Chapter 12 Chapter Twelve

The stagecoach, having changed horses, left Odessa about one o'clock in the afternoon.Lord Kerabon sat on the left of the main carriage, Van Mittern on the right, and Ahme in the middle.Bruno and Nisib climbed into the carriage again, and they spent less time chatting than sleeping. The strong sun makes the countryside bright and cheerful, and the deep blue water stands out against the gray cliffs of the coast. At the beginning, the main compartment was as quiet as the small compartment, as if people used their brains on the ground and dozed off in the car. Lord Kerabong blissfully indulged in his obstinate dreams, thinking only of "making a good game" of the Ottoman authorities.

Pondering over the trip, Van Mettain wondered how an out-of-town citizen could have been thrown on the road to the shore of the Black Sea, when he could have stayed peacefully in the Pella suburb of Constantinople. Ahme decided to set off decisively, but he made up his mind not to spare his uncle's purse when it was necessary to avoid delay or pay to get over an obstacle.They want to take the shortest path and also the fastest path. The young man thought over these questions repeatedly, and at the corner of the small promontory, he caught a glimpse of the banker Selim's villa deep in the bay.His eyes were on that spot, no doubt when Amasia's eyes were on his, and their eyes, though not seeing each other, probably intersected.

Then Ahme, determined to touch upon the most delicate of matters, turned to his uncle and asked him whether all the details of the journey had been decided upon. "Yes, nephew," answered Kerabong, "we will go round the coast and never leave it." "Then what direction are we going now?..." "Towards Koblevo, about 12 kilometers from Odessa, I intend to arrive tonight." "What about after arriving in Koblevo?" Ahme asked... "We've been traveling all night, nephew, so we can reach Nikolaev by noon tomorrow. That city is 18 kilometers away from this small town."

"Very well, Uncle Kerabon, that's really fast! . . . But after Nikolaev, don't you want to travel to all parts of the Caucasus in just a few days?" "How to go?" "Take the train in the south of Russia, passing through Alexandrov and Rostov, and we have covered a third of the way." "Train?" Kerabong called.Then Van Metertain touched his young companion lightly on the elbow, and said in a low voice: "No use! . . . Argument! . . . He hates trains!" It's not that Ahme doesn't know what his uncle, as a loyal old Turk, thinks about these over-modern means of transportation; Sad stereotype.

If you give in, even for a moment, even on any one issue, Kerabong is not Kerabong! "You talked about trains, didn't you? . . . " he said. "Yes, uncle." "You want me, Kerabong, to agree to do something I've never done before?" "I think……" "You want me, Kerabong, foolishly dragged along by a steam engine?" "If you try..." "Ahme, obviously you haven't considered the things you dare to suggest to me!" "But, uncle! . . . " "I said you didn't think about it, because you can make such a suggestion!"

"I assure you, Uncle, that in these carriages..." "Carriage? . . . " said Kerabong, repeating the foreign word in an indescribable tone. "Yes...these carriages that slide on the rails..." "Tracks?..." Kerabong said. "Where do these terrible words come from, tell me, what language do we speak?" "This is the language of the modern traveler!" "Then tell me, nephew," said the obstinate man, agitated, "that I never would climb into a carriage and be towed by a machine. Do I look like a modern traveler? When I can take a carriage on the road Do I need to slide on the rails?"

"In an emergency, uncle..." "Ahme, take a good look at my face, and remember: If there is no cart, I will ride in a cart; if there is no cart, I will ride; if there is no horse, I will ride a donkey; If I don’t have feet, I crawl on my knees; if I don’t have knees, I just…” "My friend Kerabon, have mercy, and shut up!" cried Van Metertain, grabbing his companion's arm. "I'll just crawl on my stomach!" Master Kerabong replied. "Not bad! Crawl on your stomach!" He said and grabbed Ahme's arm: "Did you ever hear that Muhammad went to Mecca by train?"

Regarding his last argument, others naturally have nothing to say.Ahme could have retorted that if there were trains in Muhammad's time he would have taken them too, but of course he said nothing, leaving Lord Kerabong to murmur in a corner and misinterpret all the words in the railway jargon at will. Although the speed of the horse-drawn carriage at that time could not be compared with that of the train, it still went quite fast.On the smooth road, the horses pull the carts at a small trot, and there is nothing to complain about.There are horses in the station.Ahmey—whom his uncle was happy to put in charge of all the bills—was extremely generous in paying all the charges and the coachman's bakshik, or tip.Bills kept flying from his pockets.It's like a knight in a "money carriage", throwing rubles along the way!

The carriage went smoothly along the coast that day, passed the small towns of Shumilka and Alexandrovka, and reached the town of Koblevo in the evening. From there walking overnight into the interior of the province, crossing Bug at the same height as Nikolayev, and passing through Kelsen's march, the travelers reached the city with ease at noon on August 28. . The carriage stopped at the entrance of a hotel with acceptable conditions, and they had a three-hour rest period. They had a decent lunch in the hotel first, and Bruno ate the most.Ahme used this time to write a letter to the banker Selim, saying that the travel situation was more satisfactory, and at the same time wrote many kind words to Amasya.Lord Kerabong believed that the best way to while away the hours was to extend the time between sipping delicious moha coffee and smoking fragrant tobacco for after-dinner snacks.

As for Van Mittern, he, like Bruno, took this strange trip as an educational opportunity and visited the city of Nikolaev.Its prosperity is obviously at the expense of the interests of its rival Kelsen, and even the name Kelsen may be replaced by the government when it names places. Ahme wanted to start first, and the Dutch certainly wouldn't keep him waiting. Lord Kerabong gave his last puff of smoke as the coachman mounted his horse and the carriage drove up the road to Kelsen. It is 17 kilometers to walk through this unfertile area.There are some mulberry trees, poplar trees, and willow trees here and there from time to time.The Dnieper River is nearly 400 kilometers long and ends at Kelsen.Near the river stretches the reedy plain, which seems to be dotted with cornflowers, but these cornflowers flutter and fly with the sound of the carriage: these are sky-blue jays, their shimmering colors It's pleasing to the eye, but the chirping sound is ugly.

In the early morning of August 29th, after a peaceful night, Lord Kerabong and his companions arrived at the capital of the place, Kelsen, which was established.Travelers can only be satisfied with the city built by Caterina II's imperious favorite.There was indeed a good hotel there, which enabled them to rest for four hours.There were also a number of well-stocked shops in the city, and the food stores on the carriages were thus renewed—a task brilliantly accomplished by Bruno, who was far more cunning than Nisib. A few hours later, they changed stage horses in the important town of Aleshki and headed back towards the Isthmus of Perekop, which connects Crimea to Russia's southern coast. Ahme did not forget to send a letter to Odessa from Aleshki.When they were seated again in the carriage, and the horses galloped down the road to Perekop, Lord Kerabong asked his nephew if he would send him his best regards along with his own Friend Selim is gone. "Yes, of course I did, I haven't forgotten at all, Uncle," replied Ahme, "I even said we were trying to reach Skutali as soon as possible." "You are right, nephew, and wherever there is a post office, don't forget to give them our news." "Unfortunately, we can never know in advance where we will stop," Ahme reminded, "Our letters are always unanswered!" "Indeed," said van Mettaine, too. "But on that point," said Kerabon to his Rotterdam friend, "it seems to me that you are in no hurry to correspond with Mrs. van Mettain? What does this fine woman think of your indifference to her? " "Mrs. van Mettain? . . . " said the Dutchman. "yes!" "Mrs. Van Mettaine must be a very righteous lady! As a woman, I never held her in the slightest, but as a partner in my life. . Where is Mrs. Mittern?" "Hey! Because in my memory, she is a very kind woman!" "Oh? . . . " said Van Mettaine, as if someone had told him something that was entirely new to him. "Nephew Ahmet, did I not speak of her in the best terms when I returned from Rotterdam?" "Exactly, Uncle." "Did I not rejoice at the reception she gave me while I was traveling?" "Oh?..." Van Mettaine wondered again. "However, I will admit," continued Kerabong, "that she often has strange ideas, whims... dizziness! . . . If you get rid of these things, you'd better not marry them! That's what I do." "You did very wisely," said van Mettaine. "Has she, being a true Dutchman, always been madly in love with tulips?" "Very frenzied." "Look, Van Mettaine, let's talk straight! I think you're being cold to your wife!" "The pain she brought me is too warm to be called cold!" "What did you say?..." Kerabong yelled. "I mean," replied the Dutchman, "that I might never have told you about Mrs. van Mettain, but now that you've mentioned her and had the opportunity to do so, I'll admit it to you. " "admit?" "Yes, my friend Kerabong! Mrs. Van Mettaine and I, we are separated now!" "The separation," said Kerabong aloud, "is it unanimous?" "It was unanimously agreed!" "Forever?..." "Always!" "Then tell me about it, if you're not too excited..." "Excited?" replied the Dutchman. "Why do you want to excite me?" "Then tell it, tell it, Van Mettaine!" Kerabon went on. "As a Turk I love stories, and as a bachelor I especially love family stories!" "Okay, friend Kerabong," said the Dutchman, as if talking about someone else's adventure. "For several years, life between Mrs. van Mettaine and myself was difficult. There were constant arguments about everything, about when to get up, when to go to bed, when to eat, what to eat and what not to eat, What to drink, what not to drink, what weather, what weather will be, what weather has been, what furniture to put or not to put, fire in this room or that room, which windows to open, in the garden What plants to plant, what plants to pull up, in short..." "All in all, things are moving!" Kerabong said. "As you can imagine, but mostly aggravating, because after all I am a mild-mannered man, submissive by nature, and give in on everything, just so that there won't be any quarrels!" "That's probably the smartest thing to do!" Ahme said. "On the contrary, it is the most unwise thing to do!" Kerabong replied, preparing for a debate on this. "I don't know anything about it," van Mettaine went on, "but anyway, in our last sparring, I wanted to rebel... and I rebelled, yes, like a real Kerabong !" "In the name of Allah! It's impossible!" shouted Ahme's uncle, who knew himself well. "And more than a Kerabon!" added van Mettaine. "May Muhammad bless me!" Kerabong replied. "You claim to be more stubborn than I am! . . . " "It's obviously impossible!" said Ahme, confident that he knew his uncle inside out. "You will see," said Van Mettaine calmly, "and . . . " "We're not going to see anything!" Kerabong yelled. "Hear me out. When it comes to tulips, that's exactly what Mrs. van Mittern and I were having an argument about. As lovers we love these beautiful tulips, which open up straight on stems and come in 100 varieties Multiple, none of the bulbs I own is less than 1,000 guilders!" "It's 8,000 piastres," said Kerabon, who is used to calculating in Turkish currency. "Yes, about 8,000 piastres!" replied the Dutchman. "But one day, Mrs. Van Mittain dared to pull out a 'Valencia' and replace it with a 'Sun Eye'! Tried to catch her...she escaped!...she threw herself on the 'Valencia'...to pull it out..." "The price: 8,000 piastres!" said Kerabong. "So," went on Van Mittes, "I threw myself at her 'sun-eye' too, and trampled it out!" "Price: 16,000 piastres!" said Kerabong. "She pounced on the second 'Valencia'..." Van Mittain said. "Price: 24,000 piastres!" said Kerabong, as if checking the entries in his cash book. "My answer to her was to step on the second 'sun eye'!..." "Price: 32,000 piastres!" "The quarrel is still going on," went on Van Mettaine. "Mrs. Van Mittern couldn't help myself, I got two of the most beautiful and most expensive 'little bulbs' on my head..." "Price: 48,000 piastres!" "She was also shot three times in the chest!..." "Price: 72,000 piastres!" "It rained tulip bulbs, probably the likes of which no one has ever seen, for half an hour! The whole garden was stripped of bulbs, and behind the garden was the greenhouse, and all the varieties I had collected were gone. Already!" "So at the end of the day, how much do you lose? ..." asked Kerabong. "If we were like the frugal heroes in Homer's writings, and only scolded each other, the damage would not be so heavy, about 25,000 shields." "Two hundred thousand piastres!" said Kerabon. "But I showed my face!" "It's worth it!" "Then," continued van Mettaine, "after liquidating my share and depositing it in the bank of the Monarch Constantinople, I left Rotterdam with my faithful Bruno, who resolved never to return to my house, unless Mrs. Van Mettaine was out of there . . . into a better world . . . " "A world without tulips!" said Ahme. "Then, my friend Kerabon," continued Van Mettaine, "were you ever so stubborn that it cost you twenty thousand piastres?" "Me!" Kerabong replied, slightly annoyed at this assessment of his friend. "Of course there are," said Ahme. "My uncle has had it, and I've known it at least once!" "Will you tell me which time it was?" asked the Dutchman. "It's the stubbornness to walk around the Black Sea this time not to pay 10 balas! He will pay more for it than your tulip rain!" "It's always worth the price!" Lord Kerabong retorted dryly. "But I don't think the price that friend Van Mettain paid for his freedom was too high! And it was only with one woman! Muhammad allowed his followers to marry as many women as he could, because he Knows a lot about attractive women!" "Of course!" replied Van Mettaine. "I don't think managing 10 women is as difficult as managing just one!" "It's even less difficult," Kerabong said, teaching. "No women at all!" At this moment the carriage arrived at a post station.After they changed horses, they traveled all night.By noon the next day the travelers were very tired, but at Ahmey's insistence they decided not to lose an hour, and after crossing Porsois-Kopany and Karantchak, they arrived at Pe The town of Perekop deep in the Lykop Bay is the beginning of the isthmus that connects Crimea with southern Russia.

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