NICHOLAS GOGOL. (continued 4)

Their coats, with sleeves falling behind the shoulders,[32] were either embroidered with gold or ornamented with lace. There were many swords and guns with costly handles, which had been dearly paid for by their masters, and much more finery was to be seen there. In front of all stood, with a haughty demeanour and with a red cap ornamented with gold on his head, the newly-arrived colonel of Boodjang. Stout was the colonel, stouter and taller than all others, and his wide costly overcoat hardly met round his figure. On the other side, close to the side gate, stood another colonel, a diminutive man, who seemed to have been dried up; but his small piercing eyes looked briskly from under his thick eyebrows, and he turned about sharply on all sides, pointing with his thin dry hand, and giving orders; one might see that, notwithstanding his small size, he was well acquainted with warfare. At some distance from him stood a tall, very tall ensign, with thick mustachios; there was no lack of colour in his face; he was fond of strong mead and gay revelling. And many were the gentlemen to be seen behind these, who had taken arms either for the king's money, or on their own ducats, or on money borrowed from Jews, to whom they had pawned everything they could find in the castles of their grandfathers; many, also, who were mere hangers-on of senators (whom these latter kept to be able to boast of the number of their retinue at dinners), who stole silver cups from the tables and cupboards, and who, after having made a figure one day, sat the next on the coachbox of some lord. Many were the different persons assembled on the walls. Some of them had not a penny to drink with, and yet all had made themselves fine for fighting. Silently stood the ranks of the Cossacks before the walls. None of them wore any gold on their coats; only now and then some of it might be seen on the handles of their swords or of their guns. The Cossacks did not like to make themselves fine for fighting; their mail coats and dresses were plain, and stretching far away might be seen the black tops of their sheepskin caps.

Two Cossacks rode in front of the Zaporoghian ranks, one of them quite young, the other somewhat elderly; both biting in words, and not bad Cossacks in deeds also: Okhreim Nash and Nikita Golokopytenko. Close behind them rode Demid Popovich, a thorough Cossack, who for a long time had rambled about the Ssiecha, had been before Adrianople, and had had much to endure in his lifetime: he had been burned in fire, and had run back to the Ssiecha with his head covered with tar and blackened by the flames and his mustachios singed off.[33] But once more had Popovich regained his health, his crown-lock curled once more behind his ear, his mustachios had grown again, thick and black as pitch, and biting were his caustic speeches.

"The dresses of the army are fine enough, but I should like to know if the courage of the army is as fine?"

"I'll have you all tied up!" cried the stout colonel from the walls; "give up your guns and horses, ye boors! Have ye seen how I have bound your comrades? Let the Zaporoghian prisoners be brought upon the battlements!"

And the Zaporoghians, tied with ropes, were brought upon the walls; in front of all was to be seen the koorennoï ataman Khleeb, without trowsers or any other dress, in the same state as that in which he had been made prisoner in his sleep. And downwards he bent his head, ashamed of being seen naked by the Cossacks, and of having been made prisoner while sleeping, like a dog. In one night his strong head had turned gray.

"Cheer up, Khleeb! we'll set thee free!" cried the Cossacks from below.

"Cheer up, friend!" cried the koorennoï ataman Borodatyi: "no fault of thine if they took thee naked; misfortune may happen to any one; but shame be upon them that they make a show of thee without so much as hiding thy nakedness!"

"Ye seem to be brave warriors against sleeping men?" said Golokopytenko, looking towards the wall.

"Let us take our time, and we'll shave your crown-locks for you!" cried those from above.

"I should like to see you shave our crown-locks!" said Popovich, making curvets with his steed; then, looking at the Cossacks, he resumed: "After all, the Poles may be right; should the big-bellied one there bring them out of the town, they would have a good defence!"

"And why dost thou think they would have a good defence?" said the Cossacks, guessing that Popovitch meant some fun.

"Simply, because behind his back the whole of the army might remain concealed, and no spear on earth could ever reach them across his belly."

The Cossacks roared with laughter, and many nodded their heads, saying, "Well! Popovich, when he chances to say something funny, why, then"—but they did not add what happened then.

"Away, quickly away from the walls;" cried the Koschevoï; for the Poles seemed not to relish such bitter fun, and the colonel had waved his hand. Hardly had the Cossacks rushed away, when a volley of grape-shot flew from the walls. Tumult arose on the battlements, the gray-haired voevoda himself made his appearance on horseback. The gate flew open, and the army issued forth. In front rode, in regular ranks, the hussars; after them came the chain-mailed regiment; behind these, the cuirassiers with spears; then those in brass helmets; and after all, apart from the rest, the élite of the officers—each dressed according to his own fashion. They chose not, haughty gentlemen, to mix with the other ranks; and those who had no commission went alone with their servants. After them came soldiers again; then the standard-bearer; then, again, ranks of soldiers; then the stout colonel, and, behind them all, rode the diminutive colonel.

"Let them not take up their position! let them not set their troops in order!" cried the Koschevoï. "All koorens! up and at them! Leave the other gates! The Titarevskoï kooren attack one flank! The Diadkovskoï kooren attack the other. Kookoobenko and Palyvoda, push on the rear! Mix! confuse! and drive them asunder!"

And the Cossacks struck on every side; the Poles were driven asunder and mingled in confusion, and the Cossacks were mixed with them. Even firing was out of the question; swords and spears were alone useful.

The melée became general, and every one could show his personal skill. Demid Popovich had already speared two soldiers and thrown two officers from their steeds, saying, "Those are good horses; I have long wished to have such horses!" And he drove the horses a long way out into the field, calling to the Cossacks standing there to catch them. He again went into the crowd; once more attacked the officers thrown down; killed one of them, and throwing his arkan round the neck of the other,[34] tied it to his saddle and dragged him over the field, after possessing himself of his costly sword and the purse full of ducats, which hung at his belt.

Kobita, a good Cossack and a young one, too, fought with one of the bravest Polish warriors, and long was their fight. They were already hand to hand: the Cossack got the uppermost, and, after throwing down his adversary, plunged his sharp Turkish knife into his breast; but he took no heed of himself, and on the very spot a hot bullet struck him on the temple. He who killed him was one of the most notable among the lords; a handsome knight of ancient and princely descent. Slim as a poplar, he rode on his chestnut steed. Many were the noble knightly feats he had already accomplished; two Zaporoghians had he hewn in twain; Theodore Korj, a good Cossack, had he thrown on the dust with his horse; he shot the horse, and pierced the Cossack under it with his spear; many heads, many hands had he hewn down; he had killed the Cossack Kobita by sending a bullet through his temple.

"This is the man with whom I should wish to try my strength!" cried Kookoobenko, the ataman of the Nezamaikovskoï kooren; and spurring his horse, he rushed up close behind him and gave a fearful howl, which made all around shudder. The Pole tried to turn his horse round to confront his foe; but the horse would not turn: terrified by the fearful shriek, it dashed aside, and Kookoobenko fired his gun at the rider. The bullet entered his shoulder-blade, and down went the Pole on the ground; still, even then, he yielded not, but tried to strike once more at his foe; but his weakened arm fell beneath the weight of his sabre, and Kookoobenko taking, with both his hands, his heavy sword, drove it right into the Pole's blanched mouth: the blade knocked out two white teeth, cut the tongue in two, ran through the throat, and went far into the ground, nailing the knight for ever to the dank earth. Like a fountain spirted forth the high-descended noble blood, red as the berries of the water elder, and dyed the yellow gold-embroidered jacket.

And Kookoobenko had already left him, and, along with the Cossacks of his kooren, cut his way into another crowd. "Eh! why did he leave on the ground such costly finery!" said Borodatyi, the Omanskoï ataman, riding from his kooren to the spot where lay the officer killed by Kookoobenko. "I have killed with my own hand seven officers, and have not yet seen such finery on any one." And giving way to cupidity, Borodatyi bent down in order to take possession of the costly arms; he had already seized a Turkish knife, with a handle set with precious stones: had untied from the belt a purse full of ducats: had taken from the neck a pouch of fine linen and costly silver, containing a girl's ringlet, which had been carefully kept as a souvenir; but he did not hear how, behind his back, there had rushed upon him the red-nosed ensign, who had already been thrown from his saddle by Borodatyi, and had received a good deep slash at his hands. The ensign lifted his sword, and struck it with all his might on the bended neck of Borodatyi. No good had come of cupidity! Away sprang the mighty head, and down fell the beheaded body, making a large pool of blood on the ground. Up to the skies flew the hard Cossack's soul, frowning and filled with indignation, and, at the same time, astonished at departing so quickly from so strong a body. Hardly had the ensign taken hold of the ataman's crown-lock, in order to tie it to his saddle, when a stern avenger was there.

As a goshawk, who seems to swim in the sky, and who, after having made many circles with his strong wings, suddenly remains stationary in the air, and then darts with arrow-like speed on some quail chirping by the highway side, so Ostap, the son of Tarass, suddenly darted on the ensign, and threw the arkan round his neck. Still redder grew the red face of the ensign, as the fatal knot tightened round his throat; he tried to use his pistol, but his cramped hand could not take aim, and the bullet flew harmlessly through the field. Ostap detached from the ensign's saddle a silken rope, which the latter kept for the purpose of tying his prisoners, and bound him hand and foot with his own rope, hooked its end to his saddle, and dragged him across the field, shouting to the Cossacks of the Omanskoï kooren to go and render the last honours to their ataman.

As soon as the Cossacks heard that their ataman Borodatyi was killed, they left the battle-field, rushed to take away his body, and began on the spot to deliberate as to whom they should choose for their ataman. At last they said, "What is the use of deliberating? no one would do better as a koorennoïataman than young Boolba, Ostap; true, he is the youngest among us, but he has as much sense as the oldest." Ostap, taking off his cap, thanked his brother Cossacks for the honour, did not refuse it, either on account of youth or of inexperience, knowing that it was of no use to do so now in battle time. Instead of this, he led them into the thickest of the fray, and showed them that he well deserved to be their ataman.

In the meanwhile, the Poles felt that the fight had grown too hot for them; they retired and ran across the field, in order to form their ranks at the other end of it. The diminutive colonel gave a signal to four fresh companies who stood near the gate, and grape-shot flew thence into the crowd of Cossacks; but the volley did but little mischief: it flew into the herd of the Cossacks' bullocks, who were stupidly gazing on the fight. The terrified bullocks roared, turned on the Cossack encampment, broke the waggons to pieces, and trampled some men under their feet. But Tarass, rushing at this moment from his ambuscade, with loud cries threw himself with his regiment across their way. The whole of the maddened herd of one accord turned round, and, dashing into the Polish regiments, threw confusion into the cavalry, mixed, crushed, and broke asunder the ranks.

"Thanks to ye, bullocks!" cried the Zaporoghians. "Campaign service have ye borne hitherto, and now war service have ye rendered also!" and with fresh strength they pressed on the enemy. Many were the foes who were slaughtered there. Many were those who distinguished themselves —Metelitza, Shilo, Pissarenkos, Vovtoozenko, and many more. The Poles saw that no good could come of it; the ensign was hoisted, and the signal was given to open the gate. Creaking went the iron-nailed gate, and in went the exhausted and dust-covered riders, like sheep into the sheep-fold. Many of the Zaporoghians wished to pursue them; but Ostap detained his Cossacks, saying, "Farther, farther away, brothers, from the walls! it is not well to draw too near them." And he was right; for a volley of grape-shot came from the walls, and did much mischief. At this moment the Koschevoï rode up to Ostap, and praised him, saying, "Though thou art but a new ataman, yet thou leadest thy Cossacks like an old one!" And old Tarass turned round to see who the new ataman was, and beheld his Ostap in front of the Omansko? kooren, his cap stuck on one side and the ataman's mace in his hand. "There, just look at that one!" said he, gazing at him; and joyful felt old Boolba, and began to thank the Cossacks for the honour bestowed on his son.

The Cossacks retired, preparing to return to their encampment, when the Poles reappeared on the walls; but their dresses were now torn to pieces, many costly coats were besmeared with gore, and dust covered the fine brass helmets.

"Did you tie us with your ropes?" cried the Zaporoghians from below.

"Take heed!" cried from above the stout colonel, showing a rope; and still the dust-covered exhausted warriors continued to abuse one another, and on both sides the hot-headed exchanged scolding words.

At last all withdrew. Some, tired by the fight, retired to rest; some applied earth to their wounds, and tore into bandages kerchiefs and costly dresses, taken from the slain enemies. Those who were less tired went to remove the corpses of their dead comrades, and to render the last duty to them. Graves were dug with sabres and spears, the earth was carried away in caps and in the skirts of coats; then the corpses of the Cossacks were reverently laid in the ground and covered with fresh earth, so that the carrion ravens and eagles might not tear out their eyes. And the corpses of the Poles, several together, as they came to hand, were tied to the tails of wild horses and sent to be dragged over the plain, and for a long time after were the horses lashed on the sides and driven about. The maddened animals flew across furrows and hillocks, ditches and rivulets, and the Polish corpses, covered with gore and dust, were kicked about the ground.

As the evening came on, the Cossacks assembled in circles, and sat for a long time talking about the feats which it had fallen to every one to perform, feats to be told for ever to new-comers and to posterity. Long did they remain before going to sleep; but longer than all, old Tarass lay awake, thinking all the time what it could mean that Andrew had not been among the enemy's warriors. Had the Judas scrupled to fight against his countrymen? or, had the Jew belied him, and had he simply been made prisoner? But then he remembered that Andrew's heart was not proof against woman's words. Tarass felt a deep pang in his heart, and vowed vengeance against the Polish girl, who had bewitched his son. And assuredly he would have fulfilled his vow; he would have taken no heed of her beauty; he would have trailed her by her thick luxuriant hair; he would have dragged her across the whole field, amidst all the Cossacks; he would have kicked on the ground, covered with gore and blackened with dust, her beautiful bosom and shoulders, white as the eternal snows that lie on the crests of mountains; he would have torn her fine graceful form into fragments. But Boolba knew not what God reserved for the morrow, and falling into forgetfulness, he at last went to sleep. In the mean time, the Cossacks continued talking among themselves, and all night long, close to the fires, stood the sober vigilant sentinels, carefully looking on every side.

VIII.

The sun was not yet high in the heavens when all the Zaporoghians assembled in a crowd. News had come from the Ssiecha, that the Tartars, during the absence of the Cossacks, had pillaged it, and dug up the treasures which the Cossacks kept concealed underground, had killed or made prisoners all those who were left behind, and had directed their course straight to Perekop, with all the herds of cattle and horses which they had taken. One Cossack only, Maxim Gotodookha, had escaped on the way, from the hands of the Tartars, had killed one of their Mirzas,[35] had taken away his purse of sequins, and had, on a Tartar horse, in a Tartar dress, for one day and a half and two nights, fled from their hue and cry; had ridden his horse to death, had taken a second, which sank also under hard riding, and had only on the third found his way to the Zaporoghian encampment, which, he ascertained on the road, was under the walls of Doobno. He scarcely found time to declare the misfortune that had happened; but as to how it had happened, whether the remaining Cossacks had caroused too deeply, according to Cossack fashion, and had been made prisoners whilst tipsy; and how had the Tartars been apprised of the spot where the treasures lay hidden—nothing could he tell about all this. He was too exhausted, the whole of his body was swollen, his face was scorched by the sun and beaten by the wind; he fell on the spot fast asleep.

In such emergencies, the Zaporoghians were accustomed to proceed without the least delay, in pursuit of the invaders, and endeavour to catch them on the way, because the prisoners might be sent in no time to the slave markets of Asia Minor, to Smyrna, to the island of Crete, and wherever else the crown-locked heads of the Zaporoghians might not be expected to make their appearance. It was for this reason that the Zaporoghians had now assembled. They stood now with their heads covered, because they had come together, not by command to hear an order from their chief, but to deliberate as equals among themselves. "Let the elders give their advice first," was the cry heard from the crowd. "Let the Koschevoï give his advice," exclaimed some. And the Koschevoï, cap in hand, no longer as a chief but as a comrade, thanked all the Cossacks for the honour, and spoke thus: "There are many among us who are older than I, and who have more wisdom in their counsels, but as you have honoured me, my advice is this. Do not waste your time, comrades, go in pursuit of the Tartars at once; they are not likely to wait for our arrival with the stolen goods; they will quickly spend them and leave no trace. So this is my advice, go at once. We have done our duty here. The Poles know at present what the Cossacks are; we have avenged our faith as much as lay in our power; no great booty can be found in a famished city; so, this is our advice, go!"

"Let us go!" was the shout throughout the Zaporoghian koorens. But the speech was not welcome to Tarass Boolba, and still deeper over his eyes did he bend his contracted eyebrows, whose grayish white made them resemble bushes which grow on the high crest of mountains, and whose tops are ever covered with the sharp points of the Boreal sleet.

"Not so; thy advice is not good, Ivoschevoï!" said he, "thy speech is all wrong. Thou seemest to forget that our comrades taken by the Poles, are still prisoners? Thou seemest to wish that we should not fulfil the first holy rule of comradeship, that we should leave our brothers that they may be flayed alive, or that their Cossack bodies may be quartered and dragged about through towns and villages, as they have already done with the Hetman and the best Russian knights. Has our faith not yet sustained sufficient insults? Who are we then? I ask all of you, what sort of Cossack is he who leaves his comrade in misfortune—who leaves him to die the death of a dog in a foreign country? If it has come to such a pitch that nobody any longer values the Cossack's honour, that every one allows his gray mustachios to be spit upon, and bears the insult of shameful words, I, for one, will not bear it! Alone will I remain!"

The Zaporoghians wavered.

"And dost thou forget, brave colonel," replied the Koschevoï, "that those who are now in the hands of the Tartars are our comrades too, and that if we do not release them now, they will be sold into life-long slavery to infidels; and that slavery is more bitter than the most cruel death? Dost thou forget that all our treasures, acquired with Christian blood, are now in their hands?"

The Cossacks remained thoughtful, and did not know what to say. None of them were desirous of acquiring a disgraceful character. Then Kassian Bovdug, the oldest in all the Zaporoghian army, stepped forward. He was held in reverence by all the Cossacks; twice had he been elected Koschevoï Ataman, and a good Cossack had he proved in war; but he had long ago grown old, and ceased to take part in campaigns; he did not like to give advice, but the old fellow liked to remain lying in the Cossack circles listening to stories about events which had come to pass, and Cossack exploits in war. He never joined in their talk, but remained constantly listening, pressing with his fingers the ashes in his short pipe, which he never took out of his mouth; and long would he remain with his eyes closed, so that the Cossacks knew not whether he was asleep or listening. During all the late campaigns he had remained at home; but on this occasion he had come too, after waving his hand in the Cossack fashion, and saying, "Happen what will, I'll go, and perhaps be of some Use to my fellow-Cossacks!"

All the Cossacks kept silence as he now appeared before the assembly, because for a long time none had heard him say a single word. Every one was anxious to know what Bovdug would say. "My turn is now come to speak, gentlemen brothers," he began, "listen to the old Cossack's saying, children. Wise were the Koschevoï's words, and, as the chief of the Cossacks, who is bound to preserve the treasures of the army, and to care for them, nothing more wise could he have said. Let this be my first saying; listen now to my second. This is what I will tell you now; great was the truth of what the Colonel Tarass said; may Heaven lengthen his life, and may it send more such colonels to Ukraine! The Cossack's first duty and first glory is to fulfil the duty of comradeship. Long as I have lived in this world, gentlemen brothers, I never happened to hear that a Cossack ever left his comrade, or betrayed him in any emergency. These and those are both our comrades; be their numbers great or small, it is the same thing—both are our comrades, both are dear to us; so this is my saying: let the men to whom those who have been made prisoners by the Tartars are dearer, pursue the Tartars; let the others to whom those who have been made prisoners by the Poles are dearer, and who do not choose to desist from a righteous undertaking, remain here. The Koschevoï, according to his duty, may, with the one party, give chase to the Tartars, and the other party may choose a Nakaznoï Ataman.[36] And should you like to listen to my old mind's advice, none is better entitled to be the Nakaznoï Ataman than Tarass Boolba; none of us is equal in valour to him!"

Thus spake Bovdug, and then remained silent; and the Cossacks were rejoiced at his having settled their minds. They threw their caps up in the air, and cried "Thanks to thee, father! thou kept silent—for a long time hast thou kept silent—and now at last thou hast spoken thy mind; truly saidst thou when joining the campaign, that thou mightest be of use to the Cossacks, so has it proved to be!"

"Well, do you approve this?" asked the Koschevoï.

"Yes, all of us approve it!" cried the Cossacks.

"So, then, the Rada is ended?"

"Yes, it is!" cried the Cossacks.

"Well then, children, listen to my orders now!" said the Koschevoï; and stepping forward, he put on his cap, while all the Zaporoghians, from first to last, took off theirs, and remained uncovered with their eyes bent on the ground, according to the Cossack custom when their chief was about to address them. "Now, gentlemen brothers, separate yourselves! whoever wishes to go, step to the right; whoever remains, go to the left; wherever the greater part of a kooren goes, thither the ataman follows; if the lesser part goes on one side, it may join the other koorens."

And now they began to pass, some to the right, some to the left. Whither the greater went thither followed the ataman, the lesser part always joining with the other koorens. In the end, the two sides proved nearly equal. Among those who chose to remain were not a few of the very very excellent Cossacks.[37] All off them had seen war and campaigns; had sailed to the Anatolian coasts, traversed the Crimean salt-marshes and steppes, knew all the rivers and streams that flow into the Dnieper, all the banks and islands of that river; had been in Moldavia, "Wallachia, and Turkey; had crossed the Black Sea in all directions in their two-helmed Cossack boats—fifty such boats in ranks had attacked the richest and the tallest ships; had sent to the bottom of the sea not a few Turkish galleys, and had fired away much, very much powder in their lives; more than once had they torn to rags costly stuffs and silks to wrap up their feet; more than once had their pockets been full of bright sequins. And it would have been impossible to reckon how much property, which would have lasted others for a whole life, each of them had spent in feasting and drinking. They had spent it all like righteous Cossacks, treating every one and hiring musicians, in order that every one around them might enjoy himself. Even now, there were but few of them who had not treasure hidden underground; cups, silver goblets, and ornaments hidden in the reeds on the islands of the Dnieper, in order that the Tartars should not discover them, if by mischance they should fall upon the Ssiecha unawares; but it was scarcely possible that the Tartars could have found them, for even the owners had begun to forget where they had hidden them.

Such were the Cossacks who resolved to remain, and take their revenge on the Poles for the sake of their beloved comrades and the Christian faith. The old Cossack Bovdug resolved also to abide with them, saying "My years are no longer those in which I could give chase to the Tartars; here is the place where I may find a Cossack's death. For a long time I have prayed God, that I might, when I close my life, end it in war for some holy and Christian reason. Thus it now happens; the old Cossack could not find a more glorious end, or in a more fitting place."

When all were separated and stood in two rows, in koorens on both sides, the Koschevoï went through the ranks and said, "Well now, gentlemen brothers, is one side pleased with the other?"

"All are pleased, father," answered the Cossacks.

"Well then, embrace one another, and give one another a farewell shake of the hand, for Heaven knows if we are to meet again in this life. Obey your Ataman, do what you know must be done; you know yourselves what a Cossack's honour bids you to do!"

And all the Cossacks, as many as were there, embraced one another. First of all began the atamans, and wiping their gray mustachios with their hands, kissed one another's cheeks, and then as they took one another's hands and held them tight, they wished to ask, "Gentleman brother, shall we ever meet again, or shall we not?" However, they put not the question, but kept silence, and both gray heads remained thoughtful. The Cossacks, too, bade farewell to one another, well knowing that both sides would have hard work; still they decided not to separate at once, but to await the darkness of night, in order that the foe should not perceive the diminution of their forces. They all repaired to their koorens for dinner. After dinner, those who had to go on march laid themselves down for repose, and had a long sound sleep, as if conscious that this would perhaps be their last sleep in such freedom. They slept till the sun set; as it went down and darkness came on, they began to put their carts in order. This done, they made them advance, and themselves bidding once more farewell to their comrades, slowly followed; behind the infantry tramped the cavalry in silence, without crying to their horses or urging them on, and soon, nothing could be seen of them in the darkness of the night. The hollow trampling of the horses alone resounded, and at times was heard the creaking of some wheel, which had not been properly greased on account of the darkness.

The comrades who were left behind, stood a long time waving their hands to them, although nothing could be seen. But when they ceased at last, and came back to their places, when they saw by the light of the stars, which now shone brightly, that half the waggons were gone, and that many, many friends were there no longer, sorrow crept into their hearts, and all became thoughtful and bent down their heads.

Tarass saw how mournful the ranks of the Cossacks had become, and that sadness, unbecoming to brave men, had found its way into the heads of the Cossacks; but he kept silence, wishing to leave time for everything, time to grieve over their parting with their comrades; but while silent, he prepared himself to awaken them all at once by suddenly speaking to them like a Cossack, so that courage might again and with still greater power return to their hearts. The Slavonic race, that wide spreading, that mighty race, is the only one capable of this—a race which, is to others what the sea is to shallow rivulets; when the weather is tempestuous it roars and thunders, rises in mountain-like waves, such as feeble streams can never exhibit; but when there is no storm and all is quiet, it spreads out its immeasurable glassy expanse, clearer than any stream, and soothing to the sight of the beholder.

Tar ass ordered one of his servants to unload one of the carts which stood apart. This cart was the biggest and the strongest in the whole Cossack camp; a double iron hoop encircled its strong wheels; it was heavily loaded, covered with horse-cloths, strong ox-hides, and corded with tarred ropes. It was filled with casks and barrels of old wine which had long lain in Tarass's cellars. He had brought it in preparation for any solemn occasion, when some great event might occur, when some mighty feat, worthy to be recorded for posterity, should be at hand; that then every Cossack, to the very least, might drink some of the precious wine, in order that in a solemn moment, a deep impression might be made on every man. On hearing the colonel's command, his servants rushed to the cart, severed the ropes with their sabres, tore away the thick ox-hides and horse-cloths, and took down the casks and barrels.

"Take, all of you," said Boolba, "all, as many as are here, whatever every one has got; a cup, or the scoop with which you water your horses, or a gauntlet, or a cap—or if you have none of these, why then, hold out the hollow of your hands."

And all the Cossacks, as many as were there, took some of them cups, others scoops with which they gave drink to their horses, others gauntlets, or caps, and some held out the hollow of their hands. To every one of them did the servants of Tarass, as they passed through their ranks, pour out wine from the casks and barrels. But Tarass ordered that none should drink till he gave the signal, in order that all might drink at the same time. One could see that he was about to speak. Tarass knew, excellent as the good old wine might be of itself, and well adapted to raise a man's spirits, that when a well-suited harangue should be joined to its effect, double would be the strength both of wine and of courage.

"I treat you now, gentlemen brothers," so spoke Tarass, "not to celebrate my being elected by you as your ataman, however great that honour be, not to solemnize our parting with our comrades; another time would better suit for both matters. But now we have another more solemn occasion before us. A deed of much labour, of great Cossack valour, now awaits us! So let us drink together, comrades, let us drink first to the holy faith, that the time may at last come when everywhere over the whole world one holy faith may be diffused, and all misbelievers, as many as they are, may become Christians! Let us drink together also to the Ssiecha, that it may long stand for the destruction of all unbelievers, that every year it may send forth warriors, each stronger and better than their predecessors! Let us drink also to our own renown, that our grandchildren, and the sons of those grandchildren, may say that there once were those who did not betray comradeship and did not leave their brothers in need! So to the faith, gentlemen brothers, to the faith!"

"To the faith!" shouted the deep voices of those whose ranks stood nearest. "To the faith!" joined in the more remote, and every one of them, old and young, drank to the faith.

"To the Ssiecha!" said Tarass, and lifted his arm high above his head.

"To the Ssiecha!" deeply resounded amidst the foremost ranks. "To the Ssiecha!" slowly said the old ones, twitching their gray mustachios; and excited, like young hawks fluttering their wings, the young Cossacks shouted, "To the Ssiecha!" And far away the field resounded with the shouts of the Cossacks, "To the Ssiecha!"

"And now, a last dram, comrades: To renown and to all Christians in the world!" And all the Cossacks there present drained the last drop to renown, and to all the Christians who are spread all over the world. And long amidst all the ranks, among the koorens, resounded the words, "To all Christians, all over the world!"

The cups were already empty, and still the Cossacks remained standing with uplifted arms; gay were the glances of all eyes, glistening with wine, but profound were their thoughts. They thought not of booty or profit, they thought not of the ducats they might succeed in taking, or of the costly arms, rich dresses, and Circassian steeds. They were thoughtful as eagles sitting on the crests of rocky cliffs, steep and high, from which may be seen the far-expanding sea, all covered with galleys and ships like so many small birds, and bordered by narrow scarcely visible coasts, with towns no bigger than flies, and woods as diminutive as grass. Like eagles did the Cossacks cast their glances over the field, foreboding their fate which darkened far away before them. Thus indeed shall it be! The field shall be strewn with their whitening bones, it shall be richly bathed in their Cossack blood; and broken chariots, broken swords, and spears, shall be scattered all over it; from a long distance off shall be seen mouldering crown-tufted heads with curling and gore-clotted locks, and downward twisted mustachios; and eagles swooping down from the skies shall tear out and feast on their cossack eyes! But great also is the boon of such a widely and freely-scattered repose in death! No feat of valour shall perish, and the Cossack's fame shall no more be cast away than the grain of powder on the gun-lock. The time shall come when some bard with gray beard flowing down on his breast, or peradventure some white-haired man, old in years but full of manly vigour, shall with soothsaying words tell of them with mighty utterance. And all over the world shall their renown extend, and even those who are yet unborn shall speak of them. For widely does the mightily-uttered word spread, like the resonance of bell-metal into which the founder has thrown much pure and precious silver, that its solemn tone may echo far away in city and hamlet, palace and hovel, summoning all equally to holy prayer.

IX.

Nobody in the town knew that one-half of the Zaporoghians had gone in pursuit of the Tartars. The sentries on the tower of the town hall had indeed noticed that part of the waggons had been drawn behind the forest, but they thought that the Cossacks had prepared an ambuscade: the French engineer was of the same opinion. Meanwhile, the words of the Ivoschevoï proved true, and victuals began to be scarce in the town. As was usual in old times, they had not calculated the number of troops and the allowance to be made to them. A sally was tried, but one-half of the daring fellows were killed on the spot by the Cossacks, and the other was driven back into the town with no result. The Jews however, profited by this sally, and ferreted out everything, whither and wherefore the Zaporoghians were gone, and with which of the chiefs, also which of the koorens, in what number, and how many were left behind, and what they intended to do; in a word, some minutes had hardly elapsed when everything was known in the town. The colonels took courage, and prepared to give battle. Tarass perceived this by the movement and noise in the town, and, accordingly, busily occupied himself in forming the troops and giving orders; he divided the koorens into three encampments, which he surrounded with waggons by way of fortification, a mode of entrenchment in which the Zaporoghians were never conquered. He sent two koorens into ambuscade, ordered sharp stakes, broken weapons, and stumps of spears to be scattered over part of the field, intending to drive the enemy's cavalry to that locality when the opportunity should present itself. And when all his orders had been executed, he harangued the Cossacks, not in order to encourage them, or to heighten their spirits, for he knew them to be spirited enough, but simply because he wished to say what weighed on his own heart.

"I wish to tell you, gentlemen, what our comradeship is. You have heard from your fathers and grandfathers how highly esteemed our country has been, how it caused itself to be honoured by the Greeks, how the city of the Caesars[38] paid ducats to it, how rich its towns were, how beautiful its churches, what men were its sovereigns—sovereigns of Russian pedigree, its own bosom sovereigns, and no Popish heretics. All this have the misbelievers destroyed; everything have they laid waste. We remained orphans, and our country like ourselves has been bereft too, like a widow after the loss of a mighty husband! This was the time, comrades, when we held out our hands to one another to be brothers! This is the foundation of our brotherhood! No ties are more holy than those of comradeship. The father loves his child, the mother loves her child, the child loves its father and mother; but this is no wonder. The brute loves its cub, too! but man alone can make to himself relations by the relationship of the heart, without that of blood! There have been comrades in other countries, but such comrades as are in our Russian country, such, I say, have never existed elsewhere. More than one of you have been dragged away into foreign countries; there, too, you have seen men! They also are God's creatures; with them also did you speak as with your own countrymen; but when you had to tell them what you felt in the inmost recesses of your hearts, then you saw the difference! Clever men are they, but not like our countrymen! men, also, but not like us! No, brothers, to love as a Russian heart loves—not to love with your mind, or anything else, but to love with all that God has given us, with all your being, with all, all," said Tarass; and he waved his arm, and shook his gray head, and jerked his mustachios, and then went on: "To love in such a manner, nobody but Russians can love. I know that baseness has found its way into our country; many think only about having heaps of corn and hay, herds of horses, and of preserving untouched in their cellars their sealed casks of mead; many ape the devil knows what customs of misbelievers, and are ashamed of their native speech, they avoid meeting their countrymen, they sell them, as one sells brutes in the market. Higher than any brotherhood do they value the favour of a foreign king, no, not merely of a king, but even the base favour of a Polish magnate, who tramples on their faces with his yellow boots. But yet the basest of them, be he base as man can be, be he all besmeared with dirt and flattery, even he, brothers, has some grain of Russian feeling in his breast; he will wake up at some time, and the poor fellow will wring his hands, he will tear his hair and curse his base life, and be ready by torments of every description to redeem it. Let every one of them know what comradeship means in our Russian country. If it has come to that point, that we must die, well then, let us die as none of them may ever die! no, not one! their mouse-like nature would not dare to confront such death!"

Thus spoke the ataman, and as he ended his speech, he still shook his head, grown silver-gray in Cossack feats; strongly did the speech impress all who stood there, and straight to their hearts did it go; even the oldest stood motionless in their ranks, their gray heads bent down towards the ground, and a tear slowly rolled from their old eyes; slowly did they brush it away with their sleeves, and then all, as with one accord, waved their hands at once and shook their heads.

Old Tarass, it would seem, had struck upon many recollections of those best feelings which throng into the hearts of men whose spirits have been tried by sorrow, by hard labour, by valour, and by every possible misfortune; or of men, who, if even unacquainted with hardships, anticipate them in their pure pearl-like souls, and afford promise of perpetual joy to the old parents who gave them life.

Meanwhile, the enemy's army was already emerging from the town, drums were beating, trumpets sounding, and the officers, surrounded by numberless servants, were already riding out of the gate, their hands haughtily resting on their hips. The stout colonel was giving his orders. Now, they briskly attacked the Cossacks' encampment, threatening, aiming their guns, rolling their eyes, and glittering in their brass armour. As soon as the Cossacks saw they had come within gunshot, they sent all at once a volley of bullets, and without any interruption poured forth shot after shot from their long barrelled guns. Far away, in all the surrounding fields and pastures, did the thundering crash resound, forming a continuous roar; smoke spread over all the field, and the Zaporoghians went on firing without ever pausing to take breath; the rear-ranks did nothing but load the guns, which they passed to the foremost ranks; and the enemy marvelled, and could not understand how the Cossacks managed to shoot without loading their guns. Already the denseness of the smoke prevented them from seeing how one here, another there, fell in the ranks; but the Poles felt that the volleys of bullets were thick, and that the fight would prove serious; and as they drew back to get out of the smoke, and looked at their ranks, many were those whom they found missing; while the Cossacks had not lost more than some two or three men out of every hundred. And still the Cossacks went on firing, giving not a moment of respite. Even the foreign engineer marvelled at their tactics, which he had never witnessed before, and said, before all who stood near him, "They are clever fellows, these Zaporoghians! that is a way of fighting which ought to be followed in other countries!" and he advised that no time should be lost in turning the cannon against their encampment. Heavy was the roar of the wide-throated iron guns; far did the ground tremble and resound; and smoke, still more dense, spread over all the field. In the squares and streets of cities far and near, could the smell of powder be perceived. But the gunners had taken their aim at too great an elevation, and too high did the red-hot balls fly; after giving a fearful whizz in the air, they flew over the heads of the Zaporoghians and buried themselves deep in the ground, tearing up and tossing the black earth high in the air. The French engineer tore his hair at seeing such want of skill, and began to point the cannons himself, without taking heed of the Cossacks' bullets, which flew unceasingly. Tarass saw at once that evil was in store for two of the koorens, and shouted at the top of his voice: "Quickly away out of the camp, and on horseback every one of you!" But hardly would the Cossacks have had the time to do either, had not Ostap rushed into the very midst of the enemy; he tore the matches out of the hands of six of the gunners, but he failed to do the same to the remaining four, being driven back by the Poles. Meanwhile, the French engineer took the match with his own hand, to fire the biggest of the cannons, the like of which none of the Cossacks had ever seen before. Fearfully did its wide mouth gape, and a thousand deaths seemed to look out of it. And as it went off, and the three others followed it, while the dull resounding ground re-echoed their roar—much harm did they accomplish! More than one Cossack shall be bewailed by his old mother, who shall beat her withered bosom with her bony hands; more than one woman shall be widowed in Glookhov, Nemeerov, Chernigov, and other towns! Poor widows will every day run to the market, stop every passer-by, to have a peep at his face, to see if he be not the one dearest above all; but many Cossacks shall pass the city, and yet the one dearest above all, shall not be among them.

Half of the Nezamaikovskoï kooren seemed never to have been there! As hail strikes down a whole corn field, where every ear is heavy as a full weighing ducat, so were they stricken down and laid on the ground.

How infuriate grew the Cossacks! how all of them rushed forward! how did the blood boil in the heart of Ivookoobenko, the koorennoï ataman, when he saw that the best part of his kooren was no more! He took the remainder of his Cossacks, threw himself with them into the very midst of the battle; in his fury, hacked to pieces the first whom he reached, threw many off their horses, spearing both riders and horses, cut his way to the gunners, and had already taken one of the guns—but there he beholds the ataman of the Omanskoï kooren busily engaged about the cannons, and that Stephen Gooska has already taken the big one. Kookoobenko left them to do their business there, and led his Cossacks into another crowd of enemies; wherever the Nezamaikovskoï kooren has passed, a street is opened there, wherever they have turned there is a lane![39] Everywhere the ranks of the foe were seen to grow thinner, and Poles were seen falling like sheaves of corn! Next to the waggons fought Vovtoozenko; in front of them Cherivichenko; farther off Degtiarenko, and still farther, the koorennoï Vertykhoist. Two officers had Degtiarenko picked up on his spear, a third proved to be more obstinate. Stalwart and strong was the Polish officer, rich was his armour, and no fewer than fifty servants had he brought in his train. Strongly did he attack Degtiarenko; he had already brought him down on the ground, and brandishing his sword over his head, crying: "None of you, Cossack dogs, no, not one, will ever dare to confront me!"

"Not so, there are some left still," said Mossy Sheelo, stepping forward. A strong Cossack was he; more than once had he been ataman in sea campaigns, and many had been the sufferings he had endured. He had been made prisoner by the Turks near Trebizond, and all his Cossacks had been brought prisoners on the Turkish galleys, with their hands and feet fettered in iron chains; whole weeks they had had no millet for food, and nothing but disgusting sea-water for drink. All this had the poor prisoners endured rather than forfeit the faith of their fathers. Not so their ataman, Mossy Sheelo; he trampled the holy faith under foot, put the accursed turban on his sinful head, acquired the confidence of the Pacha, was made gaoler in the galley, and overseer of the prisoners. Greatly were the poor prisoners aggrieved by this; for they knew that no tyranny can be heavier and more bitter than that of a man who has betrayed his faith and passed over to the persecutors. So it proved; Mossy Sheelo put them all into new triple chains, bound them with hard ropes, which cut through to their white bones. At his hands every one of them received strokes and blows. But when the Turks, glad to have acquired so good a servant, and unmindful of their law, all got drunk, Sheelo brought all the sixty-four keys, and gave them to the prisoners that they might unlock their fetters, throw them into the sea, and take in their stead sabres, with which to cut the Turks in pieces. Much booty did the Cossacks take then, with glory did they return home, and long afterwards did the musicians sing the praises of Mossy Sheelo. He might have been elected Koschevoï, but he was a strange Cossack; at one time he did such deeds as the wisest could never have planned, at others, he seemed possessed by madness. So he spent everything in drinking and feasting, went in debt to every one in the Ssiecha, and at last betook himself to robbing; one night he stole from another kooren a complete Cossack's equipment, and pawned it to the brandy-shop. For so base a deed he was tied to the pillory in the market, and a bludgeon placed beside him, in order that every one, according to his strength, might give him a blow; but not one was found among the Zaporoghians to raise the bludgeon against him, so highly did they value his past services. Such was the Cossack Mossy Sheelo.

"Yes, there are still some to beat you dogs!" exclaimed he, attacking the officer. Then how they fought! Both had their breastplates and shoulder-pieces bent by the weight of their blows. The cursed Pole cut through his foe's coat of mail, and his blade penetrated to the very flesh; the Cossack's mail-coat was reddened with blood, but Sheelo paid no attention to it; down went his sinewy arm (heavy was that mighty arm!), and its blow stunned his foe, and Sheelo went on hacking and hewing to pieces his insensible foe. "Do not hack him thus, Cossack; 'twere better to turn round!" The Cossack did not turn round, and on the spot one of the dead officer's servants plunged his knife into Sheelo's throat. Sheelo turned, and would have caught his murderer, but he was already lost in the smoke. From every quarter the guns were now firing. Sheelo staggered, and felt that his wound was mortal; he fell on the ground, put his hand on his wound, and turning to his comrades, said: "Fare ye well, gentlemen brother-comrades! May the orthodox Russian country for ever last, and may its glory endure for ever!" And he closed his weakened eyes, and away flew the Cossack's soul out of his hard body. Meantime Zadorojni led his Cossacks into the fight; the koorennoï ataman Vertykhoist was breaking the enemy's ranks, and Balaban was advancing.

"How now, gentlemen!" said Tarass, summoning the atamans of the koorens, "is there still powder in the horns? is not the Cossack's strength yet faint? do not the Cossacks give way?"

"There is still powder in the horns, father; the Cossacks' strength is not yet faint; the Cossacks do not yet give way."

Vigorously did the Cossacks attack; they broke through all the ranks. The diminutive colonel ordered the retreat to be beaten, and eight coloured standards to be hoisted, in order to gather together the Poles dispersed far away over all the field. The Poles rushed towards the standards; but they had not time to rally before Kookoobenko again fell into their very centre with the Cossacks of his kooren, and went straight at the stout colonel; the colonel could not stand his attack, turned his horse and fled at its utmost speed; and Kookoobenko chased him over all the field, giving him no time to join his regiment. Seeing this from one of the koorens on the flank, Stephen Gooska joined in the pursuit, his arkan in hand, his head bent down to his horse's neck, and choosing his time, threw the arkan suddenly round the colonel's throat; deep red grew the colonel's face, with both hands he seized the cord, endeavouring to break it; but a strong blow had already sent a spear through his body, and there he remained nailed to the spot. But Gooska, too, must meet his fate! Hardly had the Cossacks had time to look back, when they saw Stephen Gooska pierced with four spears. The poor fellow had only time to say: "Let all our enemies perish, and may the Russian land exult for ever!" when he breathed his last. The Cossacks looked back, and there, on the one side is Metelitza, treating the Poles with blows, first one and then another; there, on the other side, the ataman Revelichki falls on with his kooren; there, near the waggons, the foe is driven back and beaten down by Zakrootygooba; and farther off, the third Pissarenko has put to flight a whole crowd; and still farther, round the remotest waggons, the fight is still hotter, and they fight on the very waggons.

"Gentlemen," cried the Ataman Tarass, riding in front, "is there still powder in the horns? is the Cossack's strength still strong? have not the Cossacks already given way?"

"There is still powder in the horns, father! still is the Cossack's strength entire, nor have the Cossacks yet given way!"

Bovdug fell down from his waggon; a bullet had struck him just beneath his heart; but the old man gathered up his strength and said, "I do not regret leaving the world; may God grant such a death to you all; and to the last may the Russian land be glorious!" and Bovdug's soul flew up to heaven to tell old men, long since departed, that Russians know how to fight, and still better, that Russians know how to die for their holy faith!

Soon after him, the koorennoï ataman Balaban fell also. Three deadly wounds from spear, from bullet, and from sabre, had fallen to his lot. He had been one of the bravest Cossacks; many times had he led the Cossacks over sea; but most glorious of all had been his campaign to the Anatolian coast. Many sequins had they then taken, much costly Turkish goods, stuffs, and ornaments. But grief was in store for them on their return; they fell in, poor fellows, with Turkish cannon. As the ship fired her broadside, half of their boats went wheeling round and upset, and many Cossacks were drowned in the sea; but the boats did not sink, thanks to the bundles of reeds tied to their edges. Balaban fled at the utmost speed of his oars, took his stand straight under the sun, so as not to be seen by the Turkish ship. All night long after this did the Cossacks bale out the water from the boats with their scoops and caps, and mend the rent planks; of their Cossack trowsers they made sails, caught the wind, and escaped from the swiftest of all the Turkish ships. And not only did they safely return to the Ssiecha, but brought a gold embroidered dress to the abbot of the monastery of Kieff, and a plate of pure silver for the church of the Ssiecha. And long afterwards was the Cossacks' feat the theme of the musician's praises. But Balaban bent down his head, and feeling the approach of death, slowly said, "It seems to me, gentlemen brothers, that my death is a good death! Seven have I cut down with my sword, nine have I pierced with my spear, many have I trampled under my steed's feet, and so many have I hit with my bullets, that I cannot recollect their number. So then, may the Russian land flourish for ever!" and away his soul took its flight.

Cossacks, Cossacks! do not let the best flower of your army be taken from you! Already is Kookoobenko surrounded; already seven men are all that remain of the Nezamaikovskoï kooren, already they are nearly overpowered, and bloody are Kookoobenko's garments! Tarass himself, seeing his danger, hastened to his rescue. But the Cossacks were too late; a spear had already gone deep beneath his heart, before the foes who surrounded him were driven away. Slowly he drooped on the Cossacks who caught him in their arms, and his young blood streamed forth, like costly wine which careless servants bringing in a crystal flask from the cellar, and slipping at the entrance, have spilled on the ground; the precious flask is broken to pieces, the wine flows over the floor, and the master comes running and tearing his hair; he who had preserved that wine for the best occasion of his life, in order that if in his old days he ever happened to meet a comrade of his youth, he might remember with him bygone times, when different and better were the joys of men! Kookoobenko looked around him, and said, "Thank God, comrades, that I happen to die beneath your eyes! May those after us live better than we have done, and may everlasting felicity be the lot of the Christ-beloved Russian land!" And away flew the young soul. Angels raised it in their hands, and carried it to Heaven. "Sit down on my right hand, Kookoobenko," will Christ say to him, "thou didst not betray thy comrades, didst no dishonest deed, didst not forsake a man in distress, and didst preserve and defend my faith!"

All were grieved by Kookoobenko's death; thinner and thinner grew the Cossacks' ranks, yet still they kept their ground.

"How now, gentlemen?" cried Tarass to the remaining koorens, "is there still powder in the horns? are not the sabres grown blunt? is not the Cossack's strength tired? are not the Cossacks giving way?"

"There is still powder enough, father! the sabres are still good! the Cossacks' strength fails not, nor have they given way!"

And again the Cossacks rushed on, as if they had sustained no loss. Of the koorennoï atamans, three alone remained alive. Crimson streams of blood flowed in every direction, and the corpses of Cossacks and foes were piled in heaps. Tarass looked up to the sky, and behold, long lines of birds of prey were already there! A glorious feast will be theirs!

And now, behold, Metelitza is pierced by a spear! and there falls the head of the second Pissarenko, rolling and quivering its eyelids; there falls heavily Okhrim Gooska, brought down and hewn into four pieces. "'Tis well!" said Tarass, and waved his handkerchief. Ostap understood the signal, and darting out of his ambuscade, furiously attacked the cavalry. The Poles could not withstand his impetuous attack, gave way; and were driven straight towards the spot where the ground was strewn with broken spears and stakes. The horses stumbled and fell at every step, and their riders were thrown over their heads. Just then, the Korsoonskoï kooren which stood behind the remotest waggons, seeing the enemy within gunshot, sent them a volley of musketry.

The Poles lost all presence of mind—the Cossacks regained courage. "The victory is ours!" shouted the Zaporoghians on all sides; the trumpets sounded; the victory banner was hoisted. Everywhere the discomfited Poles were to be seen flying and concealing themselves. "Not yet! the victory is not yet ours!" said Tarass, looking towards the town gate; and truly did he say so. The gate was thrown open, and out flew the hussar regiment, the choicest of all the Polish cavalry. All the riders were mounted on chestnut steeds, all equally fine. In front rode a knight, the finest and most spirited of them all; black curls waved from beneath his brass helmet; a costly scarf, embroidered by the fairest beauty, fluttered round his arm. Tarass was astounded at recognising in him Andrew! Meanwhile, Andrew, entirely given up to the heat and excitement of the battle, and fervently anxious to deserve the token tied upon his arm, flew like a young greyhound, the finest, swiftest, and youngest of all the pack; the experienced huntsman has hallooed to, and there it flies, its legs stretched in a straight line through the air, its body drawn a little on one side, puffing up the snow, and in the heat of its race, ten times outstripping the hare. Old Tarass remained standing and watching how he cleared his way, drove back those before him, cutting and hewing on each side. Tarass could refrain no longer, and exclaimed, "How? thine own comrades? thy brothers? devil's son, dost thou hew them?" But Andrew saw not who was before him, whether his comrades or others. He saw nothing but ringlets, long, long ringlets, a bosom white as a swan's, a snow-like neck and shoulders, and all that is created for frantic kisses.

"Children! lure him to the wood, lure him towards me!" shouted Tarass. Immediately some thirty Cossacks started for the purpose. Pulling their tall caps over their brows, they rode at the utmost speed of their horses to cut their way to the hussars. They attacked the foremost in flank, confused their ranks, cut them off from those behind, and wounded some of them; Golokopytenko struck Andrew on the back with his sabre, and then, all betook themselves to flight at the utmost speed of their horses. How incensed was Andrew! how intensely did his young blood boil in all his veins! Striking his sharp spurs into the sides of his horse, he set off at full speed in pursuit of the Cossacks, without looking back, and without seeing that not more than twenty men followed him; the Cossacks continued to ride at full gallop, and turned straight towards the wood. Andrew had already reached Golokopytenko, when a strong arm seized his bridle. Andrew turned round; Tarass stood before him! A shudder ran through all his body and he turned pale. Like a schoolboy, who, after having unwittingly offended his comrade, and received a stroke on the head with his ruler, fires up at once, furiously rushes from his bench, darts after his terrified comrade, wishes to tear him to pieces, then suddenly encounters the master, entering the schoolroom; at once the frantic impulse is calmed, and the powerless fury vanishes. Even so, in one instant did Andrew's wrath vanish, as if he had never felt it. And he saw before him nothing but the terrific figure of his father.

"Well, what are we to do now?" said Tarass, looking him full in the face. But Andrew could find nothing to answer, and remained with his eyes cast down upon the ground.

"Well, son, of what avail were thy Poles to thee?"

Andrew continued speechless.

"To betray—to betray thy faith? to betray thy brothers? Well, dismount from thy horse!"

Obedient as a child, he dismounted, and, unconscious of what he did, remained standing before Tarass.

"Stand, and do not move! I gave thee life: I kill thee!" said Tarass; and, falling back a step, he took his gun from his shoulder. Andrew was deadly pale; his lips moved slowly, muttering some name; but it was not the name of his country, nor that of his mother or brother: it was the name of the beautiful Polish girl. Tarass fired. As an ear of corn cut down by the sickle—as a young lamb when it feels the deadly steel beneath its heart, so did he droop his head, and fell on the grass without uttering a word.

The slayer of his son stood and gazed long upon the breathless corpse. Even in death he was still beautiful; his manly face, but a minute before full of power and fascination, irresistible for women, still showed marvellous beauty; his black eyebrows seemed, like mourning velvet, to heighten the pallor of his features. "What a Cossack he might have been!" said Tarass; "so tall his stature, so black his eyebrows, with the countenance of a gentleman, and an arm strong in battle. He perished, and perished ignominiously, like a vile dog!"

"Father! what hast thou done? Didst thou kill him?" cried Ostap, who had ridden to the spot by this time.

Tarass nodded his head.

Ostap looked steadfastly into the eyes of the dead. He pitied the fate of his brother, and said, "Well, father, let us bury him decently, that the foe may not insult his corpse, and that it may not be torn to pieces by birds of prey."

"Others will bury him without us," answered Tarass. "There will be mourners and waiters enough!"

For a few seconds he considered: was the corpse to be left a prey to wolves, or was it to be spared on account of Andrew's knightly valour, which the brave should ever respect, it signifies not in whom it may be found? But see! there comes Golokopytenko galloping towards him. "Woe to us, Ataman! the Poles grow stronger; new reinforcements have come to them."

Hardly had Golokopytenko done speaking, when Yovtoozenko came riding up, at full speed. "Woe to us, Ataman! new forces come unceasingly!" Hardly had Vovtoozenko done speaking, when Pissarenko runs up on foot. "Where art thou, father? the Cossacks are seeking for thee. Already is the koorennoï ataman Nevelichki killed; Zadorojni is killed; Cherevichenko killed too! but the Cossacks keep their stand, and will not die before looking into thy face; they wish that thou shouldst see them at the hour of death!"

"To horse, Ostap!" said Tarass, and hastened to join the Cossacks, to behold them once more, and to give them a last sight of their ataman before death. But they had not yet extricated themselves from the wood, as it was surrounded by the enemy's forces on all sides; and everywhere among the trees were riders with sabres and spears. "Ostap, Ostap, do not yield," cried Tarass, and then he himself, unsheathing hit sabre, began to deal blows on all sides to those whom he first met with. Meanwhile, six men had already sprung upon Ostap; but they found it no lucky moment. The head of one flew off at once; another wheeled round and turned back; the spear entered the ribs of a third; the fourth, more daring, threw his head on one side to avoid a bullet. The bullet entered his steed's breast, the infuriated animal threw itself back, fell on the ground, and crushed its rider beneath its weight. "Well, done, my boy; well done, Ostap!" shouted Tarass; "I am coming!" and then himself repelled the assailants. Tarass fights and deals heavy blows, first on one, then on the head of another, and all the while looks forward at Ostap, and now sees that no less than eight are again attacking him at once. "Ostap! Ostap! do not yield!" But Ostap is already conquered; already an enemy has thrown the arkan round Ostap's neck; already is Ostap bound; already is Ostap dragged away. "Ostap, Ostap!" shouted Tarass, clearing his way towards him, and hewing away at every one who crossed his path. "Ostap, Ostap!" But at the same moment he seemed stunned by some heavy stone; everything wheeled and turned round before his eyes. For a moment things glimmered confusedly in his sight—heads, spears, smoke, flashes of fire, boughs of trees with leaves. And down he went on the ground, like an oak hewn at its root, and a cloud spread over his eyes.

X.

"How long I have slept!" said Tarass, awakening, as if after a heavy drunken sleep, and endeavouring to make out the surrounding objects. He felt a fearful weakness in all his limbs. Scarcely could his eyes follow the outlines of the walls and corners of an unknown room. At last he recognised Tovkach, who was sitting beside him, and seemed to watch his every breath.

"Yes," thought Tovkach to himself, "thou hast all but had thy last sleep!" He, however, said nothing, and held up his finger, to make Tarass understand that he was to be silent.

"Tell me, where am I now?" asked Tarass, collecting his thoughts, and endeavouring to bring back his recollection of the past.

"Hold thy tongue," said his comrade, sternly rebuking him. "What wouldst thou know more? Dost thou not feel that thou art all mangled? For the last fortnight we have been riding hard with thee, without ever stopping, and thou all the time with fever and delirium. 'Tis now the first time that thou hast had a quiet sleep. Hold thy tongue, if thou wilt not bring woe upon thy head."

But Tarass still endeavoured to gather his thoughts, and to recollect the past. "But how is it? I was quite taken and surrounded by the Poles. I had no possibility of cutting my way through the crowd?"

"Hold thy tongue, I tell thee, devil's son!" angrily cried Tovkach, as a nurse out of temper cries to a naughty child. "Of what use is it for thee to know how thou didst escape? Thou hast escaped, that's enough. There were men at hand who did not forsake thee; well, that is all thou needest know. We have still many nights to ride hard together. Dost thou think thou art worth no more than a common Cossack? Not so; they have set a price of two thousand ducats on thy head."

"And what of Ostap?" suddenly cried Tarass, endeavouring to rise, for he remembered all at once how Ostap had been caught and bound before his eyes, and how he must now be in the hands of the Poles. And grief rushed into his old head. He tore the bandages from his wounds, threw them far away, and wished to say something aloud; but his mind began to wander. Fever and delirium once more fell on him, and he ejaculated raving sentences without any sense or connection. Meanwhile his faithful comrade stood before him, grumbling and uttering without interruption, scolding words, and gruff reproaches. At last he took hold of his feet and hands, swaddled him round like a baby, set all the bandages in order, packed him up in an ox-hide? bound him round with sheets of bark, and then, tying him with a rope to his saddle, once more galloped away.

"I'll bring thee home, shouldst thou even die by the way. I will not let the Poles deride thy Cossack birth, tear thy body to pieces, and cast them into the river. And if an eagle is to peck thine eyes out of thy skull, it shall, at all events, be the eagle of our steppes, and not the Polish eagle—no, not the one that comes from Poland! Shouldst thou not be alive, it's the same thing. I'll bring thee over to Ukraine."

Thus spoke the faithful comrade, and riding day and night, without ever taking repose, he brought the still unconscious Tarass to the Zaporoghian Ssiecha. There he untiringly treated him with simples and poultices; he found a knowing Jewess, who, during a whole month, administered different medicines to Tarass; and at last Tarass improved. Perhaps the medicines took effect, and perhaps simply his own iron strength saved him; but in six weeks he was on his feet again, his wounds healed, and the sabre scars alone showed how deep they had been. However, he had grown evidently sullen and sorrowful. Three deep furrows crossed his brow, and never again left it. He looked about him, all were new in the Ssiecha; the old comrades had all died away. Not one remained of those who had stood up for the good cause, for faith and brotherhood. Those who went with the Koschevoï to pursue the Tartars, they, too, were long since no more—every one had perished, every one had met his end; some were killed in glorious fight, some had died in the Crimean salt-marshes of hunger and thirst, some had pined to death, not being able to endure the shame of captivity; the Koschevoï was also long ago no more of this world, like all the old comrades, and the grass was already growing over the bodies of those in whose veins once boiled the Cossack's valour.

In vain were attempts made to divert and enliven Tarass; in vain bearded gray-haired bards came in bands of two or three at a time to sing the praises of his Cossack feats; his features retained a harsh indifferent expression, and an unquenchable sorrow was seen on them, as, with his head bent down he murmured in a subdued voice, "My son! My Ostap!"

The Zaporoghians prepared for a sea campaign. Two hundred boats sailed down the Dnieper, and Asia Minor saw their shaven and crown-tufted heads, while they put everything on its blooming coast to fire and sword; it saw the turbans of its Mahometan inhabitants, like numberless flowers, strewn about on its fields soaked in blood, or floating near its shores. It saw not a few tar-besmeared Zaporoghian trowsers, and sinewy arms with black nagaïkas.[40] The Zaporoghians devoured and destroyed all the vineyards; left heaps of dirt in the Mosques; used costly Persian shawls instead of belts, and girded their dirty coats with them. Long afterwards, were the short Zaporoghian pipes to be found in these places. The Zaporoghians started gaily on their return; a ten-gun Turkish brig gave chase to them, and with a volley from its broadside dispersed their boats like birds; one-third of the Cossacks were drowned in the deep sea; but the remainder joined once more together and came into the mouth of the Dnieper, bringing with them twelve barrels full of sequins.

But all this no longer diverted Tarass. He went into the fields and into the steppes as if to hunt, but his gun remained unfired, and with a sorrowful heart he laid it down, and sat by the sea-shore. He remained there long with drooping head, saying all the time, "My Ostap! My Ostap!" Bright and wide was the Black Sea before him, the gull shrieked in the distant reeds, his white mustachios glistened like silver, and one tear rolled after another.

At last Tarass could bear it no longer: "Happen what will! I'll go and ascertain what has befallen him. Is he still alive? is he in his tomb? or is nothing left of him even in his tomb? I'll ascertain it at all events!"

And a week had hardly passed when he made his appearance in the town of Ooman, armed from head to foot, on horseback, with spear, with sabre, with a traveller's cask tied to his saddle, a pot of flour, cartridge box, horse shackles, and all other travelling implements. He rode straight towards a dirty cottage whose small smutty windows could hardly be distinguished, a rug was stuck into the chimney, and the dilapidated roof was covered with sparrows; a heap of all sorts of filth lay close to the entrance door. The head of a Jewess, in a head-dress with tarnished false pearls, was seen looking out of one of the windows.

"Is thy husband at home?" said Boolba, dismounting, and tying his horse's bridle to an iron hook beside the door.

"Yes," answered the Jewess, hastily coming out, with a scoop of wheat for the horse and a cup of beer for the rider.

"Where is thy Jew, then?"

"He is in the further room, praying," said the Jewess, bowing and wishing health to Boolba, as he carried the cup to his lips.

"Remain here, feed my horse, and give him some drink. I'll go and have a talk with your husband alone, I have business with him."

The Jew was our acquaintance Yankel. He had become a farmer and a brandy-shop keeper, had by degrees got into his power all the neighbouring lords and gentlemen, had by degrees sucked out almost all the money in the district, and had left strong marks of his Jewish presence in the country. For three hours' journey all around, no cottage remained which was not falling into ruins, everything went wrong, every one looked older, all had become drunkards, and all had become beggars clad in rags. The whole district seemed to have suffered from a fire or a plague. And had Yankel remained there but some ten years longer, the whole voevodship would certainly have undergone the same fate.

Tarass stepped into the room; the Jew was praying, his head covered with a tolerably dirty piece of linen, and he had just turned, in order to spit for the last time, according to the Jewish ritual, when his eyes suddenly met the figure of Boolba, who stood behind him. The two thousand ducats offered for Boolba's head rushed at once into the Jew's remembrance, but he felt ashamed of the thought, and endeavoured to get the better of this love of gold, which, like a worm, is always twining itself round every Jew's heart.

"Harkee, Yankel!" said Tarass to the Jew, who began bowing to him, and warily shut the door behind him, in order that nobody should see them. "I saved thy life; the Zaporoghians would have torn thee to pieces like a dog—now thy turn is come, now thou must render me a service!"

The Jew's face expressed some uneasiness: "What service? If it be such a service as one may render, why not render it?"

"No talking! Take me to Warsaw!"

"To Warsaw? How so, to Warsaw?" said Yankel, with eyebrows and shoulders elevated in amazement.

"No talking! Take me to Warsaw. Come what will, I must see him once more! I must say, be it but one word to him."

"One word to whom?"

"To him, to Ostap, to my son!"

"Does not my lord know, then, that"—

"I know it, I know all. They have set a price of two thousand ducats upon my head. The fools, they did not even know its worth! I'll give five thousand ducats to thee. Here thou hast two thousand on the spot," and Boolba produced from his leathern bag two thousand ducats. "The rest when I come back."

The Jew took at once a piece of linen and covered the ducats with it. "Fine coins, these! beautiful coins!" said he, turning a ducat in his fingers and trying it with his teeth. "Methinks the man from whom my lord took such fine ducats, did not live an hour more, but just leaped into the water and drowned himself, after having lost these magnificent ducats."

"I would not have asked thee—I might perhaps have found my way to Warsaw by myself; but the cursed Poles may chance to recognise and seize me; I have no turn for contrivances, and you, Jews, you seem to have been made for them. You could cheat the devil himself; you know all kinds of such tricks, and this is the reason why I came to thee. The more so, as I could do nothing in Warsaw by myself. Go at once, put the horse to thy cart, and take me."

"And does my lord think there is nothing more to be done than to put the horse to the cart and cry, 'Gee up,' and away? Does my lord think that he can be taken just as he is, without concealing his lordship?"

"Well, then, conceal me, conceal me as thou knowest how; put me into an empty cask, if thou think it best."

"And does my lord think that he can be concealed in an empty cask? Does my lord not consider that every one will think that there is brandy in the cask?"

"Well, let them think so!"

"How so—let them think that there is brandy?" said the Jew, pulling his curls, and then lifting his hands above his head.

"Well, what frightens thee now?"

"And does my lord not know that brandy is made on purpose that every one may taste it? There are all along the road men fond of dainties and of drink; there is not one Polish gentleman who would not run for hours behind the cask, in order to make a hole in it, and if he sees that no brandy flows out of it, he will directly say, c A Jew would not bring an empty cask; there must be something in it! Let the Jew be arrested, let the Jew be bound, let the Jew give up all his money, let the Jew be thrown into prison!' Because everything disagreeable is done to a Jew, because every one takes a Jew for nothing better than a dog, because nobody holds a Jew to be even a man!"

"Well, then, put me into a cart with fish."

"It is impossible, my lord, by Heaven it is; all over Poland men are now as hungry as dogs; they will steal the fish and discover my lord."

"Well, then, put me anywhere, be it even on the devil's back—only bring me to Warsaw."

"Hear me, hear me, my lord!" said the Jew, pulling up the cuffs of his sleeves, and stepping nearer to Boolba, with his arms thrown wide open: "We will do thus: they are now everywhere building fortresses and castles; French engineers are come from foreign lands, and for this reason many bricks and stones are carried along the highways. My lord may lie down at the bottom of the cart, and I will cover him with bricks. My lord seems strong and healthy, so he will be able to bear it, even if it does prove somewhat heavy. And I will make a hole in the cart from underneath, and will feed my lord through it."

"Do as thou wilt, only get me there."

In an hour's time a cart loaded with bricks and drawn by a pair of miserable-looking horses, was seen on its way out of Ooman. On the back of one of the horses rode the tall Yankel, the jolting of his horse causing his long side-ringlets to wave from beneath his Jewish skull-cap, and his lanky figure making him look like the signposts which stood by the way-side.

XI.

At the time when the events which are now described took place, there were no custom officers or horse patrols on the frontiers—so that men of enterprising spirit had nothing to dread, and every one could bring with him what he chose. Even if anybody happened to search the travellers, or to inspect their luggage, he did so chiefly for his own pleasure, particularly when some part of the luggage had attractions for his eyes, and when his own arm was strong and heavy.

But the sight of bricks had attractions for none, and they passed without impediment through the great town-gate. Boolba in his narrow place of concealment could hear nothing but the noise and shouts of the coachmen. Yankel, bumping up and down on his diminutive dust-covered steed, after many turnings, went at last into a dark narrow lane, which was called the Dirty or Jewish street, because in fact it was inhabited by all the Jews of Warsaw. This lane was very much like a back yard turned inside out. The sun never seemed to come there. Wooden houses, quite black from age, with a number of poles sticking out of the windows, made the lane look still darker. At rare intervals, red brick walls might be observed here and there, but even they in many places had turned quite black. Still more rarely did a portion of some high plastered wall glimmer in the sun with a white gleam intolerable to the eyes. Everything here bore the most striking appearance—chimneys, rags, scales, broken tubs. Every one threw into the street whatever was of no use to him, and the passers-by had every opportunity of finding employment for all their senses in the midst of this rubbish. The rider on his horse could often almost reach with his hand the poles which stuck across the street from one house to the other, and on which hung Jewish stockings, short trowsers, or a smoked goose. At times might be seen at some decayed window the face of a pretty Jewess, her head adorned with discoloured false pearls; a crowd of curly-headed Jewish boys, dirty and ragged, screamed and rolled in the mud. A redhaired Jew, with a face all covered with freckles, which made it resemble a sparrow's egg, looked out of a window, and began at once to talk with Yankel in his unintelligible gibberish, and Yankel presently drove into a yard. Another Jew going along the street, stopped and also entered into the conversation, and when Boolba at last crawled from under the bricks, he saw three Jews who were talking with great vehemence.

Yankel addressed him, saying that everything should be done, that his Ostap was now lying in prison, and that, though it would be difficult to prevail upon the sentries, yet he hoped to obtain an interview for him.

Boolba entered the room together with the three Jews. They began again to speak in their unintelligible language. Tarass looked by turns at each of them. He seemed to labour under some strong excitement; his hard indifferent features seemed to light up with some unusual flame of hope, of that hope which sometimes enters the heart of him who is reduced to the lowest degree of despair. His old heart beat high, like that of a young man.

"Hear me, Jews!" said he, and his voice had something enthusiastic in it, "you can do everything, you can find anything, be it from under the bottom of the sea; and even the proverb has long ago told us that a Jew can steal his own self, if he only chooses to steal. Set me my Ostap free! give him the opportunity of escaping from the hands of these incarnate devils. Here is the man to whom I have promised twelve thousand ducats—twelve thousand more do I give now; I will give you all the costly cups, all the gold that I have hidden underground, my own house, my coat from my back—all do I give unto you; and I will make a covenant with you for all my life long that you shall have half of whatever I acquire in war!"

"Oh! impossible, my dear lord! 'tis impossible!" said Yankel, with a sigh.

"No, no, it is impossible!" said the other Jews.

The three Jews looked at each other.

"Let us, nevertheless, try it," said the third, timorously peering into the faces of the others; "may be Heaven will help us."

The three Jews again began talking in the Jewish tongue. Boolba in vain endeavoured to catch the meaning of their speech, he could only hear the word "Mardokhaï" often repeated, but could make out nothing more.

"Hear me, my lord!" said Yankel; "we must have the advice of a man the like of whom has never yet been in the world. Oh! oh! he is as wise as Solomon; and if he can do nothing, nobody on earth can. Stay here! there's the key, and let none enter."

The Jews went out into the street.

Tarass shut the door, and looked through the window into the dirty Jewish lane. The three Jews stopped in the very middle of the street, and began talking with great vehemence. They were soon joined by a fourth, then by a fifth. Tarass heard them again repeat "Mardokhaï! Mardokhaï!" The Jews every moment looked towards one end of the street; at last there was seen emerging from a decayed house a foot in a Jewish slipper; then came fluttering the skirts of a coat. "Ah, Mardokhaï, Mardokhaï!" A thin Jew, a little shorter than Yankel, but with many more wrinkles on his face, with an enormous upper lip, came near the impatient group; and every one of the Jews hastened to give him information. During the narrative, Mardokhaï looked repeatedly up towards the small window, and Tarass guessed that they were speaking about him. Mardokhaï waved his hands in the most violent manner, listened to what others said, stopped them in their speech, frequently spat aside, and lifting up the skirts of his long coat, thrust his hand into his pocket, and produced from it some rubbish, in doing which he exposed to view his disgustingly dirty trowsers. At last, all the Jews got to screaming so loudly that the Jew who stood on the watch had to give them repeated signals to be quieter, and Tarass began to fear for his safety; but he was soon tranquillised by the thought that Jews can nowhere hold their discourse but in the open street, and that the Devil himself could not understand their gibberish.

About two minutes later all the Jews came up together into his room. Mardokhaï approached Tarass, gently slapped him on the shoulder, and said, "If we are willing to do a thing, well then, that thing shall be done as we wish it to be done."

Tarass looked at the Solomon, the like of whom had never yet been in the world, and felt some hope. In fact, the appearance of the Jew was calculated to inspire confidence. His upper lip was of frightful dimensions, there could be no doubt that its thickness had been increased by particular reasons. The Solomon's beard boasted no more than some fifteen hairs, and those were on the left side only. The Solomon's features bore such numerous traces of blows received for his tricks, that he certainly had long ceased counting them, and had grown accustomed to take them for moles.

Mardokhaï left the room with his comrades, who were full of astonishment at his wisdom. Boolba remained alone, he felt a strange sensation, till then unknown to him; for the first time in his life he experienced anxiety. His heart beat feverishly—he was no more the Boolba of old, undaunted, steady, and strong as an oak; he had grown pusillanimous, he had grown weak. He shuddered at every noise, at the sight of every new Jewish figure, making its appearance at the end of the street. Thus did he feel all the day long, he neither ate nor drank, and not for one minute did he remove his eyes from the small window which looked into the street. At last at a late hour in the evening, came Mardokhaï and Yankel. Tarass felt his heart sink within him.

"What now? did you succeed?" asked he, with the impatience of a wild horse.

But even before the Jews had collected their senses to give him an answer, Tarass noticed that Mardokhaï had no longer his last temple-lock, which, though dirty, had yet before curled in ringlets from beneath his cap. It was to be seen that he had something to communicate, but he talked so incoherently that Tarass could not understand a word. Yankel, too, was every moment pressing his hand to his mouth, as if suffering from a bad cold.

"Oh? my dear lord," said Yankel, "now it is impossible; by Heavens, impossible! The people there are so very bad, that one ought to spit upon their very heads. Here, I take Mardokhaï to witness: Mardokhaï did what no man has yet done in this world; but Heaven forbids it to be as we wish. There are three thousand soldiers Under arms, and to-morrow the execution is to take place."