324 CASUALS IN THE CAUCASUS 



to have prasniks, and husbands, particularly husbands, 

 she added, as though trying to convince herself. I 

 wanted Cecily to ask her whether or no the story of 

 the fox who lost his tail had penetrated to Russia, 

 but my cousin wouldn't intertranslate. 



Going back to the railway line, we were provided with 

 another collection of Cossacks, who required continuous 

 applause and congratulations. We were by that time 

 almost speechless from the effects of the night in the 

 open, travel of the hardest variety, and indifferent 

 meals, and presently sank into a condition of apathy 

 from which it would have taken more than capering 

 Cossacks to rouse us. All we thought of was that the 

 end must come soon, for everything has an end. 



I remember passing a Mahommedan cemetery, built 

 on the open steppe, a mere jumble of erect stones — 

 the Christian tombs are always laid fiat — in a round 

 ring, a sort of miniature Stonehenge, the picture of 

 desolation. Then — the Cossack circus faded, every- 

 thing was hazy, a dust cloud had settled on our brains. 



We found ourselves just before midnight in a bleak 

 and cheerless station, where we sat, emigrant-fashion, 

 surrounded by our kit until the day broke and the 

 train from Rostov passed through. 



We shall never forget, we don't want to, the charm- 

 ing bienseance of the " Good-bye," or our Prince either, 

 THE Prince of all the myriad princes of the Caucasus. 



The Magic Carpet of The Arabian Nights shall take 

 us back to Tiflis, high over Mount Kaf, brooding by 



