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. "Notyet! 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.
"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 knowhowthou didst escape? Thouhastescaped, 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?"
"Notalking! 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.
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."
Tarass gazed steadfastly into the faces of the Jews; but no anger, no impatience was any—longer in his look.
"If my lord still wishes to see his son, the interview must take place to-morrow, early in the morning, before sunrise; the sentries have given their assent, and one of the officers has agreed to it. But may they know no happiness in the next world! Woe is me! what grasping people they are! there are none such, even among us! To every one of the sentries have I given fifty ducats, and to the officer"—
"Be it so; take me to him;" said Tarass, resolutely, and all his firmness at once returned to his heart. He assented to Yankel's proposal of assuming the dress of a German count; the dress being already brought by the far-seeing Jew.
It was now night. The master of the house—the above-mentioned red-haired freckly-faced Jew —produced a thin mattress, covered with a mat, and stretched it for Boolba on a bench. Yankel lay on the floor on a similar mattress. The redhaired Jew drank a small cup of some infusion, took off his coat, and, after having presented in his stockings and slippers an appearance something like that of a chicken, went with his Jewess into a kind of closet. Two Jewish boys lay down on the floor near the closet, as if they had been puppies. But Tarass slept not; he remained motionless, drumming on the table with his fingers. He had his pipe in his mouth, and puffed away the smoke, which made the Jew sneeze in his slumbers, and bury his nose under his coverlet. Scarcely was the sky tinted by the first pale gleam of the morning dawn, when Tarass pushed Yankel with his foot.
"Up, Jew! give me thy count's dress!"
He was dressed in no time; he blackened his mustachios and eyebrows, put a small dark-coloured cap on his head—and none of his most intimate Cossacks could have recognised him. To look at him, he seemed to be not more than thirty-five years old. The flush of health was on his cheeks, and even the scars on his face gave an expression of authority to his features. The dress, adorned with gold, became him greatly.
The city still slept. No trading chapman, basket in hand, had yet made his appearance in the town. Boolba and Yankel came to a building which bore great resemblance to a sitting heron. It was low, wide, bulky, black; and on one side rose, like a stork's neck, a long narrow turret, beyond the top of which the roof projected. This building served many and various purposes. Here were the barracks, the prison, and even the criminal courts. Our travellers entered the gate, and found themselves in a large hall, or, rather, in a covered yard. There were nearly a thousand men sleeping here together. Straight on, was a low door, before which were sitting two sentries, who were playing at a game which consisted in one of them slapping the other with two fingers on the palm of the hand. The sentries paid no attention to the new-comers, and only turned their heads when Yankel said to them, "It's we, your worships! you hear, it's we!"
"Go!" said one of the sentries, opening the door with one hand, while he presented the other to receive the strokes of his comrade.
They stepped into a dark narrow passage, which brought them to another hall like the first, receiving its light from a small window in the roof. "Who goes there?" cried several voices at once; and Tarass beheld a great number of soldiers, armed cap-a-pie. "We cannot let any one pass."
"It's we!" cried Yank el; "by Heavens, your worships, it's we!" But nobody would listen to him. Fortunately, at this moment, a fat man approached, who, by his appearance, seemed to be the chief, for he used the most abusive language to the others.
"My lord, it's we; you already know all about us; and his lordship, the count, will thank you still more."
"Let them go; and a hundred devils to the fiend's mother! Let no one else pass, do not take off your swords, and do not, any of you, dare to roll on the floor like dogs."
The continuation of the eloquent order was lost to our travellers. "It's we; it's I; we are yours!" said Yankel to every one whom he met.
"May we go in?" he asked, of one of the sentries, as they came at last to the end of the passage.
"Yes, you may; but I do not know if you are allowed to pass into the gaol. Jan is no longer on duty, there is another one there now," answered the sentry.
"Ah! ah!" muttered the Jew; "this looks bad, my dear lord!"
"Go on," said Tarass, in a stubborn voice. The Jew obeyed.
At the door of a dungeon stood a heyduke,[41]with mustachios, separated into three different stories: the upper story went backwards, the middle one straight forwards, and the last downwards, which gave the heyduke very nearly the appearance of a cat.
The Jew bent his back as much as he could, and came near him, stealing along sideways. "Your lordship! my gracious lord!"
"Dost thou speak to me, Jew?"
"To you, gracious lord!"
"Ahem!—and I am nothing but a heyduke," said the thrice-mustachioed face, with eyes glittering with delight.
"By Heavens! I took you for the Voevoda himself! really now, I did." And the Jew began to shake his head and to stretch out his fingers. "Ah! what an air of importance! By Heavens! the air of a colonel, quite a colonel! A hair's breadth more, and it would be a colonel's. Your worship ought only to mount a horse as swift as a fly, and command regiments!"
The heyduke curled the nether story of his mustachios, and his eye assumed quite an expression of gaiety.
"What a set of men you military men are," continued the Jew. "Oh dear me! what a good set of men. And the braidings and the facings—all these make them glitter like the sun! The girls, as soon as they behold a military man—ah! ah!" And the Jew again shook his head.
The heyduke curled his upper mustachios, and gave vent to a sound something like the neighing of a horse.
"Will my lord grant me a favour?" said the Jew. "Here is a prince, come from foreign lands, who wishes to look at the Cossacks. He has never yet, as long as he has lived, seen what kind of men these Cossacks are."
The arrival of foreign counts and barons was no uncommon thing in Poland. They were frequently attracted, merely by curiosity, to see this almost half-Asiatic corner of Europe—Muscovy and Ukraine being then reputed to form part of Asia. So the heyduke, after making a respectful bow, thought fit to add some words of his own accord.
"I do not know, your grace, what you want to look at them for," said he; "they are not men, but dogs. Their creed, even, is such a one that nobody respects it."
"Thou liest! devil's son!" exclaimed Boolba. "Thou art a dog thyself'! How darest thou say that no one respects our creed? It is your heretical creed that nobody respects!"
"Eh! my friend!" said the heyduke: "I see what thou art; thou art thyself one of those that I have under my charge. Wait a bit; I'll just call my comrades."
Tarass now saw his imprudence; but, stubborn and angry as he felt, he did not think about the manner of correcting it. Happily, Yank el interposed at this juncture.
"Most gracious lord! how is it possible that a count can be a Cossack? and were he a Cossack, how could he have procured such a dress, and have such a count's appearance?"
"Have done with thy tales!" And already had the heyduke opened his wide mouth in order to give the alarm.
"Your kingly majesty, be silent! in God's name be silent!" cried Yankel. "Be silent, and we will pay you as you have never yet thought of being paid: we will give you two golden ducats!"
"Hem! two ducats! Two ducats are nothing to me. I give as much as that to my barber for shaving only half my beard. A hundred ducats must thou give me, Jew!" and the heyduke curled his upper mustachios. "And if thou givest them not, I will call at once."
"So much as that, indeed?" said the trembling Jew, sorrowfully, untying his leathern purse. He was fortunate in not having more in his purse, and in the heyduke not being able to count beyond a hundred.
"Come, my lord, let us be gone quickly. You see what a bad set of men they are here," said Yankel, seeing the heyduke was turning the money over in his hand, as if regretting he had not asked more.
"How now? devil's heyduke!" said Boolba. "Thou hast taken the money, and dost not think to let us in? Thoumustdo it now; if thou hast once received the money, thou canst no longer give us a refusal."
"Begone, begone to the devil! or I will at once make thee known, and then, beware! Away with you, I tell you!"
"Come, my lord, in Heaven's name come. Woe to them! May they have such dreams as shall make them spit!" urged poor Yankel.
Slowly, with drooping head, did Boolba turn back and retrace his steps, with Yankel worrying him with reproaches at the sorrowful recollection of the uselessly spent ducats.
"What need had you to answer them? Why not let the dog bark? They are people who cannot remain without scolding! Oh, woe is me! how lucky some men are! A hundred ducats, merely for driving us away! And look at us, we may have our temple-locks torn off, we may have our faces so disfigured that none will look at us, and nobody will give us a hundred ducats! Heavens! merciful Heavens!"
But the miscarriage of his design had a much greater influence on Boolba: a devouring flame streamed from his eyes.
"Come," said he, suddenly, as if recollecting himself, "let us go to the execution; I will see how they torture him."
"What is the use of going, my lord? we cannot help him."
"Let us go," said Boolba, stubbornly, and the Jew, like a nurse, reluctantly followed him.
The square, on which the execution was to take place could easily be found; crowds were flocking there from all parts. At that rude epoch an execution was one of the most attractive sights, not only for the rabble, but also for the highest classes of society. Many of the most pious old women, many of the most timid young girls and ladies, would never let an execution take place without indulging their curiosity, although they might afterwards, all night long, dream of nothing but bloody corpses, and shriek in their slumbers as loudly as a tipsy hussar. "Ah! what torments!" cried many in hysterics, hiding their eyes and turning away, but, nevertheless, remaining a long time. Some with mouth wide open and outstretched arms, would have jumped on the heads of the rest in order to have a better view. Amongst the crowd of small narrow ordinary heads, might be noticed the fat features of a butcher, who looked at all the proceedings with the air of adilettante, and conversed in monosyllables with an armourer whom he called his kinsman, because he used to get tipsy with him on feast days at the same brandy-shop. Some vehemently debated the matter, some even betted, but the greater part was composed of those who stare at the world and at everything that happens in the world, picking their noses with their fingers. In the foreground, next to the mustachioed soldiers who formed the town guard, stood a young gentleman—or one who gave himself the airs of a gentleman—in a military dress; he had put on everything which he possessed, so as to leave at his lodgings nothing but a ragged shirt and a pair of worn-out boots. Two chains, one above the other, hung round his neck, supporting a locket. He stood next to his sweetheart, Youzyssa, and every moment turned round to see that nobody soiled her silk dress. He had explained to her absolutely everything, so that there was decidedly nothing more left to explain. "There, my soul, Youzyssa," he said, "the people that you see here are come to look at the execution of the criminals. And there, my soul, the man whom you see holding a hatchet and other implements in his hand, is the executioner, and he will perform the execution. And as long as he shall break the criminal upon the wheel and otherwise torture him, the criminal will still be alive; but as soon as he shall behead him, the criminal will be alive no longer. At first, my soul, he will cry out and move, but as soon as he shall be beheaded, he will no longer be able either to cry, or to eat, or to drink, because, my soul, he will no longer have his head, my soul." And Youzyssa listened to all, with awe and curiosity. The roofs of the houses were crowded with people. Strange faces with mustachios, and with something like bonnets on their heads, looked out from dormer windows. On the balconies, under shades, were sitting the aristocracy. The pretty hand of some laughing dashing lady was leaning on the balustrade. Stout lords were looking very important. A lackey, richly attired, with sleeves thrown over his back, was carrying about refreshments. Often did some black-eyed lively damsel take in her white hand some dainties and fruits, and throw them among the people beneath. A crowd of hungry gentlemen lifted their caps to catch them, and some tall officer, with his head rising above his neighbours', in a faded red coat and worn-out trimming, succeeded, thanks to his long arms, in catching the booty, kissed it, pressed it to his heart, and put it into his mouth. A falcon in a gilded cage, hanging under the balcony, was also one of the spectators; with head bent on one side and one leg raised, he, too, was engaged in looking at the people. On a sudden a rumour ran through the crowd, and on all sides voices were heard, "They are coming, the Cossacks are coming!"
Their heads, with long crown-locks, were bare, their beards were unshaven. They walked neither timorously nor sorrowfully, but with an air of haughty calmness; their dresses, made of fine cloth, were worn out and falling to rags; they did not look round, and did not bow to the people. In front of all came Ostap. What were the feelings of old Tarass as he saw his Ostap? What was passing in his heart? He looked at him from among the crowd, and watched his every movement. The Cossacks came near the scaffold. Ostap stopped. He was to be the first to drink the bitter cup. He looked at his comrades, raised his arm, and said, in a loud voice, "God grant that none of the heretics here present may hear, miscreants as they are, the sufferings of Christians! May none of us utter a single word!" and he mounted the scaffold.
"Well done, my son, well done!" slowly muttered Boolba, and cast down his gray head.
The executioner tore away from Ostap the old rags that covered him; he tied his hands and feet to stocks made on purpose—but why should the reader be distressed by a description, which would make his hair stand on end, of the hellish tortures? They were the creation of those hard cruel times when man knew no other life but the bloody life of warlike feats, which hardened his heart and drove from it every human feeling. In vain some men, the few exceptions of that epoch, opposed those dreadful measures. In vain did the king and several knights, enlightened both in mind and heart, remonstrate that this cruelty in punishment would but aggravate the revengefulness of the Cossacks. The royal power and the authority of wise counsels were not proof against the anarchy and the audacious self-will of the state magnates who, with their recklessness, their inconceivable want of foresight, their childish vanity, and their absurd ostentation, made the Sseim[42]a mere satire on self-government.
Ostap bore the torments and the tortures like a giant. Not a cry, not a groan was heard; even when they began to break the bones in his hands and feet, when their dreadful crunching was heard amidst the dead silence of the crowd by the remotest spectators, when the ladies averted their eyes, even then nothing like a moan escaped his lips; no feature of his face moved. Tarass stood in the crowd, with bowed head, and from time to time, proudly raising his eyes, said approvingly, "Well done, son, well done!"
But when Ostap was brought to the last torments of death, his strength seemed to give way. He looked round. Gracious God! All unknown! all strangers' faces! Had there been but one of his kin present! He wished not to listen to the wailings and the sorrow of a weak mother, or to the insane sobs of a wife, tearing her hair and beating her bosom; he wished to have looked now at a firm man, whose wise word might have brought him fresh strength and solace before death. And his strength failed him, and he cried in the agony of his heart, "Father, where art thou? couldst thou but hear me!"
"I hear!" resounded through the general stillness, and all the thousands of people shuddered at the voice. A party of cavalry-soldiers rushed to make search among the crowds of people. Yankel turned pale as death, and when the riders had ridden past him, he looked back in amazement to see Tarass, but Tarass was no longer near him, no trace of him was left!
Traces of Tarass were soon found. A hundred and twenty thousand Cossacks made their appearance on the frontiers of Ukraine. It was no longer a small marauding party come in search of booty, or a detachment in pursuit of Tartars. Not so: it was the whole of the nation which had risen at once, because its patience was at an end. It had risen to avenge the derision of its rights, the shameful humiliation of its customs, the insults inflicted upon the creed of its fathers, and upon the holy rites, the disgrace of its church, the licentiousness of foreign lords, the Union,[43]the shameful dominion of Jews in a Christian country, and all that had so long consolidated and ripened the stern hatred of the Cossacks. The young but spirited hetman, Astranitza, was the leader of the whole Cossack army. He was accompanied by his old and experienced comrade and councillor Ploonia. Eight colonels led regiments, each twelve thousand strong. Two generalessaoolsand the generalboonchook[44]bearer followed the hetman. The general banner bearer escorted the great banner; many more banners and standards floated in the distance behind; the lieutenants of the boonchook bearer escorted the boonchooks. There were many other officials, leaders of waggons, lieutenants of regiments, and secretaries, and with them infantry and cavalry regiments; moreover, the number of volunteers was nearly as great as that of the registered Cossacks. From every side had the Cossacks risen, from all the towns of Little Russia, from the western as well as from the eastern part of the Dnieper, and from all its islands. Horses and waggons without number crossed the plains. And among all these Cossacks, among all these eight regiments, one regiment was the choicest—this regiment was led by Tarass Boolba. Everything gave him precedence over the others—his old age, his experience, his skill in leading his troops, and his inveterate hatred of the foe. Even the Cossacks thought his unsparing cruelty and ferocity too excessive. His gray head adjudged nothing but fire and gallows, and nothing but destruction did he advise in the councils of war.
It would he useless to relate all the battles where the Cossacks gained distinction, or the gradual progress of the war; all this has found its place in the pages of our annals. It is well known what, in Russia, a war begun for the Faith signifies. No power is stronger than that of the Faith. Unconquerable and terrible, it is like the rock in the midst of a stormy ever-changing sea. Formed of one single massive stone, it raises to the sky its indestructible walls from the very centre of the bottom of the sea. From every point it may be seen looking full on the passing waves. And woe to the ship that is cast upon it! Its fragile masts will fly to splinters, all those upon it are crushed and precipitated into the depths of the ocean, and far away the air resounds with the shrieks of its drowning sailors!
The annals minutely record how the Polish garrisons fled from the towns liberated by the Cossacks; how the rapacious Jew farmers were hanged; how weak the opposition was of the Polish hetman, Nicholas Potozki, with his numerous army against the unconquerable forces of the Cossacks; how, after being defeated and pursued, he let the best part of his army perish in a small stream; how he was surrounded by the dreaded Cossack regiments in the small borough of Polonnoie; and how, brought to extremity, he took his oath to the complete redress of all grievances, and the surrender of all former rights and privileges, in the name of the king and of the ministers of state. But the Cossacks were not men to be deceived, they knew what the oath of a Pole is worth; and never again would Potozki have ridden on his costly steed, attracting the looks of illustrious ladies, and making himself the envy of the nobility—never again would he have set the Sseim in an uproar, and have given rich feasts to the senators—had not the Russian clergy of the borough interposed on his behalf. As the priests came forward in the brilliant cassocks of cloth of gold, bearing crosses and holy images, and as the bishop himself appeared in front of them in his pontifical mitre, holding a crucifix in his hand, all the Cossacks bowed their heads and took off their caps. Nobody, no, not even the king would they have spared at that moment, but they dared not oppose the dignitaries of the Christian church, so they obeyed the summons of the clergy. The hetman and the colonels consented to let Potozki go free, having made him promise upon oath that freedom should be granted to all the Christian churches, that the old enmity should be brought to an end, and that no offence should be offered to the Cossack army. One colonel alone did not give his assent to such a peace as this. Tarass was that one. He tore a lock of hair from his head and cried aloud:—
"Eh! hetman and colonels! Do not do such a woman's act! Do not give credence to the Poles. The cursed dogs will betray you!"
But when the army secretary presented the act of treaty, and the hetman put his sign-manual to it, Tarass took off his rich Turkish sabre, a fine blade of highly-tempered steel, broke it in two pieces like a reed, and throwing far away both fragments, one on each side, exclaimed, "Fare ye well, then! As these two fragments shall never meet and form one single blade any more, so shall we, comrades, never meet again in this world! Remember ye my parting words!" and his voice grew stronger, rose higher, assumed an unknown power, and all felt perplexed at the prophetic words. "You will remember me at the hour of your death! You think to have purchased quietness and peace; you think you may now play the lords. There is another lordship in store for you; hetman, thou shalt have the skin torn from thy head, thou shalt have it stuffed with groats, and long shall it be made a show in fairs! And you, gentlemen, neither will you keep your heads on your shoulders. In damp dungeons, behind stone walls will you perish, if you are not, like sheep, boiled alive in cauldrons.[45]And you, children," continued he, turning round to his Cossacks, "Which of you wishes to die a natural death—not on stoves and on women's beds, not lying drunk under a hedge near the brandy-shop like carrion, but to die the honourable death of Cossacks, all of us on one bed, like bride and bridegroom? Or, may be you wish to return home to turn heretics and carry about Polish parsons on your backs?"
"We follow thee, our lord and colonel, we follow thee!" cried all who were in Tarass's regiment, and many more went over to them.
"If so, then be it so," said Tarass, and he pulled his cap over his brow, menacingly looked at those he left behind, settled himself in his saddle, and cried to his followers: "Let nobody offend us with insulting words. And now, children, let us go and pay our visit to the Papists!" and he slashed his horse. A train of a hundred waggons followed him, and numerous were the Cossacks, both on horseback and on foot, who went after him. Turning back his head, he looked with threatening and with anger at those who remained behind. None dared to stop him. In sight of the whole army, his regiment marched away, and many times did Tarass turn back and menace with his looks.
The hetman and the colonels stood perplexed; all were thoughtful, and long did they remain silent, oppressed by some gloomy foreboding. The words of Tarass did not pass away: everything happened as he had foretold. In a short time the hetman and the chief dignitaries fell victims to the treachery of the Poles, and their heads were stuck on pikes.
And what did Tarass in the mean time? Tarass crossed all Poland in every direction with his regiment, gave to the flames eighteen boroughs, nearly forty Popish churches, and had even come near Kracow. Many were the nobles whom he put to the sword; the richest and finest castles were plundered by him; his Cossacks found out and poured on the ground wines and meads which had been for centuries preserved in the cellars of the Polish lords; they chopped to pieces and burnt the rich stuffs, dresses, and furniture which they found in the storehouses. "No mercy!" repeated Tarass. And no mercy did the Cossacks show to the dark-eyebrowed ladies, to the white-bosomed pretty-faced girls, even at the altar could they find no safety; Tarass burned them with the altars. Many snow-white hands were seen raised to the sky from out of the midst of the flames, and many were the shrieks which would have made the ground tremble and the very grass bend down to the earth in compassion. But nothing softened the cruelty of the Cossacks, and, lifting on their spears the infants whom they found in the streets, they cast them also into the flames. "This is my revenge for Ostap, cursed Poles!" said Tarass, and he took his revenge in every borough: so that the Polish government saw at length that the exploits of Tarass were not merely the acts of a robber, and the same Potozki with five regiments was intrusted with the task of taking him.
For six days did the Cossacks escape by bye-ways from the pursuit. Their horses could hardly bear the rapidity of their flight and save them from their pursuers, but Potozki this time proved worthy of his charge; unweariedly did he pursue them, and he overtook them at last on the banks of the Dniester, where Boolba had paused for rest in an abandoned ruined fortress. The dismantled walls of this fortress and its crumbling keep, stood on a steep cliff above the Dniester. Its platform, paved with stones and fragments of bricks, seemed to be ready at any moment to tumble down and roll into the river. Here it was that the hetman Potozki, encamping on the two sides which were adjacent to fields, surrounded the Cossacks. For four days did the Cossacks keep their stand, fighting and rolling down stones and bricks on the assailants. At last, their strength and their provisions were exhausted, and Tarass resolved to cut his way through the ranks of the enemy. Already had the Cossacks traversed the ranks, and they might perhaps once more have owed their escape to the swiftness of their horses, when on a sudden, in the very heat of their flight, Tarass stopped and cried out, "Stay, I have dropped my pipe, not even my pipe shall the cursed Poles have!" and the old Ataman stooped and began to seek in the grass for his pipe, his never-failing companion over sea and land, in his campaigns and in his home. Meanwhile a whole crowd rushed at once upon him and took him by his shoulders. He endeavoured to shake all his limbs, but no longer as of old did the heydukes fall down around him. "Eh, old age, old age!" said he, and the stout old Cossack began to weep. But his age was not the cause of it, strength had got the better of strength. Nearly thirty soldiers hung about his arms and legs. "The crow is caught," shrieked the Poles, "let us find out the best mode of paying homage to the dog!" And with the hetman's assent they decided on burning him alive, in sight of all. There stood near at hand a dry tree, whose top had been struck by lightning. Tarass was bound with iron chains to the trunk of this tree, his hands were nailed to it, and he was raised on high, in order that from everywhere around the Cossack might be seen. Beneath they made a pile of faggots. But Tarass paid no attention to the pile, he did not think about the fire that was to burn him, he looked, poor old fellow, to where the Cossacks were seen fighting; from the height to which he had been lifted he could distinctly see everything. "Lads," cried he, "quick, reach the hill behind the wood, they will not overtake you there!" But the wind blew his words away. "They will perish, perish for nothing!" exclaimed he, in despair; and he gazed down on the Dniester, glittering below. Delight flashed in his eyes. He saw the prows of four boats, projecting out of the bushes, and gathering all the strength of his lungs, he shouted at the top of his voice, "To the shore, lads, to the shore! take the cliff path on your left. Near the shore are boats, take them all to prevent pursuit." The wind this time blew from another quarter, and every word was heard by the Cossacks. But this advice cost Boolba a stroke on his head, which made everything swim before his eyes.
The Cossacks galloped at the utmost speed of their horses to the cliff path, the pursuers were close at hand; and behold, there lies the cliff path curling round in zig-zags. "Well, comrades, let us take our chance," said they; then they stopped for a moment, lifted their whips, gave a whistle, and their Tartar horses, springing from the ground, stretched themselves like snakes in the air, flew over the abyss, and leaped straight into the Dniester. Only two riders missed the river, fell on the rocks and remained there for ever with their steeds, not having had even time to utter a shriek. And the Cossacks were already swimming with their horses and loosening the boats. The Poles stopped before the precipice, astounded at the unheard-of Cossack feat, and arguing whether they would jump or not? One young colonel, with hot boiling blood in his veins, the brother of the Polish beauty who had bewitched poor Andrew, did not remain long thinking, he leaped at once after the Cossacks. Thrice did he wheel round and round in the air with his horse, and fell upon the rocks. Tom to pieces by their sharp points, he disappeared in the abyss, and his brains, mingled with blood, splashed the bushes which grew on the uneven sides of the chasm.
When Tarass Boolba recovered from the blow, and looked on the Dniester, the Cossacks were already in the boats and rowing; bullets after bullets flew from above, but did not reach them. And the eyes of the old Ataman gleamed with joy.
"Fare ye well, comrades!" cried he to them; "Remember me and fail not to return here next spring and enjoy yourselves. How now, devil's Poles? do you think there is anything in the world than can affright a Cossack? Wait a bit; the time is coming when you shall know what the Russian faith is! Already do nations far and near forebode it. There shall arise a Czar in Russia, and there shall be no power on earth that shall not yield to his power"—
Meanwhile the flames rose from the pile and scorched his feet, and spread over the tree—but here in the world such flames, such torments, power as can overcome the strength of a Russian?
No small river is the Dniester, many are its inlets, its thick grown reeds, its shallows, and its gulfs. Its mirror-like surface glitters, re-echoing the ringing screams of the swans which proudly swim on its stream. Many are the divers coloured birds that dwell in its reeds and on its banks.
The Cossacks sailed fast in their two-ruddered boats, the oars splashed with measured stroke; they warily avoided the shoals, scaring the birds, and talked of their Ataman.