# Kéraban the Inflexible (Part 1)/Chapter 16

CHAPTER XVI.
IN WHICH THE RELATIVE MERITS OF THE TOBACCOS OF PERSIA AND ASIA MINOR ARE DISCUSSED.
The Caucasus is that part of Southern Russia composed of high mountains and extensive plains, of which the orographic system tends somewhat from vest to east for a distance of three hundred and fifty kilomètres. To the north extends the country of the Don Cossacks—the government of Stavropol, with the Steppes of the Kalmouk and Nogaïs tribes. In the south are the principalities of Tiflis, capital of Georgia, of Koutais, Bakou, Elisabethpol, Erivan, besides the provinces of Mingrelia, Imeritia, Abkasia, and Gouriel. To the west of the Caucasus is the Black Sea, to the east the Caspian.
The whole country to the south of the principal chain of the Caucasus is named Transcaucasia, and has no other frontiers than those of Turkey and Persia: at the point of contact is Mount Ararat, on which the Ark of Noah rested.
There are numerous tribes which inhabit or traverse this important region. These belong to the Kazteval, Armenian, Tscherkess, Tochetschine and Lesghian races. In the north are the Kalmouks, Nogaïs, Mongolian Tartars; in the south are the Tartars of Turkish descent; Kurds and Cossacks.
If savants are to be credited, it is from this semi-European, semi-Asiatic district that the white race emanated—the whites who now inhabit Asia and Europe. So they are by them called the "Caucasian Race."
Three main Russian roads traverse this enormous barrier, which comprises such mountains as Chat-Elbrouz, 4000 mètres; Kazbec, 4500 mètres; and Elbrouz, 5600 mètres high.
The first of these routes, of both strategical and commer​cial importance, runs from Taman to Poti, along the littoral of the Black Sea. The second, from Mosdok to Tiflis, passes by the Col du Darial; the third, from Kizliar to Bakou, by Derbend.
We need scarcely say that Kéraban, in accord with his nephew Ahmet, took the first. What was the use of entangling themselves in the wilds of the Caucasus; so courting difficulty and delay? A road was open as far as Poti, and there are plenty of towns and villages on the littoral of the Black Sea.
There are railways, which it would have been possible to utilize, but Ahmet knew the strong objection his uncle entertained to this mode of locomotion, and avoided the subject which his uncle had tabooed in the case of the Taurus and the Chersonese Railways.
All that was quite understood, and the indestructible chaise, having undergone a few necessary repairs, took the road again, and quitted Rajewskaja early on the morning of the 7th September.
Ahmet was determined to proceed with the utmost possible speed. Twenty days remained in which the journey must be finished, so as to reach Scutari upon the appointed date. On this point Kéraban agreed with him. No doubt Van Mitten would have preferred to travel more at his ease—to receive and record more lasting impressions, and not to be tied to time—but Van Mitten was not consulted. As a guest only had he agreed to accompany and dine with Kéraban at Scutari. Well, was he not taking him to Scutari? What more did he wish for?
Nevertheless, Bruno felt it incumbent upon him to make a few observations as they were entering the Russian Caucasus. The Dutchman, having listened, asked his servant to conclude.
"Well," continued Bruno, "why not let Seigneur Kéraban and Ahmet proceed without rest along the Black Sea?"
"To leave them—do you mean?" inquired Van Mitten.
"Yes, leave them, after bidding them bon voyage!"
"And remain here?"
"Yes: so then we may see the Caucasus at our ease, since our unlucky star has led us hither. After all, we shall ​be as well off as in Constantinople within reach of Madame van—"
"Hold your tongue, Bruno; do not pronounce that name!"
"I will not if it is disagreeable to you, sir; but it is to her, in fact, that we owe this expedition. To run the risk of being engulfed in marshes, to be roasted in volcanic districts—is too much, it is indeed. I would therefore suggest, not a dispute with Seigneur Kéraban—you would come off second-best there—but just let him understand by a few gentle words that you will see him in Constantinople, when it pleases you to return thither!"
"That would not be quite practicable," replied Van Mitten.
"It would be prudent," replied Bruno.
"You find a good deal to complain of, then?"
"Yes, a great deal; and besides—I do not know whether you have remarked it—I am getting thin."
"Not much, Bruno, not much."
"Ay; but I know very well that I am; and if I go on like this I shall soon become a skeleton!"
"Have you been weighed, Bruno?"
"I wanted to get weighed at Kertsch," replied Bruno, "but there was only a letter-weight obtainable."
"And would not that suffice?" said Van Mitten, laughing.
"No, sir," replied Bruno gravely, "but before long it will suffice to weigh your poor servant. Now, shall we let Seigneur Kéraban continue his journey without us?"
Certainly this manner of travelling did not suit Van Mitten, who was of a phlegmatic temperament, and disliked hurry. But the idea of abandoning his friend Kéraban was so repugnant to him that he refused to entertain it.
"No, Bruno," he said, "I am his invited guest—"
"A guest!" exclaimed Bruno, "a guest who has to travel seven hundred leagues instead of one league!"
"No matter," replied his master.
"Permit me to tell you that you are wrong, sir," continued Bruno; "I repeat it for the tenth time. We are by no means at the end of our troubles, and I have a presentiment that you will have your full share of them."
​Would Bruno's presentiments be realized? The future will reveal that. In any case he had done his duty as a devoted servant in warning his master; and, since Van Mitten resolved to continue the journey—a journey as ridiculous as fatiguing—the valet had no choice but to follow him.
The road continued almost invariably along the shores of the Black Sea, following the contour of the land. If it sometimes branched away a little to avoid some obstacle of the shore, or to reach some village, it was never more than a few versts. The last spurs of the Caucasus, which run parallel to the coast, die away on the boundaries of this little-used route. On the horizon eastward can be perceived the rugged teeth-like, snow-tipped summits, which seem to bite into the sky. At one o'clock in the afternoon the travellers turned the little Bay of Zèmes, seven leagues from Rajewskaja, so as to reach, about eight leagues farther on, the village of Gelendschik. These townships are some distance from one another, you see.
Upon the littoral of the Black Sea we may reckon one little town at this average distance; but beyond these small groups of houses—frequently only a village or hamlet—the country is almost deserted, and is beginning to be even less frequented by the coasting vessels.
This band of terra firma between the mountains and the sea is well wooded; trees of various kinds are plentiful, and are united by the wild vines which twine about their limbs, as in a tropical forest. In every direction nightingales and warblers sing in the fields of azaleas, which nature has planted in this fertile country.
Towards midday the travellers fell in with a tribe of Kalmucks, nomads, who dwell in oulousses, comprising many khotonnes. The latter are regular "ambulant villages," composed of a certain number of kibitkas or tents which are pitched at random—sometimes on the steppes; sometimes in the verdant valley; sometimes by the side of a water-course—according to the fancy of the leaders. The Kalmucks are of Mongolian extraction, and were formerly very numerous in the Caucasus; but the exigencies of the Russian administration, not to say its "vexations," have compelled a retreat towards Asia.
​The Kalmucks have carefully preserved their ancient manners and special costume. Van Mitten was able to note that the men wore large trousers, boots of Morocco leather, a khalate (a kind of very ample wadded dressing gown), and a square cap, trimmed with sheepskin. The women were dressed very much in the same manner, with the exception of the girdle, and a cap, from which their hair, trimmed with parti-coloured ribbons, escaped. The children were almost naked; and, during the winter, to warm themselves, they crouch in the ashes in the kibitka, and sleep amid the hot cinders of the hearth.
The Kalmucks are small of stature, but robust; excellent horsemen, quick, agile, and smart. Their food is a little flour mixed with water, and cooked with horseflesh. But they are confirmed drunkards, skilful thieves, ignorant, superstitious to excess, incorrigible gamblers, like all the nomads of the Caucasian steppes.
The post-chaise passed through one of the khotonnes without attracting any particular attention. The people scarcely took the trouble to look at the travellers, one of whom, at least, observed them with great interest. Perhaps they coveted the rapid horses of the vehicle; but, fortunately for Kéraban, they confined themselves to the wish. So the horses reached the next stage, without having exchanged their loose box for the picket of the Kalmuck encampment.
The chaise, having skirted the Bay of Zemes, found the road closed in between the spurs of the mountains and the sea. But, beyond the bay, the route widened out, and became more easy.
At eight o'clock the bourgade of Gelendschik was gained. There the travellers supped hastily, and at nine o'clock continued their journey. They proceeded all night, and at seven o'clock in the morning reached Beregowaja; at midday they gained Dschuba; at six p.m., Tenginsh; at midnight, Nebugsk; next morning, at eight o'clock, Golowinsk; at eleven, Lachowsk; and, two hours later, Ducha.
Ahmet would have been puzzled to complain of all this. The journey had been accomplished without accident; ​but without incident, which did not altogether please Van Mitten. His tablets boasted only a record of geographical names. He had not seen anything particularly novel, and had not had any new impression worth recording.
At Ducha the chaise remained for two hours, while the postmaster sent to fetch the horses, which were at pasture.
"Well," said Kéraban, "let us dine as comfortably, and for as long a time, as circumstances will permit!"
"Yes, let us dine," assented Van Mitten.
"And dine well, if possible," murmured Bruno, regarding his dwindling rotundity of figure.
"Perhaps this halt will provide us with something of interest, which, hitherto, our journey has lacked. I think my young friend Ahmet will permit no breathing time—"
"Until the arrival of horses," said Ahmet. "This is already the ninth of the month."
"That is the kind of answer I like," said Kéraban. "Let us go and see what we can have."
The inn was but an indifferent one; built on the bank of the little river Mdsymta, which rushes down from the neighbouring hills in a torrent.
The little town of Ducha resembles the Cossack villages which are known as "stamisti," with palisades and gates that are dominated by a square tower, wherein a watch is kept day and night. The houses have high thatched roofs, wooden walls, plastered over with clay, and shaded by fine trees. The people are well-to-do. The Cossacks, however, have almost completely lost their individuality in the Russians. But they remain as brave and active as ever. They are excellent guardians of the boundaries committed to their charge, and are justly esteemed the best equestrians in the world, as well in the hunting down of the chronically rebellious mountaineers, as in the jousts and tourneys in which they prove themselves accomplished cavaliers.
The natives are a fine race, remarkable for the beauty and elegance of their forms, but not of their costume, which partakes of the nature of the dress of the Caucasian mountain tribes. Nevertheless, under the high-furred cap, it is still easy to recognize those energetic faces which a thick beard conceals as high as the cheek-bones.
​When Kéraban, Ahmet, and Van Mitten seated themselves at table, a repast was served, the elements of which had been taken from a neighbouring doukhan—a kind of shop in which the characters, pork-butcher, the victualler, and the grocer are all preserved in the same individual. There was a roast turkey, maize cakes, buffalo cheese, called "gatschapouri"—the inevitable national dish—blini, a kind of pancake made with sour milk. For beverages they had some batches of thick beer, and flasks of vadka, a strong brandy, of which the Russians consume a great quantity.
Frankly, one could not expect to dine better at the little inn of a village, situated on the extreme limits of the Black Sea; and assisted by excellent appetites, the travellers did full justice to the repast, which was a welcome change from their usual provisions on the journey.
After dinner, Ahmet left the table while Bruno and Nizib took their shares of the remains of the feast. The young man as usual went to the post-house to hurry the relays, and quite prepared to disburse tenfold the five kopecks per verst per horse, which the regulations permit, as well as liberal "tips" to the postillions.
Meanwhile, Kéraban and his friend Van Mitten made themselves very comfortable in a kind of summer-house which overhung the river. Now or never was the time to abandon themselves to the luxurious dolce far niente, which the Ottomans call "Kief."
Besides, the preparation of the narghilés became necessary to supplement such a meal. So the pipes were brought from the chaise to the smokers, who yielded themselves to the pleasures of the weed to which they owed their fortune.
The "bowls" of the narghilés were quickly filled with tobacco, but it is needless to remark that Kéraban used his own tombéki of Persian growth, while Van Mitten smoked the Latakia of Asia Minor.
Then the pipes were lighted: the smokers reclined on the benches, and inhaled the smoke through the long flexible tubes. The atmosphere was soon filled with the odour of the smoke, which was not permitted to reach the mouth until it had been cooled by the clear water of the narghilé.
​For some time the friends smoked in silent enjoyment with half-closed eyes, and apparently supported by the clouds of smoke which appeared like an "aerial eiderdown."
"Ah, this is real enjoyment," said Kéraban at length. "I know of no better way of passing an hour than this chat with one's pipe."
"Conversation without discussion," remarked Van Mitten.
"The Turkish Government has been as usual very badly advised to impose a tax on tobacco ten times its value," said Kéraban. "Thanks to that besotted folly, the use of the narghilé is gradually disappearing."
"That is much to be regretted, Kéraban," said Van Mitten.
"For my own part," continued his friend, "I have such a predilection for tobacco, that I would rather die than give up the use of it. Yes, die! Had I lived in the time ,of Amurat IV., the despot who wished to prohibit it on pain of death, I would have let them cut my head off with my pipe in my mouth."
"I quite agree with you," said the Dutchman, emitting two or three puffs of smoke.
"Gently, gently, do not smoke so fast," cried Kéraban. "You have no time to taste the pleasant smoke. You are like a glutton who bolts his food."
"You are always right, friend Kéraban," replied Van Mitten, who would not have provoked a discussion at that time for the world.
"Always right, Van Mitten."
"But what surprises me," continued the Dutchman, "is that we tobacco-merchants experience the greatest pleasure in smoking our own wares."
"And what then?" said Kéraban, who was always ready for an argument.
"Well, because, if it be true that pastrycooks are usually disgusted by pastry, and sweetmeat sellers by sweetmeats, it seems to me that a tobacco-merchant—"
"Permit me an observation—just one remark, Van Mitten."
​"What is it?"
"Did you ever hear of a wine-merchant who never tasted the wines he sold?"
"No—certainly I never did."
"Well then, wine merchant or tobacco merchant—it is the same thing."
"Be it so," replied the Dutchman.
"Your explanation seems to me conclusive."
"But," continued Kéraban, "as you appear to wish to argue—"
"I assure you I do not," replied Van Mitten, quickly.
"So?"
"No, I declare."
"At any rate you made an observation which reflected on my taste for tobacco."
"Believe me—"
"You did—I say you did," interrupted Kéraban, beginning to get excited. "I can understand insinuations—"
"There was no insinuation on my part," replied Van Mitten, who, without knowing why—perhaps it was the effect of the good dinner—began to wax impatient.
"There was," replied Kéraban, "and it is my turn to make an observation."
"Well then, make it."
"I do not understand—I cannot understand—how you can bring yourself to smoke Latakia in a narghilé! It displays a great want of taste in a smoker who has any self-respect."
"It seems to me that I have the right to do so," replied Van Mitten, "since I prefer the tobacco of Asia Minor."
"Asia Minor. Really! Asia Minor is far behind Persia when tobacco is concerned."
"That is a matter of opinion."
"Tombéki, even after being submitted to a double 'washing,' still possesses active properties infinitely superior to those of Latakia."
"I quite believe it," replied the Dutchman. "Very active properties; which are due to the presence of belladonna."
"Belladonna, in proper proportion, only increases the qualities of the tobacco."
​"Yes, for people who wish to poison themselves by degrees."
"It is not a poison!"
"It is, and a very strong poison!"
"Have I died of it?" exclaimed Kéraban, puffing away.
"No, but you will."
"Well, then in my last hour I will maintain that tombéki is preferable to that dried hay you call Latakia," said Kéraban, in a solemnly-nervous tone.
"I cannot be such a mistaken idea pass without protest," said Van Mitten, getting excited in his turn.
"It will pass, nevertheless."
"And you dare to say this to a man who has sold tobacco for twenty years?"
"And you dare to assert the contrary to a man who has sold tobacco for thirty?"
"Twenty years!"
"Thirty years!"
At this point of the discussion the disputants rose at the same moment. While they gesticulated, they let their pipes fall; but they picked them up again, and continued the dispute, getting extremely personal.
"Van Mitten, you are, out and out, the most pig-headed man I have ever met."
"After you, Kéraban; after you."
"I?"
"You," replied the Dutchman, who no longer could control himself. "Just look at the smoke of the Latakia which is issuing from my lips!"
"And do you look at the fumes of the tombéki which I puff out in such odoriferous clouds."
Then each one puffed into the face of the other.
"Now just inhale the flavour of my tobacco," said one.
"Just inhale mine," said the other.
"I am obliged to confess," said Van Mitten, "that, as regards tobacco, you are perfectly ignorant."
"And you," retorted Kéraban, "are far behind the merest tyro in smoking."
The dispute waxed so warm that the voices were audible ​outside; and, certainly, they had reached a point where serious consequences might be expected to ensue, when Ahmet came in. Bruno and Nizib, attracted by the uproar, followed him. All three remained standing on the threshold.
"Look here," exclaimed Ahmet, laughing loudly. "My uncle is smoking M. Van Mitten's pipe, and M. Van Mitten is smoking uncle Kéraban's!"
Nizib and Bruno confirmed the assertion in chorus.
In fact, when they picked up their pipes, the disputants had each seized the wrong one; and so, without perceiving the exchange, the disputants had respectively asserted the virtues of their favourite tobacco; Kéraban all the while smoking Latakia, and Van Mitten, tombéki.
They could not help laughing, and finally they shook hands like friends whose good feeling no dispute could disturb.
"The horses are harnessed," said Ahmet; "we have only to get into the chaise."
"Let us go, then," said Kéraban.
Van Mitten and he then handed the narghilés to their valets, and the whole party were soon seated in their travelling carriage. But, as he got in, Kéraban could not help saying in a low tone to his friend,—
"Now that you have tasted it, will you not confess that tombéki is far superior to Latakia?"
"I willingly confess as much," said the Dutchman, who did not wish to get into another discussion.
"Thank you, my friend," replied Kéraban, who was much moved by this concession, "that is an avowal which I will never forget."
Then the pair cemented, by a vigorous grasp of the hand, the truce which had lately been proclaimed between them, and which ought not to be broken. The chaise was urged rapidly along the coast road, and at eight o'clock in the evening the frontier of Abkasia was reached. The travellers halted here for relays, and slept soundly until the next morning.