From Asia, we have moved to Europe on the ship. I immediately went to the so-called tomb Mithridatic (the ruins of some towers); there plucked a flower for the memory and the next day lost without regret. Ruins Panticapaeum no more effect upon my imagination. I saw the traces of streets, poluzarosshy ditch, old bricks - and only. From Feodosia to the Yurzufa I traveled by sea. Up all night. There was no moon, stars shine; before me, in a fog, stretched midday mountains ... "Here Chatyrdag", - he told me the captain. I do not distinguish it and not curious. I fell asleep before the light. Meanwhile, the ship stopped in mind Yurzufa. waking up, I saw a picture of the fascinating: colored mountains shone; flat roof huts Tatar afar seemed hives, Sticky to the mountains; poplars, as green column, gracefully rose between them; Right huge Ayu-Dag ... and around it blue, clear sky, and bright sea, and shine and the air midday ...
In Yurzufe I lived sydney, bathed in the sea and consume grapes; I immediately got used to the midday nature and enjoy it with all the indifference and carelessness Neapolitan lazzarone #. I loved, waking up at night, listen to the sound of the sea - and hear for hours. A stone's throw from home grown young cypress; every morning I visited him and attached to it a sense of, pohozhim company. That's all, that my stay in Yurzufe left in my memory.
I traveled noon Beach, and journey M. revived many memories in me; but terrible transition it over rocks Kikeneisa * did not leave any trace in my memory. According Mountain stairs we climbed on foot *, holding the tail of our horses Tatar. It amused me extremely, and seemed some mysterious, eastern rite. We moved mountains, and the first thing, impressed me, birch was, northern birch! My heart sank: I was beginning to long for a pretty noon, although everything was still in Tauris, still seen and poplars and vines. George Monastery and its steep stairs to the sea left a strong impression on me. Immediately I saw and fabulous ruins of the Temple of Diana. It is seen, mythological tradition for me happier memories of historical; at least here I visited the rhyme. I thought poetry. Here they are: What cold doubt? I believe: here was a formidable temple, Where is the blood thirsty gods smoked Sacrifice; There was bad blood calmed the fierce Eumenides: Here herald Tauris at his brother's hand has brought; On these ruins come to pass Holy celebration of friendship, And the souls of the great god of his creatures lifted . . . . . .Çadaev, Do you remember the former? It has long been my only weapon with delight young I thought the name fateful To betray the ruins of another? But in the heart, storms humility, Now laziness and silence, And Tenderness inspired, unturned, friendship consecrated, I write our names.
In Bakhchisarai arrived, I sick. I first heard about the strange monument lover Khan. K ** poetically described it to me, называя fountain of tears #. Voshed palace, I saw the damaged fountain; zarzhavoy of iron tubes dropwise falling water. I walked around the palace with great annoyance to neglect, in which he perish, and poluevropeyskogo rework some rooms.
NN almost forcibly led me in the oldness of the staircase in the ruins of the harem and to the khan's cemetery, but not so in the time the heart was full: I was tormented by fever.
With regard to the monument to the Khan's mistress, which says M., I do not remember about it, when he wrote his poem, and then they would certainly have taken advantage.
Explain to me now, why midday coast and Bakhchisarai have a charm indescribable for me? Why so much in me the desire to re-visit places, left me with such indifference? or remembrance of the strongest ability of our soul, and they are fascinated by everything, that is subject to it?
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