UNDER THE CLOUDS
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past the barracks, and plunged into the green plain leading towards the Georgian military road. ‘ We’re lucky,’ said Bender. ‘ It has been raining during the night and we shall not need to swallow dust. Breathe the pure air, my friend, and sing some Cauca sian songs or recite some poetry ! ’ But Hippolyte could not sing nor could he remember any poetry, for the road was uphill, his back was aching, his legs were heavy from all the nights he had had to spend out of doors, and he had terrible indi gestion from the sausage he had eaten. He walked slightly weighed down to one side because of a fivepound loaf which he was carrying, and he could hardly drag his feet along. They walked on and on towards Tiflis along the most beautiful road in the world; but Hippolyte did not care how beautiful it was. He could not enjoy the scenery like Bender ; he did not even notice the River Terek, which was beginning to roar at the bottom of the valley. When the sun lit up the snow-clad mountain-tops he was merely reminded of the glitter of diamonds and of Bezenchuk’s white coffins. After Balta the road lay between rocks ; it rose upwards in a spiral, and by the evening Bender and Hippolyte found themselves at Lars, three thousand feet above sea-level. They spent the night in a humble cottage, for which they did not have to pay anything: their host had been so entertained by their card tricks that he insisted on rewarding them with a glass of milk each. The following morning was so beautiful that even Hippolyte felt better. He was able to walk more rapidly than before. Beyond Lars they came in sight of a magnificent range of mountains where the valley of the River Terek was hidden from them by rocks. The landscape became more and more sinister and the inscriptions on the rocks grew more and more numerous. At a certain point, where the huge rocks were almost
