cial importance, runs from Taman to Poti, along the littoral of the Black Sea. The second, from Mosdok to Tiflis, passes by the Col du Darial; the third, from Kizliar to Bakou, by Derbend.
We need scarcely say that Kéraban, in accord with his nephew Ahmet, took the first. What was the use of entangling themselves in the wilds of the Caucasus; so courting difficulty and delay? A road was open as far as Poti, and there are plenty of towns and villages on the littoral of the Black Sea.
There are railways, which it would have been possible to utilize, but Ahmet knew the strong objection his uncle entertained to this mode of locomotion, and avoided the subject which his uncle had tabooed in the case of the Taurus and the Chersonese Railways.
All that was quite understood, and the indestructible chaise, having undergone a few necessary repairs, took the road again, and quitted Rajewskaja early on the morning of the 7th September.
Ahmet was determined to proceed with the utmost possible speed. Twenty days remained in which the journey must be finished, so as to reach Scutari upon the appointed date. On this point Kéraban agreed with him. No doubt Van Mitten would have preferred to travel more at his ease—to receive and record more lasting impressions, and not to be tied to time—but Van Mitten was not consulted. As a guest only had he agreed to accompany and dine with Kéraban at Scutari. Well, was he not taking him to Scutari? What more did he wish for?
Nevertheless, Bruno felt it incumbent upon him to make a few observations as they were entering the Russian Caucasus. The Dutchman, having listened, asked his servant to conclude.
"Well," continued Bruno, "why not let Seigneur Kéraban and Ahmet proceed without rest along the Black Sea?"
"To leave them—do you mean?" inquired Van Mitten.
"Yes, leave them, after bidding them bon voyage!"
"And remain here?"
"Yes: so then we may see the Caucasus at our ease, since our unlucky star has led us hither. After all, we shall
