“Do not force me.”
“Have I ever forced you to do anything?”
As though surprised and wounded by what he had discovered, the czar scrutinized his protégé.
“Have I ever forced you, Jamal Eddin Shamil?” he repeated, raising his voice. “Answer me!”
“Never, Your Imperial Majesty.”
“We were under the impression, the empress and I, that you wished to be baptized,” he explained curtly. “I was happy for you, and I gave you my blessing. However, given the violence of your reaction, your unspeakable rudeness, I see I was mistaken. The subject is closed. Since you haven’t enough love for God, for the czar, and for Russia, let us speak no more of it.”
“I love Russia, Your Imperial Majesty. I love the czar. I owe them everything.” His voice quivered with love and rebellion. “But I cannot serve them without honor. I cannot serve them by betraying my God and my people.”
The passion of his words left Jamal Eddin’s entire body trembling.
“Calm down.”
In the shadows, the czar smiled. For the very first time, the young man had lost his composure. When he abandoned his reserve, when he opened up, his feelings were quite transparent.
The czar had his answer.
“Calm down, please. And sit down there,” he added softly.
He pointed to the bench facing him. Jamal Eddin was reluctant to sit down.
He remained standing.
“You have already disappointed me,” the czar thundered. “Are you going to disobey me? I said sit down!”
Jamal Eddin sat down.
The czar seemed to be thinking. He measured his words.
“Of course you can remain a Montagnard and become Russian—who would tell you otherwise? The empire is vast. The empire is generous. Look at our friends, the little princesses from Georgia. They will all go home and live their lives. They will all leave, to be married in the Caucasus. The two eldest are already promised to Georgian princes. But their marriages will not change the fact that they are still Russian princesses. And you, when you go home to your father, you will be the imam’s heir. God willing, you will become his successor. And you will marry a Muslim princess, several even, since your religion permits it. But you will always be the child of the czar. I love you, Jamal Eddin. Like my own child. Do you know that?”
Distraught, Jamal Eddin rose to his feet again. The czar read his expression and understood that he had won. The boy had passed to the other side—his side—without even realizing it. Nicholas’s affection for him was boundless. This child was truly his son, a Russian prince who was worthy of him and worthy of the empire. He hadn’t been mistaken about Jamal Eddin. He was noble, devoted, and full of integrity—and still so young and so pure.
He began again, his voice full of kindness.
“I forgive your outburst just now, this stubbornness that is your worst fault. But in exchange, you must promise me one thing. We’ll make a pact, the two of us. When you return to the Caucasus, you will convince your father to come and see me. No matter what happens there, you and I will secure peace.”
This request corresponded so perfectly to Jamal Eddin’s inner feelings that he exclaimed, “I shall devote myself to the task with all my strength, Your Majesty!”
“And I know that you will not disappoint me. Now listen to what I have decided for you. In two years, you will be a standard-bearing cavalry officer in the Russian army. You will join one of my regiments; we can choose which one together. You will start your military career in Poland or on the Western frontier. When you have had enough experience and have become an excellent officer, then, Jamal Eddin, you will pay back a hundredfold what Russia, your country, has given you. You will work alongside your father to put an end to this fratricidal war forever. And in the meantime, my boy, take advantage of what your country has to offer, profit from all that Russia can teach you. Continue your studies, practice your English, your French, and your German, as well as the Avar language, Chechen, and the dialects of the mountain people. Keep up with your mathematics and physics, since you love those subjects. Accept all the blessings of providence with a mind free of concern. I authorize you to do so. Indeed, I encourage you.
“Go to Princess Potemkina’s balls when she invites you. There you will encounter enlightened minds, the best of Petersburg aristocracy. In her salons, you will meet the Muslim officers of my personal guard. They are the sons of khans and Cherkess princes, with whom you should develop ties of friendship, so that you can rely on them when the time comes. This elite will be precious to you. But in the meantime, in the meantime, my child, live! Live, I beg you, take advantage of all that you can. Now return to the terrace and tell the ladies I am coming. And leave me alone for a moment. Please, go back now.”
Jamal Eddin took long strides across the woodland grass. He could scarcely believe it. All that he had waited for, all these years, had just happened. The emperor had told him what he expected of him. Finally! And he had finally told him why he was here, in Russia, and how to repay his debt. Of course, during their first encounter in the Winter Palace, the czar had given him to understand the reasons for his abduction from Akulgo and his education in Petersburg. But at the time he had been too young to understand their meaning and too wary to believe him. Today, eight years later, he subscribed wholeheartedly to his benefactor’s plans.
Gone was the anguish that had prevented him from belonging completely to the Russian world, from accepting and approving its values. The guilt, the fear of betraying his past, the fear of forgetting his people—it had all vanished. The incredible announcement that he would soon return to his mountains endowed him with the one thing whose lack had always kept him from fitting in: confidence.
All at once, His Majesty’s explicit consent, their agreement that he was free to choose his own religion, and their pact for the future destroyed the last bastions of his resistance and swept away all his doubts and conflicting feelings.
Now everything was possible. Well, almost everything.
When it came to the Georgian princesses, he now knew that he was chasing rainbows and that his dreams of love were hopeless. But then, hadn’t he always known it? He had never expected his feelings to be reciprocated; he had never wanted anything from them. Because of their shared Caucasian origins, the homesickness they all felt for the mountains, the familiar common memories he read deep in their eyes, he had thought he could reconcile their different worlds through his passion for the young women. But he had been wrong. Anna and Varenka could not be the unifying link between two worlds. The czar had been clear on this point as well. Their destiny was not to be joined with his.
Knowing this, understanding it, even accepting it was one thing; feeling it, of course, quite another. He quickened his pace.
As he approached the cottage, his desire to be with Varenka grew stronger. His heart had sunk when the czar had said that she would belong to another, that the matter was settled. He thought he had overcome his twinge of sadness at the news, but now it returned, suddenly transformed into a raging storm. What did they expect of him? That he should sacrifice his feelings on the pretext that separation was inevitable? That was absurd! His complicity with Varenka was now free of the burden of the future, liberated from any ambiguity whatsoever, and could only become lighter, more innocent, and more joyous. He seethed in revolt against the voice that told him to let her go.
How was he supposed to conduct himself? Should he disappear among the plants, hiding in the shadow of the Hercules Rotunda, as he had the first time? Should he hide his attraction to her, feign coldness, and pretend to be indifferent to her? Should he invite all the other girls to dance, all except the one he loved? Why? Why should he behave in such a stupid manner? Because she was Christian, the granddaughter of a king, and promised to a Georgian prince? So what? The others were Christians too; the others were engaged as well. Why sacrifice his affection for her to his fear of suffering? Or friendship to caution? Tenderness to reason? His entire being rejected that way of thinking. Since life had offered him this glorious gift of freedom, why should he not take walks with Varenka, talk to her, laugh with her, even love her? Nothing else mattered. She was there, under these trees, just footsteps away. He began to run. She was there tonight. She was waiting for him tonight. Who could tell what tomorrow would bring? Tomorrow he would lose her. But in the meantime… In the meantime, my child, live! Live, I beg you, take advantage of all that you can.