James Grant, The Phantom Regiment; or, Stories of "Ours"
“ She gave a cry of wonder, and as she gazed at me, her large black eyes dilated and flashed with anger. "Basilia," said I, "do you not remember me?" "No," replied she, while trembling; "who are you?" "Osman, the son of Mostapha, your own Osman, who saved you at Anapa." "It is false," she answered, with eyes full of anger and sorrow; "Osman was a brave Circassian warrior, and I loved him; oh! how dearly and how well; but he fell in battle at Mikhailov. Thou art either a base Muscovite, or some fiend in the shape of Osman; a ghoul it may be, a son of Ifrit; begone, and leave me." ”
