At four o'clock on a dull morning we left Piatigorsk of charming memory, to strike once more into the mountains, where by the by, in less than an hour, we were met by one of the grandest and most violent storms I remember ever having witnessed. We had to endure its force for two long hours; and our situation was the more critical, since our yemshik (coachman), though quite familiar with the road, seemed almost at his wits' end. It was only by the gleam of the lightning he was able to make such brief observations of the ground as enabled him to guide his horses. This was certainly a very precarious resource, but there is a special providence for travellers. Lost in the midst of the mountains, and our sole hope of safety resting on the coolness and skill of a peasant, we escaped, we scarce knew how, from a seemingly inevitable catastrophe. A furious burst of rain, the last expiring effort of the storm, at last cleared the sky, which became coloured towards the west with purple bands, that contrasted gloriously with the darkness of the rest of the firmament. A magnificent rainbow, with one end springing from the highest peak of the Caucasus, whilst the other was lost in the mists of evening, gleamed before us for a few moments, and gradually dissolved away.
At half-past seven we reached the station, wet, weary, stupified, and very much surprised to find ourselves safe and sound after having passed through so many dangers. Nevertheless, this recent alert by no means made us forego our original plan of travelling all night in order to reach Stavropol the next day. Nothing is so soon forgotten in travelling as danger. One is no sooner out of one scrape than he is ready to get into another, and a worse one, without giving a thought to his past alarms. You must get over the ground: that is your ruling thought. As for taking precautions, calculating the good or the bad chances of the journey, or troubling oneself about dangers to come, by reason of those already incurred, all this is quite out of the question. We were quite bent on travelling all night, but the idea was totally discountenanced by the postmaster and the Cossacks whom we fell in with at the station. They told us there was a fair at Stavropol, and that the road was always somewhat dangerous on such occasions, particularly after sunset. A night or two before, several persons returning from the fair had been surprised and plundered by the Circassians, in spite of the many military posts along the road. Several other ugly stories were told us, in a tone that at last shook our resolution, and we were beginning very reluctantly to give up our project, when an unexpected incident made us recur to it again.
A Polish officer, who until then had kept aloof in a dark corner, seeing the annoyance we felt at this unforeseen delay, joined in the conversation, and offered to set out at once with us, if his company would be sufficient to restore our confidence. He, too, was going to Stavropol, and it was all the same to him whether he travelled that night or next day. The proposal, which was made with the most obliging frankness, agreed too well with our wishes to allow of any further hesitation, and we at once accepted it. The Pole had with him a servant very well armed, and the two together were such a reinforcement to our little troop as almost insured our safety. With great exultation we set about our preparations for departure, but the more experienced postmaster gave with reluctance the order to put the horses to, and could not help crossing himself repeatedly when he saw us get into the britchka, whilst the two yemshiks failed not to imitate his example, and to lift their fur caps several times in token of devotion. The Russians always find means to mingle crossings with all the other acts of their hands, by which process they set their consciences entirely at rest. I am satisfied they cross themselves even when thieving, partly from habit, and partly in the hope of escaping without detection.