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VOLUME IV.—NUMBER 5.
OCTOBER 16, 1858,
PRICE FOUR CENTS.
[Drawn and engraved expressly for The Weekly Novelette.
[Entered according to Act of Congress in the Clerk’s Office of the
District Court of Massachusetts.]
TYAN THE SERP:
THE RUSSIAN AND CIRCASSIAN.
A TALE OF RUSSIA, TURKEY, AND CIRGASSIA.
BY AUSTIN C. BURDICK.
DAYLIGHT, AND THE Lost.
Wuey the first dawn of returning reason came upon
Feodor Ruric he found himself. upon a comfortable
bed, and the rays of the sun were resting warmly upon
his brow. He felt much pain about his limbs, and he
tried to move to a more comfortable position; but he
found that there was no answer to his will—not a limb
could he move. His mind was yet somewhat confused,
full of wild phantasies and startling dreams—and he
closed his eyes again. Gradually he collected his scat-
tered senses, and when he again essayed to move he
found that he was bound down to the bed with strong
cords. - What could this mean? Was he a prisoner ?
He tried to think what had happened. Te could re-
member the last of his conflict at the door of the
mosque, and he could remember of resting upon Myr-
rha’s bosom ; then came a wild, terrible dream, but no
more of sound memory. Thus he lay for a while, anid
then he cricd out for assistance.- In a few moments he
heard a voice, but it was too soft and sweet for the
guirdian of a prison IIe turned his head and saw a
female, and he was not Jong in recognizing her as Zoe,
the wife of Orfa. She gazed upon him a while with
solicitous anxiety, and finally a happy look broke over
THE NEW ACQUISITION TO SELIM’S, HAREM,
“You have found your senses,” she said, approach-
ing nearer to the bed and bending over.
“My senses have found me, it seems,”’ responded
Ruric, with another effort to move. “ But why am I
thus hound ?”
“ To save your on life. Ah, dear count, you have
been most raving, and but for these cords you would
have sacrificed your life to the mad phantom of your
brain. .’ But the bonds shall be removed now, for I see
that you ere yourself.” *
“One moment—one moment,” cried Ruric, as Zoe
turned away. “I have much to ask you.” :
“Not now—not now. Be rid of your bonds first.”
And thus speaking, the women left the room.
Ere long Ruric heard other footsteps approaching,
and on turning his head he beheld the good-natured
face of the physician who had ministered to Albee.
“So, so,” he cried, as he caught the intelligent ex-
pression of the count’s eye, “you have come back to
sound reason once more? Good; 1 thought it could
not last much longer. Now for your release from these
bonds, for they must be burdensome to you.”
And without further remark he proceeded to cast off
the cords from the young man’s limbs. They had been
lined with small bags of wool where they came across
the flesh, $0 that they had not been cankering or wear-
ing in their contact. When they were all off our hero
moved over on to his side, and felt much easier. He
drew his limbs up, and though they wero of course
somewhat stiff and weak, yet they moved at his will,
and gave promise of much more service.
“T must have been very bad,” he said, regarding the
physician earnestly. .
“Most truly you have,” was the reply. “T never
Saw a worse man to deal with in my life”:
“And where am I?”
“Tn. Orfa’s dwelling,”
“ Have I been here long 2”
“Nearly three weeks,”” . .
So long as that?” murmured Ruric, closing his
eyes, and trying to think, .
“Yes; but you will soon be on your legs again
‘And who else is here ” the count whispered, show:
ing that his soul was tortuced with anxiety. os
[See page 69,]
“ Orfa is here, but he is not so strong as you are.
He was wounded badly, but you were not.”
“ And Myrrha—where is she ?”’
For a while the physician was silent. Te sat down
by the bedside and looked the youth in the face, and
Raric saw plainly that he was troubled.
“Can you not tell me where she is ?” said our hero, ~
speaking in a sad, yet earnest tone. oF
“ Not now—not now, count,” returned the man of
medicine.“ Wait until you are stronger, and then I
will tell you all Iknow, “But I will not tell you one
word now. I have saved you from death, and I mean
to bring-you_ once more to health 3 but you must obey
me, for Iclaim the authority. Remember—you owe
me your life, but all I ask is obedience.” Me
The count saw something in the countenance of the
physician that was too stern to be trifled with, and he
asked no more questions. He felt that he would’ soon >.
he strong, and he knew that the more quiet he kept, the
sooner he would be up. He received a little nourishing
food, and some invigorating cordial, and after a while
he sank into an easy slumber. When he next awoke
he felt like asking more questions, for his anxiety had
got the upper hand; but he found only a small boy to
answer his summions, and from him he could get no
reply, save a peculiar shake of the head, with an ace.
companying shrug ot the shoulders. .
The truth was, the physician had determined to keep
away from his patient, for he knew well the inquisition
to which he would be subjected if he made his appear-
ance. So tor four days Rurie remained with no com-
panion but the boy; but on the morning of tho fifth
day he found the old doctor again at his bedside, and
he received the welcome information that he might get
up and dress himself. He felt quite strong now, and a
thrill of peculiar satisfaction shot through his frame as
he found himself once more dressed and able to walk. »
“Now see how much you have gained by keeping
quiet,” said the doctor, as hg rag his eye over the
youth’s fair proportions, .
“TI do feel strang,” returned Ruri. “(Can I not
have a horsq 2”? co :
“Let us walk first. Takea draught of this wine,’
and then we will fing the outer air; and perbips when:
we return you may see Orfa,” vs “
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