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  out his duties with satisfaction and conscientiousness; and certainly he was

  exceptionallyswiftandskilfulatthem.Thetownsmenusedtosaythathehada

  lighter hand than Mushan the town barber. Both old and young knew him, at

  least by name, and that name excited awe and curiosity at the same time. On

  sunnydayshewouldsitorliealldaylongonthebridgeintheshadeunderthe

  woodenblockhouse.Fromtimetotimehewouldrisetoinspecttheheadsonthe

  stakes,likeamarket-gardenerhismelons.Thenhewouldliedownagainonhis

  plank in the shade, yawning and stretching himself, heavy, rheumy-eyed and

  good-humoured, like an ageing sheepdog. At the end of the bridge, behind the

  wall,thechildrengatheredinquisitivelyandwatchedhimtimidly.

  But when his work was in question, Hairuddin was alert and precise to the

  minutest detail. He disliked anyone to interfere with his work, a thing which

  happened more and more often as the insurrection developed. When the

  insurgents burnt some of the villages above the town, the anger of the Turks

  passed all measure. Not only did they arrest all insurgents and spies, or those

  whomtheyconsideredsuch,andbroughtthemtotheCaptainonthebridge,but

  intheirrancourtheyevenwantedtotakepartintheexecutionofthesentence.

  Thus one day dawn revealed the head of the Višegrad parish priest, that same

  PopMihailowhohadfoundstrengthtojokewiththe hodja andtherabbionthe nightofthegreatflood.InthegeneralfuryagainsttheSerbshehadbeenkilled,

  eventhoughinnocent,andthegipsychildrenstuckacigarinhisdeadmouth.

  Hairuddinstronglydisapprovedofsuchactionsandpreventedthemwheneverhe

  wasable.

  WhenonedaythefatAnatoliandiedunexpectedlyofanthraxanewheadsman,

  in truth far less skilful, continued his work and went on doing so for several

  years, and until the revolt in Serbia had died down there were always two or

  threeheadsexposedonthe kapia. In such times people quickly grow hardened

  andinsensible.Theysoonbecamesoaccustomedtothemthattheypassedthem

  by indifferently and paid no more heed to them, so that they did not at once

  noticewhentheyceasedtobeexhibited.

  WhenthesituationinSerbiaandonthefrontierdieddown,theblockhouselost

  itsimportanceanditsreasonforexistence.Buttheguardwentonsleepingthere,

  althoughthecrossingofthebridgehadlongbeenfreeandwithoutsupervision.

  IneveryarmythingschangeslowlyandintheTurkisharmymoreslowlythanin

  any other. And so it would have remained for God alone knows how long had

  not a fire broken out one night because of a forgotten candle. The blockhouse

  wasmadeofresinousplanksandwasstillwarmaftertheheatoftheday.Itburnt

  toitsfoundations,thatistosaydowntotheflagstonesofthe kapia.

  Theexcitedpeopleofthetownwatchedthehugeblazewhichlitupnotonlythe

  bridgebutalsothemountainsaround,andwasreflectedinwaveringredlighton

  the surface of the river. When morning broke, the bridge again appeared in its

  former shape freed from the clumsy wooden monstrosity which had for years

  concealedits kapia. Thewhitestonesweretarnishedandsooty,buttherainsand

  snowssoonwashedthemcleanagain.Thusnothingremainedoftheblpckhouse

  andthebloodyeventsconnectedwithitsaveafewbittermemorieswhichpaled

  and finally disappeared with that generation, and one oak beam which had not

  beenburntasitwasfixedintothestonestepsofthe kapia.

  Sothe kapia onceagainbecameforthetownwhatithadformerlybeen.Onthe

  leftterraceasonecamefromthetownacoffeebreweronceagainlithisbrazier

  andsetouthisutensils.Onlythefountainhadsuffered,forthesnake'sheadfrom

  whichthewaterhadflowedhadbeencrushed.Thepeopleonceagainbeganto

  dallyonthesofaandpassthetimethereinconversation,inbusinessdealsorin

  drowsytime-wasting.Onsummernightstheyoungmensangthereingroupsor

  sat there solitary suppressing their love-yearning or giving way to that vague

  desire to go out into the distant world to do great deeds and take part in great events which so often torments young people brought up in a narrow milieu.

  After a score or so of years a new generation grew up which did not even

  rememberthedeformedwoodencarcassoftheblockhouseortheharshcriesof

  theguardstoppingtravellersbynight,orHairuddinortheexposedheadswhich

  hehadcutoffwithsuchprofessionalskill.Onlysomeoftheoldwomen,driving

  awaytheurchinswhocametostealtheirpeaches,wouldshoutinloudandangry

  curses:

  'MayGodsendHairuddintocutyourhairforyou!Mayyourmotherrecognize

  yourheadonthe kapia!'

  But the children who ran away over the fences could not understand the real

  sense of these curses, though they knew, naturally, that they meant nothing

  favourable.

  Thusthegenerationsrenewedthemselvesbesidethebridgeandthebridgeshook

  from itself, like dust, all the traces which transient human events had left on it andremained,whenallwasover,unchangedandunchangeable.

  VII

  Timepassedoverthebridgebyyearsanddecades.Thosewerethefewdecades

  about the middle of the nineteenth century in which the Turkish Empire was

  consumedbyaslowfever.Measuredbytheeyeofacontemporary,thoseyears

  seemed comparatively peaceful and serene, although they had their share of

  anxietiesandfearsandknewdroughtsandfloodsandepidemicsandallmanner

  ofexcitingevents.Onlyallthesethingscameintheirowntime,inshortspasms

  amidlonglulls.

  The border between the two pashaluks of Bosnia and Belgrade, which passed

  justabovethetown,beganinthoseyearstobecomeevermoresharplydefined

  andtotakeontheappearanceandsignificanceofastatefrontier.Thatchanged

  the conditions of life for the whole district and for the town also, influenced

  tradeandcommunications,andthemutualrelationsofTurksandSerbs.

  The older Turks frowned and blinked in incredulity, as if they wished to drive

  away this unpleasant apparition. They threatened and discussed and then for

  monthsatatimeforgotallaboutthematter,untilharshrealitywouldonceagain

  remindthemandalarmthemoncemore.

  Thus,onespringdayoneoftheTurksfromVeletovo,upthereonthefrontier,sat

  onthe kapia andwithdeepemotiontoldtheleadingTurksgatheredtherewhat

  hadbeenhappeningatVeletovo.

  Sometimeinthewinter,themanfromVeletovosaid,therehadappearedabove

  theirvillagetheill-famedJovanMičić,the serdar ofRuyan,whohadcomefrom

  Arilje with armed men and begun to inspect and mark out the frontier. When

  they asked him what he intended to do and why he was there, he replied

  arrogantly that he had t
o give account to no one, least of all to Bosnian

  renegades,butiftheyreallywantedtoknowhehadbeensenttherebythePrince

  Miloštofindoutwherethefrontierwastorunandhowmuchwastobeincluded

  inSerbia.

  'Wethought,'saidthemanfromVeletovo,'thattheVlachwasdrunkanddidnot

  knowwhathewassaying,forwehavelongknownhimasabanditandarascal.

  Sowerefusedtolethimstayandthenforgotallabouthim.Butnotmorethan

  two months later he came again, this time with a whole company of Miloš'

  soldiersandadelegateoftheSultan,asoftpalefellowfromStambul.Wecould

  notbelieveoureyes.Butthedelegateconfirmedeverything.Heloweredhiseyes in shame, but he confirmed. Thus, he said, it had been ordered by Imperial

  decree that Miloš should administer Serbia in the Sultan's name and that the

  frontier should be marked out, to know exactly to what point his authority

  stretched. When the delegate's men began to drive in stakes along the crest

  belowTetrebica,Mičićcameandpulledthemupandthrewthemaside.Themad

  Vlach(maythedogseathisflesh!)flewatthedelegate,shoutedathimasifhe

  were a subordinate and threatened him with death. That, he said, was not the

  frontier;thefrontierhadbeenfixedbytheSultanandtheRussianTsarwhohad

  given a ferman to Prince Miloš, it now ran along the Lim down as far as the VišegradbridgeandthencedowntheDrina;thusallthislandispartofSerbia.

  Thistoo,hesaid,isonlyforacertaintime;lateritwillhavetobeadvanced.The

  delegate had great trouble in convincing him and then they fixed the frontier

  aboveVeletovo.Andthereitremains,atleastforthepresent.Onlyfromthenon

  wehavebeenfilledwithdoubtandasortoffear,sothatwedonotknowwhatto

  doorwheretoturn.WehavediscussedallthiswiththepeopleofUzice,butthey

  too do not know what has happened nor what to expect. And old Hadji-Zuko

  who has twice been to Mecca and is now more than ninety years old says that

  beforeagenerationhaspassedtheTurkishfrontierwillbewithdrawnrighttothe

  BlackSea,fifteendays'marchaway.'

  TheleadingTurksofVišegradlistenedtothemanfromVeletovo.Theyseemed

  calm to all outward appearance, but inwardly they were shaken and confused.

  They squirmed unintentionally at his words and caught hold of the stone seat

  withtheirhands,asifsomepowerfulandinvisibleforcewereshakingthebridge

  beneath them. Then, mastering themselves, they sought words to lessen and

  diminishtheimportanceofthisevent.

  They did not like unfavourable news or heavy thoughts or serious and

  despondent conversations on the kapia, but they could see for themselves that thisbodednogood;norcouldtheydenywhatthemanfromVeletovohadsaidor

  findwordstocalmandreassurehim.Sotheycouldscarcelywaitforthepeasant

  whohadbroughtthisunpleasantnewstoreturntohisvillageinthemountains.

  That, naturally, would not lessen the anxiety but it would remove it far from

  them. And when in fact the man went away, they were only too pleased to be

  able to return to their usual habits, and to go on sitting peacefully on

  the kapia without conversations which made life disagreeable and the future

  terrifying, and to leave it to time to soften and ease the weight of the events

  whichhadtakenplaceovertherebehindthemountains.

  Timediditswork.Lifewenton,toallappearancesunchanged.Morethanthirty years passed since that conversation on the kapia. But those stakes which the Sultan's delegate and the serdar of Ruyan had planted struck root and brought forthfruit,late-ripeningbutbittertotheTurks.TheTurkshadnowtoabandon

  even the last towns in Serbia. One summer day the bridge at Višegrad was

  burdenedwithapitiableprocessionofrefugeesfromUzice.

  Itwasononeofthosehotdayswithlongpleasanttwilightsonthe kapia when

  theTurksfromthemarketplacefilledboththeterracesoverthewater.Onsuch

  days melons were brought there on donkey back. The ripe canteloupes and

  water-melons had been cooled all day long and in the early evening people

  wouldbuyandeatthemonthe sofa. Usuallytwoofthemwouldbetwhetherthe

  insideofacertainwater-melonwereredorwhite.Thentheywouldcutitopen

  and whoever lost paid for it and they would eat it together, with talk and loud

  jokes.

  Theday'swarmthstillbeatupfromthestoneterracesbutwiththetwilightthere

  wasacoolrefreshingairfromthewater.Themiddleoftherivershone,andnear

  thebanksunderthewillowsitturnedashadowydullgreen.Allthehillsaround

  werereddenedbythesunset,somestronglyandothersscarcelytouched.Above

  them, filling the whole south-western part of that amphitheatre which could be

  seen from the kapia were summer mists of continually changing colour. These mistsareamongthemostbeautifulsightstobeseeninsummeronthe kapia. As

  soonasthedaylightgrowsstrongandthesunleapsup,theyappearbehindthe

  mountains like thick white silvery-grey masses, creating fantastic landscapes,

  irregularcupolasandcountlessstrangebuildings.Theyremainthusalldaylong,

  heavyandunmovingabovethehillssurroundingthetownwhichsweltersinthe

  sun. The Turks who in early evening sat on the kapia had those mists always before their eyes like white silken Imperial tents which in their imagination

  evoked vague shapes of wars and forays and pictures of strange and

  immeasurable power and luxury, till darkness extinguished and dispersed them

  andtheskiescreatedfreshmagicfromthestarsandmoonlight.

  Never could the wonderful and exceptional beauty of the kapia be better felt thanatthathouronsuchsummerdays.Amanwasthenasifinamagicswing;

  heswungovertheearthandthewatersandflewintheskies,yetwasfirmlyand

  surelylinkedwiththetownandhisownwhitehousethereonthebankwithits

  plum orchard about it. With the solace of coffee and tobacco, many of those

  simple citizens, who owned little more than those houses and the few shops in

  themarketplace,feltatsuchtimestherichnessoftheworldandtheillimitability

  ofGod'sgifts.Suchabridge,lovelyandstrong,couldofferallthistomenand wouldcontinuetoofferitforcenturiestocome.

  This was just such an evening, an evening filled with chatter and laughter and

  jokesamongthemselvesandthepassers-by.

  Thesprightliestandloudestjokescentredonashortbutpowerfulyoungmanof

  strangeappearance.ThiswasSalkoĆorkan,One-eyedSalko.

  SalkowasthesonofagipsywomanandsomeAnatoliansoldierorofficerwho

  hadatsometimebeenstationedinthetownandhadleftitbeforethisunwanted

  sonhadbeenborn.Shortlyafterwards,hismothertoohaddiedandthechildhad

  grownupwithoutanyoneofhisown.Thewholetownfedhim;hebelongedto

  everybodyandnobody.Hedidoddjobsaboutthe
shopsandhouses,carriedout

  taskswhichnooneelsewoulddo,cleanedthecesspoolsandstreetchannels,and

  buriedanythingthathaddiedorhadbeenbroughtdownbythewaters.Hehad

  never had a house or occupation of his own. He ate whatever he happened to

  find,stillstandingorwalkingabout,sleptinattics,anddressedinparti-coloured

  ragsgivenhimbyothers.Whilestillachildhehadlosthislefteye.Eccentric,

  good-humoured,merryandadrunkard,heoftenworkedforthetownsmenfora

  wordorajokeinsteadofpay.

  Around Salko had gathered a number of merchants' sons, young men who

  laughedathimandplayedcrudejokesonhim.

  Theairsmeltoffreshmelonsandroastingcoffee.Fromthegreatflagstones,still

  warmfromtheday'sheat,andsprinkledwithwater,rosemoistandscentedthe

  specialsmellofthe kapia whichfilledmenwithfreedomfromcareandevoked

  livelyfancies.

  It was the moment between day and night. The sun had set but the great star

  whichroseoverMoljevnikhadnotyetappeared.Insuchamoment,wheneven

  the most ordinary thing took on the appearance of a vision filled with majesty,

  terrorandspecialmeaning,thefirstrefugeesfromUziceappearedonthebridge.

  The men were for the most part on foot, dusty and bowed, while the women

  wrappedintheirveilswerebalancedonsmallhorseswithsmallchildrentiedto

  thesaddlebagsortoboxes.Nowandagainamoreimportantmanrodeabetter

  horse,butwithloweredheadandatafunerealpace,revealingevenmoreclearly

  the misfortune which had driven them hither. Some of them were leading a

  singlegoatonashorthalter.Otherscarriedlambsintheirlaps.Allweresilent;

  eventhechildrendidnotcry.Allthatcouldbeheardwasthebeatofhorseshoes

  andfootstepsandthemonotonouschinkingofwoodenandcoppervesselsonthe

  overloadedhorses.

  The appearance of this overtired and destitute procession dampened the gaiety

  onthe kapia. Theolderpeopleremainedseatedonthestonebenches,whilethe

  younger stood up and formed living walls on both sides of the kapia and the procession passed between them. Some of the townsmen only looked