worthy representative of persons of her age
and country, she never for a moment ceased scolding her grandson from
under her blanket, and to grumble to herself. "Kess," (be quiet,) she