Classic Audiobook Collection - Taras Bulba; a Tale of the Cossacks by Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol ~ Full Audiobook [adventure]

Episode Date: June 25, 2025

Taras Bulba; a Tale of the Cossacks by Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol audiobook. Genre: adventure Set on the sweeping steppes of Eastern Europe, Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol's Taras Bulba follows a fierce old Cossack warrior who lives for the hard freedoms of the Zaporozhian Host and the holy fire of battle. When his two sons return from school, Taras wastes no time pulling them into the rough brotherhood of the Sich, where loyalty is sworn with steel, song, and shared danger. As conflict flares with the Polish forces who threaten Cossack lands and faith, father and sons are tested in raids, sieges, and brutal marches that demand absolute devotion to comrades and cause. But the greater struggle is not only on the battlefield: desire, conscience, and competing ideas of honor begin to tug the family apart, forcing each man to decide what he owes to his people, his beliefs, and his blood. By turns wild, grim, and darkly humorous, this classic tale explores patriotism, belonging, and the terrible price of uncompromising pride. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 01 (00:29:26) Chapter 02 (00:52:28) Chapter 03 (01:09:53) Chapter 04 (01:29:56) Chapter 05 (01:56:04) Chapter 06 (02:22:44) Chapter 07 (02:54:03) Chapter 08 (03:16:24) Chapter 09 (03:51:20) Chapter 10 (04:05:33) Chapter 11 (04:31:13) Chapter 12 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Taras Bulber by Gogol, translated by Isabel Hapgood. Chapter 1 Hey there, son, turn round! How ridiculous you look! What's that priest cassock you're wearing? Do all the fellows in the academy go around in that style? With such words did old Bulba greet his two sons, who had been studying in the Kiev Preparatory School,

and had just returned home to their father. His boys had only just dismounted from their horses. They were a pair of stalwart lads who still wore a sheepishly distrustful look, like students just out of school. Their strong, healthy faces were covered with the first down, which as yet had never been touched by the razor. They were very much upset by such a reception on the part of their father, and stood stock still with their eyes fixed upon the earth.

Stand still! Stand still! Let me have a good look at you! He continued, turning them round. How long your switzerland! are? What svitkas? There never were such svitkas in the world before. Just run, one of you. I'll see whether he won't get wound up in the skirts and tumble on the ground. Don't laugh, Dad, said the elder of them at last. See how touchy they are. Why shouldn't I laugh? Because you shan't, although you are my dad. But if you do laugh, by God, I'll thrash you.

a nice sort of son you are what your dad said taras bulba retreating several paces in amazement yes even my father i don't stop to consider who deals the insult and i spare no one so you want to fight me with your fists anyway well come on with your fists said taras bulba stripping up to his sleeves i'll see what sort of a fellow you are at a fight you are at a fight you are And father and son, in place of a friendly greeting after long separation, began to plant heavy blows on each other's ribs, back and chest, now retreating and taking each other's measure with sidelong glances, now attacking afresh. Look good people! The old man has gone mad! He has lost his wits completely! screamed their thin, paled old mother, who was standing on the threshold and had not yet managed to embrace her darling boys.

The children have come home. We have not seen them for over a year, and now the Lord only knows what he has taken into his head. He's pummeling them. Yes! He's a glorious fighter, said Bulba, pausing. By God, that was a good one, he continued, somewhat as though he were excusing himself. Yes, although he has never tried his hand at it before. He'll make a good Cossack.

Now, welcome my lad. Let's greet each other. and father and son began to exchange kisses. Good little son. See that you thrash everyone else as you have thrashed me. Don't you knuckle under to anyone. All the same, your outfit is ridiculous. What's this rope hanging here?

And you, you clumsy lout, why are you standing there with your arms dangling? said he, turning to the younger lad. How about you, you son of a dog? Why don't you also give me a licking? There's another of his crazy ideas, said the mother, who had managed in the meantime to embrace the younger boy. Whoever heard of such a thing as a man's own children beating him, that will do for the present. The child is young, he's had a long journey, he is tired.

The child was over 20 and about seven feet tall. He ought to rest and eat something, and he sets him to fighting. Oh, I see that you've been raised a pet. said Bulba. Don't listen to your mother, my son. She's a woman. She doesn't know anything. What do you want with petting?

Your petting is a clear field and a good horse. That's what it is. And do you see this sword? That's your mother. All the rest of the things with which they stuff your head is rubbish. The academy, books, primers, philosophy, and all that, the devil only knows what. I spit upon it all. And here Bulba added a word which is not used in print.

But here, now, this is the best of all. I'll take you to Zaporaj next week. That's where you'll find the sort of science that's the real thing. That's the school for you. Only there will you acquire sense. And are they to stay at home only one week? said the thin old mother piteously, with tears in her eyes. The poor boys will have no chance to go. about. No chance to get acquainted with the home where they were born. I shall not have a chance to feast my eyes upon them to the full. Stop that! Stop your howling, old woman. A Cossack is not born to run around with women. You'd like to hide them both under your petticoat and sit upon them, as if they were

hens eggs. Go, get along with you, and let us have everything there is on the table in a trice. We don't want any pastry puffs, honey cakes, poppy cakes or any other messes. Bring us a whole sheep. Give us a goat. Mead, 40 years old, and as much corn brandy as possible. Not with raisins and all sorts of frills, but plain sparkling brandy, which foams and hisses like mad. Bulber led his sons into the best room of the cottage and two handsome women's servants in coin necklaces, who were putting the rooms in order, ran out quickly. Evidently they were frightened

by the arrival of the young men, who did not care to be familiar with anyone, or else they merely wanted to maintain their feminine custom of screaming and rushing headlong at the sight of a man, and then screening their lively shame for a long time with their sleeves. The room was furnished in accordance with the fashion of that period, concerning which vivid hints still linger in the songs and epic lyrics that are no longer sung in the Ukraine by bearded old blind men to the gentle thrumming of the bandura, in the presence of the people thronging about them, in the taste of that warlike and troublous time, when skirmishes and battles began to occur in the Ukraine over the Union. Everything was neat, plastered with coloured clay.

On the walls hung sabres, Cossack whips, nets for birds, fishing nets and guns, cleverly carved powder horns, gilded bits for horses and hobble chains with silver discs. The windows were small with round, dull panes, such as to be found nowadays only in ancient churches, through which it was impossible to see without raising the one movable pain. Around the windows and doors ran incised bands painted red. On shelves in the corners stood jugs, bottles and flasks of green and blue glass, carved silver cup, and gilded goblets of various makes, Venetian, Turkish, Circassian, which had arrived in Bulba's cottage by various roads at third and fourth hand, something which was quite of common occurrence

in those doughty days. There were birch benches all round the walls, a huge table under the holy pictures in the corner of honour, and a capacious oven all covered with particoloured tiles, with projections, recesses and an annex at the rear. All this was extremely, familiar to our two young men, who had come home every year during the holidays and had come because they had no horses as yet, and because it was not customary to permit the students to ride on horseback. All they had was long scalp locks, which every Cossack who bore arms was entitled to pull. It was only at the end of their course that Bulba sent them from his stud, a couple of young stallions. Bulba, to celebrate the arrival of his sons, ordered all the Sochnicks and all the

officers of the troop who are of any consequence to be summoned. And when two of them arrived with the Yassau Dmitro Tovcatch, his old comrade, he immediately presented his boys saying, Just look at them. Aren't they gallant lads? I shall send them to the Sietz shortly. The guests congratulated Bulber and both the young men, and told them they were engaged in good business, and that there was no better knowledge for a young man than a knowledge of the Zaporosian Sietch. Now my friends, seat yourselves, each where it pleases him best at table. Now my lads, first of all, let's have a drink of brandy. Thus spake Bulba. God's blessing beyond us. Welcome, dear sons. You, Ostap, and you, Andri, God grant that you may always be successful in war,

that you may beat the Muslims and beat the Turks and beat the Tatars. When the Poles undertake any expedition against our faith, then you make if the Poles are drubbing also. Now, hold out your glasses. Well, and is the brandy good? What's brandy in Latin? Somehow, my lad, the Latins were stupid. They didn't know there was such a thing in the world as corn brandy.

What the juice was the name of the man who used to. write Latin rhymes. I'm not very strong on reading and writing, so I don't quite remember. Was it Horace? Did anyone ever see such a dad, thought the elder son Ostap? The old dog knows everything, but he is always shamming. I don't believe the Archimanderite allowed you so much as a smell of brandy, Taras went on. Come, confess my lads. They beat you with fresh birch-switchers on your backs and everything else that the Cossack owns. And perhaps when you grew conceited with what you knew. They flogged you with whips. And not on Saturday only, I fancy, but of a Wednesday and a Thursday as well. There's no good in recalling the past, Dad, replied Ostap. That's all

over and done with. Just let them try it now, said Andri. Just let anybody meddle with me now. Just let any Tatar gang come along now, and they'll learn what a Cossack sword is like. Good, my son, by God, good. And when it comes to that, I'll go with you, by God, I will. Why the devil should I tarry here? To become a sower of buckwheat and a housekeeper, to tend sheep and swine and fondle my wife? Devil take them.

I'm a Cossack. I'll have none of them. I'll go with you to Zapportege to carouse, by God I will. And Bulbara grew gradually warmer and warmer, and at last rose from the table, and in a thorough rage, Striking a majestic pose, he stamped his foot. We'll go tomorrow!

Why, Terry? What enemy can we besiege here? What's this cottage to us? What do we want of all this? What are pots to us? So saying, he began to smash the pots and flasks and hurl them about. The poor old woman, well used to such behaviour on the part of her husband, looked sadly on from her seat on the wall bench.

She did not dare to say anything, but when she heard the decision which was so terrible for her, she could not refrain from tears. She looked at her children, from whom so speedy a separation was threatened, and it's impossible to describe the full force of the speechless grief that seemed to quiver in her eyes and on her lips, which were convulsively pressed together. Bulba was terribly headstrong.

His was one of those characters, which could arise only in that troublous sixteenth century, In that half-nomadic corner of Europe, when the whole of southern primeval Russia, deserted by its princes, was laid waste, burned to ashes by savage hordes of Mongolian bandits, when a man, deprived of house and home, became recklessly brave here, when, amid conflagrations in sight of threatening neighbours and eternal danger, he settled down and grew used to looking them squarely in the face, having unlearned the knowledge that there was such a thing as fear in the world. when the ancient peaceable Slav spirit was seized with a warlike flame, and there was instituted Cossackdom, a free, wild manifestation of Russian nature. And when all the river country, the lands downstream, the slopes of the riverbanks and convenient sites were populated by Cossacks, whose number no man knew, and whose bold comrades had a right to reply to the Sultan's inquiry

as to how many there were of them. Who knows! We are scattered all over the step. Wherever there is a hillock, there also is a Cossack! It was in fact a most remarkable manifestation of Russian strength. Dyer necessity rested it from the bosom of the people. In place of the original principalities were small towns filled with huntsmen and dogkeepers. In place of the warring and bartering petty princes in cities, there arose great colonies, hamlets and disdaints, and dizzards,

bound together by a common danger and by hatred toward the heathen robbers. Everyone already knows from history how their incessant fighting and roving life saved Europe from the savage invasions, which threatened to overwhelm her. The Polish kings finding themselves in place of the Apaniage princes, sovereigns, though distant and feeble, over those vast territories, understood nevertheless the significance of the Cossacks and the advantages of this warlike lawless life. They encouraged them and flattered this propensity. Under their distant rule, the Hetmans, chosen from among the Cossacks themselves, transformed the districts and hamlets into regiments in uniform provinces. It was not an army in the regulation sense. No one would have noticed its existence. But in case of a war or a general uprising, it required a week

and no more for every man to make his appearance on horseback, fully armed, receiving only one ducat in payment from the king. And in two weeks, such an army was assembled as no recruiting officers would ever have been able to collect. When the campaign was ended, the warrior went back to the fields and meadows, and the lower reaches of the Dnieppe, fished, traded, brewed his beer and was a free Cossack once more. His foreign contemporaries rightly marvelled at his wonderful qualities. There was no trade which the Cossack did not know. He could distill brandy, build a peasant cart, make powder, do blacksmithing and locksmithing,

and in addition, amuse himself madly, drinking and carousing as only a Russian can. All this he was equal to. Besides the registered Cossacks, who consider themselves bound to present themselves, in time of war. It was possible to collect at any time, in case of dire need, a whole army of volunteers. All that was required was that the captains should traverse all the marketplaces and squares at the villages and hamlets and shout at the top of their voices as they stood erect in their cart. Hey, ye beer sellers and beer brewers, have done with brewing and with lolling on your ovens and feeding the flies with your fat bodies. Go, win glory and knightly honour.

Ye ploughmen, ye sowers of buckwheat, cease to follow the plough and to soil your yellow buskins in the earth and caught women and waste your knightly strength. Tis time to win Cossack glory. And these words acted like sparks falling on dry wood. The husbandman broke his plough. The beer Sellers threw away their casks. The brewers destroyed their barrels. The mechanic and the merchant sent trade and shocked to the devil, smashed the pots in their houses, and every man jack of them mounted his horse. In short, the Russian character here acquired a broad, mighty scope, a powerful exterior. Taras was one of the band of old original colonels. He was born for warlike emotions and was noted for the rough uprightness of his character. At that period, the influence of Poland was

beginning to make itself felt among the Russian nobility. Many had already adopted Polish customs, had introduced luxury, splendid staffs of servants, hawks, huntsmen, dinners and palaces. This was not to the taste of Tarras. He liked the simple life of the Cossacks and quarrelled with those of his comrades who inclined to the Warsaw party, calling them the serfs of the Polish nobles. Ever turbulent, he regarded himself as a legal defender of the faith. He would enter arbitrarily into villages, where the sole complaint was with regard to the oppression of the revenue farmers and the imposition of fresh taxes on each half. He and his Cossacks would execute justice on them, and he laid down the rule for himself that in three cases it was always.

proper to have recourse to the sword. Namely, when warrant officers did not show due respect for their superior officers and stood with their caps on in the latter's presence, or when anyone made light of the Orthodox faith and did not observe the customs of his ancestors, and finally when the enemy were Muslims or Turks, against whom he considered it permissible in every case to unsheath the sword for the glory of Christianity. Now he rejoiced in anticipations. at the thought of how he would present himself with his two sons in the sietch and say, See what fine fellows I have brought you!

How he would introduce them to all his old comrades steeled in war. How he would watch their first exploits in the art of war and in carousing, which was regarded as one of the chief qualities of a knight. At first he had intended to send them forth alone, but at the sight of their freshness, stature and robust personal, beauty, his martial spirit flamed up within him, and he resolved to go with them himself the very next day, although there was no necessity for this, except his obstinate self-will. He began at once to bustle about and give orders. He selected horses and trappings for his young sons, inspected the stables

and storehouses, and chose servants to accompany them on the morrow. He delegated his power to Captain Tovkatch and gave, along with it, a strict command to appear with his entire troop the very instant he should receive a message from him at the Siech. Although he was half-seas over, and the effects of his drinking bouts still lingered in his brain, he forgot nothing. He even gave orders that the horses should be watered, their cribs filled, and that they should be fed with the largest and best wheat, and then he came into the house, fatigued with all his labours. Well, boys, we must sleep now, but tomorrow we shall do as God appoints. Don't prepare a bed for us. We need no bed. We'll sleep outdoors.

Night had only just classed the heavens in her embrace. But Taras always went to bed early. He threw himself down on a rug and covered himself with a sheepskin coat. For the night air was quite sharp, and Bulber liked to be warmly covered when he was at home. He was soon snoring and the whole household speedily followed his example. All snored and grunted as they lay in different corners. The watchman went to sleep the first of all because he had drunk more than anyone else in honour of his young master's homecoming. The poor mother alone slept not.

She bent over the pillow of her darling boys as they lay side by side. With a comb she smoothed their carelessly tangled young curls and moistened them with her tears. She gazed at them with her whole being, with her every sense. She merged herself wholly in that gaze, and still she could not gaze enough. She had nourished them at her own breast. She had reared them and petted them,

and now to see them only for an instant. My sons, my darling sons, what will become of you? What awaits you? She said, and tears stood in. in the furrows which disfigured her once beautiful face. In truth she was to be pitied, as was every woman in that valorous epoch. She had lived only for a moment in love, only during the first fever of passion, only during the first flush of youth, and then her grim betrayer had deserted her for the sword, for

his comrades and his carousers. She had seen her husband for two or three days in the course of a year, and then for a period of several years, there had been no news of him. And when she had seen him, when they had lived together, what sort of a life had been hers? She had endured insults, even beatings. She had seen caresses bestowed merely out of pity. She had been a strange object amid that mob of heartless cavaliers, upon which the dissolute life of the Zapodosier had cast a grim colouring of its own. Her pleasureless youth had flitted swiftly by. and her beautiful rosy cheeks in her bosom had withered away unkissed and become covered with premature wrinkles.

All her love, all her feeling, everything that is tender and passionate in a woman had, in her case, being converted into the one sentiment of maternal love. With ardour, with passion, with tears, she hovered over her boys like a gull of the step. Her sons, her darling sons, were being taken. taken from her, taken from her in such a way that she might never see them again. Who knows? Pachance a Tatar would cut off their heads in the very first skirmish, and she would never know where their deserted bodies lay, torn by the beasts of prey, and yet for each drop of their blood she would gladly give her whole self. Sobbing, she gazed into their eyes, even when

all-powerful sleep began to close them, and said to herself, perhaps when bulba wakes he will put off their departure for a brief day or two perhaps he took it into his head to go so soon because he had been drinking hard the moon from the height of heaven had long since illuminated the whole courtyard filled with sleepers the dense clump of willows and the tall step grass which hid the wattled hedge she still sat by the heads of her beloved sons never removing her eyes from them for a moment or even thinking of sleep. Already the horses, divining the approach of dawn, had ceased eating and lain down upon the grass. The topmost leaves of the willows began to rustle softly, and little by little the rippling rustle descended to their very bases.

She sat there, unwearied until daylight, and wished in her heart that the night might last as long as possible. From the step came the ringing neigh of a stallion, red tongues darted brightly athwart the sky. Bulber suddenly awoke and sprang to his feet. He remembered perfectly well all that he had ordered the night before. Now my lads, time's up. You've slept enough.

Water the horses. And where's the old woman? This is what he generally called his wife. Hurry up, old woman. Get us something to eat. We've a long trip ahead of us. The poor old woman, deprived of her. last hope, slipped sadly into the cottage. While with tears she prepared what was needed for

breakfast, Bulba issued his orders, went to the stable and himself selected his best trappings for his boys. The Collegians were suddenly transformed. Red Morocco boots with silver heels replace their dirty old foot gear. Trousers, wide as the Black Sea, with thousands of folds and plates, were supported by golden girdles. From the girdles hung long, slender thongs, with tassels and other jingling things for pipes. The Cossack coat of brilliant scarlet cloth was confined by a flowered belt. Embossed Turkish pistols were thrust into the belt. Their swords clanged at their heels. Their faces, already slightly sunburned, seemed to have grown handsomer and whiter. Their little black mustaches now set off more distinctly, both their

pallor and their strong, healthy young complexions. Very handsome were they beneath their black sheepskin caps with golden crowns. When their poor mother saw them, she could not utter a word, and tears stood in her eyes. Already there now, sons! No time to waste, said Bulbara at last. Now, we must all sit down together in accordance with our Christian custom before a journey. All seated themselves, not accepting the servants, who had been standing respectfully at the door. now mother bless your children said bulba pray god that they may always fight bravely always uphold knightly honour always defend the faith of christ and if not that they may perish and their breath be no longer in the world come to your mother my boys a mother's prayer saves on land and sea the mother weak as all mothers are embrace them drew out two small holy images and sobbing hung one round each neck.

May God's mother keep you, my dear little sons, forget not your mother, send some little word of yourselves. She could say no more. Now boys, let's go, said Bulba. By the porch stood the horses, ready saddled. Bulba sprang upon his devil, which jumped madly rearward, feeling upon his back a load of 20 puds, but Taras was extremely stout and heavy. When the mother saw that her sons were also mounted on the horses, she flung herself toward the younger,

whose features expressed somewhat more gentleness than those of his brother. She grasped his stirrup, clung to his saddle, and with despair in her eyes, would not loose him from her hands. Two husky Cossacks seized her carefully and carried her into the cottage. But when they had already ridden through the gate, with all the agility of a wild goat, utterly out of keeping with her years. She rushed through the gate, with irresistible strength, stopped a horse,

and embraced one of her sons with a sort of senseless vehemence. Then they led her away once more. The young Cossacks rode on sadly, repressing their tears out of fear of their father, who on his side was somewhat agitated, although he strove not to show it. The day was grey. The greenery shone brightly. The birds twittered rather discordantly. They glanced back as they rode away.

Their farm seemed to have shrunk into the earth. All that was visible above the surface was the two chimneys of their modest cottage and the crests of the trees up which they had been wont to climb like squirrels. Before them still stretched the meadow by which they could recall the whole history of their lives. From the years when they had rolled in its dewy grass, up to the years when they had awaited in it a black-bowed Cossack maiden. who ran timidly across it with a quick young feet. And now, only one pole above the well,

with the cartwheel fastened on top, rises solitary against the sky. Already the plane across which they have been riding appears a hill in the distance and has concealed everything. Farewell, childhood, and games, and everything, Farewell! End of Chapter 1.

Chapter 2 of Taras Bulbur by Gogol. translated by Isabel Hapgood. This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain. All three horsemen rode on in silence. Old Taras was thinking of the distant past. Before him passed his youth, his years, his vanished years over which the Cossack always weeps, wishing that his life might be all youth.

He wondered whom of his former comrades he should meet in the Siech. He reckoned up how many were already dead, how many were still alive. Tears formed slowly in his eyes. and his grey head drooped dejectedly. His sons were occupied with other thoughts, but we must speak more at length of his sons. They had been sent at the age of 12 years to the Academy at Kiev

because all honourable officials of that epoch considered it indispensable to give their children an education, even if it were utterly forgotten afterwards. Like all who entered the Free Academy, they were then wild, having been reared in unrestricted freedom, and there, for the first time they were generally smoothed down a bit and acquired a certain something common to them all, which caused them to bear a sort of universal resemblance to one another.

The elder, Ostap, began his career by running away in the course of the first year. He was brought back, terribly flogged, and set down again to his books. Four times did he bury his primer in the earth, and four times, after bestowing upon him an inhuman thrashing, did they buy him a new one. But he would have repeated his performance with a fifth time, doubtless, had not his father given him a solemn assurance that he would keep him at service in the monastery for 20 years,

and had he not sworn to start with, that he should never behold Zaporoges so long as he lived, unless he learned all the sciences in the academy. The other point about it was that he said this was that same Taras Bulba, who condemned all learning, and counseled his boys, as we have seen, not to trouble themselves about it at all. From that moment, Ostap began to sit over his tiresome books with extraordinary assiduity, and before long he stood on a level with the best. The style of education in that age was widely at variance with the manner of life. These scholastic, grammatical and theological subtleties never were used and never were met with in real life.

Those who studied them, even the most scholastic of the lot, could never put their knowledge to any practical use whatsoever. The most learned men of those days were even more ignorant than the rest because they were entirely removed from all experience. Moreover, the Republican constitution of the Academy, the appalling multitude of young stalwart healthy fellows, all these factors combined were bound to arouse in them an activity quite outside the limits of their studies. Sometimes the poor fare, sometimes the frequent punishments of fasting, sometimes the numerous requirements were to rise in fresh, strong, healthy young men combined to arouse in them that spirit of enterprise which afterwards received further development in Zeparge. The hungry bursary ran about the streets of Kiev and forced everyone to be on his guard.

The huckstresses who sat in the bazaar always covered their patties, their greasy cracknels and their squash seeds with their hands like eagles protecting their young, if they but caught a glimpse of a passing student. The monitor who was bound by his official duty to control his comrades who were entrusted to his care had such frightfully wide pockets to his full trousers that he could stir away the entire contents of a slothful huckstress's stall. These students constituted an entirely separate world by themselves, they were not admitted to the highest circles, composed of Polish and Russian nobles. Even the Voivod, Adam Kissel, in spite of the patronage he bestowed upon the academy, did not introduce them into society,

and gave orders that they were to be ruled as strictly as possible. This command was entirely superfluous, for neither the rector nor the monk professors spared the rod or the whip, and the lictors sometimes by their orders whip their monitors so severely that the latter rubbed their trousers for weeks afterwards. This was a mere nothing to many of them, and seemed only a little stronger than good vodka with pepper. Others at last grew thoroughly tired of such constant thrash. and ran away to Zaporajé if they could find the road and if they were not caught on the way. Ostap Bulber, although he began to study logic and even theology with much zeal, did not escape the merciless rod.

Naturally, all this was bound in some degree to embitter his character and impart to it that firmness which distinguishes the Cossacks. Ostap was always regarded as one of the best students. He rarely led the others into audacious enterprises, such as robbing other people's gardens or orchards, but on the other hand, he was always among the first to join the standard of an adventurous student, and never, under any circumstances whatsoever, did he betray his comrades. Neither whips nor rods could make him do it.

He bore himself sternly towards all temptations, except those of war and wild carousers. At any rate, he almost never thought of anything else. He was frank with his equals. He was kind-hearted, in the only way that kindness of heart could exist in such a character and at such an epoch. He was sincerely touched by his poor mother's tears, and this one-thousy-retheworthy. And this one-theworthy, nothing only troubled him and caused him to hang his head thoughtfully. His younger brother Andri had rather livelier and more developed feelings. He studied more willingly and without that effort with which strong, heavy characters generally apply themselves.

He was more inventive than his brother and frequently appeared as the leader of decidedly dangerous expeditions and sometimes, thanks to the ingenious turn of his mind, he contrived to escape all punishment, while his brother Ostap, abandoning all concern, stripped off his coat and lay down upon the floor without a thought of begging for mercy. He also was seething with a thirst for action, but at the same time his soul was accessible to other sentiments. The demand for love flamed ardently within him. When he had attained his 18th year, woman began to present herself more frequently in his burning dreams. While listening to philosophical discussions, he beheld her each moment, rosy, black-eyed, tender. Before him flitted constantly her gleaming

elastic bosom, her soft, beautiful bare arms, the very gown which clung about her virginal, yet vigorous limbs, exhaled in his visions a certain inexpressible sensuousness. He carefully concealed from his comrades this impulse of his passionate young soul, because in that age it was considered shameful and dishonourable for a Cossack to think of love and a wife before he had tasted battle. On the whole, during the concluding years of his course, He served more rarely as the leader of a gang, but he roamed about more frequently alone in the remote corners of Kiev, buried in cherry orchards among low-roofed little houses, which peeped forth alluringly along the street. Sometimes he betook himself to the street of the aristocrats

in the old Kiev of today, where dwelt little Russian and Polish nobles, and where the houses were built in somewhat fanciful style. Once, as he was thus lounging along, a huge old-fashioned carriage, belonging to some Polish nobleman, almost drove over him. And the coachman, with very terrible mustaches, who sat on the box, gave him a decidedly sharp cut with his whip. The young student boiled with rage, with reckless daring, he seized a hind wheel with his powerful hand and brought the carriage to a halt. But a coachman, fearing a reckoning, lashed his horses.

They leaped forward, and Andri, although, fortunately, he succeeded in freeing his hand, was flung full length on the ground, with his face flat in the mud. The most resonant and melodious of laughs rang out from overhead. He raised his eyes and saw, standing at a window, a beauty such as he had never beheld before in all his life, black-eyed and white as the snow, illumined by the dawning flush of the sun. She was laughing heartily, and a laughter lent sparkling force to a dazzling loveliness. He was taken abacken. He gazed at her in utter confusion, abstractly wiping the mud from his face, by which means

became still further smeared. Who could this beauty be? He tried to find out from the servants who enriched liveries stood beside the gate in a crowd surrounding a young Bandura player, but the servants raised a laugh when they saw his smeared face and dained him no reply. At last he learned that she was the daughter of the Voivod of Kovna, who had come hither for a time. The following night, with the daring characteristic of the student alone, he crept through the hedge into the garden and climbed a tree which spread its branches over the very roof

of the house. From the tree he crawled upon the roof and made his way through the chimney straight into the bedroom of the beauty, who at the moment was seated before a candle, engaged in removing the costly earrings from her ears. The beautiful pole was so alarmed on suddenly beholding a strange man before her that she could not utter a single word, but when she perceived that the students stood before her with downcast eyes, not daring to move a hand through timidity, when she recognised in him, the one who had fallen headlong in the street before her, laughed her again overpowered her. Moreover, there was nothing terrible in Andri's features. He was very handsome. The beauty was giddy, like all poles. But her eyes, her wondrous, clear, piercing eyes,

darted a glance, a glance as long as constancy. The student could not move a hand, but stood bound as in a sack, when the Voivod's daughter approached him boldly, placed upon his head her glittering diadem, hung her earrings on his lips, and flung over him a transparent muslin chemise with gold embroidered garlands. She tricked him out and played a thousand foolish pranks with the unconstrained of a child, which distinguishes the giddy poles and which threw the poor student into still great agitation. He presented a ridiculous figure as he stood staring fixedly with wide open mouth into her dazzling eyes. At that moment a knock at the door startled her. She ordered him to conceal himself under the bed and as soon as the disturbance was

passed, called her maid, a Tatar captive, and gave her orders to conduct him to the garden with caution and thence send him away over the hedge. But this time our student did not pass the hedge so successfully. The watchman woke up and caught him firmly by the leg, and the servants assembling beat him for a long time, even in the street until his swift legs rescued him. After that, it was very dangerous to pass the house, because the Voivod's servitors were numerous. He encountered her once more in a Roman Catholic church. She saw him and smiled very pleasantly as at an old acquaintance. He saw her yet again, by chance. And shortly afterwards, the Voivod of Kovno took his departure, and instead of the beautiful black-eyed pole, some fat face or other gazed

from the window. That was what Andri was thinking about when he hung his head and dropped his eyes on his horse's mane. In the meantime, the step had long since received them into its green embrace, and the tall grass, closing and around them, concealed them so that only their black Cossack caps were visible among its spikes. Come, come! Why are you so quiet, my lad? Said Bulber at last, waking from his own reverie, You're like monks, come, send all thinking to the devil on the spot, take your pipes in your

lips, and we'll smoke and spur on our horses, and fly so swiftly that no bird can overtake us, and the Cossacks, bending low over their horses, disappeared in the grass. Their black caps were no longer visible. A wake of trodden grass alone showed a trace of their swift flight. The sun had long since peered forth from the clear heavens and inundated the step with his vitalising warming light. All that was dim and sleepy in the minds of the Cossacks fled away in a twinkling.

Their hearts fluttered like birds. The further they penetrated into the step, the more beautiful did it become. At that time, all the south, all that region which now constitutes New Russia, even to the Black Sea was a green virgin wilderness. No plough had ever passed over the immeasurable waves of wild growth. Horses alone hiding themselves in it, as in a forest trot it down.

Nothing in nature could be finer. The whole surface of the earth looked like a green-gold ocean, upon which was sprinkled millions of different flowers. Through the tall, slender stems of the grass peeped light blue, dark blue and lilac cornflowers. The yellow broom thrust up its pyramidal head. The parasol-shaped white flowers of the arrow dotted its surface. A wheat ear, brought God-nose wents, was filling out to ripening. About their slender roots ran partridges with necks outstretched.

The air was filled with the notes of a thousand different birds. In the sky motionless hung the hawks, with wings outspread and eyes riveted intently on the grass. The cries of a vast flock of wild ducks, moving up on one side, were echoed from God-nose-werews. what distant lake. From the grass, a gull arose with measured sweep and bathed luxurious in the blue waves of air. And now she has vanished on high and appears only as a black dot. Now she has turned her wings and shimmers in the sunlight. Devil take you step. How beautiful you are! Our travellers halted only a few minutes for dinner. Their escort a ten Cossacks sprang from their horses, unbound the wooden casks of brandy and the gourds which were used for drinking vessels.

They ate only bread and lard or dry wheat and cakes. They drank but one cup a piece, merely to strengthen them, for Taras Bulba, never permitted intoxication on the road, and then continued their journey until evening. In the evening, the whole step completely changed this aspect. Its whole variegated expanse was bathed in the last bright glow of the sun, and it darkened gradually, so that the shadow could be seen as it flitted across it and it became dark green. The mist rose more densely. Each flower, each blade of grass emitted a fragrance as of amber, and an incense of perfume was wafted like smoke across the whole step. Wide streaks of rosy gold were flung a thwart the dark blue sky as with a gigantic brush. Here and there gleamed white tufts of light and transparent clouds,

and the coolest, most bewitching of little breezes barely rocked the tops of the grass blades like sea waves and only just caressed the cheek. All the music which had resounded throughout the day had died away and given place to another. The striped marmots crept out of their holes, stood erect on their hind legs, and filled the step with their whistling. The whir of the grasshoppers became more distinctly audible.

Sometimes the cry of a swan was audible from some distant lake and rang through the air like silver. The travellers halted in the middle of the plain, selected a spot for their night encampment, made a fire, hung over at a kettle in which they cooked their buckwheat groats, the steam rose and floated a slant in the air. Having supped, the Cossacks lay down to sleep, after hobbling their horses and turning them out to graze, they lay down on their cloth coats. The nocturnal stars gazed directly down upon them. They heard the countless myriads of insects which filled the grass. All their rasping,

whistling and whirring, resounded clearly through the night, puffed to the night, puffed by the cool air and lulled the drowsy ear. If one of them rose and stood for a while, the step presented itself to him spangled with the sparks of glowworms. At times, the night sky was illumined in spots by the glare of dry reeds, which were burning along pools or riverbank, and a dark file of swans flying northward was suddenly lighted up by the silvery rose-hued gleam, and then it seemed as though crimson kerchiefs were floating across the dark heavens. The travellers rode onward without any adventures. They came across, no villages.

There was nothing but the same, boundless, undulating, wondrously beautiful step. At intervals, the crests of forest loomed blue in the distance, on one hand, where they stretched along the banks of the Dnieper. But once, Tarras pointed out to his boys, a small black speck far away in the grass, saying, look, boys, yonder gallops a tata. The tiny mustached head fixed its eyes straight upon them from the distance, sniffing the air like a greyhound, then disappeared like a stag on perceiving that the Cossacks were thirty strong.

And now my lads, try to overtake the Tatar, but don't try. You would never catch him to all eternity. His horse is swifter than my devil. Nevertheless, Bulba took precautions, fearing there might be hidden ambushes here or there. They galloped to a small stream called the Tatar, which emptied into the Denepe, rode their horses into the water, and swam down it a long time to conceal their trail. And then climbing out on the shore,

they continued on their way. Three days later, they were not far from the place which formed the goal of their journey. The air grew suddenly colder. They could feel the vicinity of the Dnieppe, and yonder it gleamed afar off, distinguishable as a dark streak against the horizon. It exhaled waves of cold air and spread, nearer, and finally embraced half the entire surface of the earth. This was the part of the Dnieper where the river, hitherto confined by the rapids,

at last forced its way freely, and roared like the sea, pouring forth at will where the islands flung into its midst, pressed it further from the shores, and its waves spread broadly over the earth, encountering neither cliffs nor hills. The Cossacks alighted from their horses, entered the ferry boat, and after a sail of three hours duration, arrived at the shore of the island of Cortitsa, where at that time was situated the Siech, which so often changed its location. A strong of people on the shore were quarreling with the ferrymen. The Cossacks made their horses. Taras assumed a stately air, pulling his belt tighter and drew his hand proudly over

his moustache. His young sons also inspected themselves from head to foot, with some apprehension and an undefined feeling of satisfaction. Then all set out together for the suburb, which is half averse from the Siege. On their arrival, they were deafened by 50 blacksmiths hammers beating upon 25 anvils sunk in the earth, and concealed with turf. Stallworth tanners sat on the street beneath their sloping roofs, scraping ox hides with their strong hands. Shopkeepers sat in their booths with piles of flints, steel and powder. An Armenian had hung out rich kerchiefs. A Tatar was turning mutton collops on a spit. A dew with head thrust forward was filtering corn brandy from a cask. But the first man they met was a supposite, who was sleeping in the very middle of the road,

with legs and arms outstretched. Taras Bulber could not refrain from halting to admire him. "'Eh, how splendidly developed he is! "'Few, what a magnificent figure!' he said, reigning in his horse. "'The Zaporichets had stretched himself out in the road like a lion. "'His scalp-lock, thrown proudly behind him, "'extended over half an archion of ground. "'His trousers of costly scarlet cloth "'was spotted with tar to show his utter disdain for them.

"'Having admired him to his heart's content, "'Bulber passed on through the narrow street, "'which was crowded with mechanics pursuing their trades, and with men of all nationalities who thronged this suburb of the Sietch, which resembled a fair, and fared and clothed sietch that knew only how to revel and to discharge guns.

At last they left the suburb behind them and perceived some scattered kerens covered with turf or with felt in Tata fashion. Some were furnished with cannon. Nowhere were any fences visible or any of those low-roofed houses with sloping porch roofs supported on short wooden pillars

such as there were in the suburb. A small rampart and abate totally unguarded, showed a terrible degree of recklessness. Stalward Zaporoschi, lying, pipe-in-mouthed in the very road, glanced at them with great indifference, but did not stir from their places. Taras threaded his way carefully among them with his son, saying, Good morning, noble sirs, good day to you, answered the Zaporosci. Pictures' groups of men were scattered all over the plain.

It was evident from their weather-beaten faces that all was steeled in battle and had undergone every sort of reverse. And there it was, the Siech. There was the nest from which all those men, strong and proud as lions, had issued forth. There was the place whence poured forth liberty and Cossacks all over the Ukraine. The travellers emerged into the Great Square,

where the council generally assembled. On a huge overturned cask sat as a porragettes without his shirt. He was holding it in his hands, and slowly sewing up the holes. Again, their way was barred by a regular crowd of musicians in the middle of whom a young Zaporajet's was dancing, with head thrown back and arms outstretched. He kept shouting, Play faster musicians!

Begrudged not brandy to these Orthodox Christians, Foma! And Foma with his blackened eye, went on measuring out without stint, a huge jugful to everyone who presented himself. About the youthful Zaporajet's, four old men were moving their feet quite briskly, leaping like a whirlwind to one side, almost upon the heads of the musicians,

then, suddenly retreating, they continued to dance in a squatting posture, and beat the hard-trodden earth rapidly and vigorously with their silver heels. The earth hummed dully all about the neighbourhood, and afar through the air resounded the hopac and the trepac, beaten out by the wringing heels of their boots. But one shouted more vivaciously than all the rest, and flew after the others in the dance.

His scalp-lock streamed in the wind, his powerful chest was all uncovered. His warm winter fur coat was hanging by the sleeves, and the perspiration poured from him like hail, as though from a bucket. "'Take off your jacket,' said Taras at last. "'Just see how he's steaming!' "'I can't!' shouted the Cossack. "'Why? I can't! "'My character is such that whatever I take off, I drink up!'

"'And the young man had not had a cap for a long time past, "'nor a belt to his caftan, nor an embroidered kerchief. "'All had travelled the fated road.' "'The throng increased. "'More men joined the dance, "'and it was impossible to observe without inward emotion "'how it swept everything before it, that dance, "'the freest, the wreatest,

the wildest the world has ever seen, which is called from its mighty originators, the Kazachka. If it wasn't for my horse, I'd strike out myself that I would, exclaimed Taras. Meanwhile, they began to appear among the throng, men who were respected for their prowess throughout the entire Siech, old greyheads who had been leaders more than once. Taras soon encountered a number of familiar faces. Ostap and Andri heard nothing but greetings.

Ah, so it's you, Peturitza. Good day, Kosselup. Whence has God brought you, Taras? How did you come here, Dolatow? Hell to you, Kijaga. Hell to you, Gusti. Who had ever thought of seeing you, Remen? And the heroes assembled from all the dissolute population of Eastern Russia

fell to kissing one another, and questions began to fly back and forth. But what has become of Kassian? Where is Borodavka and Kolopa and Pidzitok? And in reply, Tarras learned that Borodavka had been hanged in Tolopan, that Koliper had been flayed alive near his irkiman, that Piditok's head had been sold. bolted down in a cask and sent to Zargrad.

Old Bulba hung his head and said thoughtfully, they were good Cossacks. End of Chapter 2. Chapter 3 of Taras Bulba by Gogol, translated by Isabel Happgood. This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain. Taras Bulba and his sons had been in the Siech about a week. Ostap and Andri occupied themselves very little with the school of war.

The Siech was not fond of troubling itself with warlike exercises and wasting time. The young generation grew up and learned these by experience alone in the very heat of battles, which are accordingly almost incessant. The Cossacks thought it a nuisance to fill up the intervals of this instruction with any sort of drill, except perhaps shooting at a target, and on rare occasions with horse racing and wild beast hunts on the step and in the forests. All the rest of the time, they devoted to revelry, a sign of the wide diffusion of spiritual liberty. The Siech as a whole presented an unusual phenomenon. It was a sort of unbroken revel, a ball noisily begun, which had lost its end.

Some busied themselves with crafts, others kept little shops and traded, but the majority caroused from morning until night, if the wherewithal jingled in their pockets, and if the booty they had captured had not passed into the hands of the shopkeepers and dram shopkeepers. There was a certain fascination about this universal reverie. It was not an assembly of toopers who drank to drown sorrow, but simply a wild reverie of joy. Everyone who came thither forgot everything, abandoned everything which had hitherto interested him. He, so to speak, spat on all his past and gave himself up recklessly to freedom, and the good fellowship of men of the same stamp as himself.

Revelers who had neither relatives nor home nor family, nothing save the free sky and the eternal feast of their souls. This gave rise to that wild gaiety which could not have come from any other source. The tales and chatter among the assembled crowd which reposed lazily on the ground, were often so droll and breathed forth such a power of vivid narration, that it required all the indifferent exterior cultivated by Zeparojets to maintain as a movable expression of countenance without so much as a twitch of the moustache,

a sharply accentuated peculiarity, which to this day distinguishes the Southern Russian from his brethren. It was drunken, noisy mirth. But with all it was no black alehouse where a man forgets himself in darkly seducing merriment. It was an intimate circle of schoolboys. The only difference was that, instead of sitting under the pointer and threadbare doctrines of a teacher, they made a raid on 5,000 horses.

In place of the field where scholars played ball, they had the boundless, untrammeled border marches, and at the sight of them the Tatar showed his alert head, and the Turk, in his green turban, gazed flagmatically, grimly. The difference was that, in the place of the forced freedom, which had united them at school, of their own free will they had deserted their fathers and mothers, and fled from their parental homes. That here were those about whose necks a rope was already dangling and who, instead of pale death, had seen life and life in all its intensity.

That here were those who, from patrician habit, could never keep a copeck in their pockets. That here were those who had hitherto regarded a ducat as wealth, whose pockets, thanks to the due revenue farmers, could have been turned wrong side out without any danger of anything falling from them. Here, all were students who could not endure the academic rod and had not carried away a single letter from the school,

but with them also were some who knew about Horace and Cicero and the Roman Republic. Many of them were officers who afterwards distinguished themselves in the King's armies, and there were numerous educate and experience partisans who cherished a noble conviction that it was of no consequence where they fought so long as they did fight because it was a disgrace to an honourable man to exist without fighting. many there were who had come to the sietch for the sake of being able to say later on that they had been in the satch and were therefore steeled warriors.

But who all was not there? This strange republic was an inevitable outgrowth of the epoch. Lovers of a warlike life, of golden beakers and rich bracades, of ducats and gold pieces, could always find employment there. The lovers of women alone could find nothing there, for no woman dared to show herself in the suburbs of the satch. It seemed exceedingly strange to us. up an Andri, that although a crowd of persons had come to this yet with them, not a soul inquired,

whence come these men, who are they and what are their names? They had come thither as though returning to their own home, whence they had departed only an hour previously. A newcomer merely presented himself to the Koshavoy, who generally said, welcome, do you believe in Christ? I do, replied the new arrival. And do you believe in the Holy Trinity? I do. And do you go to church? I do. Well, now, cross yourself. The newcomer crossed himself. Very good, said the Koshavoy. Enter whichever barrack you like. This comprised the entire ceremony, and the entire Siech prayed in one church, and were willing to defend it to the last drop of their blood, although they would not hear to fasting or abstinence. Only Jews, Armenians and Tatars, inspired by strong greed, took the liberty

of living and trading in the suburbs, for the Zaporoszzi never cared to haggle and pay whatever money their hand chanced to grasp in their pockets. Moreover, the lot of these gain-loving traders was pitiable in the extreme. They resembled people who had settled at the foot of Vesuvius, for when there's a parosci lacked money, the bold adventurers broke down their booths and seized everything gratis. The Siech consisted of over 60 Korens, which greatly resembled separate, independent republics, but still more a boys' school or a college living carefree with all their expenses paid. No one provided himself with anything. No one one retained anything for himself. Everything was in the hands of the Ataman of the barrack,

who on that account generally went by the name of Batko. In his hands were deposited the money, clothes, all the provisions, dried oatmeal, buckwheat groats, even the firewood. They gave him the money to take care of. Quarrels in the barracks among their inhabitants were not infrequent. In such cases they proceeded at once to blows. The inmates of the barracks swarmed out upon the square and smashed in one another's ribs with their fists until one side finally prevailed and gained the upper hand when the reverie began. Such was the Siech, which had such an attraction for young men. Ostup and Andri flung themselves into this sea of dissipation with all the ardour of youth and forgot in a twinkling their father's house, the seminary and everything which had hitherto

perturbed their souls and gave themselves up to their new life. Everything interested them, the jovial habits of the Siech, and the not very complicated laws, which even seemed to them too strict for such a free republic. If a Cossacks stole the smallest trifle, it was regarded as a disgrace to the whole Cossack community. He was tied to a pillar of shame, and an oaken club was laid beside him, with which each passerby was bound to deal him a blow, until, in this manner, he was beaten to death. He who did not pay his debts was chained to a cannon, where he was forced to sit until someone of his comrades decided to ransom him by paying his debts for him. But what made the deepest impression upon Andri was the terrible punishment decreed for murder. A hole was dug in the murderer's presence,

he was lowered into it, and over him was placed a coffin which enclosed the corpse of the man whom he had killed, after which earth was heaped upon both. Long afterwards, the frightful ceremony of this horrible execution clung to his mind, and the man who had been buried alive appeared to him with his terrible coffin. Both the young Cossack, took a good standing among the Cossacks. They frequently went out on the step with comrades from their barrack, and sometimes with the entire barrack, or with neighboring barracks to shoot the innumerable stepbirds of every sort,

and deer and goats. Or they went out upon the lakes, the river and its tributaries, assigned by lot to each barrack, to cast their bagnets and dragnets, and draw out rich prey for the enjoyment of the whole Curran. Although a Cossack was not tested there by any apprenticeship, yet they were soon remarked on among the other youths, for their dogged bravery and their skill in everything.

Figurously and accurately they fired at a target. They swam across the Dignepa against the current, a deed for which a novice was triumphantly received into the circle of Cossacks. But old Tarras had planned a different sort of activity for them. Such an idle existence was not to his mind. He wanted actual work. He meditated incessantly how he might stir up the sietch to some bold enterprise, wherein a man could corouse as became a knight.

At last he went one day to the Koshavoy and said plainly, Well, Koshavoy, it is time for the Zaporosti to make a little excursion. Nowhere to go, replied the Koshavoy, removing his short pipe from his mouth and spitting to one side. What do you mean by nowhere? We can make a raid on the Turks and the Tatars. Impossible to raid either the Turks or the Tatars, returned the Koshavoy, putting his pipe coolly into his mouth again. Why is it impossible? Because it is. We've promised the Sultan peace. But he's a Muslim. And God and the Holy Scriptures command us to slay the Muslims.

We have no right. If we had not sworn by our holy faith, then perhaps it might be done. But now, tis impossible. How is it impossible? How can you say that we have no right? Here are my two sons. Both young men groan. Neither one has been to war.

And you say that we have no right. And you say there is no necessity for the Zaporati to set out on an expedition. Well, it is not fitting. Then it must be fitting that Cossack's strength should be wasted in vain, that a man should disappear like a dog without having done a single good deed, without having been of any use to his country or to Christianity? Then why do we live? What the devil do we live for? Just tell me that. You're a sensible man. You were not elected as Koshavoy without reason. Just explain to me what we live for. To this question the Koshavoy made no reply.

He was a headstrong Cossack. He remained silent for a while, then said, anyway, there shall be no war. There shall be no war, Taras repeated. No. Then there's no use in thinking about it? No. No use. Just wait, you damned pig-headed brute, said Taras himself. I'll teach you to know me.

And he immediately resolved to revenge himself on the Koshavoy. Having entered into an agreement with one man here, another man there, he gave a drinking bound for everybody, and several of the Cossacks in a state of intoxication. staggered straight to the square, where on a post hung the kettle drums, which were generally beaten to summon the council. Not finding the sticks which were always kept by the drummer, they seized a billet of wood and began to thump. The first to respond to the drumbeat was the drummer, a tall man with but one eye and a frightfully sleepy eye at that.

Who dares to beat the drum? he shouted. Hold your tongue, take your sticks and beat when you're ordered, replied the drunken men. The drummer immediately took from his pocket the sticks which he had brought with him, being very well aware what would be the result of such proceedings. The drums began to thunder, and air-long, black bunches of Cossacks began to collect like swarms of bees in the square. All formed in a ring, and at last, after the third summons, the chiefs began to arrive. The Coshavoy with his mace, the symbol of his office, in his hand, the judge with the seal of the army, the scribe with his inkhorn, and the Assal with his staff. The Koshavoy and the chiefs doffed their caps and bowed on all sides to the Cossacks,

who stood proudly with her arms akimbo. What means this assemblage? What is your wish, noble sirs? said the Coshavoy. Shouts and abuse interrupted his speech. Give up your mace! Give up your mace this moment, you son of the devil! We'll have no more of you! shouted Cossacks in the crowd. Some of the sober ones appeared to wish to oppose this,

but the barracks, sober and drunken, fell to blows. the shouting and uproar became general. The Koshavoy made an attempt to speak, but knowing that the headstrong multitude, if enraged, might beat him to death, as almost always happened in such cases, he bowed very low, laid down his mace and hid himself in the crowd.

Do you command us, noble sirs, to resign our insignia of office, said the judge, the scribe and the assail, and they prepared to give up the inkhorn the seal of the army and the staff on the spot. No, remain! We shouted from the crowd. We only want to drive out the Koshavoy because he's a woman and we want a man for Koshavoy.

Whom do you elect as Koshavoy? asked the chiefs. Elect Kukubenko, shouted some. We won't have Kukubenko, yelled another party. He's too young. The milk isn't dry on his lips yet. Let Shillow be Ataman, shouted some. Make Shillow the Koshavoy. None of your Shillow, yelled the crowd.

A nice sort of Cossack, he is. That son of a dog. is as thievish as a tata, to the devil in a sack with your drunken Shillow. Borodati! Let's make Borodati, Koscivoy! We won't have Borodati, to the devil's mother with Borodati. Shout Kierdhagar! Whispered Taras Bulba to several. Kierjigar! Kierjigar! shouted the crowd.

Borodati! Borodati! Borodati! Kierjigar! Shillow! Away with Shillow! Kierjigar! All the candidates, the moment they heard their names mentioned, stepped out to the crowd, in order not to give anyone a chance to suppose that they were taking apart personally in their election. Kyrjigar! Kyrjigar! rang out more strongly than the rest. Borodati! They proceeded to decide the matter by a show of fists, and Kyrgyzegar won. Go for Kierjigar! They shouted. Half a score of Cossacks immediately stepped out from the crowd. Some of them could hardly keep their feet, so intoxicated were they, and went directly to Kierjigar to notify him of his election.

Kyrgygar, although very old, was a very shrewd Cossack, and had been sitting in his barrack for a good while already, as though he knew nothing about what was going on. What is it, noble sirs? What is your will? he inquired. Come, you're elected Koshavoy. Have mercy, noble sirs, said Kiergagar. How am I worthy of such an honour? Why should I be made Koshavoy? I haven't sufficient sense to discharge such a duty.

Could no better man be found in all the army? Come along as your bid, shouted the Zaporosti. Two of them seized him by the arms, and although he planted his feet firmly, they finally dragged him to the square, accompanied by shouts, thrusts from the rear with fists, kicks and exhortations. Don't hold back, you son of the devil, accept the honour, you dog, when tis given to you. In this manner was Kyrgygar, conducted into the ring of Cossacks. Well, noble sirs, yelled those who had brought him.

Are you agreed that this Cossack shall be your Coshavoy? All agreed. shouted the throng, and the whole plane reverberated for a long time afterward with that shout. One of the chiefs took the mace and handed it to the newly elected Koshavoy. Kierjigar, in accordance with custom, immediately refused it. The chief offered it a second time. Kierjigar again declined it, and then at the third offer accepted it. A shout of approbation rang through the crowd, and again the whole plain resounded afar with the shout of the Cossacks.

Then they stepped forth from among the people, the four oldest of all, white, moustached, Cossacks with white scalp locks. There were no very old men in the Siech for none of the Zboretschi ever died a natural death. And taking each a handful of earth, which recent rains had converted into mud, they laid it on his head. The wet earth tricked down from his head, ran on his moustache and cheeks and smeared his whole face with mud. But Kyrgygar stood motionless in his place and thanked the Cossacks for the honour they had shown him. Thus ended the noisy election, as to which one cannot say whether it was as pleasing to the others as it was to Bulba. By means of it, he had taken his revenge on the former Koshavoy.

Moreover, Kierjegar was an old comrade of his, and had been on expeditions with him by land and sea, sharing the toils and hardships of war. The crowd immediately dispersed to celebrate the election, and such revelry ensued as Ostap and Andri had not yet beheld. The dram shops were attacked. Mead, corn brandy and beer were seized quite simply, without payment. The owners were glad enough to escape with whole skins themselves.

The whole night passed amid shouts and songs which celebrated warlike feats, and the rising moon gazed long at troops of musicians marching about the streets with Banduras, round balalaikas and the church choir, who were kept to sing in church and to glorify the deeds of the Zaporashchi. At last, drunkenness and fatigue began to overpower their strong heads, and here and there a Cossack could be seen to fall upon the earth, and Comrade, embracing Comrade in fraternal fashion, Mordland and even weeping, both rolled upon the earth together. Here a whole group tumbled down in a heap.

There a man chose the most comfortable position and stretched straight out on a log of wood. This last, who was stronger, was still giving utterance to incoherent speeches. At last, even he yielded to the power of intoxication, flung himself down, and all in the Siech slept. End of Chapter 3. Chapter 4 of Taras Bulba by Gogol, translated by Isabel Hapgood.

This Libroch's recording is in the public domain. But on the following day, Taras Bulba had a conference with the new Koshavoy as to the best way of inciting the Cossacks to some enterprise. The Koshavoy was a wily and sagacious Cossack, knew the Zaporosci through and through, and said at first, Oath cannot be violated. It's downright impossible. But after a pause, he added, No matter. It can be managed. We won't violate them, but let's devise something. Let the men assemble,

not at my summons, but simply of their own accord. You know how to contrive it, and I'll hasten to the square instantly with the chiefs as though we knew nothing about it. Not an hour had elapsed after their conversation when the kettle drums thundered. Instantly the drunken and foolish Cossacks made their appearance. A million Cossack caps poured into the square. A murmur arose. Why? What? Why was the assembly beaten? No one answered. At last, in one quarter and another, it began to be rumoured about. Behold, the Cossack's strength is being vainly wasted. There is no war. Behold, our leaders have become altogether fat and sleepy. Their eyes swim in fat. Yes, plainly there is no justice in the world. The other Cossacks first listened,

and then began to say to themselves, Ah, that's the truth. There's no justice in the world. Their leaders seem surprised at these utterances. At last, the Koshavoy stepped forwards. Permit me, noble Cossacks, to address you. Speak out. Touching the matter in question, noble sirs, probably no one knows better than yourselves that many Zeparoshti have run in debt to the Jews in the dram shops

and to that sort of folks so that now not even a devil would give them credit. Again, touching the matter in question, there are many young fellows who have no idea of what war is left. like, although, as you are aware, noble sirs, without war, a young man cannot exist. How make a Zeparajat's out of him if he has never slain a Muslim? He speaks well, said Bulb to himself.

Think not, however, noble sirs, that I speak thus with a view of disturbing the peace. God forbid, I merely mention the fact. Moreover, the church we have for our God is too disgraceful for words. Just consider how many years the Schetch has existed. By the mercy of God. But to this day, it not only doesn't look like a church outside, but even the holy pictures have no adornments. No one has so much as thought of making them a garment. They have received only that which some other Cossacks have bequeath them in their wills, and moreover, those gifts have been meagre, because those men are drunk up nearly all they had during their lifetime. I'm making you this speech, therefore, not with the object of stirring you up to a war

with the Muslims, we have promised the Sultan peace, and it would be a great sin in us, for we swore it according to our law. What's he mixing things up like that for? said Bulb to himself. So you see, noble sirs, that war cannot be begun. Knightly honour does not permit it. But according to my poor opinion, this is what I think. Let's send out a few young men in boats. Let them ravage the coasts of Anatolia a bit. What say you, noble sir? "'Lead on! Take us all!' shouted the crowd on all sides. "'We're ready to lay down our heads for our faith.' The Koshavoy was alarmed. He did not wish, by any manner of means,

to stir up all as a porridge. A breach of the peace appeared to him improper on the present occasion. "'Permit me, noble sirs, to address you further.' "'Enough!' yelled the Cossacks. "'You can say nothing better.' "'If so it must be, then so be it. I am the slave of your will.' everybody knows and the scriptures also tell us that the voice of the people is the voice of God it is impossible to devise anything better than the whole nation has devised but here's the difficulty you know noble sirs that the sultan will not permit the diversion which delights our young men

to go unpunished and we ought to be well prepared at such a time and our forces ought to be fresh and then we need fear no one but during their absence the tattars may make an attack Those Turkish dogs don't show themselves, and they daren't come while the master is at home, but they snap at his heels from behind and bite painfully to boot. And if it comes to that, to speak the truth, we have not boats enough on hand, nor powder ready in sufficient quantity for all to go. But I am glad and ready, if you like, I am the slave of your will. The wily Atomans stopped speaking.

The various groups began to discuss the matter, and the Atomans of the different barracks to take counsel together. Fortunately, few of these were drunk, so they decided to heed the councils of reason. A number of men set out at once for the opposite shore of the Dnieppe, to the treasury of the army, where, in an inaccessible hiding place, underwater and among the reeds, lay concealed the army chest and a part of the arms captured from the enemy. Others hastened to inspect the boats and prepare them for service. In a twinkling, the whole shore was thronged with men.

Carpenters appeared, axes in hand. Old, weather-beaten, broad-shouldered, strong-legged Zeparossi with black or silvered moustaches, rolled up their trousers, stood knee-deep in the water, and dragged the boats from the shore with stout ropes. Others brought thither seasoned lumber, ready for immediate use, and timber of all sorts. Here the boats were freshly planked, turned bottom-upwards, culked and tarred. There other skiffs were bound together side by side. in Cossack fashion, with long strands of reeds, that the swell of the waves on the sea might not sink them. Further on, all along the shores, they built fires and heated tar in copper ghettles to coat the boats. The old and experienced instructed the young. The blows and shouts of the workers rose over all the countryside. The bank, alive with men, shook and swayed about. About this time, a large ferry boat began to approach the shore. The The mass of men standing in it began to wave their arms from a long distance away. They were Cossacks in torn, ragged Svittkars.

Their disordered garments, many had nothing but their shirt and a short pipe in their mouth, showed that they had escaped from some disaster, or had caroused to such an extent that they had drunk up all they had had on their bodies. A very short, broad-shouldered Cossack of about 50, stepped out from their midst and stood in front. He shouted and waved his hand more vigorously than any of the others, but his words could not be heard for the shouts and hammering of the workmen. Whence come you? asked the Koshavoy when the boat had touched ashore.

All the workers paused in their labours, and with axes and chisels uplifted looked on expectantly. From a misfortune, shouted the Cossack. From what? Permit me, noble Zabarazzi to address you. Speak! Or would you prefer to assemble the council? Speak, we are all here! The men all pressed together in a close mass.

And have you heard nothing of what has been going on in the Hetman's dominions? What is it? inquired one of the barrack Ataman's. Eh? What? Evidently a Tatar has blasted up your ears that you might hear nothing. Tell us. What is going on there? That is going on the like of which no man born or christened ever yet has seen. Tell us what it is, you son of a dog, shouted one of the crowd, apparently losing patience. Things have come to such a pass that our holy church is no longer ours. They are least to the Jews now. If the Jew is not first paid, there can be no service.

What nonsense is this you're telling us? And if the thrice accursed dog of a Jew does not make a sign with his unclean hand over the Holy Pasca, it cannot be blessed. He lies, brother nobles. It cannot be that an unclean Jew puts his mark upon the Holy Pasca. Listen, I have not yet told all. Roman Catholic priests are driving about all over the Ukraine in carts. The harm lies not in the carts, but that not horses, but Orthodox Christians are harnessed to them.

Listen, even that is not all. They say that the Jewishes are making themselves petticoats out of our priest's vestments. Such are the deeds that are taking place in the Ukraine, noble sirs. And you sit here, reveling in Zaporizier, and evidently a Tatar has so scared you that you have no eyes, no ears, no anything, and you hear nothing that is going on in the world. Stop! Stop! broke in the Koshavoy, who up to that moment had stood with his eyes fixed upon the earth like all Zeparossi, who on important occasions never yielded to their first impulse, but kept silence, and meanwhile collected privately all the menacing power of their indignation. Stop! I also have a word to say. What have you been doing the while? When the devil was thus mauling your priest, what were you doing yourselves? Do you know swords? How did you come to permit such lawlessness? Huh? How did we come to permit such lawlessness? You ought to have tried to stop it, when there are 50,000 of the Leaks alone. Yet, and tis a shame not to be concealed, that there are also dogs among our men who have already accepted their faith. But your hetmen and your colonels, what did they do? God preserve anyone from such deeds as our colonels performed. How so? This way, our hetman, roasted at a brains and ox, now lies in Warsaw, and the heads and hands of our

colonels are being carried round to all the fares as a spectacle for the people. That's what our colonels did. The whole throng became violently agitated. At first, silence reigned all along the shore, like that which precedes a fierce tempest, and then suddenly voices were raised, and all the shore broke into utterance. What? Jews hold the Christian churches on lease? Roman Catholic priests have harnessed and beaten Orthodox Christians? What? Such torture has been permitted on Russian soil by accursed unbelievers and they have done such things to the colonels and the headmen? Nay, this shall not be.

It shall not be. Words of this sort flew from all quarters. The Zeparosci were an uproar and felt their power. This was not the excitement of a giddy-headed folk. All who are thus agitated were strong, firm characters, which were not easily heated, but once rendered red-hot preserved the inward heat long and obstinately. Hang all Jews, rang through the crowd. They shall not make petticoats for their jewesses from priest's vestments.

They shall not place their tokens on the Holy Paska. Drown them all the heathens in the Dnieppa! These words, uttered by someone in the throng, flashed like lightning through all minds, and the crowd flung themselves upon the suburb with the intention of cutting the throats of all the Jews. The poor sons of Israel, losing all presence of mind, and not being courageous, in any case, hid themselves.

in empty brandy casks, in ovens, and even crawled under the skirts of their duises. But the Cossacks routed them out wherever they were. Most illustrious lords, shrieked one Jew, tall and thin as a stick, thrusting his sorry visage, distorted with terror from among a group of his comrades. Most illustrious lords suffer us to say a word, only one word. We were revealed to you what you never yet have heard, a thing more important than I can say, very important. Well, say it, said Bulba, who.

always liked to hear what an accused man had to say. Illustrious lords, exclaimed the Jew, such lords never were seen before. Never, by God, such good, kind, brave men there never were in the world before. His voice died away, quivering with terror. How was it possible that we should think any evil of the Zabarazzi? Those men are not of us at all,

those who take leases in the Ukraine. God is my witness. They are not of us. They are not Jews at all. the devil only knows what they are they are only fit to spit upon and cast aside behold they will tell you the same thing is it not true shloa or you shmool by god it is true replied shloma and schmool from among the crowd both pale as clay under their ragged caps we never yet pursued the long jew have had any secret intercourse with your enemies and with roman catholics we will have nothing to do may they dream of the devil we are like blood brothers to the zeper What? Do you mean to say that Zaporosci are brothers to you? exclaimed one among the throng. Don't wait, a cursed Jews, into the Dnieppe with them, noble sirs.

Drown all unbelievers! These words served the signal. They seized the Jews by the arms and began to hurl them into the waves. Piteous cries resounded on all sides. But the grim Zaporosci only laughed when they saw the Jewish legs encased in shoes and stockings flourishing in the air. The poor orator, who had called down destruction on himself, wriggled out of his chaffstan, by which they had seized him, and in his scant, party-coloured under waistcoat,

clasped bulber's legs and begged in a piteous voice, "'Great Lord, most gracious, sir, I used to know your brother the late Dorosha. He was a warrior who was an ornament to knighthood. I gave him 800 sequins when he was forced to ransom himself from the Turks.' "'You knew my brother?' asked Taras. "'God is my witness that I did. He was a magnificent nobleman. And what is your name?

Yankle. Good, said Taras. And then after reflecting, he turned to the Cossacks and spoke as follows. There will always be plenty of time to hang the Jew if it proves necessary. But give him to me for today. So saying, Taras led him to his wagon, beside which stood his Cossacks. Now, crawl under the cart, lie there, and don't move. And as for you, my good men, don't you surrender.

of the Jew. Thereupon he returned to the square, for the whole crowd had long before collected there. All had at once abandoned the shore and the preparation of the boats. For a land journey now lay before them, not a sea voyage, and they needed horses and carts, not ships and Cossack gulls. Now all both young and old wanted to go on the expedition, and it was decided with the advice of the chiefs, the Atomans of the barracks, the Koshavoy and the will of the holes of Perosian army, to march straight to Poland, to avenge all the injury and disgrace to the faith and to Kossack renown, to seize booty from the cities, to start conflagrations in the villages and crops, and to spread their fame far abroad over the step. All immediately girded and armed

themselves. The Koshavoy grew two feet and more taller. He was no longer the timid executor of the frivolous wishes of a free people. He was the untrammeled master. He was a desperate who understood only how to command. All the headstrong and uproarious knights stood in orderly ranks with respectfully bowed heads, not venturing to lift their eyes when the Koshavoy issued his orders. He gave them quietly, without shouting, without haste, but with pauses, like an old man deeply learned in Cossack affairs, and putting into execution, not for the first time, a wisely matured enterprise. examine yourselves inspect yourselves thoroughly all of you he said put your teams and your tar boxes in order test your weapons

take not many garments with you a shirt and a couple of pairs of trousers to each cossack and a pot of dried oatmeal and ground miller to peace let no one take any more there will be plenty of provisions all that's needed in the wagons let every cossack have two horses and two hundred yoke of oxen must be taken, for we shall require them at the fords and marshy places. Maintain order, noble sirs, above all things. I know that there are some among you who, as soon as God sends greed, will immediately tear up Nankin and rich velvets to make themselves foot wrappers. Leave off such devilish habits. Spurn every petticoat and take only weapons, if you happen to come across good ones, and ducats or silver, noble sirs, for they are subject to capture and useful in any case.

And I'll tell you this beforehand, noble sirs. If anyone gets drunk on this expedition, he will receive short shrift. I'll order him to be chained by the neck like a dog to a transport, no matter who he may be. Even were he the most heroic Cossack in the whole army, he should be shot on the spot like a dog and flung out to be torn by the birds of prey, without burial, For a drunkard on the march deserves not Christian burial. Young men, obey the old men in all things. If a ball grazes you, or a sword cuts your head, or any other part,

pay no heed to such trifles. Mix a charge of powder in a cup of brandy. Quaff heartily of it, and all will pass off. You will not even have any fever, and if the wound is not too large, put simple earth on it, mixing it first with spittle in your palm, and it will dry up the wound. And now, to work, to work, my lads. Get into action, but without over haste.

So spoke the Koshavoy. And no sooner had he finished his speech than all the Cossacks instantly set to work. All the Sietch sobered up, and there was not a single drunken man to be found any more than if there never had been such a thing among the Cossacks. Some Cossacks repaired the fellies of the wheels, others shifted the axles of the carts.

Some carried sacks of provisions to the transport wagons, while other wagons they loaded with arms. Others still drove up the horses and oxen. On all sides resounded the trampling of horses' hooves, test shots from the guns, the clang of swords, the lowing of oxen, the screech of turning wagons, talking shrill cries, and urging on of cattle. And soon the Cossack camp stretched far over the plain, and he who might have undertaken to run from its head to its tail, would have had a long course. In the tiny wooden church the priest held a special service of prayer and sprinkled everyone with holy water. All kissed the cross. When the horde started out and moved out of the Siech, all as a paroschse, turn their heads for a last look. Farewell, our mother, they said, almost in one breath. May God preserve thee from all misfortune. As he passed through the suburb, Taras Bulber saw that his due Yankle had already erected a sort of stall with an awning, and was selling flints, screwdrivers, powder, and all sorts of military

stores needed on the road, even rolls and loaves of bread. What devil those Jews are? said Taras to himself. And riding up to him, he said, Fool, why are you sitting here? Do you want to be shot like a sparrow? Yankle, in reply, came as near to him as possible, and making signs with both hands, as though desirous of imparting some secret, said, let the noble lord but keep silence, and say nothing to anyone. Among the Cossack wagons is a card of mine. I am carrying all sorts of needful stores for the Cossacks,

and on the journey I will furnish every sort of provision at a lower price than any Jew ever sold before. Tis so, God is my witness. God is my witness, tis so. Taras Bulber shrugged his shoulders in amazement at the Jewish nature and rode on to the hoard. End of Chapter 4. Chapter 5 of Taras Bulber by Gogol,

translated by Isabel Hapgood. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. All southwest Poland speedily became prey to fear. Everywhere the rumour flew, There's a parosti! There's a porosity ever appeared! All who could flee did so. All rose up and scattered after the manner of that lawless, reckless age, when men built neither fortresses nor castles,

but each erected his temporary dwelling of straw at haphazard. Each man thought, tis useless to waste money and labour on a cottage, it will be swept away in any case in a Tatar raid. Everyone took fright. One exchanged his plough and oxen for a horse and gun, another hid, driving off his cattle and carrying away all he could. Occasionally on the road,

some were encountered who greeted their visitors with arms in hand, but more numerous were those who fled before their arrival. Everyone knew that it was difficult to deal with the wild and warlike horde, known by the name of the Zaporosian army, which, beneath its reckless and disorderly exterior, concealed an organisation well calculated for times of battle. The horsemen rode on without overburdening or heating their horses. The foot soldiers marched soberly behind the wagons,

and the whole camp moved only by night, resting during the day, and selecting for this purpose the wilderness, uninhabited places, and the forests of which there was then an abundance. Spires and scouts were sent ahead to ferret out the where, the what and the how. And often they made their appearance suddenly in the places where they were least expected, and then everyone bade farewell to life. The villages were burned, the horses and cattle, which were not driven off behind the army, were killed on the spot. They seemed to be reveling, rather than carrying out a raid. Our hair would rise an end nowadays at the horrible exhibitions of

savagery of that fierce half-civilised age, which the Zaporosci everywhere displayed. Children slain, women's breasts cut off, the skin flayed from the feet up to the knees of victims who were then set at liberty. In a word, the Cossacks paid old debts in coin of full weight. The prelate of one monastery, on hearing of their approach, dispatched two monks to say that they were not behaving as they should, that an agreement existed between the Zeparoshsi and the government, that they were breaking faith with the king and all international right. Tell your bishop from me and from all the Zabrotsi, said the Koshavoy, that he has nothing to fear. The Cossacks so far are only lighting and smoking their pipes. And magnificent Abbey was soon wrapped in the devouring flames, and its colossal Gothic windows gazed grimly through the waves of fire as they parted.

Fleeing throngs of monks, women and Jews, suddenly flooded those towns where there was any hope in the garrison and the town defences. The belated sucker, dispatched from time to time by the government, consisting of a few small regiments, either could not find them, or, seized with fright, turned tail at the very first encounter and fled on their swift horses. So it came to pass that many of the royal commanders, who had conquered in former battles, resolved to unite their forces and present a front to the Zaporoszzi. And here, more than all, did our young Cossacks who avoided robbery, cupidity and a weak enemy, and were burning. with the desire to distinguish themselves in the presence of the chiefs,

endeavour to measure themselves in single combat with a warlike and boastful leac, prancing on his spirited horse with the sleeves of his jacket thrown back and streaming in the wind. This science was inspiriting. They had already won for themselves many horse trappings, valuable swords and guns. In a single month, the newly fledged birds had attained their full growth, were completely transformed and had become men. Their features in which hitherto a trace of youthful softness had been discernible had now grown grim, and it was pleasant to old Taras to see both his sons among the leaders.

It seemed as though Ostap were designed by nature for the pursuit of war and the difficult art of conducting military operations. Never once losing his head or becoming confused under any circumstances, with a cool audacity which was almost supernatural in a youth of two-and-twenty, he could, in an instant, gauge the danger and grasp the whole scope of the matter, could instantly devise a means of escaping it, but of escaping it only that he might, the more surely, conquer it. His movements now began to be distinguished by the assurance which springs from experience, and in them could be detected the temperament of the future great leader.

His person exiled strength, and his knightly qualities had already assumed the broad power of the lion. Oh, what a fine colonel, that fellow will make one of these days, said old Taras. By God, he'll make a magnificent colonel, far surpassing even his father. Andri surrendered himself wholly to the enchanting music of bullets and swords. He knew not what it was to consider or to calculate, or to measure and advance his own strength and the enemies. He found in battle a mad delight and intoxication. He perceived something festal in the moments when a man's brain burns, when everything waves

and flutters before his eyes. Heads fly off, horses fall to the earth with the sound of thunder, while he rides on like a drunken man, amid the whistling of bullets and the flashing of swords, dealing blows to all and heeding not those dealt to him. More than once the father marvelled also at Andry when he beheld him, incited only by a passionate impulse, hurl himself at something which a sensible man in cold blood would never have attempted,

and by the sheer force of his mad onslaught, accomplished such wonders as could not but amaze men old in battle. Altaris admired and said, and he too will be a good warrior, if the enemy does not capture him. He's not Ostap, but he's a fine, a grand warrior nevertheless. The army decided to march straight to the city of Dubno, where, so rumour asserted,

there were many treasures and wealthy inhabitants. The journey was accomplished in a day and a half, and the Zaporosci made their appearance before the city. The inhabitants resolved to defend themselves to the utmost extent of their power, to the last extremity, and preferred to die in their squares and streets before their own thresholds, rather than admit the enemy to their houses. A high earthen rampart surrounded the city, in places where the rampart was somewhat lower, there rose up a stone wall, or a house, or even an oaken stockade, which served as a battery. The garrison was strong and felt the importance of their business. The Zaporosci,

attacked the rampart fiercely, but were met by a shower of grape-shot. The citizens and residents of the town evidently did not wish to remain idle either, and stood in groups upon the rampart. In their eyes could be read desperate resistance. The women also were determined to take part and raid down upon the heads of the Zeparosti stones, casks, pots, and finally boiling water and sacks of sand which blinded them. The Zeparoszzi were not fond of dealing with fortified places. sieges were not in their line. The Koshavoy ordered a retreat and said, To useless, brother nobles, we will retire,

but may I be a heathen tatar and not a Christian if we don't clean them out of that town? Let them all perish of hunger, the dogs. The army retreated, invested the town on all sides, and for lack of something to do, busied themselves with devastating the surrounding country, burning the neighbouring villages, the ricks of unthreshed grain,

and turning their droves of horses loose in the fields as yet untouched by the reaping hook, where as though intentionally prepared for them waved the plump, ears, the fruit of an unusual harvest, liberally rewarding all tillers of the soil that season. With horror, the inhabitants, looking on from the city, beheld their means of subsistence destroyed. And meanwhile, there's a proxhti, having formed a double cordon, of their wagons around the city, disposed themselves as in the siech, in their barracks, smoked their pipes, bartered their booty for weapons, played at leapfrog, at odd and even, and gazed at the city with deadly

cold-bloodedness. At night they lighted their campfires. The cooks boiled the porridge for each Keren in huge copper kettles, and unsleeping sentinel stood all night long beside the blazing fires. But the Zaporosci soon began to tire of inactivity and prolonged sobriety, unaccompanied by any fighting. The Koshavoy even ordered the allowance of liquor to be doubled, which are sometimes done in the army when difficult enterprises or operations were underway. The young men in general, and Taras Bulber's sons in particular, did not like this life. Andri was visibly bored. You silly head, said Taras to him. Be patient, Cossack.

You'll be Ataman someday. And he is not a good warrior who loses his spirit in an important affair. But he is good, who does not weary, even of inaction, who endures everything. and no matter what you do to him, turns it to account. But hot youth cannot agree with age. The two have different natures, and they look at the same thing with different eyes. But in the meantime, Taras's regiment, led by Tovkatch, arrived.

With him were also two-year-souls, the scribe, and other regimental officers. The Cossacks numbered over 4,000 in all. There are among them many volunteers, who had risen of their own free will, without any summons as soon as they heard what the matter was. The Yassals brought to Taras' sons the blessing of their aged mother, and to each a holy image of Cyprus wood from the Mejigorsk monastery in Kiev. The two brothers hung the holy icons around their necks, and involuntarily grew pensive, as they recalled their old mother.

What did this blessing prophesy? What did it say to them? Was it a blessing for their victory over the enemy, and then a joyful return to their home with booty and glory to be everlastingly commemorated in the songs of the Bandura players, or was it? But the future is not to be known, and stands before a man like autumnal fogs rising from the swamps. Birds fly to and fro in it, with flapping wings, never recognising one another, the dove not seeing the vulture, nor the vulture of the dove, and no one knows how near he may be flying to his

destruction. Ostap had long before attended to his duties and gone to the barrack. Andri, without knowing why, felt a sort of oppression in his heart. The Cossacks had finished their evening meal. The evening had fully quieted down. The wonderful July night ruled the air, but he did not go to the barracks. He did not lie down to sleep, and involuntarily he surveyed the whole scene before him. In the sky with a thin, sharp gleam, twinkle,

innumerable stars. The plane was covered far and wide by wagons scattered over its expanse. Their swinging tar buckets smeared with tar, loaded with every description of goods and provisions captured from the foe. By the side of the carts, under the carts, and far beyond the carts, Zaporosci were everywhere visible, stretched out upon the grass, all asleep in picturesque attitudes. One had thrust a sack under his head, another is cap, still another was simply making use of his comrade's side. Swords, guns, archibuses, short-stemmed pipes with copper mountings, iron-alls and a flint and steel were inseparable from every Cossack.

The heavy oxen with legs doubled under them lay in huge whitish masses and at a distance looked like grey stones scattered on the slopes of the plain. On all sides the heavy snores of sleeping warriors had already begun to rise from the grass and were answered from the plain by the ringing nays of their steeds, chafing at their hobbled feet. Meanwhile, a certain grim magnificence was mingled with the beauty of the July night. It was the distant glare of conflagrations from the country roundabout. In one place the flames spread tranquilly and grandly over the sky. In another, having encountered something else on fire,

they suddenly burst into a whirlwind and flew hissing upwards to the very stars and torn fragments faded away in the most distant quarter of the heavens. There, a black monastery like a grim Carthusian monk stood threatening and displaying its dark magnificence at every flash. Yonder burned the monastery garden. It seemed as though the trees could be heard hissing as they wrapped themselves in smoke, and when the fire leaped aside,

it suddenly lighted up with a phosphorescent lilac rose-hued gleam, the ripe plums, or turned the yellowing pears here and there to ruddy gold. and there among them all, on the wall of a building or against the trunk of a tree, a black blot hung the body of a poor Jew or monk who had perished in the flames with the building. Far away, high above the conflagration hovered birds, which looked like a cluster of tiny black crosses upon a fiery background. The town thus laid bare seemed asleep.

Its spires and roofs, and the stockade and walls flashed quietly in the glare of the distant conflagrations. Andri made the rounds of the Cossack ranks. The fires beside which the sentinels sat were on the point of dying out, and even the sentinels were asleep, having devoured oatmeal and dumplings with genuine Cossack appetites. He was amazed at such carelessness and said to himself, "'Tis well that there is no strong enemy near at hand, and no one to fear.'

At last he went to one of the transport wagons, climbed into it, and laid down upon his back, thrusting his clasped hands under his head, But he could not sleep and gazed long at the sky. It was all open before him. The air was pure and transparent. The dense mass of stars which constitutes the Milky Way and traverses the sky in a belt was flooded with light.

From time to time, Andri forgot himself to a degree and a light mist of dreaming seemed to veil the heavens from him for a moment. And then it cleared away and they became visible again. During one of these intervals it seemed to him that some strange human figure was flitting before him, thinking it was merely a dream apparition which would immediately fade away, he opened his eyes fully and beheld a withered, emaciated face bending over him and gazing straight into his eyes. The long, coal-black hair fell, unquoffed, dishevelled from beneath a dark veil, which was thrown over the head, and the strange glitter

of the eyes and the death-like brown tone of the face, which threw the sharply cut features, into relief, inclined him to believe that it was an apparition. His hand involuntarily grasped his aquibus, and he exclaimed almost convulsively, "'Who are you? If you are an evil spirit, be gone from my sight. If you are a living being, you have chosen an unseemly time for your jest. I will kill you with a single shot.' In answer to this, the apparition laid its finger upon its lips and seemed to entreat silence. He dropped his hand and began to scrutinize it, more attentively. He recognized it as a woman from the long hair, the brown neck, the half-concealed bosom, but she was not a native of those regions. Her whole face was swarthy, wasted by disease.

Her broad cheekbones stood out prominently above her hollow cheeks. Her narrow eyes rose upwards in an arch. The more he gazed at her features, the more he discerned in them that which was familiar. At last, unable to restrain himself longer, he said, tell me! Who are you? It seems to me that I know you or have seen you somewhere. Two years ago in Kiev. Two years ago in Kiev, repeated Andri, endeavoring to collect in his mind all that still lingered in his memory of his former student life. He looked intently at her once more and suddenly exclaimed at the top of his voice, you are the Tatar, the servant of the young

noblewoman, the Voivod's daughter. Shh! cried the Tatar, clasping her hands with a gesture of supplication, trembling all over and turning her head round in order to see whether anyone had been waked up by Andri's loud exclamation. Tell me, tell me, why are you here? said Andri, almost panting in a whisper, interrupted every moment by inward emotion. Where is the young lady? Is she alive? She is now in the city. In the city! he exclaimed, almost in a shriek, and felt that all the blood suddenly flew to his heart. Why is she in the city? Because the old nobleman himself is in the city.

He has been Voivod of Dubno for the last year and a half. Is she married? How strange you look. Tell me about her. She has had nothing to eat for two days. What? Not one of the inhabitants has had a morsel of bread for a long while past. All have been eating earth only.

Andrew was astonished. The young lady saw you from the city ramparts among the Zaporosci. She said to me, Go say to the night. If he remembers me, let him come to me. And do not forget to make him give you a bit of bread for my aged mother, for I do not wish to see my mother die before my very eyes. Better that I should die first and she afterwards.

Perseach him, clasp his knees, his feet. He also has an aged mother. Let him give you bread for her sake. Many feelings awoke and flamed up in the young Cossack's breast. But how came you hither? By what road did you arrive? an underground passage. Is there an underground passage? Yes. Where? You will not betray it, Knight. I swear by the Holy Cross that I will not. You must descend into the gully and cross

the watercourse yonder among the reeds. And it leads into the city. Straight into the town monastery. Let us go. Let us go at once. A bit of bread in the name of Christ and His Holy Mother. good, so be it, stand here beside the wagon, or better still lie down in it, no one will see you, all are asleep, I will return immediately. And he set off for the transports, which contained the provisions belonging to their barrack. His heart beat violently. All the past, all that had been extinguished by the Cossack bivouacs, by the stern battle of life, flamed up at once to the surface, and in its turn drowned the present. Again, as from the dark depths of the sea, the proud woman rose up before him.

Again, in his memory shone forth her beautiful arms, her eyes, her laughing mouth, her thick, dark chestnut hair, falling in curls upon her shoulders, the elastic, well-knit members of a maiden figure. No, they had not been extinguished in his breast. They had not vanished. They had simply withdrawn to one side in order for a time to make way of his face. for other strong emotions. But often, very often, the young Cossack's deep slumbers had been troubled by them, and often, waking, he had lain sleepless on his bed, without being able to explain the cause.

He walked on, but his heart beat more violently still at the mere thought of seeing her again, and his young knees shook. When he reached the transport, he had utterly forgotten the reason for his coming. He raised his hand to his brow and rubbed it long, trying to recollect what he meant to do. At last he trembled and was filled with terror. The thought suddenly occurred to him that she was dying of hunger. He flung himself upon the wagon and seized several large loaves of black bread, but then he thought, is not this food which is suited to a robust and easily satisfied Zeparajets? Too coarse and unfit for her delicate frame. Then he remembered that the Koshavoy on the previous evening, had reproved the cooks for having cooked up all the buckwheat flour into

porridge at once, when there was plenty for at least three times. In the full assurance that he would find plenty of porridge in the kettles, he drew out his father's travelling kettle, and went with it to the cook of their barrack, who was sleeping alongside two huge kettles, holding about ten bucketfuls apiece, under which the ashes still glowed. Glancing into them, he was amazed to find both empty. Supernatural powers must have been required to eat it all, the more so, as their barrack numbered fewer men than the others. He looked into the kettles of the other Karens. Nothing anywhere.

Involuntarily, there occurred to his mind. There's a paroshtia like children. If there is little, they eat it. If there is much, they leave nothing. What was he to do? Still somewhere in the wagon belonging to his father's regiment, there was, he thought, a sack of white bread, which they had found when they pillaged the bakery of a monastery.

He went straight to his father's load, but it was not there. Ostap had taken it and put it under his head, and there he lay stretched out on the ground, snoring so that the whole plane reverberated. Andri seized the sack abruptly with one hand and gave it a jerk so that Ostap's head fell on the ground, and the latter sprang up, half awake, and sitting there with closed eyes shouted at top of his lungs, Stop him! Stop the damned Leag! Catch the horse! Silence! I'll kill you! shouted Andrea in terror, brandishing the sack over him. But Ostap did not continue his sense. speech, quieted down, and emitted such a snore that the grass on which he lay undulated with his

breath. Andri glanced timidly about him on all sides, to see of Ostap's dream ravings had waked any of the Cossacks. Only one scalp-locked head rose up in the adjoining barrack, glanced about, then dropped back on the ground. After waiting a couple of minutes, he set out with his burden. The Tatar woman still lay there, scarcely breathing. "'Rise, let us go. Fear not, all are sleeping. Can you take one of these loaves if I cannot carry all?' So saying, he flung the sacks on his back, pulled out another sack of millet as he passed a wagon, took in his hands the loaves he had wanted to give the Tatar woman to carry, and bending somewhat under his load, went boldly through the ranks of slumbering Zaporosci.

"'Andry!' said old Bulber as he passed. His heart died within him. He halted, all of a tremble, and said softly, What is it? There's a woman with you! When I get up, I'll give you a sound thrashing. Women will lead you to no good, so saying, he leaned his head upon his hand and gazed intently at the muffled form of the Tatar.

Andri stood there more dead than alive, not daring to look his father in the face. And when he did raise his eyes and glanced at him, old Bulba was fast asleep, with his head resting in the palm of his hand. He made the sign of his hand. of the cross on his breast. Fear fled from his heart even more rapidly that it had attacked it. When he turned to look at the Tatar woman, she stood before him like a dark, granite statue,

all muffled in her veil, and the glow of the crimson glare in the distance lighted up only her eyes, dull as the eyes of a corpse. He plucked her by the sleeve, and both went on together, glancing incessantly behind them, and at last they descended the slope into a small ravine, almost a hole, at the bottom of which a stream flowed lazily, overgrown with sedge and strewn with mossy hummocks. Descending into this ravine, they were completely concealed from the view of all the plain occupied by the Zaporosian camp. At least, Andri, as he glanced back, saw that the abrupt declivity rose behind him like a steep wall, taller than a man's stature. On its crest waved a few stalks of stepgrass, and above them in the sky hung the moon like a reaping hook of pure ruddy

gold set a slant. The breeze, blowing off the step, warned them that the dawn was not far off, but nowhere was the distant crow of a cock audible. There had been not a single cock for a long time past, either in the city or in the devastated neighbourhood. They crossed the stream on a narrow plank, beyond which rose the opposite bank, that appeared higher than the one behind them, and formed a complete precipice. It seemed as though this were as strong and solid point of the citadel, at all events. The earth and rampart was lower there, and no garrison appeared behind it. But further on rose the thick monastery wall. The precipitous bank was all overgrown with stepgrass, and in the narrow ravine between it and the stream grew tall reeds, almost to the

height of a man. At the summit of the ravine were visible the remains of a wattled fence, revealing that a garden had once existed there. In front of it, the broad leaves of the burdock, from among which rose pigweed and blackthorn and sunflowers, rearing their heads high above all the rest. Here, the tatar flung off her high-heeled slippers and went barefoot, gathering up her gown carefully, for the spot was marshy and soaked with water. Forcing their way through the reeds, they halted before a pile of faggots and brushwood. Pushing aside the brushwood, they found a sort of earthen arch, an opening not much larger than the mouth of an oven. The Tata woman bent her head and went first. Andri followed bending as low as he could in order to

pass with his sacks and both soon found themselves in total darkness. End of Chapter 5. Chapter 6 of Taras Bulburt by Gogol, translated by Isabel Habgood. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Andri could hardly move in the dark and narrow earthen corridor as he followed the Tatar, dragging after him as sacks of bread. It will soon be light, said his guide. We're nearing the spot where I placed a candle. And in fact, the dark earthen walls began to be gradually illuminated. They reached a little widening where, apparently, there had once been a chapel.

At least a small table was set against the wall, like an altar table, and above it was visible the faded, almost entirely obliterated picture of a Catholic Madonna. A small silver lamp hanging before it barely illuminated it. The tatar stooped and picked up from the earth a brass candlestick with a tall slender foot and snuffers pin and extinguisher hanging from it on chains, which she had left there. She lighted it at the silver lamp. The light grew stronger and as they went on, now illumined by it

and again enveloped in pitchy shadow, they suggested a picture by Gerard Dau. The night's handsome rosy countenance, overflowing with health and youth, presented a strong contrast to the pale, emaciated face of his companion. The passage grew a little more roomy, so that Andri was able to straighten himself up. He gazed with curiosity at the earthen walls. Here, as in the catacombs at Kiev, were visible niches in the walls. Here and there stood coffins. In some places they came across human bones, which had become softened with the dampness and were crumbling into dust. It was evident that here also, pious people had taken refuge from the storms, sorrows and seductions of the world.

It was extremely damp in some places. Under their feet, it was all water at times. Andri was forced to halt frequently in order to allow his companion to rest, for her fatigue constantly increased. The small piece of bread she had swallowed only caused a pain in her stomach, which had grown unused of food, and she often stood motionless for several minutes at a time in one spot. At last a small iron door appeared before them.

Now, glory be to God, we have arrived, said the Tatar in a faint voice, and tried to raise her hand to knock, but she had not the strength. Andri knocked loudly at the door in her stead. The echo which followed showed that there was a large space beyond the door. Then the echo changed, as though encountering lofty arches. In a couple of minutes, a rattling of keys became audible, and someone could be heard, apparently descending a staircase. At last the door opened.

A monk, standing on a narrow staircase, with the key and a candle in his hands, admitted them. Andri involuntarily stopped short at the sight of a Catholic monk, one of those who had aroused such hatred and disdain among the Cossacks, who had treated them even more ruthlessly than they had treated the Jews. The monk on his side started back at the sight of a Zapparojian Cossack, but in an audible word uttered by the Tatar reassured him. He lighted them, locked the door behind them and led them up the stairs,

and they found themselves beneath the dark and lofty arches of the monastery church. Before one of the altars, adorned with tall candlesticks and candles, knelt a priest absorbed in silent prayer. Near him, on each side, knelt two young choristers in lilac cassocks, with white-laced surpluses and senses in their hands. He was praying that heaven would send out miraculous intervention, that the city might be saved, that their drooping spirits might be strengthened,

that patience might be given them, that the tempter, whispering complaint and weak-spirited grief over earthly misfortunes might be banished. A few women, resembling shadows, knelt supporting themselves against the backs of the chairs and dark wooden benches in front of them, and drooping their exhausted heads upon them. A few men knelt sadly, leaning against the pillars which supported the side arches. The stained glass window above the altar glowed with the rosy light of dawn, and from it, on the floor fell circles of azure, yellow and other colours, suddenly illuminating the dim church. The entire altar, even to its furthest recesses, suddenly shone forth in a radiant halo. The smoke of the sensors hung like an illuminated

rainbow-hued cloud in the air. Andri gazed from his dark corner, not without surprise, at the wonders wrought by the light. At that moment the magnificent swell of the organ, and suddenly filled the whole church. It grew deeper and deeper, increased in volume, passed into heavy bursts of thunder, and then all at once turning into heavenly music, its singing tones floated high among the arches, suggesting the voices of young maidens, and again descended into a deep roar and thunder, and then ceased. And the thunderous pulsations echoed long and tremulously among the arches, and Andri, with mouth agape, was amazed by the wondrous music. At that moment he felt someone plucked the skirt of his count,

Fadden. "'It is time to be going,' said the Tatar. They traversed the church, unperceived, and emerged upon the square in front. The quadrangular square was entirely deserted. In the middle of it stood wooden pillars, showing that only a week before, perhaps, a provision market had existed there. The streets which were then unpaved were simply a mass of dried mud. The square was surrounded by a row of small, one-storied houses of stone or mud, on whose walls were visible wooden stakes and posts to their full height, obliquely crossed by carved wooden beams, as was the manner of building in those days,

examples of which style of construction are still to be seen in some parts of Lithuania and Poland. They were covered with enormously high roofs, with a multitude of dormer windows and ventilating orifices. On one side quite close to the church, and taller than the others, rose a building entirely detached from the rest. probably the town hall or some government office. It was two stories high, and above it, in two arches, was built a Belvedere, west at a watchman. A huge clock face was inserted in the roof.

The square seemed dead, but Andrew thought he heard a feeble groan. Glancing about him, he perceived on the further side, a group of two or three men lying almost motionless on the ground. He fastened his eyes more intently upon them to see whether they were asleep or dead, and at the same moment he stumbled over something which lay at his same moment. feet. It was the dead body of a woman, evidently adduous. She appeared to have been young, though this was not discernible in her distorted and emaciated features. Upon her head was a red silk kerchief. Two rows of pearls or pearl beads adorned the earpieces of her headdress. From beneath it,

two or three long curls in curled papers hung down upon her withered neck, with its tightly drawn sinews. Beside her lay a baby, clutching convulsively at her withered breast, and squeezing it with its fingers in involuntary wrath and finding no milk there. He neither wept nor screamed, and only the gentle rise and fall of his body would lead one to think that he was not dead, or at least on the point of breathing his last. They turned into a street and was suddenly stopped by a madman who, catching sight of Andri's precious burden, sprang upon him like a tiger and clutched him yelling, bread! But his strength was not equal to his madness. Andri repulsed him. He fell to the ground.

moved with pity, Andri tossed him a loaf, upon which he flung himself like a mad dog, gnawing and biting it, and immediately there in the street he expired in horrible convulsions from long disuse of eating. The terrible victims of hunger startled them at almost every step. Many apparently unable to endure their torments in their own houses seemed to have run into the streets to see whether some nourishing power might possibly descend from the air. At the gate of one house sat an old woman, and it was impossible to say whether she was, she was asleep, dead, or only unconscious. At all events, he no longer saw or heard anything, and sat motionless in one spot, her head drooping on her breast. From the roof of another house

hung a strained and withered body in a rope noose. The poor fellow had not been able to endure the tortures of hunger to the end, and had preferred to hasten his death by voluntary suicide. At the sight of such terrible proofs of famine, Andri could not refrain from asking the tatar, have they really been unable to find anything with which to sustain life? If a man is driven to extremities, then there is no help for it. He must nourish himself on that which he has hitherto despised. He may sustain himself with creatures which are forbidden by the law. Anything may be eaten under such circumstances.

They've eaten everything, said the Tatar. All the animals. Not a horse or a dog, nor even a mouse can be found in the whole city. We never had any store of provisions in the town. they were all brought in from the villages. But how can you, while dying such a fearful death, still dream of defending the city? Possibly the Voivod might have surrendered,

but yesterday the colonel in Bujana sent a hawk into the city with a note saying that it was not to be given up, that he was coming to its rescue with his regiment and was only waiting for another colonel that they might march together, and now they are expected at any moment, but we have reached the house. Andri had already seen from afar,

the house which was unlike the others and had been built apparently by an Italian architect it was constructed of thin red bricks and had two stories the windows of the lower story was sheltered under lofty projecting granite cornices the upper story consisted entirely of small arches which formed a gallery

between them gratings with coats of arms could be seen on the corners of the houses were more coats of arms the broad external staircase of tinted bricks abutted on the square At the foot of the staircase sat sentries, one on each side, who with one hand held the halberd, standing beside him in a picturesque and symmetrical manner, and with the other supported his drooping head, and in this attitude more resembled statues than living beings. They were neither asleep

nor dozing, but seemed perfectly insensible to everything. They even paid no attention when anyone ascended the stairs. With the head of the stairs, they found a richly dressed warrior, clad in armour from head to foot, holding a prayer book in his hand. He was turning his dim eyes upon them when the Tatar spoke a word to him, and he dropped them again upon the open pages of his book. They entered the first chamber, rather a large one, serving as a reception room, or simply as an ante-room. It was completely filled with soldiers, servants, huntsmen, cup-bearers, and other servitors indispensable to the maintenance of a Polish magnate's state, all seated along the walls in various attitudes. The reek of extinguished candles

was perceptible, two in huge candlesticks, nearly as tall as a man, which stood in the middle of the room was still burning, although morning had long since peeped through the wide grated window. Andri was about to proceed straight to a large open door, adorned with a coat of arms and a profusion of carved ornaments, but the tatar pulled his sleeve and pointed to a small door in the sidewall. Through this they entered a corridor, and then a room, which he began to examine attentively.

The light which sifted through a crack in the shutters fell upon some objects. A crimson curtain, a gilded cornice, a painting on the wall. The Tatar motioned to Andri to wait here and opened the door into another room, from which gleam the light of a fire. Through the open door he beheld rapidly flitting past, a tall female figure with a splendid braid of hair falling over her uplifted arm. The Tatar returned and bade him enter. He was never able to remember how he entered and how the door was shut behind him. Two candles burned in the room and a shrine lamp glowed before a holy picture. Beneath it stood a small but lofty table with steps to kneel.

upon during prayer after the Roman Catholic fashion. He turned in the other direction and perceived a woman who seemed to have congealed and turned to stone in the midst of some rapid movement. It seemed as though her whole form had been trying to spring towards him and had suddenly paused. And, amazed, he stood in like manner before her. Not thus had he pictured himself that he would see her. This was not the person whom he had formerly known. Nothing about her resembled that person. But she was twice as beautiful, twice as wonderful now as she had formerly been. Then there had been something unfinished, incomplete about her. Now it was a production to which the artist had given the finishing stroke of his brush.

That other one had been a charming, giddy girl. This was a beauty, a woman in the full development of her charms. Complete feeling, not scraps and hints of feeling, but all feeling was expressed in her eyes as she raised them. The tears were not yet dry in them, and framed them in a shining dew, which pierced the very soul. Her bosom, neck and arms were moulded in proportions, which indicated fully developed loveliness. Her hair which in former days had waved in airy ringlets about her face had become a heavy luxuriant mass, part of which was fastened

up, while part in long, slender, beautifully curling locks spread over her breast. It seemed as though her every feature were changed. In vain did he seek to discover in them a single one of those which engraved on his memory. There was not one. Even her extreme pallor did not lessen her wonderful beauty. On the contrary, it seemed to impart to it an irresistibly conquering charm, and Andri felt in all his soul, a reverent timidity, and stood motionless before her. She too seemed surprised at the appearance of the Cossack, as he stood before her in all his beauty, and the might of his young manhood, and in the very immovability of his limbs personified the utmost freedom of movement. His eyes beamed with clear decision, his velvet brows bent in a bold arch.

His sunburnt cheeks glowed with all the ardor of virginal fire, and his useful black moustache shone like silk. No, I have no power to thank you, magnanimous nights, she said, her silvery voice all in a tremble. God alone can reward you, not I, a weak woman. She dropped her eyes. Her lids fell all over them in beautiful, snowy presence, guarded by lashes long as arrows. All her wanderous face bowed forward and a delicate flush overspread it from below. Andri knew not what reply to make to this. He wanted to express everything. He had it in his soul to express it with all the ardor he felt and could not. He felt that something was.

obstructing his mouth and words were deprived of sound he felt that it was not for him reared in the seminary and in a warlike nomadic life to reply fitly to such language and was wroth that is cossack nature at that moment the tatar entered the room she had cut the bread which the night had brought in slices and now brought it on a golden plate and placed it before her young mistress the beauty glanced at her at the bread at her again then turned her eyes on andri and there was a great deal in those eyes. That gentle glance, expressive of her weakness, and her inability to give utterance to the feelings which overpowered her,

was far more comprehensible to Andri than any words. His soul suddenly grew light. All within him seemed to have been released. The emotions of his soul, which, up to that moment, someone seemed to have been restraining with a heavy curb, now felt themselves set free, at liberty and eager to have been, to pour themselves out in a resistless torrent of words. Suddenly the beauty turned to the Tatar and inquired

anxiously, But my mother, you took her some? She is asleep. And my father, I carried him some also. He said that he would come and thank the night in person. She took the bread and raised it to her mouth. With inexpressible delight, Andri watched her break it with a shining fingers, and all at once, He recalled the man, mad with hunger, who had expired before his very eyes on swallowing a morsel of bread. He turned pale, and seizing her hand, cried, enough, eat no more! You have not eaten for so long that bread will be poisoned to you now! She immediately dropped her hand. She laid the bread on the plate, and gazed into his eyes like a submissive child.

And if any words could express, but neither chisel nor brush nor all-powerful speech is capable of expressing what is sometimes to be seen in the glances of maidens. nor the tender feeling which takes possession of him who sees such maiden glances. Zareza, exclaimed Andri, filled heart and soul with emotion, and with overflowing feelings of every sort. What do you need? What do you wish? Command me, impose on me the most impossible task in all the world. I will fly to perform it, even though I perish.

I will perish, I will, and I swear by the Holy Cross that death for your own. sake is so sweet. But no, it's impossible to say how sweet it is. I have three farms. Half my father's drove of horses is mine. All that my mother brought my father in dowry and still conceals even from him. All this is mine. Not one of the Cossacks now possesses such weapons as I do. For the hilt of my sword alone they would give their best drove of horses and three thousand sheep. And all this will I renounce, discard, throw aside. I will burn it, drown it if you will but say the word or even move your delicate black brows. But I know that I am probably talking wider the mark, that all this is not fitting here, that it is not for me who have passed my life in the seminary in Zaparge to speak

as they are want who speak among kings, princes and all the rest of the noble knights. I perceive that you are a different sort of God's creature from the rest of us, and far above all other nobles wives and their maiden daughters. With glowing amazement did the maiden listen, all ear, losing no single word to this frank, sincere language in which, as in a mirror, the strong young spirit was reflected. And each simple word of this speech uttered in a voice which winged its way straight to the depths of the heart was clothed with power. And she bent forward her beautiful face, pushed back to her troublesome hair, opened her. opened her mouth and gazed long with parted lips.

Then she tried to say something, but suddenly paused, remembering that the night came in a different class, that his father, brethren, country, stood behind him as grim avengers, that the Zeparosci who were besieging the city were terrible men, and a cruel death awaited all who were in the place, and her eyes suddenly filled with tears. She caught up a handkerchief embroidered in silks and threw it over her face, and she caught her and in a moment it was all wet. She sat long with her beautiful head thrown back, her snowy teeth on her lovely under lip,

as though she had suddenly felt the sting of a poisonous serpent, and without removing the handkerchief from her face, lest he should see her broken with grief. Speak one word to me, entreated Andri, taking her sat in hand. A sparkling fire coursed through his veins at the touch, and he pressed the hand which lay apathetically in his own. but she maintained silence, never taking the kerchief from her face and remained motionless.

Why are you so sad? Tell me, why are you so sad? She cast aside the handkerchief, pushed back her long hair which fell over her eyes, and poured out her heart in mournful speech, in a quiet voice like the breeze which, arising on a beautiful evening, suddenly blows through a dense growth of reeds beside the stream. They rustle, murmur, and suddenly begin to emit delicately sad sounds, and the wayfarer, pausing, in inexplicable melancholy, captures them, and heeds neither the fading light nor the gay songs of the people which float past as they stray homeward from their labours in meadow and stubblefield,

nor the distant rumble of a passing cart. Am I not worthy of eternal pity? Is not the mother who brought me into the world unhappy? Is it not a bitter fate which has not a bit of fate which has, has fallen to my share, art not thou a cruel executioner, my grim fate? Thou has brought all to my feet, the highest nobles in the land, the wealthiest gentleman, counts and foreign barons, and all the flower of our knighthood. All these were free to love me, and any one of them would have accounted my love a great blessing. I had but to wave my hand, and the best of them,

the handsomest, the very first in beauty and birth, would have become my husband. And to none of them didst thou incline my heart, O my bitter fate. Doubt has turned my heart against the noblest heroes of our land, and towards a stranger, towards our enemy? Why, O most holy mother of God, for what sins dost thou piteously, so mercilessly persecute me? In abundance and superfluity of luxury, my days have been passed. The richest dishes, the sweetest wines have been my food.

And so what end was it all? What was it all for, in order that I might at the last die a cruel death, such as is not the lot of even the meanest beggar in the kingdom? And was it not enough that I was condemned to so horrible a fate, not enough that before my own end I should behold my father and mother perish in intolerable torment, when I would willingly have given my own life 20 times over to save them? all this was not enough. Before my own death I must see and hear words and love such as I had never known before. It needs must be that he should break my heart in pieces with his utterances,

that my bitter lot should be rendered still more bitter, that my young life should be made yet more sad, that my death should seem even more terrible, and that dying I should reproach thee still more, O cruel fate, and thee, forgive my sin, O holy mother of God! And when she ceased in despair, a feeling of hopelessness was expressed in her face. Every feature spoke of gnawing sorrow, and all from the sadly bowed brow and downcast eyes

to the tears trickling down and drying on a softly flushed cheeks, seem to say, there is no happiness in this face. Such a thing was never heard of since the world began. It cannot be. It shall not be, said Andri, that the best and most beautiful of women should suffer so bitter a fate when she was born that all the best there is in the world should bow before her as before a saint, No, you shall not die. I swear it by my birth, and by all I hold dear in the world, you shall not die. But if it must indeed be so, if nothing, neither strength nor prayer nor heroism will avail to avert that cruel fate,

then we will die together, and I will die first. I will die before you at your beauteous knees, and even in death they shall not part us. Deceive not yourself and me, night, she said, gently shaking her beautiful head. I know, and to my great sorrow, I know only too well, that it is impossible for you to love me. I know what your duty is, and what your faith, your father, your comrades, your fatherland call you, and we are your enemies. And what are my father, my comrades, my fatherland to me? said Andri, shaking his head with a quick movement, and straightening up his young figure

like a poplar beside the river. Be that as it may. I have no one, no one. No one, he repeated with the same voice and movement of the hand, wherewith the buoyant, irrepressible Cossack expresses his determination to do some unheard-of deed, impossible to any other man. Who has said that my fatherland is the Ukraine? Who gave it to me for my country? Our fatherland is the one our spirit longs for, the one which is dearest of all to it. My country is you. That is my fatherland, and that land I bear in my heart.

I shall bear it there all my life. long and I will see whether any of the Cossacks can dare it thence. And I will renounce everything, barter everything. I will lose myself for that country. Petrified for an instant. She gazed into his eyes like a beautiful statue and suddenly burst out sobbing. And with that wonderful feminine impetuosity of which only grand-souled uncalculating women created for fine impulses are capable, she threw herself.

upon his neck, encircling it with her wondrous snowy arms, and fell to weeping. At that moment, indistinct shouts rang out in the streets, accompanied by the sound of trumpets and kettle drums, but he heard them not. He was conscious of nothing, save the lovely mouth which was bathing him in its warm, sweet breath, of the tears streaming down his face and her long, unbound, perfumed hair which veiled him completely in its dark, shining silk. At that moment the Tatar ran in with a cry of joy. Saved! Saved!

She cried beside herself. Our troops have arrived in the city. They have brought corn, millet, flour and zeparosci in chains. But neither of them heard that our troops had arrived in the city, nor what they had brought with them, nor how they had bound the zeparosci. Filled with feelings untasted elsewhere on earth, Andri kissed the sweet mouth which pressed his cheek,

and the sweet mouth did not remain unresponsive. In this union of kisses, they experienced that which has given to a man to feel but once in his lifetime. And the Cossack was lost. He was lost to Cossack's chivalry. Never again will you behold, Sir Porreje, nor his father's house, nor the Church of God. The Ukraine will never more behold the bravest of her sons, who have undertaken to defend her. Old Tarris will tear a grey tuft from his scalp-lock and curse the day in the hour in which such such Such a son was born to dishonour him.

End of chapter 6. Chapter 7 of Taras Bulba by Gogol. Translated by Isabel Hapgood. This Librevovok's recording is in the public domain. Noise and movement were rife in the camp of the Zabaroshi. At first no one could explain the true reason why the army had managed to enter the city. Afterwards it appeared that the Bereslowski barrack, in camp before the side gate of the city, had been dead drunk. So it was no wonder that half of the men had been killed, and the other

the half bound before they knew what it was all about. While the neighbouring Curence, aroused by the uproar, were grasping their weapons, the army had already passed through the gate, and the rear ranks fired upon the sleepy and only half sober Zaporosci who were pressing in disorder upon them. The Koshavoy ordered all to be assembled, and when all was standing in a ring and had removed their caps and become quiet, he said, Just see, brother nobles, what happened last night? See what drunkenness has led to you? to. See what an insult the enemy has put upon us. Evidently, it is so arranged with us that if one kindly doubles your allowance, then you are ready to get drunk, and the enemies of Christ can not

only take your very trousers off you, but can even sneeze in your faces without your hearing them. The Cossacks all stood with drooping heads, knowing well that they were guilty. Only one, Cucubenko, the Atomana, the Nesemaiski-Karen, answered back, stop father said he although it's not lawful to make such a retort when the koshavoy speaks in the presence of the whole army yet it is necessary to say that that wasn't the way of it you have not been quite just in your reprimand the cossacks would have been guilty and deserving of death had they got drunk on the march during war or heavy toilsome labour but we have been camped down here unoccupied loitering in vain before the city It was not a fast or any other time of Christian abstinence. How can a man do otherwise than get drunk in idleness? There's no sin in that. But we'd better show them what it is to attack innocent people.

They first beat us well, and now we'll give them such a beating that they won't carry five of them home again. The speech of the Barak Ataman please the Cossacks. They raised their utterly despondent heads upright, and many nodded approvingly, muttering, Cucubenko has spoken well. And Taras Bulba, who stood not far from the Cotchevoi, How now, Coshavoy?

Cucubenko has spoken truth. What have you to say to that? What have I to say? I say, Blessed be the father who begat such a son. It requires not much wisdom to utter words of reproof. But much wisdom is needed to say such words as, without cursing a man's misfortune,

encourage him, restore to him his spirit, put spurs to the horse of his soul, refreshed by watering. I meant myself to speak words of comfort to you, but Kukubenko has forestalled me. The Koshavoy also has spoken well, rang through the ranks as a parosci. His words are good, repeated others. And even the grey heads who stood there like dark blue doves, nodded their heads, and twitching their grey mustaches said softly,

That word was well spoken. Listen now, noble sirs, continue the Koshavoy. To take a city, scale it, undermine it as the foreign engineers do, is the sort of shaming will leave to the enemy. That's not proper nor an affair for a Cossack. But judging from appearances, the enemy entered the city without many provisions. They hadn't many carts with them. The people in the city are hungry. They will eat up everything in a trice, and the horses will do the same with the hay.

I don't know whether one of their saints will toss them down anything from heaven with hay forks. God alone knows that, but their Catholic priests are clever at empty words. By one means or another, they will leave the city. Divide yourselves, therefore, into three forces, and take up your posts before the three gates. Five Korens before the principal gate, and three Korans before each of the others. Let the Diyadnevsky and Korsensky barracks go into the ambush. Colonel Taras and his regiment into ambush. The Titterewski and the Tunorshevsky-Karens,

as reserves on the right side of the transports, the Sherbanovsky and the upper Stebblikievsky on the left, and select from the ranks the young men of most quarrelsome tongue to gall the foe. All the acts are an empty-headed lot and can't endure abuse. And perhaps this very day they will issue forth from the gates. Let each Ataman inspectors Karen. If any are not of full strength, recruit them from the remnants of the Peria Slavski-Karen.

Inspect them all afresh. Give a loaf and a beaker to each Cossack to sober him. But surely everyone must be satiated after last night, for all stuffed themselves so that, truth to tell, I'm only surprised that no one burst during the night. And here is one further command. If any Jew rum seller sells a Cossack so much as a single jug of his vile brandy, I'll nail a pig's ear to his very forehead, the dog,

and I'll hang him up by the feet. To work, my men, to work. Thus did the Koshavoy issue his orders, and all did him reverence, bowing low, even to his girdle, and without putting on their caps, they set out for their transports and camps, and only after they had gone a considerable distance did they don their caps. All began to equip themselves.

They tested their swords and cutlasses, poured powder from the sacks into their powder flasks, rolled out and arranged the wagons, and picked out their horses. On his way to his regiment, Taras wandered and could not explain to himself what had become of Andri. Had he been captured and bound while asleep with the others? But no, Andrew was not the man to go alive into captivity. And he was not to be seen among the slaughtered Cossacks.

Taras pondered deeply and went past his regiment without being aware that someone had long been calling him by name. Who wants me? he said, coming to himself at last. before him stood the Jew Yankle. Sir Colonel, Sir Colonel, Sir Curdle, said the Jew in a hurried broken voice, as though desirous of revealing something not utterly useless. I've been in the city, Sir Colonel. Taras looked at the Jew and wondered how he had already succeeded in entering the city. What enemy took you there?

I'll tell you at once, said Yankle. As soon as I heard the uproar at daybreak and the Cossacks began to fire, I seized my caftan and without stopping to put it on, ran at the top of my speed, thrusting my arms in on the way, because I wanted to know as soon as possible the cause of the noise and why the Cossacks were firing at dawn. I took and ran to the very gate of the city at the moment when the last of the troops were passing through. I look, and at the head of the file, is Kornitz Galyandovich. He is a man well known to me. He has owed me a hundred ducats for more than two years past. I ran after him, as though to claim the debt of him, and so entered the city with them.

So you entered the city and wanted him to settle the debt, said Taras, and he didn't order you to be hung on the spot like a dog. God is my witness that he did want to hang me, replied the Jew. His servants had already seized me and thrown a rope about my neck. But I have assault the nobleman and said that I would wait for my money as long as he liked, and promised to send him more if only you would help me to collect my debts from the other nights, for I will tell your nobility that the cornet has not a ducat in his pocket, although he has farms and properties and forecar. castles and stepland that extends to Shklov. But he has not a Grotian any more than a Cossack. And now if the Breslau Jews had not fitted him out, he wouldn't have been able to go to the war. That was the reason he didn't go to the diet. What did you do in the city? Did you see any of our people? Certainly, many of our people are there. Itsoc, raccoon, Samuel, Kaivalk, Yevray, the revenue farmer.

May they perish the dogs! shouted the enraged Harris. Why do you name over your due tribe to me. I'm asking you about our Zuprochzi. I saw none of our Zuporoshti. I saw only Pan Andri. You saw Andri? shouted Bulba. What's he doing there? Where did you see him? In a dungeon? In a pit? Dishonored? Bound? Who would dare to bind Pan Andri? Now he's so grand a knight, by God. I hardly recognized him. Gold on his shoulder straps. Gold on his belt. Gold everywhere. always gold, as when the sun shines in spring, and every bird begins to chirp and sing in the orchards, so is he shining all over with gold, and his horse, which the Voivod himself gave him is the very best. The horse alone is worth two hundred ducats. Bulba was petrified. Why has he

put on strange garments? He has put them on because they are finer, and he rides about, and the others ride about, and he teaches them, and they teach him, like the very richest sort of a Polish pan. Who has forced him to this? I shouldn't say that he'd been forced. Doesn't the noble lord know that he went over to them of his own free will? Who went over? Why Pan Andri? Went where? Went over to their side. He's entirely theirs now. You lie, you hogs here! How is it possible that I should lie? Am I a fool that I should lie? Would I lie at the risk of my head? Don't I know that Jews are hung like dogs if they lie to noble lords. Then this means, in your opinion, he has betrayed his fatherland and his faith.

I don't say that he's betrayed anything. I merely said that he had gone over to them. You lie, you devil of a Jew, such a deed was never known in a Christian land. You're getting things mixed up, you dog. May grass grow upon the threshold of my house if I am mixing things. May everyone spit upon the grave of my father, my mother, my father's father in law and my mother's father, if I am mixing things. If the noble lord wishes, I can even tell him why he went over to them. Why? The Voivod has a beautiful daughter. Holy God, what a beauty. Here the Jew tried his best to depict beauty in his own person, throwing out his hands, screwing up his eyes and twisting his mouth to one side, as though testing something by tasting it. Well, what of that? He did it,

went over to them for her sake. When a man's in love, then he's just like a boot soul, which if you soak it, you can bend in any direction, and it will yield. Bulba pondered deeply. He remembered that the power of weak woman is great, that she had ruined many a strong man, that this was the weak point in Andri's nature, and he stood long in one place, as though rooted to the spot. Listen, noble lord, and I will tell the noble lord all, said the Jew. As soon as I heard the uproar, and saw them going through the city gate, I caught up a string of pearls in case of any emergency, for there are beauties and noble women there.

And if there are beauties and noble women, I said to myself, they will buy pearls, even if they have nothing to eat. And as soon as ever the Cornet Servants set me at liberty, I hastened to the Voivod's palace to sell my pearls. I asked all manner of questions to the Tatar serving woman. The wedding is to take place as soon as they have driven off the Zaporosci. Pan Andri has promised to drive off the Zaporosci. And you didn't slay him on the spot, you didn't.

devil's brat, shouted Bulba. Why should I kill him? He went over of his own free will. What's the crime? He liked it better there. So he went there. And you saw him face to face? Face to face. God is my witness. Such a magnificent warrior, more splendid than all the rest. God grant him health. He knew me at once. And when I approached him, he said immediately, What did he say? He said, first he beckoned me with his finger, and then he said, Yankle and I Panandri said I Yankle

tell my father tell my brother tell all the Cossacks all there's a barosci everybody that my father is no longer my father nor my brother my brother nor my comrades my comrades and that I mean to fight them all

all you lie you devil of a Judas shouted Taras beside himself with rage you lie dog I'll kill you Satan get away from here if not death awaits you. So saying Taras unsheathed his sword. The frightened Jew set off instantly at the full speed of his shrunken legs. He ran for a long time without looking back, through the Cossack camp and then far out on the

deserted plain, although Taras did not pursue him at all, reasoning that it was foolish to vent his rage on the first person who came to hand. Then he recollected that he had seen Andri on the night before, traversing the camp with some woman, and he bowed his grey head. And still he would not believe that so disgraceful a thing could have happened, and that his own son had sold his faith in his soul. Finally, he led his regiment into ambush and hid himself with it behind a forest, the only one which had not been burned by the Cossacks. But the Zuparosci, foot and horse, set out for the three gates by different roads. One after another, the Corenz turned out, the Umansky, Pofievichevsky, Konevsky, Steblichovsky, Nezumikovsky, Tittarevsky, Timoshevsky.

The Periaslavsky alone was wanting, its Cossacks had smoked and drunk it to its fate. One awoke to find himself bound in the enemy's hands. Another never woke at all, but went in his slumber into the damp earth. And the Ataman Clib, himself, minus his trousers and outward adornments, found himself in the camp of the Leaks. The uproar among the Cossacks was heard in the city. Everyone hastened to the ramparts, and a lively spectacle was presented to the Cossacks. Polish warriors, each handsomer than the other, stood on the wall.

Their bronze helmets shone like the sun and were adorned with feathers white as swans. Others wore light caps, pink or blue, with crowns which drooped over one ear, caftans with the sleeves thrown back, either embroidered with gold or simply garnished with cords. Their swords and guns were richly chased, and the noble lords had paid huge prices for them. They had also many equipments of every sort. In front stood the heavy Budzakovsky Colonel. haughtily in his red cap ornamented with gold. The colonel was taller and stouter than all the rest, and his rich and voluminous caftan was a tight fit. On the other hand, almost by the side of the gate

stood another colonel, a small dried-up man, but his little piercing eyes gleamed sharply from under his thick and shaggly overgrown brows, and he turned quickly on all sides, gesticulating energetically with his thin, withered hand and distributing his commands. It was evident that in spite of his tiny body, he understood the art of war thoroughly. Not far from him stood a very tall cornet, with thick mustaches, and he did not seem to lack colour in his face. The noble lord was fond of strong mead and hearty revelry. And behind these were visible army noblemen of all degrees, who had equipped themselves, some with their own ducats, some at the expense of the royal treasury, some with money from the Jews, by pawning everything they had in their ancestral castles. Many also were the

senatorial parasites, whom the senators took with them to dinners, to make a fine show, and who stole silver cups from the table and the sideboard, and after the day's show was over, mounted some gentleman's coachbox and drove his horses. There were many of all sorts there, in some cases they had not enough money to pay for a drink, yet they were all fitted out for war. The Cossack's rank stood quietly in front of the walls. There's no gold about any of them except here and there. Perhaps a glint of it on the hilt of a sword, or the mount of a gun. The Cossacks were not addicted to decking themselves out gaily for battle. Their chain armour and their doublets were plain, and their black, red-crowned caps glowed darkly afar. Two Cossacks

rode out from the ranks as a parosci. One was quite young, the other was older. Both were fierce in words and not bad specimens of Cossacks in action. Ocrim Nash and Mikita Golokopetenko. Behind them rode Damid Popovic, a stalwart Cossack, who had been hanging about the Siech for a long time. who had been present at the siege of Adrianople and undergone a great deal in the course of his existence. He had been burned in the conflagration and had run away to the siege, with tired and blackened head and singed moustaches,

but Popovich had become stout, had grown long locks of hair behind the ears, had raised moustaches black as pitch, and was a gallant fellow when it came to biting speeches, was Popovich. Aha! Red caftans on all the army! But what I'd like to know is whether the strength of the troops matches them.

I'll give it to you, shouted the fat colonel from above. I'll bind you all. Surrender your guns and horses, slaves. Have you seen how I bound your men? Bring out the Zaporosci on the ramparts for them to see. And the Zaporosci were laid out, pinioned with ropes. Their head stood the Atta-Mahn of the barrack, Clib, without his trousers and outward adornments, exactly as they had captured him in his drunken sleep.

and the Ataman bowed his head earthward in shame before the Cossacks at his nakedness and having been taken prisoner like a dog while asleep. His powerful head had turned grey overnight. Grieve not, Clib, we'll rescue you! shouted the Cossacks from below. Grieve not, dear friend, shouted Ataman Borodati. It's not your fault they caught you naked. That's a misfortune which may happen to any man.

But it's a disgrace to them that they have exposed you to dishonor and not covered your nakedness decently. You seem to be a brave army when you catch people asleep, remarked Golokopetenko, glancing at the ramparts. Wait, we'll clip your top knots for you. I'd like to see them clip our scout blocks, said Popovich, prancing about before them on his horse. Then glancing at his comrades, he said, well, perhaps the Leak speak the truth. If that fat-bellied fellow yonder leads them, they'll all find a good shelter behind him? Why do you think they'll find a good shelter?

Asked the Cossacks, aware that Popovich was preparing to launch some cutting remark. Because the whole army can hide behind him, and two devils couldn't help you to reach anybody with your spear from behind that belly of his. All the Cossacks burst out laughing, and many of them shook their head saying, What a fellow that Popovic is! If anyone wants to turn a phrase, only now. But the Cossacks did not explain. what they meant by that now.

Fall back! Fall back quickly from the wall! shouted the Koshavoy, for it appeared that the Liyaks could not endure these biting words, and the colonel waved his hand. The Cossacks had barely retreated from the wall when grape shot rained down.

On the ramparts, all was excitement, and the grey-haired Voivod himself made his appearance on horseback. The gates swung open, and the army sallied forth. In front came the mounted hussars. behind them the men in armour, then all those with brazen helmets, after them rode singly the highest nobility, each man dressed as pleased him best. The haughty nobles would not mingle with

the others in the ranks, and those who had no commands rode alone with their retinues. After these came more companies, and after these still emerged the cornet, then more files of men, and then the fat colonel, and quite in the rear of the whole army came, last of all, the little, colonel. Stop them. Keep them from drawing up, from forming in line, shouted the Koshavoy. Let all the Karens attack them at once, abandon the other gates. Titterevsky Keren, fall on one flank. Jedekovsky Karen, fall on the other, attack them in the rear. Kukobenko and Pallivodar. Stop them. Stop them. Separate them. And the Kossacks attacked on all sides, killing the Liyaks, throwing them into confusion and being thrown into confusion themselves.

They did not even give them time to fire. It came to swords and spears at once. All merged together in a heap, and each man had an opportunity to distinguish himself. Dermid Popovich ran three common soldiers through, and knocked two of the highest nobles from their horses, saying, Here are good horses! I have long wanted to get hold of just such horses!

And he drove the horses far afield, shouting to the Cossacks who was standing about to catch them. Then he flung himself again into the mass, fell again upon the fallen nobles, killed one and flung his lassoo round the neck of the other, tied him to his saddle and dragged him all over the plain after having taken from him his sword with a rich hilt, and removed from his girdle a whole coin bag of ducats. Kobita, a good Cossack, and still very young, engaged one of the bravest men in the Polish army in single combat, and they fought long together.

They had come to fisticuffs, and the Cossack had nearly conquered his foe, and throwing him down, stabbed him in the breast with his sharp Turkish knife. But he did not guard himself properly. At that moment, a hot bullet struck him on the temple. The man who struck him down was the most distinguished of the nobles, the handsomest knight of an ancient and princely race. Like a stately column, he bestrode his light base deed. And many deeds of daring did this boyar perform.

He clove two Cossacks in twain. Fyodor Koraj, the brave Cossack, he overthrew together with his horse. Then he shot the horse and picked the Cossack off. the animal with his spear. Many heads and hands did he hew of, and he slew Kosak Kabita, sending a bullet through his temple. There's the man I'd like to measure forces with, shouted Kukubenko, the Ataman of the Nesemikovsky-Karen. Spurring on his horse, he flew straight at his back and shouted loudly, so that all that stood near shuddered at that unearthly yell. The Leak tried to turn his horse quickly and face him, but the horse did not obey. Frightened by the terrible cry, it sprang

aside and the Leak received Kukubenko's fire. The hot ball struck him in the shoulder blade, and he rolled from his horse. But even then the Leak did not surrender. He still strove to deal his enemy a blow, but his hand grew weak and fell with his sword. Then Kukubenko, taking his heavy sword in both hands, thrust it into his mouth, already grown pallid. The sword, breaking out two teeth, cut the tongue in twain, pierced the windpipe and penetrated deep into the ground, and so he pinned him there forever to the damp earth. His noble blood, scarlet as vernonberries beside the river, welled up in a fountain and stained his yellow, gold-embroidered kafftan. But Kukubenko had already left him and was forcing his way with his Nesemikovsky, Keren, towards another group.

Ah, he didn't appropriate those splendid accoutrements, said Borodati, Ataman of the Umanski-Koran, leaving his men and going to the place where lay the noblemen slayed by Kukubenko. I've killed several nobles with my own hand, but such accoutrements I had never beheld on anyone. And tempted by greed, Borodati bent down to remove the rich armour, and forthwith, pulled out the knight's Turkish knife, set with precious stones, loosed from his belt the purse of ducats, and from his breast a wallet with fine linen, silver and a maiden's curl, carefully cherished as a souvenir. But Borodati did not hear the red-nosed cornet rushing upon him from the rear. He had already once hurled him from the saddle and bestowed on him a fine gash by way of

remembrance. He flourished his arm with all his might and brought his sword down on the bended neck. Greed led to no good. The strong head rolled off and the body fell headless, sprinkling the earth far and wide. The grim Cossack soul soared heavenward, grimacing, indignant, amazed at having so suddenly quitted, so stalwart a body. Before the cornet managed to see a sees the Ataman's head with its scalp lock and fasten it to his saddle, a savage avenger arrived. As a vulture hovering in the sky, beaten great circles with its mighty wings, suddenly remains poised in air in one spot and thence darts down like an arrow upon the shrieking cockwhale beside the road. Just so did Taras' son, Ostap, fly suddenly upon the Cossack

and fling a rope about his neck with one cast. The cornet's red face grew a still deeper crimson, when the cruel noose pressed his throat, and he tried to seize his pistol, but his convulsively contracted hand could not direct the shot, and the bullet flew wild across the plane. Ostap immediately unfastened a silken cord which the cornet carried at his saddleboat to bind to bind him hand and foot, attached the cord to his saddle, and dragged him across the plane, calling all the Cossacks of the Imanski Coren to come and render the last honour to their Ataman.

When the Umansky heard that the Ataman of their Karen, Borodati was no longer among the living, they deserted the field of battle and rushed to recover his body. And they consulted immediately as to whom they should elect to be their leader. At last they said, But why discuss the matter? It's impossible to appoint a better leader than Bulba's Ostap. He's younger than any of us, it's true, but his judgment is that of an old man. Ostap, doffing his cap, thanked all his Cossacks for the honour and did not decline, either on the score of his youth or of his youthful judgment, knowing well that wartime is not a fitting season to waste oneself on such things.

But he instantly led them straight at the throng and proceeded to show them all that not in vain had they elected him Ataman. The liaques realised that the engagement was growing too hot for them and retreated across the plain, with the intention of reforming at its other extremity. But the little colonel signalled to four fresh companies close to the gate, and they rained down grape shot on the Cossack throng. But very few men were hit. Their shot took effect on the Cossack oxen, who were gazing wildly at the battle. The frightened oxen bellowed, turned on the camps,

smashed the wagons and trampled many persons underfoot. But Tarras, emerging from ambush at the moment with his troops, rushed forward with a yell to intercept them. He headed off the entire infuriated herd, which, startled by his yell, swooped down upon the Polish regiments, over through the cavalry, and crushed and dispersed them all. Oh, thank you, Oxen! cried the Zaporosci.

You served us on the march, and now you have served us in war. And they attacked the foe with renewed vigor. They slew many of the enemy. Many distinguished themselves. Metalitsa, Shiloh, both of the Pissarenskos, Vovtazenko, and not a few others. The liaques perceived that matters were going ill, flung away their banners and shouted for the city gates to be opened. Creaking, the ironbound gates opened and received the weary and dust-covered riders, flocking in like sheep into the fold. Many of the Zaporashi started to pursue them.

But Ostap stopped his amancy, saying, Keep off, keep further away from the wall, brother nobles. It is not well to approach them too closely. And he spoke truly, for from the ramparts there began to reign and rain. poured down everything which came to hand, and a great many was struck. At that moment the Koshavoy rode up and praised Ostap, saying, He's a new Ataman, but he's leading the army like an old one. Old Bulba glanced round to see who the new Ataman might be,

and beheld Ostap sitting on his horse at the head of the Ammancy, his cap cocked on one ear, and the Atamon's staff in his hand. Whoever saw the like, he exclaimed, as he gazed at him. And the old man rejoiced, and began, to thank all the Omancy for the honour they had conferred on his son. The Cossacks retired again, and were preparing to go into camp, but the Leaks showed themselves again on the city ramparts with tattered mantles. There was clotted blood on many rich chafdans,

and the beautiful bronze helmets were covered with dust. Have you bound us? shouted the Zaporosci to them from below. I'll give it to you, shouted back the fat colonel from above, shaking a rope at them, and the weary, dust-covered warriors ceased not to threaten. while the most exasperating on both sides exchanged fierce remarks. At last, all dispersed. One weary with battle stretched himself out to rest.

Another sprinkled his wounds with earth and tore up for bandages, kerchiefs and rich garments captured from the enemy. Others, who were less exhausted, began to sort over the corpses and to render them the last honours. They dug graves with their swords and spears, brought earth in their caps and the skirts of their garments, laid the Cossack's bodies out decently and buried them in fresh earth

in order that the ravens and the eagles might not claw out their eyes. But binding the corpses of the liaaks by tens as they came to hand to the tails of wild horses, they let these loose on the plain, pursued them and lashed them for a long time on their flanks. The infuriated horses flew over furrow and hillock through gullies and streams

and thrashed the bodies of the poles, all covered with blood and dust against the earth. Then all the Currens sat down in circles in the evening and talked long of their deeds, and of the feats which had fallen to the share of each, for eternal repetition by newcomers and by posterity. It was long before they lay down to sleep, and longer still before old Taras, meditating what it might signify that Andri was not among the enemy's warriors, lay down. Had Judas been ashamed to come forth against his countrymen? or had the Jew deceived him, and had he simply been made a captive against his will?

But then he recollected that Andri's heart was boundlessly susceptible to feminine speeches. He felt ashamed, and swore a mighty oath in spirit against the fair pole who had bewitched his son. And he would have put his oath into execution. He would not have so much as glanced at her beauty. He would have pulled her forth by a thick and splendid hair. would have dragged her after him all over the plain, among all the Cossacks. Her splendid shoulders and bosom, white as fresh-fallen snow upon the mountaintops, would have been battered against the earth, and all covered with blood and dust. He would have dispersed her sumptuous, lovely body

in fragments. But Tarrus did not know what God was preparing for man on the morrow, and began to forget himself with drowsiness and finally fell asleep. But the Cossacks still went on talking among themselves, and the sober sentinel stood all night long beside the fire, never closing his eyes and looking intently on all sides. End of Chapter 7. Chapter 8 of Taras Bulba by Gogol. Translated by Isabel Hapgood. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. The sun had not scaled half the height of heaven when all the Cossacks assembled in a group. News had arrived from the Cietch that the Tatars during the Cossacks' absence had plundered it thoroughly, had dug up the treasures which the Cossacks kept buried in the ground,

had killed or carried away into captivity all who remained, and had straightway set out with all the flocks and droves of horses they had collected for Pericop. One Cossack only, Maxim Galadouca, had torn himself out of the Tatar's hands on the road, had stabbed the Miezer, had unbound his bag of sequins, and on a Tatar horse in Tatar garments, had fled before his pursuers for two nights and a day and a half, ridden his horse to death, changed to another, killed that one also, and arrived at the Zaporosian camp upon a third, having learned on the way that the Zaporosci were before Dubno. He only succeeded in informing them that this.

misfortune had happened, but how it had happened, whether the Zaporosci, who had remained behind, had been carousing in Cossack fashion, and had been carried drunk into captivity, and how the Tatars had learned in what spot the treasures of the army were buried, he said nothing. The Cossack was extremely tired. He was all swollen, and his face was burned and scorched by the wind. He fell down at once, and a deep sleep overpowered him. In such cases, it was customary for the Koshavoy to put. pursue the brigands on the instant, endeavoring to overtake them on the road, for the prisoners might find themselves promptly in the bazaars of Asia Minor, in Smyrna, or the island of Crete, and God knows in what places the scout-locked heads of Zaporosci might not be seen.

This was the reason of the Cossacks assembling. They all stood to a man with their caps on, for they were not come together at the word of command of their ruling Ataman, but to take council together as equals with equals. Let the old men first advise. Wise, rose a shout from the crowd. Let the Koshavoy give his opinion, said others. And the Koshavoy, doffing his cap, not as commander, but as a comrade among comrades, thanked all the Cossacks for the honour and said, There are among us many old men, and those who are wiser in council.

But since you have deemed me worthy, this is my advice. Not to lose any time, comrades, but to pursue the Tatars, for you know yourselves what sort of a man the tautars. for you know yourselves what sort of a man the Tatar is. He will not pause with his stolen booty to await our coming, but will vanish in a twinkling, so that you can find no trace of him. Therefore, this is my counsel. Go.

We have already diverted ourselves sufficiently here. The Liyaks know what the Cossacks are like. We have avenged our faith to the extent of our powers. There's not much to satisfy greed in this famished city. And so my advice is, Go! Go! rang heavily through the Zaporosian Korens, but such words did not suit Taras Bulba's mood at all, and he brought his frowning iron-gray brows still lower down over his eyes, like bushes growing on a dark, lofty mountain, whose crests are suddenly covered with prickly northern frost.

No, Koshavoy, your counsel is not good, said he. You have not spoken aright. Evidently, you have forgotten that our men. captured by the liax will remain prisoners? Evidently you wish that we should not respect the first holy law of comradeship, that we should leave our brethren to be flayed alive, or to be carried about through the towns and villages after their cossack bodies have been quartered as was done with the Hetman and the bravest warriors in the Ukraine. Have not they already blasphemed sufficiently against the holy things without that? What are we? I ask you all? What sort of a Cossack would he be who should desert his comrade in misfortune and let him perish like a

dog in a foreign land? If it has come to such a pass that no one has any confidence in Cossack honour, permitting himself to spit upon his grey moustache and upbraid him with offensive words, then no one will blame me, I will remain here alone. All there's a Peroshi then who stood there, wavered. And have you forgotten, brave colonel, said the Koshavoy, that the Tatars also have our comrades in their hands? That if we do not rescue them now, they will be sold into everlasting captivity among the infidels, which is worse than the most cruel death. Have you forgotten that they now hold all our treasure won by Christian blood? All the Cossacks pondered and knew not what to say. none of them wished to merit disgraceful renown.

Then they stepped out in front of them, the oldest in years of all the Zaborosian army, Kassien Bovdug. He was respected by all the Cossacks. Twice had he been elected Koshavoy, and he had also been a very brave Cossack in the wars. But he had long been old, and had been upon no expeditions. Neither did the old man like to give advice to anyone,

but he loved to lie constantly on his side in the circle of Cossacks, listening to the tale of every occurrence on the Cossack marches. He never joined in the conversation, but merely listened, and with his finger pressed the ashes down in the short pipe, which never left his mouth. And then he would sit long with his eyes half open, and the Cossacks never knew whether he were asleep or still listening. He always stayed at home during their expeditions, but on this occasion, the whim to take part had seized upon the old man.

He waved his hand in Cossack fashion and said, So be it. I'm going also. Perhaps I may be of some service to the Cossack nation. All the Cossacks fell silent when he now stepped forward before the Assembly, for it was long since any speech from him had been heard. Each man wanted to know what Bovdhjug had to say. It's my turn to speak a word, Brother Nobles, he began. Listen, my lads, to an old man. The Coshavoy spoke wisely, and as the head of the Cossack army and bound to protect it. And regretting the treasures of the army, he could have said nothing wiser. That's a fact. That's my first speech. And now hearken to my second, and this is my second

speech. Colonel Tarras has spoken even more truly, God grant him many years, and that such colonels as he may be plentiful in the Ukraine. The first duty and the first honour of a Cossack is to uphold comradeship. Never in all my life, brother nobles, have I heard of any Cossack deserting or selling any of his comrades. The men there and the men here are equally our comrades, whether they be few or many, and all are dear to us. So, this is my speech. Let those to whom the prisoners captured by the Tatars are dear set out after the Tatars,

and let those to whom the captives of the Poles are dear, and who do not wish to desert a righteous cause, stay behind. The Koshavoy, in accordance with his duty, will accompany one half in pursuit of the Tatars. and the other half may choose a temporary Ataman to lead them. But if you will heed the words of an old man, there is no one more fit to act as temporary Ataman than Taras Bulba. Not one of us is his equal in valour.

Thus spoke Bovdhug and paused, and all the Cossacks rejoiced that the old man had in this manner set them to rights. All tussed up their caps and shouted, Thanks Batko! He has been subbed. Silent, silent for a long time, but he has spoken at last. Not in vain did he say when we were preparing for this expedition that he might be useful to the Cossack nation. Even so has it come to pass.

Well, are you agreed upon anything? asked the Coshavoy. We are, shouted the Cossacks. Then the council is at an end. It is, shouted the Cossacks. Then listen to the military command, my lads. said the Koshavoy, stepping forward and putting on his cap. And all the Cossacks took off their caps and stood with heads uncovered and eyes fixed upon the earth, as was always the custom among the Cossacks when the leader prepared to speak.

Now divide yourselves, brother nobles. Let those who wish to go take their stand on the right, those who wish to stay on the left. Where the majority of a Coren goes, then the rest are to go. If a minority of a Coren goes over, it must be added to another Coren. and they began to take up their positions, some on the right, some on the left. Whether the majority of a Karen went, there the Ataman went also, and where there was a minority, the Koran attached itself to another Koran,

and it came out pretty even on both sides. Those who wished to remain were nearly the whole of the Nezomikovsky Koran, the larger half of the Popovitchevsky Koran, the entire Umansky Khmerzkykhovsky, and the larger half of the Steblikovsky and Timoshevsky Karens. All the rest offered to go in pursuit of the Tatars. On both sides were many stalwart and valorous Cossacks. Among those who decided to pursue the Tatars were Cherovati and the good old Cossacks, Pocotipole, Lemish, and Koma Prokobovic. Demid Popovich also went in that party, because he was a Cossack of very restless disposition,

and he could not stay still long in one place. He had tried his hand on the Leaks, and now wanted to try it on the Tatars also. The Atomans of Kerens were not. Nostugan, Pokrishka, Nevinsky, and many other brave and renowned Cossacks who wish to put their swords and their brawny shoulders to the test in an encounter with the Tatars. There were, likewise, very brave Cossacks, not a few among those who elected to remain, the Karen Atamans Dmitrovich, Kukubenko, Vertikvist, Balan and Bulba's Ostap. Beside these, there were many valiant and distinguished Cossacks. Vovtazenko, Cherovicenko, Stepan Guzka, Okram Guska, Okram Guska, Mikhailagutschi, Zorozni, Metalitsa, Ivan Zakrutigubba, Mosil Shilo, Deghtyarenko,

Siddoreenko, Pissareenko, a second Pissareenko, and still another Pissareenko, and many other good Cossacks. All of them had had had great experience and had travelled far and wide. They had been on the shores of Anatolia, on the salt marshes and the steps of the Crimea, on all the rivers, great and small which empty into the Dnieper, and on all the fords and islands of the Dnieper. They had been in Moldavia, Wallachia, and the Turkish land. They had sailed all over the Black Sea in their double-ruddled Cossack boats. They had attacked with 50 skiffs in line the tallest and richest ships. They had sunk many a Turkish galley, and had burned much, very much powder in their day.

More than once had they torn up velvets and rich stuffs of cotton and silk for foot wrappers. many a time had they beaten out buckles for the straps which confined their full trousers from the sequins of pure gold, and every one of them had drunk up and reveled away as much as would have sufficed any other man for a whole lifetime, and there was nothing to show for it. They had squandered it all, like Cossacks, in treating all the world and in hiring music so that everyone might be merry. Even now, rare was the man among them who had not some property. Tankards, silver porringes, bracelets, buried under the reeds of the islands of the Dnieppe in order that the Tatars might not find them if, in case of disaster, they should succeed in making a

sudden attack on the Siech. But it would have been difficult for a Tatar to find them, for the owner himself was already beginning to forget where he had buried them. Such were the Cossacks who wished to remain and take vengeance on the Leaks for their trusty comrades and the faith of Christ. The aged Cossack Bovjug also wished to remain with them, saying, My years do not permit me to pursue the Tatars, but this is the place where I may lie down in a good Cossack death. Long have I prayed to God that when my life was to end, I might end it in a war for a holy and Christian cause,

and so it has come to pass. There can be no more glorious end in any other place for the old Cossack. When they had all separated and had ranged themselves in the world, two lines on opposite sides. The Koshavoy passed through the ranks and said, Well, brother nobles, are the two parties satisfied with each other? Yes, all satisfied Batko, replied the Cossacks. Then kiss one another and say goodbye, for God knows whether you will ever see each other again in this life. Abbey your Ataman and do what your duty bids you. You yourselves know what Cossack honour commands. And all the Cossacks began to exchange kisses.

Atamans were the first to begin, stroking down their grey mustaches, they kissed each other in cross form, then grasping each other's hands and squeezing them firmly, each wanted to say to the other, Well, Sir Brother, shall we meet again or not? But they did not ask the question. They kept silent, and both greyheads speculated on the future. Then the Cossacks took leave of one another, to the last man, knowing well that both parties had a great deal of work before them. But they were not obliged to part at once. They had to wait until dark night In order that the enemy might not notice The diminution in the Cossack army

Then they all went off By Corenz to dine After dinner All who had the journey before them lay down to rest And fell into a deep and long sleep As though foreseeing that it was Perhaps the last sleep they would taste in such freedom They slept even until sunset

And when the sun had gone down And twilight had descended to a certain degree They began to grease their carts When everything was in readiness they sent the wagons on ahead, and having doffed their caps once more to their comrades, they quickly followed the transports. The cavalry with dignity, without shouts or whistling at the horses, trampled lightly after the foot soldiers, and all speedily vanished in the darkness. The only sound was the dull thud of horses' hoofs, or the creaking of some wheel which had not got into working order, or had not been properly greased because of the darkness of the night. Their comrades stood for a long time waving their hands to them from afar, though nothing could be seen. But when they returned to their places, when they perceived by the light of the brightly gleaming stars,

that half the carts were gone, and many, many of their comrades, then every man's heart grew sad, and all involuntarily became pensive, and their pleasure-loving heads drooped towards the earth. Tara saw how troubled the Cossacks had become, and that sadness, unfitting for brave men, had begun quietly to overmaster their heads. But he remained silent. He wished to give them all the time to become accustomed to the melancholy caused by their parting from their comrades.

But meantime, he was quietly preparing to arouse them suddenly, and all at once by a loud war-whoop in Cossack fashion, in order that there might return afresh, and with greater strength than before, to the soul of each, that valour of which only the Slav race, a broad and powerful race, which is to others what the sea is to share,

shallow rivers is capable. In stormy times it turns all to roaring and thunder, raging and raising such waves as weak rivers cannot throw up. But when it is windless and quiet, clearer than any river it spreads its boundless, glassy surface, a constant delight to the eye. And Taras ordered his servitors to unload one of the wagons which stood apart from the rest. It was larger and stronger than any other in the Cossack camp. Stout, double tires encircled its huge wheels. It was heavily laden, covered with horsecloths and strong wolf skins, and firmly bound with tightly drawn tarred ropes. In the wagon were flasks and casks of good old wine, which had lain long in Taras's cellars. He had brought it along as a reserve to celebrate some occasion, in case a grand moment

should arrive when there awaited them some deed worthy of being handed down to posterity, so that each Cossack, to the very last man, might quaff the forbidden liquor, and be inspired with a grand sentiment befitting the grand moment. On receiving their colonel's command, the servants hasted to the wagon, hewed the stout ropes with their swords, removed the thick wolfskins and horsecloths, and drew forth the flasks and casks. Take it, all of you, said Bulbara. All of you, no matter you, no matter what you, no matter of how many there are, take it in whatever you have, a ladle or a bucket for watering the horses, or your sleeve, or your cap, but if you have nothing else, then simply hold your two fists under.

And all the Cossacks seized something. One took a ladle, another a horse bucket, another a sleeve, another a cap, and still another held out both his hands. Taras' servants, making their way among the ranks, poured out for all from the casks and flasks. But Tarras' Taras ordered them not to drink until he should give the signal for all to drink together. It was evident that he wished to say something. Taras knew that, matter how strong in itself, the good old wine might be, and however fitted to strengthen the spirit of man, yet if a suitable speech were linked with it,

then the strength of the wine and of the spirit would be doubly great. I treat you, Sir Rothers, thus spoke Bulba. Not in honour of your having made me your Ataman, great as that honour is, nor to celebrate our parting from our comrades. No. Both these would be fitting at a different time, but not such is the present moment. The work before us is great in labour and in glory for the Cossacks. Let us therefore, comrades, drink all together. Let us drink before all else to the Holy Orthodox faith that the day may come at last when it may be spread over all the world and that everywhere there may be but one faith and that all Muslims may become Christians

and let us drink also altogether to the sietch that it may stand long for the destruction of the Muslims that each year there may issue forth from it young men each better each handsomer than the other and let us also drink all together to our own glory that our grandsons and the sons of those grandsons may say that there once were men who were not ashamed of comradeship and who never betrayed one another. Now, to the faith, sir brothers, to the faith, to the faith, shouted with thick voices those who were standing in nearby ranks. To the faith! Those more distant took up the cry, and all both young and old drank to the faith. To the schetch, said Taras, raising his hand high above his head. To the schetch, echoed the foremost ranks.

To the scych, said the old men softly, twitching their grey mustaches. And eagerly as young hawks, the youths repeated, to the scech! And the distant plain heard how the Cossacks commemorated their sce. Now, a last draft, comrades, to the glory of all Christians now living in the world. And every Cossack drank a last draft to the glory of all Christians in the world. And among the ranks, in all the Cairns, they long repeated, For all the Christians in the world. The ladles were empty, but the Cossacks still stood with their hands uplifted.

Although the eyes of all gleamed cheerily with the liquor, all were thinking deeply, not of greed or of the spoils of war were they thinking now, nor of which of them would be lucky enough to acquire ducats, fine weapons, embroidered caftans, and Circassian horses. But they were meditating like eagles perched upon the rocky crests of lofty precipitous mountains, from which far away the boundless sea is visible, dotted as with tiny birds. with galleys, ships and every sort of vessel confined at the sides by scarcely visible thin lines of shore

with their sea-coast cities like gnats and their bending forests like short grass. Like eagles they gazed about them all over the plain and at their fate darkling in the distance. It will come all the plain with its wastelands and its road tracks will be covered with their white protruding bones, lavishly washed with their Cossack blood. and strewn with shattered wagons and splintered swords and spears,

far afield will be strewn the scalp-locked heads with downward drooping mustaches. The eagles will swoop down and tear out their Cossack eyes. But there is great good in this so widely and boldly broadcast bivouac of death. Not a single magnanimous deed will perish, and the Cossack glory will not be lost, like a tiny grain of powder from a gun barrel. He will come the Bandura play. with grey beard falling upon his breast will come. And perhaps the old man still full of ripe manly strength,

though his head is white with years, eloquent by the spirit, will utter ringing mighty words of them, and their glory shall resound through all the world, and all who shall be born thereafter shall speak of them. For the word of power is born afar, reverberating like a booming, brazen bell, in which the maker has mingled much pure silver,

that its beautiful sound may be wafted far and wide through cities, huts, palaces and villages, summoning all men, without exception, to hold orisons. End of Chapter 8 Chapter 9 of Taras Bulber by Gogol, translated by Isabel Hapgood. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. No one in the city knew that one half of the Cossacks had gone in pursuit of the Tatars. From the Tower of the Magistory, all the sentinels observed were, that a part of the wagons had been dragged into the forest,

but they thought the Cossacks were preparing an ambush, so also thought the French engineer. Meanwhile, the Coshavoy's words proved to be not devoid of foundation, and as scarce-tier provisions arose in the city. In accordance with the custom of past centuries, the troops did not separate as much as was necessary. They tried to make a sortie, but half the venturesome men were instantly slain by the Cossacks,

and the other half driven into the city with no result. But the Jews availed themselves of the opportunity to find out everything, whither and why the Zaporoschi had departed, and with what leaders, and which particular Koreans, and their number, and how many had remained on the spot, and what they intended to do. In short, within a few minutes, everything was known in the city. The colonels took courage and prepared to offer battle. Taras had already divined it by the noise and movement in the city, and toiled energetically making his arrangements, forming his men into combat.

columns, issuing orders and instructions. He arranged the Koreans in three camps, surrounding them with the wagons in the guise of bulwarks, a form of battle in which the Zaporosci were invincible. He ordered two Koreans into ambush. He drove sharp stakes, broken guns, fragments of spears into a part of the plain, with a view to forcing the enemy's cavalry upon it should an opportunity present itself. And when all was done that was needed, he made a speech to the Cossacks, not for the purpose of encouraging and freshening up their spirits, he knew that they were strong of soul without that, but simply because he wished to tell them all he had in his heart.

I want to tell you, Sir Brothers, what our brotherhood is. You have heard from your fathers and grandfathers in what honour our land has always been held by all men. We have made ourselves known to the Greeks, and we captured gold from Zagrad, and our cities were luxurious, and so were the temples and the princes, the princes of the Russian people,

our own princes, not Catholic unbelievers. But the Muslims took all, all vanished, and only we orphans remained, yea, like unto a widow after the death of a powerful husband, orphaned was our land, as well as ourselves. Such was the time, comrades, when we joined hands in a brotherhood. That is what our fellowship consisted, of. There is no bond more sacred than brotherhood. A father loves his children. A mother loves her

children. The children love their father and their mother. But this is not like that, brethren. The wild beasts also love their young. But only men can enter into a relationship which is of the spirit and not of blood. There have been comrades in other lands, but never any such. brotherhoods as on our Russian soil. It has happened to many of you to be lost for a while in foreign lands. You look, there are people there also. They also are God's creatures. And you talk with them as with the men of your own country. But when it comes to saying a heartfelt word, you see the difference. No, they're sensible folks, but not the right sort. the same kind of people, and yet not the same. No, brothers, to love as the Russian soul loves,

is to love not with the mind or anything else, but with all that God has given you, all that is within you. Ah, said Taras and waved his hand, shook his grey head, twitched his moustache and then went on. No, no one can love in that way. I know that baseness has now made its way into our land. care only to possess ricks of grain and hay and their droves of horses and that their sealed mead may be untouched in their sellers they adopt the devil only knows what musliman customs they abhor their own language they care not to speak their real thoughts with their own countrymen they sell their fellow countrymen as they sell soulless creatures on the marketplace the favor of a foreign king and not even of a king, but the grudging favour of a Polish magnate who beats them on the mouth with his yellow shoe is dearer to them than all brotherhood.

But the very meanest scoundrel, whoever he may be, given over though he be to vileness and civility, even he brothers, has at least a Russian feeling. And it will assert itself someday. And then the wretched man will beat the floor. with his hands, and he will grasp his head in despair, loudly cursing his vile life, and ready to expiate his disgraceful deeds with torture. For they know, all of them, what brotherhood means on Russian soil, and if it has come to the point when such a man must die, not one of them will have the chance to die in the right way. No, not one of them. Tis not a fitting thing for their mouse-like natures. Thus spoke the Ataman. And after he had finished his speech, he still continued to shake his head, which had grown silver in Cossack affairs.

All who stood there were deeply affected by this speech, which went to their very hearts. The oldest in the ranks stood motionless, their grey heads drooping earthward. A tear gathered quietly in their aged eyes. They slowly wiped it away with the same. their sleeve, and then all, as with one consent, waved their hands in the air at the same moment, and shook their experienced heads. For it was evident that Taras had reminded them of many of the best known and finest points of the heart in a man who has become wise through suffering, toil, daring, and every earthly misfortune, or, though unknown to them, of many things felt by young, pearly spirits, to the eternal joy of the parents who bore them.

But the enemy's troops were already marching out of the city, to the thunder of kettle drums and trumpets, and the noble lords with arms akimbo rode forth surrounded by innumerable retinues. The fat colonel was giving orders, and they began to advance briskly on the Cossack camps, threateningly aiming their archibuses with eyes flashing and brazen armour glittering. As soon as the Cossacks perceived that they had arrived within gunshot, they let fly all to together with their seven palm arquebuses and continued to fire without cessation. The heavy detonations resounded through the distant fields and meadows, merging into one continuous roar.

The whole plain was shrouded in smoke, but the Ziparoshi went on firing without stopping to draw breath. The rear ranks did nothing but load and hand to those in front, creating amazement among the enemy, who could not understand how the Cossacks fired without loading their guns. Amid the dense smoke which enveloped both armies, it could no longer be seen how one and another dropped out of the ranks, but the liaques felt that the bullets were flying thickly

and that the engagement was growing hot. And when they retreated to escape from the smoke and to take an observation, many were missing from the ranks, but only two or three out of a company had been killed on the Cossacks side. And still the Cossacks went on fire in their aquabuses without a moment's intermission.

Even the foreign engineer was amazed at tactics, heretofore unknown to him, and said, Then and there, in the presence of all. Those Zapparoshi are brave lads, that's the way men in other lands ought to fight, and he advised that the cannon should immediately be trained on the camps. Heavily roared the iron cannon with their wide throats. The earth hummed and trembled far and wide, and the smoke lay twice as heavy over the plain. The reek of the powder could be smelled among the squares and streets in the most distant, as well as the nearest quarters of the city.

But those who aimed the cannon pointed them too high. The hot shot described too large a curve, screaming horribly they flew over the heads of the whole camp and buried themselves deep in the earth at a distance, tearing up the ground and throwing the black dirt high in the air. At the sight of such lack of skill, the French engineer tore his hair, and undertook to point the cannon himself,

heeding not the Cossack bullets which burned and showered around him. Tarras saw from afar that the whole Nesimikovsky and Stebukivsky-Karens were threatened with destruction, and uttered a ringing shout, get away instantly from behind the wagons and mount your horses! But the Cossacks would not have succeeded in affecting these two movements, had not OSTAP dashed into the midst of the enemy, and wrenched the lunts from six cannon-eers. But he was unable to wrench them from the remaining four.

The Leaks drove him back. Meanwhile, the foreign captain had taken a lunt in his own hand to fire off the largest of the cannon, such a cannon as none of the Cossacks had ever beheld before. It looked horrible with its wide mouth and a thousand deaths peered forth from it. And as it thundered, the three others followed, shaking in fourfold earthquake the dully responsive earth.

and much woe did they cause. For more than one Cossack wails an aged mother, beating with bony hands her feeble breast. More than one widow will be left in Glukov, Nemirov, Chernigov, and other towns. Every day will the loving woman hasten forth to the bazaar, catching at all passes by, scanning the face of each to see if there be not among them one dearer than all. But many troops of all sorts will pass through the town,

yet never among them will appear the single one who is dearest of all to her. And half the Nezomikovsky Karen was though it had never been. As hail suddenly beats down a field where every ear of grain shines like a duck at a full weight, so they were beaten down. How hastened the Cossacks thither! How they all started up! How raged the Ataman of the Karen, Cucubenko, when he saw that the best half of his Karen was no more.

He fought his way with his remaining Nezumikovtzi to the very heart of the fray, hewed down in his wrath like a cabbage, the first man he encountered, hurled many a rider from his horse, impaling both horse and rider with his spear, made his way to the gunners and captured a cannon. But there he beheld the Ataman of the Umansky-Korren

and Stepan Guska hard at work, having already seized the chief cannon. He left those Cossacks there and returned with his own to another group of the foe. And where the Nesemikotsi went, there was a street. Where they wheeled about, there was a lane. And the ranks were visibly thinning, and the liaques were falling in sheaves. And right beside the wagons was Vovtuzenko, and in front, Cherovicenko, and by the more distant one, Degyarenko, and behind them was the Atomar. of the Karen Vertikvist. Deg Charenko already had raised two Leaks upon his spear

and was now attacking the third, a stubborn fellow. Agile and strong was the Leak with gorgeous accoutrements, and he was accompanied by 50 servitors. He fell fiercely upon Deg Chorenko, beat him to the ground, and flourishing his sword above him, cried, There's not one of you Cossack dogs who would dare to oppose me. Here's one!

said Moschil Shilo stepping forward. He was a muscular Cossack, who had often served as Ataman on the sea, and had undergone many vicissitudes. The Turks had captured him and his men at Trebizond, and thrown them all captives into the galleys. They bound them hand and foot with iron chains, gave them no millet for a week at a time, and made them drink the repulsive seawater.

The poor prisoners bore and suffered all things, if only they might not be forced to renounce their Orthodox faith, Ataman, Mosil, Shiloh could not endure it. He trampled underfoot the Holy Scriptures, wound a vile turban about his sinful head, won the confidence of a pasha, became steward on a ship and ruler over all the slaves. The poor prisoners sorrowed greatly thereat, for they knew that if he had betrayed his faith, he would become a tyrant, and his hand would be the more severe and heavy on them. And so it turned out.

Mosil Shiloh had them all put in new chains, three in a row and twisted the cruel cords until they cut clean to the bone. And he beat them upon the back of the neck, regaling them with cuffs for their napes. And when the Turks rejoiced at having obtained such a servant and began to carouse

and, forgetful of their law, all got drunk, he distributed all the 64 keys among the prisoners in order that they might free themselves, fling their chains and manacles into the sea and seizing their swords in their turn slay the Turks. Then did the Cossacks collect great booty and return with glory to their country. And the Bandura players glorified Mosil Shiloh for a very long time. The men would have elected him Koshavoy, but he was a very peculiar Cossack.

At one time he would perform some feat which the most sagacious never would have dreamed of. and at another folly simply took possession of him. He drank away and squandered away everything, was in debt to everyone in the siege, and stole like a common street thief to boot. He carried off a complete Cossack equipment from another Carenne by night and pawned it to a dram shopkeeper. For this dishonourable act,

they bound him to a post in the bazaar and laid a club by his side so that everyone, according to the measure of his strength, might deal him a blow. But there was not one Zaporajets out of them all to be found who would raise the club against him, remembering his former services. Such was the Cossack, Mossy Shiloh. Here are some who will kill you, you dog, he said, springing upon him. And how they hacked away, their shoulder plates and breastplates bent beneath the blows. The hostile Leak cut through his shirt of mail, reaching the body itself with his sharp blade. The Cossack's shirt,

was dyed crimson, but Shiloh heeded it not, flourished his muscular hand, heavy was that mighty fist, and brought it down unexpectedly on his head. The brazen helmet flew off. The Leak reeled and fell, but Shiloh went on hacking and making crosses on the stunned man. Kill not utterly thine enemy Cossack, turn back rather. The Cossack turned not,

and one of the dead man's servitors plunged a knife into his neck. Sheelho turned and almost succeeded in seizing the daring man, but he disappeared amid the smoke of the powder. On all sides rose the clash of archibuses. Shiloh reeled and knew that his wound was mortal. He fell with his hand upon his wound and said, turning to his comrades, Farewell, sir brothers, my comrades, may the holy Russian land stand forever, and may it have eternal honour. Then he closed his failing eyes

and the Cossack's soul took flight from the grim body. And then Zadarajni came forward with his men. Vertikovist broke the ranks and Balaban stepped forward. What now, noble sirs? said Tarras, calling to the Ataman's by name. Is there yet powder in the powder flasks? The Cossack force is not weakened, is it? The Cossacks do not yield.

There is yet powder in the flasks, Co, the Cossack force is not yet weakened. The Cossacks do not yield. And the Cossacks pressed vigorously on. The ranks were all in confusion. The little colonel had the assembly beaten and ordered eight painted standards to be flung out to collect his men, who were scattered far over all the plain. All the liaaks hastened to the standards, but they had not yet succeeded in ranging themselves in order when Ataman Kukubenko attacked again with his Nezumikovsi in their centre, and fell straight upon the big-bellied colonel. The colonel could not withstand the attack,

and wheeling his horse about, set out at a gallop, but Kukubenko pursued him for a long distance, all over the plain, and prevented him from joining his regiment. Perceiving this from the Karen on the flank, Stepan Guska set out after him, lasso in hand, bending his head to his horse's neck, and taking advantage of an opportunity, with one cast he landed the lasso about his neck.

The colonel turned purple in the face, grasped the cord with both hands and tried to break it, but a powerful blow drove a lance through his body. And there he remained pinned to the earth. But things turned out badly for Guska. Before the Cossacks had time to look about them, they beheld Stepan Guska elevated on four spears. All the poor fellow succeeded in saying was, May all our enemies perish, and may the Russian land rejoice forever! And then he yielded up his spirit.

The Cossacks glanced around, and there was Cossack Meteltsia on one side, entertaining the liax, dealing blows on the head to one and another. And on the other side, Atomar Nevolichki was attacking with his men, and the Krutibuga was turning and slaying the foe near the transports, and the third Pissareenko had repulsed a whole squadron from the more distant wagons, and they were still fighting and killing round the other wagons, and even upon them.

How now, noble sirs? cried Ataman Taras, stepping forward before them all. Is there still powder in your flasks? Is the Cossack force still strong? Do not the Cossacks yield. There is still powder in our flask batko. The Cossack force is still strong. The Cossacks do not yield. But Bovdug had already toppled off one of the wagons. A bullet had struck him straight under the heart. The old man collected all his strength and said, I sorrow not at parting with this world. God grant to every man such an end. May the Russian land be forever glorious. And Bovdhug's spirit soared on high to tell the old men who had gone on long before that men still knew how to fight on Russian soil and, better still, that they knew how

to die for it and for the holy faith. Balaban, Ataman of a Curran, soon after fell to the ground, also from a wagon. Three mortal wounds had he received, from a spear, a bullet, and a sword. He had been one of the most valorous of the Cossacks, and had accomplished a great deal during his Ataman ship in expeditions on the sea, but more glorious than all the rest was his expedition to the shores of Anatolia. There they had collected many sequins, much valuable Turkish property, caftans and adornments of every description. But misfortune awaited them on their way back.

The gallant fellows fell under the fire of the Turks. How they caught it from the ship. Half the boats were crushed and overturned, drowning many a one. But the reeds bound to the side saved the boats from sinking. Balaban rode off at full speed and stood straight in the face of the sun, thus rendering himself invisible to the Turkish ship. All the following night they spent in bailing out the water with scoops in their caps and in repairing the damaged places. They cut sails from their full Cossack trousers, and sailing off escaped from the very swift Turkish vessel. And not only did they arrive unharmed in the Siech, but they brought a gold-embroidered vestment to the Archimandrite of the Mejigorski Monastery in Kiev, and for the church in

honour of the intercession of the Holy Virgin, which is in Zaporoge, an icon frame of pure silver. And for a very long time afterwards did the Bandura players celebrate the daring of the Cossacks. Now he bowed his head, feeling the pains which precede death, and said quietly, It seems to me, Sir brothers, that I am dying a fine death. Seven have I hewn in pieces. Nine have I transfixed with my spear. And many have I trampled under my horse's hoofs. And I no longer remember how many my bare.

bullets have slain. May our Russian land flourish forever. And his spirit fled. Cossacks. Cossacks. Surrender not the flower of your army. Already was Cucubenko surrounded, and seven men only remained out of all the Nesemikovsky-Coren, and these had already defended themselves beyond their strength. Their garments were already stained with blood. Tarras himself, perceiving his straits, hastened to his rescue. But the Cossacks arrived too late. before the enemies who surrounded him could be driven off, a spear was buried just below his heart. Quietly he sank into the arms of the Cossacks who grasped him, and his young blood flowed in a stream, like precious wine brought from the cellar in a glass vessel by careless servants who,

stumbling at the entrance, break the rich flask. The wine pours over the ground, and the master, hastening up, tears his hair, having reserved it for the best occasion of his life, in order that if God should grant him in his old age to meet again the comrade of his youth, they might recall together days gone by when men reveled otherwise and better than now. Kukubenko turned his eyes about and said, I thank God that it has been my lot to die before your eyes, comrades. May those who come after us live better than we have lived, and may our Russian land, beloved of Christ, flourish forever.

And his young spirit fled. Angels took it, and supporting it by the arms, bore it to heaven. There it will be well with him. Sit down at my right hand, Kukubenko, Christ will say to him. You never betrayed your comrades. You never committed a dishonorable act. You never sold a man into misery. You preserved and defended my church.

The death of Kukubenko saddened them all. The Cossack ranks were already terribly thinned. Many brave men were missing, but the Cossacks still held their ground. How now, Sir Brothers! cried Tarras to the remaining Cairns. Is there still powder in your flasks? Your swords are not yet dulled? Are the Cossack forces weary? Have the Cossacks given way?

There is still plenty of powder, Batko. Our swords are still fit. The Cossack forces are not weary and the Cossacks have not yielded. And again, the Cossacks strained every nerve as though they had suffered no losses whatsoever. Only three Curean Atomans still remained alive. Their red blood flowed everywhere in crimson streams. Cossack corpses and those of the enemy were piled high in layers. Taras looked up to the sky and there already was outstretched

a long file of vultures. Well, there will be booty for someone. And yonder, they were raising Mateltsia on their spears and the head of the second Pisareenko, as it went spinning round, opened and shut its eyes. And the mangled body of Okrim Guska broke apart and fell upon the ground in four pieces. Now, said Taras, and waved a kerchief. Ostap understood the signal. And dashing quickly from his ambush, attacked sharply. the liax could not withstand this violent onslaught and he drove them back, chasing them straight to the spot where the stakes and fragments of spears were embedded in the earth. The horses began to stumble and fall and the liax to fly over their heads. At that moment, the Korsunzi, who had remained until

the last behind the transport wagons, perceived that they still had some bullets left and suddenly fired off their arquebuses. The liaques all fell into confusion and lost their presence. presence of mind and the Cossacks took courage. Here's our victory! rang out Cossack voices on all sides. The trumpets began to blare and the standard of victory was unfurled. The defeated Leaks dispersed in all directions and hid themselves. No, the victory is not yet complete, said Taras, glancing at the city gate and he was right. The gate opened and outdashed a Hussar regiment, the pride of all the cavalry troops. Every rider was mounted on a matched bay racehorse from Cabada. In front of the rest rode the handsomest, the most heroic warrior

of them all. His black locks streamed from beneath his brazen helmet. A rich scarf, embroidered by the hands of a peerless beauty, was bound about his arm. Taras sprang back in horror when he saw that it was Andri. And he, meanwhile, enveloped in the dust and heat of battle, anxious to deserve the scarf which had been bound as a gift on his arm, flew on like a young greyhound, the handsomest, swiftest, and youngest of all the troop. The experienced huntsman, halloos on the greyhound, which leaps forward, its legs cutting a straight line in the air, its body slanted all on one side, tossing up the snow, and a score of times outrunning the hair in the ardour of the course, and Andri was precisely like this. Old Taras paused and observed how he cleared a

before him, dispersing, hewing and distributing blows to right and left. Taras could not restrain himself from shouting, What? Your own comrades? Your own comrades? You devil's brat! Do you slay your own comrades? But Andri did not distinguish who stood before him, his comrades or strangers. He saw nothing. Curls. Long, long curls were what he saw,

and a bosom like that of a river swan, a river swan and a snowy neck and shoulders and all that has created for wild kisses. Hey there my lads, just lure him to the forest. Entice him to the forest for me, shouted Harris. And instantly, 30 of the smartest Cossacks volunteered to entice him thither, and settling their tall caps firmly, they spurred their horses straight at a gap in the hussars. They attacked the front ranks from the flank, beat them down, separated them from the rear ranks, distributing a gift to one and another. But Golokopetenko struck Andri on the back with his sword and then immediately roan away from the Hassas at the top of his speed. How furiously Andri raged. How his young blood

rebelled in his veins. Driving his sharp spurs into his horse's flanks, he flew at top speed after the Cossack, never glancing back and not perceiving that only 20 men at most were following him. But the Cossacks fled at full gallop and directed their course straight for the forest. Andri overtook them and was on the point of catching Golokopetenko when a powerful hand grasped his horse's bridle. Andri looked. Before him stood Taras. He began to tremble all over and suddenly turned pale, like a student who has incociously teased his comrade to excess and receiving in consequence a blow on the forehead with a ruler, flushes up like fire, springs up in wrath from the bench to chase his frightened comrade, prepared to tear him in pieces, and suddenly encounters his teacher

entering the classroom. In an instant, his wrathful impulse calms down, and his futile anger vanishes. In such wise, in one instant, Andri's wrath was as though it had never existed, and he beheld nothing save only his terrible father standing before him. Well, what are we going to do now? said Taras, looking him straight in the eye. But Andri could make no reply to this And sat there with his eyes riveted on the ground Well, little son Did your liax help you?

Andri did not answer You'll be such a traitor, will you? You'll betray your faith in this fashion Betray your comrades Hold on there, dismount from your horse Obedient as a child, he dismounted And stood before Taras more dead than alive stand still don't move i gave you life i will also kill you said tarris and retreating a pace he brought his gun up to his shoulder andri was white as linen his lips could be seen to move softly and he uttered a name but it was not the name of his native land or of his mother or of his brethren it was the name of the beautiful pole taras fired like an ear of corn cut down

by the reeping hook, like a young limb when it feels the deadly steel in its heart, he hung his head and rolled upon the grass without uttering a word. The murderer of his son stood and gazed long upon the lifeless body. Even in death, he was very handsome. His manly face, so short a time ago, filled with power, an irresistible charm for every woman, still breathed forth marvellous beauty. his black brows like somber velvet set off his pale features. In what way wasn't he a genuine Cossack? said Taras. He's tall a stature and black-browed, and his face is that of a nobleman, and his hand was strong in battle. He has fallen, fallen ingloriously like a vile dog.

Father, what have you done? Was it you who killed him? said Ostap riding up at this moment. Taras nodded. Ostap gazed intently at the dead man. He felt sorry for his brother and said at once, Let's give him an honourable burial, father, that the foe may not dishonour his body, nor the birds of prey rend it.

They'll bury him without any help from us, said Taras. There'll be plenty of mourners and comforters for him. And he reflected for a couple of minutes. should he fling him to the fierce wolves for their prey or respect in him the knightly valour which every brave man is bound to honour in another no matter who the man may be then he aspired Golokopetenko galloping towards them

disaster Ataman the liaaks have been reinforced a fresh force has come to their rescue Golokopetenko had not finished speaking when Volta Zenko dashed up Disaster Ataman a fresh force is buried bearing down upon us. Vovtizenko had not finished speaking when Pissareenko rushed up without his horse.

Where are you, Batko? The Cossacks are looking for you. Ataman Nevolichki is killed. Zadarozhny is killed. And so is Cherovicenko. But the Cossacks are still standing their ground. They do not wish to die without having seen you. They want you to gaze upon them once more

before the hour of death arrives. To horse, Ostap, said Tarras, and hastened in search of his Cossacks, to look once more upon them, and let them once more behold their Ataman before the hour of death. But before they could emerge from the forest, the enemy's forces had already surrounded it on all sides, and horsemen, armed with swords and spears, appeared everywhere among the trees. Ostap! Ostap! Don't surrender! shouted Taras, and grasping his naked sword, he began to cut down all he encountered on every side. But six had already sprung upon Ostap.

"'Twas an unpropitious hour for them. "'The head of one flew off, another toppled off, "'a spear pierced the ribs of a third, "'a fourth, more bold, bent his head to escape from a bullet, "'and the hot bullet struck his horse in the breast. "'The maddened animal reared, fell back upon the earth "'and crushed his rider under him. "'Well done! Well done! Ostape!' shouted Taras.

"'I'm following you!' "'And he beat off all who attacked him. "'Tarris hewed and fought, "'dealing blows upon the head of one after a another, still keeping his eye upon Ostap ahead of him. And he saw that eight more were falling upon Ostab. Ostap! Ostap! Don't surrender! But already they had overpowered Ostap. One had flung his lassoor around his neck, and they had bound him and were carrying him away. Hey! Ostap! Ostap! Osdab! shouted Taras, forcing his way to him, and cutting down men as though there had been cabbages to right and left.

Hey! Ostap! Ostap! But at that moment something struck him like a heavy stone. Everything grew dim and confused before his eyes. For a moment, their flashed before him, confusedly, heads, spears, smoke, flashes of fire, tree stumps with their leaves, and he sank heavily to the earth like a felled oak, and darkness covered his eyes. End of Chapter 9. Chapter 10 of Taras Bulber by Gogol, translated by Isabel Hapgood. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Well, I've had a long sleep. said Taras, coming to his senses as is after a heavy, drunken slumber, and trying to distinguish the objects about him.

A terrible weakness overpowered his limbs. The walls and corners of a strange room appeared dimly to his vision. At last he perceived Tovcatch seated before him, apparently listening to his every breath. Yes, thought Tovcatch. You might have slept forever. But he said nothing, shook his finger and motioned Taras to keep quiet. But tell me, where am I now? asked Harris, straining his mind and endeavouring to recollect what had happened.

Hold your tongue, cried his companion roughly. Why should you want to know? Don't you see that you're all hacked to pieces? Here I've been galloping with you for two weeks without stopping to take breath. And all the while you've been burning up with fever and jabbering nonsense. This is the first time you've slept quietly. Be silent if you don't wish to do yourself an injury. But Tara still strove to collect his thoughts and to recall what had taken place. Well, but the Leaks must have surrounded me completely and captured me. I hadn't a chance to fight myself free from the mob.

Hold your tongue, I tell you, you devil's brat! shouted Tovcatch angrily, as a nurse, driven beyond her patience, cries out at a naughty, fractious young charge. What good will it do you to know how you got away? It's enough that you did get away. Some people were found who didn't be. pray you, that's enough for you to know. You and I must still gallop on together for many a night.

Think that you are accounted a common Cossack? No, they have offered a reward of two thousand ducats for your head. And Ostap! cried Taras suddenly, making a tremendous effort to rise, and then all at once he recollected that Ostap had been seized and bound before his very eyes, and that he was now in the hands of the Leaks, and grief overpowered his aged head. He tugged at his bandages and tore them all from his wounds. He threw them far from him. He tried to say something aloud and uttered something incoherent. Fever and delirium took possession of him afresh, and he chattered foolish speeches, devoid of rhyme or reason. Meanwhile, his faithful comrade stood before him, cursing and showering harsh reprocial words upon him without stint. Finally, he seized him by the arms

and legs, swaddled him like a baby, replaced all his bandages, rolled him up in an oxhide, bound him with lindenbust, and fastening him with ropes to his saddle, dashed off with him again at full speed along the road. I'll get you there, even if not alive. I'll not abandon you for the liax to make mock at your Cossack race and rend your body in twain and fling it into the water. Let the eagles claw your eyes from your brow, if so it must be. But let it be our own eagle of the steppe and not a Polish eagle, not one which has flown hither from Polish soil. I'll bring you, though, it be a corpse, to the Ukraine. Thus spoke his faithful comrade. He galloped on, without drawing breath, day and night, and brought him insensible into the Zaporosian schech itself.

There he undertook to heal him with unwearied care, with herbs and liniments. He sought out a skillful jewess. She made Taras drink various potions for a whole month, and at last he began to improve, whether it was owing to the medicine or to his iron constitution gaining the upper hand, at any rate in six weeks he was on his feet again. His wounds had closed and only the scars of the sabercut showed how seriously injured the old Cossack had been. But he had become markedly sad and morose. Three deep wrinkles had engraved themselves upon his brow and never more departed thence. Then he looked about him. All was new in the Siech. All his old comrades were dead. Not one was left of those who had defended the right, the faith and brotherhood. And as for those

who had fared forth with the Koshavoy in pursuit of the Tatars, they also had died long since. All had laid down their heads. All had perished. One had lost his honourable head in battle. Another had died for lack of bread and water amid the salt marshes of the Crimea. Another had disappeared in captivity, unable to endure the disgrace, and even their former Koshavoy was long since dead, and so were all old comrades, and the seething Cossack power was overgrown with grass. He heard only that there had been a feast, a noisy, strenuous feast. All the dishes had been smashed to bits, not a drop of liquor was left anywhere. The guest, Vests and servants had stolen all the valuable cups and platters,

and the master of the house stood sadly, thinking that it would have been better had there been no feast. In vain did they try to cheer, Taras, and to divert his mind. In vain did the long-bearded, grey-haired Bandura players, passing by in twos and threes, glorify his Cossack deeds. He gazed grimly and indifferently at everything, and on his stolid face, sorrow unquenchable, stood forth, and he said softly,

My son, my Ostap. The Zaporoshi assembled for an expedition by sea. Two hundred boats were launched on the Dnieper, and Asia Minor saw the Cossacks, with their shaven heads and long scalp locks, devote her thriving shores to fire and sword. She saw the turbans of her Mohammedan inhabitants strewn like her innumerable flowers

over the blood-besprinkled fields and floating along her banks. She beheld many tarry Zaporosian trousers and muscular hands with black hunting whips. The Zaporoshi ate up and laid waste all their vineyard. In her mosques, they left heaps of dung. They used rich Persian shawls for trouser belts and girded their dirty doublets with them. For a long time afterwards, short Zaporosian pipes were found in those regions. Then they sailed merrily homeward again.

A ten-gun Turkish vessel pursued them and skis. scattered their fragile skiffs like birds with a volley from its guns. A third part of them sank in the depths of the sea, but the rest assembled again and gained the mouth of the Dnieppe with twelve kegs full of sequins. But all this had no interest for Tarrus. He went off upon the fields and the step as though to hunt, but the charge remained unfired in his gun,

and laying down the weapon, he sat sadly on the seashore. He sat there long with drooping head, repeating continually, my ostab, my ostab. Before him spread the gleaming black sea. In the distant reeds, the seagulls screamed. His grey moustache turned to silver, and the tears chased one another down his cheeks. At last, Tarras could endure it no longer.

Whatever happens, I must go and find out what he is doing. Is he alive or in the grave? Or is he not yet in the grave? No, I will cost what it may. And within a week he was in the town of Uman, mounted, fully armed with spears, sword, a flat travelling cask at his saddlebow, his pot of oatmeal,

his cartridges cord to hobble his horse, and other accoutrements. He rode straight to a dirty bedaub little house, whose tiny windows were almost invisible, blackened as they were with some unknown dirt. The chimney was plugged with the rag, and the roof which was full of holes was covered with sparrows. A heap of all sorts of refuse lay before the very door.

From the window peered the head of a deus in a headdress with discoloured pearls. Is your husband at home? asked Bulber, dismounting and fastening his horse's bridle to an iron hook beside the door. Yes, said the dews, and hastened out immediately with a little trough of wheat for the horse and a stoop of beer for the rider. Where's your Jew? In the other room at prayer, replied the Jewess, bowing and wishing Bulber good health as he raised the drinking cup to his lips. Remain here and feed and water my horse, and I'll go and speak with him alone. I have business with him. This Jew was that yankle already known to us. He was there as a revenue farmer and dram shopkeeper.

He had gradually got all the neighbouring nobleman and gentry into his clutches, had slowly sucked away most of their money, had made his presence severe. felt in that region. For a distance of three miles in every direction, not a single cottage remained in a proper condition. All were falling in ruins, all had been drunk away, and rags and poverty alone remained. The whole neighbourhood was devastated, as if after a fire or an epidemic. And if Yankle had lived there ten years, he would, probably have depopulated the Voivod's entire domain. Taras entered the room. The Jew was praying, wrapped in his dirty scarf and was turning to spit for the last time, in accordance with the forms of his creed, when his eyes suddenly alighted upon Taras standing behind him. And the very

first thing of all, which struck the Jew full in the face, was the recollection of the two thousand ducats offered for his head. But he was ashamed of his avarice, and tried to stifle within him the eternal thought of gold which twines like a worm about the soul of a Jew. Harken to me, Yankle, said Taras to the Jew, who began to bow low before him, and he shut the door so that they might not be seen. I saved your life. The Zuparashi were ready to tear you to pieces, like a dog. Now it's your turn to do me a service. The Jew's face contracted a bit. What service? If it's a service I can render, why not render it? Don't give me any talk. Take me to Warsaw. To Warsaw? Why to Warsaw, said the Jew, and his brows and shoulders rose in amazement.

Don't answer back. Take me to Warsaw. I must see him once more, at any cost, and say at least one word to him. Say a word to whom? To him, to Ostap, to my son. Has not the lobel lord heard that already, I know, I know all. They offer two thousand ducats of my head. They know its value the fools. I'll give you five thousand. Here are two thousand on the spot. Bulba poured out two thousand ducats from a leather bag, and the rest you shall have when I return. The Jew instantly seized a towel and concealed the ducats under it. Aye, a glorious money, aye, good money, he said, twirling one of the gold pieces in his hand and testing it with his teeth. I don't believe the man from whom the noble lord stole these fine gold pieces

remained in the world an hour longer. He went straight to the river and drowned himself after the loss of such magnificent pieces. I wouldn't have asked you, I might possibly have found my own way to walk. But someone might recognize me, and then the cursed Leaks would capture me, for I'm not clever at making up plausible stories. But that's just what you'd use are created for. You'd deceive the very devil. You know all the tricks.

That's why I've come to you. And besides, I couldn't accomplish anything in Warsaw by myself. Harness up your cart instantly and drive me to Warsaw. And does the noble lord think that I can take the mayor so out of hand and harness her and get up, down? apple? Does the noble lord think that I can take the noble lord just as he is without hiding him? Well, hide me then. Hide me any way you like. How would a powder cask answer? Aye, aye, and the noble lord thinks perhaps that he can be concealed in a powder cask? Doesn't the noble lord know that every man thinks that every cask contains corn brandy? Well, let them think it's brandy.

What? Let them think it's brandy, said the Jew grasping his earlocks with both hands, than throwing up his arms. Well, why are you so frightened? And doesn't the noble lord know that God has made brandy expressly for everyone to taste? They're all gluttones and fond of dainties there. A Polish noble will run five verses after a cask. He'll bore a hole, and as soon as he sees that nothing runs out, he'll say, the Jew isn't carrying a powder cask, there's certainly something wrong here.

Seize the Jew, bind the Jew, take away all the Jew's money, put the Jew in prison, because everything that is evil is blamed. named on the Jew and everyone takes a Jew for a dog and they think he's not a man because he's a Jew. Then lay me in the wagon with a load of fish. It can't be done, noble sir. It can't be done. All over Poland the people are as hungry as dogs now.

They'll steal the fish and feel the noble lord. Then take me in every devil's way you like, only take me. Listen, noble sir, said the Jew, stripping up the cuffs of his sleeves and approaching him with arms outstretched. This is what we'll do. They're building fortresses and castles everywhere. French engineers have come from Germany and so a great deal of brick and stone is being carted over the highways. Let the noble lord lie down in the bottom of the wagon and over him I will pile bricks. The noble lord is strong and well apparently so he will not mind if it is a little heavy and I will make a hole in the bottom of the wagon so that I can feed the noble lord.

Do what you will, only take me. And in an hour a wagonload of bricks left Oman, drawn by two sorry nags. On one of them sat tall yankle, and his long curling earlocks fluttered from beneath his Jewish cap of felt, as long as a first post planted by the roadside, he bounced about on the horse. End of Chapter 10, Chapter 11 of Taras Bulba by Gogol. Translated by Isabel Happgood. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. At the time when the above described incidents took place,

there were, as yet, in the frontier settlements, no custom house officials and guards, those terrible menaces to enterprising people. Therefore, anyone could bring across anything he liked. If anyone made any search or inspection, he did it chiefly for his own pleasure, especially if there happened to be in the wagon object attracted to the eye,

and if his own hand possessed a certain weight and power. But the bricks found no admirers, and they entered the principal gate of the city unmolested. Bulber in his narrow cage could only hear the noise, the shouts of the drivers and nothing more. Yankle, bouncing away on his short dust-covered trotter, turned, after taking several circuitous bends, into a dark narrow street bearing the name of the muddy, and also of the Jews' street, because, as a matter of fact, Jews from nearly every quarter of Warsaw were to be found there. This street greatly resembled a backyard turned wrong side out. The sun apparently never shone in there.

The totally black wooden houses, with innumerable poles projecting from the windows, still further increase the gloom. Rarely did the brick wall gleam red among them, for it also in many places had turned quite black. Here and there, high up, a bitter stuccoed wall lighted by the sun shone with a whiteness intolerable to the eye. Everything there was extremely harsh. Pipes, rags, shells, broken and discarded tubs. Everyone flung into the street whatever was useless to him, thus affording the passerby an opportunity to regale all his senses with the rubbish. A man on horseback could almost touch with his hand the pole was thrown across the street from one house to another, upon which hung Jewish stockings, short trousers and smoked geese. Sometimes the rather pretty face of a Jewess, adorned with a with blackened pearls peeped out of an ancient window. A mob of dew urchins with torn and dirty garments and curly hair screamed and rolled about in the mud. A red-haired dew with freckles all over his face, which made him look like a sparrow's egg, was gazing out of a window.

He instantly accosted Yankle in his unintelligible jargon, and Yankle immediately drove into the courtyard. Another Jew who was coming along the street, halted and entered into conversation, and when Bulber, at last, emerged from beneath the... bricks, he beheld these three Jews talking with great heat. Yankal turned to him and said that everything would be done, that his Ostap was in the city jail, and that, although it would be difficult to persuade the jailer, yet he hoped to arrange a meeting. Bulba entered the room with the three Jews. The Jews again began to talk among themselves in their incomprehensible language. Taras took a good look at each of them. Something seemed to have affected him deeply. On his rough and stolid countenance, a

consuming flame of hope flashed up, of hope such as sometimes visits a man in the lowest depths of despair. His aged heart began to beat violently as though he were a youth. Harken, Jews, said he, and there was a ring of triumph in his words. You can do anything in the world, even to extracting things from the bottom of the sea, and it has long since passed into a proverb that a Jew will steal from himself if he takes a fancy to steal. Set my ostor, at liberty. Give him a chance to escape from their diabolical hands. I have promised this man five thousand ducats. I add another five thousand. All that I have in the way of precious cups buried gold, my houses all, even to my last garment, I will sell and I will enter

into a contract with you for my whole life to share with you half and half all the booty I may win in war. Oh, it can't be done, dear noble lord, it's impossible. No, it can't be done, chimed in another Jew. The three Jews exchanged glances. We might try, said the third with a timid glance at the other two. Perhaps God will favour us. All three Jews began to talk in German. Strain his ears as he might, Bulber could make nothing of it. He only caught the word Mardukai, often repeated, nothing more. Listen, noble lord, said Yankle, we must consult with a man

such as there never was before in all the world, as wise as Solomon he is, and if he will do nothing, then no one in the world can do anything. Sit here, this is the key, admit no one. Thereupon the Jews went out into the street.

Taras locked the door and gazed from the tiny window upon the dirty Jewish prospect. The three Jews halted in the middle of the street and began to talk talk with a good deal of warmth. A fourth soon joined them, and finally a fifth. Again, he heard repeated, Mardukai, Mardikai. The Jews kept glancing incessantly towards one side of the street.

At last, at the end of it, from behind a dirty house, there emerged a foot in a Jewish shoe, and there was a brief glimpse of the fluttering skirts of a half-cafdain. Ah, Mardikai, Mardikai exclaimed the Jews with one voice. A gaunt Jew, somewhat shorter than Yang. but even more wrinkled, and with a huge upper lip, approached the impatient group, and all the Jews made haste, even interrupting one another to talk to him. During the recital, Mardukai cast several glances towards the little window, and Taras divined that the conversation concerned him. Mardukai waved his hands, listened, interrupted, spat frequently to one side, and pulling up the skirts of his half-calfaftan, thrust his hand into his pocket, and drew out some jingling object,

showing his very dirty trousers in the operation. Finally, all the Jews set up such a shout that the Jew who was standing on guard was forced to make a signal for silence, and Taras began to fear for his own safety. But when he remembered that Jews cannot consult anywhere, except in the street, and that the demon himself cannot understand their language,

he regained his composure. Two minutes later, the Jews all entered the room together. Mardukai approached Harris, tapped him on the shoulder, and said, When we wish to act, then things will be as they should." Taras looked at this Solomon, such as the world had never known, and conceived some hope. In fact, his face might well inspire some confidence. His upper lip was simply an object of horror.

Its thickness had doubtless been increased by adventitious circumstances. The beard of this Solomon consisted of only about fifteen hairs, and they were all on the left side. Solomon's face bore so many scars of battle, received for his audacity that he had been he had no doubt lost count of them long before and grown accustomed to regarding them as birth marks. Mardichai departed, accompanied by his comrades who were filled with admiration for his wisdom. Bulber was left alone. He was in a strange, unaccustomed situation. For the first time in his life he felt uneasy. His soul was in a state of fever. He was no longer the man he had been, unbending, immovable, strong as an oak. He was faint-hearted now. Now he was weak.

He trembled at every sound, at every new Jewish figure which showed itself at the end of the street. In this condition he spent the whole day. He neither ate nor drank, and his eye never for a single moment quitted the tiny window, which looked out on the street. Finally, late at night, Mardukai and Yankle made their appearance. Taras's heart died within him. What news? Are you successful? he asked, with the restiveness of a wild horse. But before the Jews had recovered breath to answer, Tarras perceived that Mardukai no longer had

his last lock, which, although very greasy, had fallen in rings from beneath his felt cap. It was evident that he wished to say something, but he began by uttering such nonsense that Tarras understood nothing of it, and Yankle himself put his hand very often to his mouth as those suffering from a cold. Oh, dear noble sir, said Yankle, it is utterly impossible now. God is my witness, it is impossible. such vile people that one can only spit on their heads in disgust. And Mardukai here will tell you the same.

Mardukai has done what no man in the world ever did, but it was not God's will that it should be so. Three thousand of the troops are stationed here, and tomorrow all the men are to be executed. Taras looked the Jews straight in the eye, but no longer with impatience or anger. But if the noble lord wishes to see him, then it must be very early in the morning, before sunrise.

The sentinels have agreed, and one jailer has promised. But may they have no happiness in the world, woe is me. What greedy people! Even among us there are none such. I had to give fifty ducats to each one, and to the jailer. Good, date me to him! exclaimed Harris with decision, and all the firmness returned to his spirit.

He agreed to Yankle's proposal that he should disguise himself as a foreign count, just arrived from Germany, for which purpose the prudent Jew had already provided a costume. It was already night. The master of the house, the above-mentioned red-haired dew with freckles, drew forth a thin mattress covered with some sort of rug and spread it on the bench for Bulba. Yankle lay down upon the floor on a similar mattress. The red-haired dew drank a small cup of liquor infusion, threw off his half-cafdan and betook himself, looking in his shoes and stockings, a good deal like a chicken, with his due-ess to something resembling a cupboard. Two other

The Jews lay down on the floor beside the cupboard, like a couple of family dogs. But Taras did not sleep. He sat motionless, drumming lightly on the table with his fingers. He kept his pipe in his mouth and puffed out smoke which made the dew sneeze in a state of semi-waking and wrap up his nose in his coverlet. Scarcely was the sky tinged with the first faint gleams of dawn when he pushed yankle with his foot. Rise, Jew, and give me your count's dress! In a moment he addressed himself. He blackened his moustache.

Martian eyebrows, put on his head a small dark cap, and not even the Cossacks who knew him best would have recognised him. To all appearance, he was not more than five and thirty. A healthy colour played in his cheeks, and even his scars imparted to him an air of authority. The gold-embroidered costume was extremely well suited to him. The streets were still asleep. Not a single mercantile person had yet shown himself in the city, basket on arm. Yankle and Bulber went to a building which had the appearance of a crouching stalk. It was low, wide, huge and black, and on one side a tall slender tower projected like a stork's neck, above which stuck out a bit of roof. This building served for a variety of purposes. It was a barrack, a jail and even the

criminal court. Our travellers entered the gate and found themselves in a vast room or covered courtyard. About a thousand men were sleeping there. Straight before them was a small door, in front of which sat two centuries playing at some game, which consisted in one striking the palm of the other's hand with two fingers. They paid scant heed to the newcomers, and merely turned their heads when Yankle said, "'Tis we, noble sirs, do you hear tis we?' "'Go in,' said one of them,

opening the door with one hand, and holding out the other to his comrade to receive his blows. They entered a low, dark corridor which led them to a room of the same description, with small windows overhead. "'Who goes there?' shouted his. several voices and Taras beheld a number of warriors in full armour. We've been ordered to admit no one. Tis we, cried Yankal, we by heaven most illustrious sirs, but no one would listen to them.

Fortunately, at that moment a fat man came along who, from all the signs, appeared to be the commanding officer, for he cursed more loudly than all the rest. Noble sir, tis we, you know us, and the Sir Count will thank you. Admit them, a hundred devils and the devil's mother. and admit no one else, and no one is to take off his sword, and no one is to quarrel on the floor like dogs. The conclusion of the eloquent order our travellers did not hear. "'Tis we, tis I, tis your friends,' Yankle said to everyone they met. "'Well, can we enter now?' he inquired of one of the guards, when at last they reached the end of the corridor. "'Yes, but I don't know whether you are to be admitted to the prison itself.

"'Yan is not here now. Another man is standing guard in his place,' replied the sentinel. Aye, aye, cried the Jew softly. This is bad, my dear sir. Lead on, said Taras firmly. The Jew obeyed. At the door of the underground cells, which ran to a peak at the top, stood a hay-duke, with a three-storied moustache. The upper story ran back, the second straightforward,

and the third downward, which made him greatly resemble a cat. The Jew shrank into nothing and sidled up to him almost sideways. Your High Excellency, high and illustrious lord! Are you speaking to me, Jew? To you, illustrious Lord. Hmm, but I'm merely a hey-duke, said the merry-eyed man with a three-stoyed moustache. And I thought it was the Voivod himself, God is my witness I did.

Aye, aye, aye, aye. Thereupon the Jew wagged his head and spread out his fingers. Aye, what an imposing aspect. A colonel, as God is my witness. A regular colonel. Another finger's bred, then he'd be a colonel. The noble lord ought to mount a stallion, one as fleet as a fly, and drill the regiments.

The Hay Duke arranged the lower story of his moustache, and his eyes grew very merry. What a warlike people went on the Jew. Ah, woe is me! What a fine race! All cords and metal discs! They shine like the sun, and the pretty girls, whenever they behold warriors. Aye, aye, aye. Again the Jew wagged his head. The hayduke twirled his upper moustache and uttered a sound which somewhat resembled the neigh of a horse. I pray the noble Lord to do us a service, exclaimed the Jew. He has a prince who has come hither from a foreign land to get a look at the Cossacks.

He has never, in all his life, seen what sort of men the Cossacks are. The appearance of foreign counts and barons was sufficiently common in Poland. They are often drawn by curiosity to view this half-Asiatic corner of Europe. They regarded Moscow and the Ukraine as situated in Asia. So the Hague bowed low and thought it fit to put in a few words of his own. I do not know your excellency, said he. Why you should desire to see them? They are dogs, not men, and their faith is such as no one respects.

You lie, you son of the devil, said Bulba. You're a dog yourself. How dare you say that our faith is not respected? It's your heretical faith which is not respected. Ooh, said the Hay Duke. Well, I know who you are, my friend. You're one of those who are under my charge. So wait, I'll summon our men.

Taras perceived his indiscretion. But vexation and obstinacy prevented his time. devising a means of remedying it. Fortunately, Yankle managed to interpose at this moment. Most illustrious sir, how was it possible that the count should be a Cossack? And if he were a Cossack, where could he have obtained such address and such a count-like mean? Oh, go talk to yourself!

And the Hedew could already open his wide mouth to shout. Your Royal Highness, silence! Silence! Silence, for God's sake, cried Yankle. Silence! We will pay for it in a way you have never dreamed of. We will give you. two golden ducats. Oh, two ducats! I can't do anything with two ducats. I give my barber two ducats for shaving only the half of my beard. Give a hundred ducats, Jew. Here the hay jute twirled is up a moustache. And if you don't give a hundred ducats, I'll give the alarm on the spot.

And why so much? said the Jew sadly, turning pale, and undoing his leather purse. But it was lucky that he had no more in his purse, and that the hay jute could not count above 100. Noble sir, noble sir, let us depart quickly, see the evil people yonder, said Yankle, noticing that the hay-duke was turning the money over in his hand, as though regretting that he had not demanded more. What do you mean, you devil of a hay-juke? said Bulba. You've taken our money, and don't mean to show us the men? Yes, you must let us see them. Since you've taken the money, you have no right to refuse. Get out. Go to the devil, and if you don't, I'll give the alarm this very minute.

You'll. Take yourselves off and be quick about it. That's all I have to say. Sir, noble sir, let us go. In God's name, let us go. Curse him. May he dream of such horrible things that he will have to spit in disgust, cried poor Yankle. Bulber turned slowly, with drooping head and went back, followed by the reproaches of Yankle, who was devoured with grief at the thought of the wasted ducats. And why must you need stir him up? Why didn't you let the dog go on cursing? that race can't help cursing. Oh, woe is me.

What luck God does send to some folks! A hundred ducats merely for driving us off! And our brother, they'll tear off his earlocks and they'll do something dreadful to his face so that you can't bear to look at it and no one will give him a hundred ducats. Oh my God, merciful God. But this failure made a much more profound impression upon Bulba,

which was expressed by a devouring flame in his eyes. Come along, he said suddenly, as though shake himself. Let's go to the square. I want to see how they will torture him. Oh noble sir, why go? That won't do any good now. Come along, said Bulba obstinately, and sighing the Jew followed him as a nurse follows a child. The square on which the execution was to take place was not difficult to find. People were thronging thither from all directions. In that savage age, an execution constituted one of the most interesting of spectacles, not only for the populace, but also for the higher classes. A multitude of the most pious old women, a throng of young girls and women of the most cowardly sort,

who would dream the whole night afterwards of bloody corpses, and who shrieked as loudly in their sleep as a drunken hussar, missed no opportunity, nevertheless, to gratify their curiosity. Ah, what torture! Many of them would exclaim hysterically, covering their eyes and turning away. but they would stand their ground for quite a while nevertheless. Many a one with gaping mouth and outstretched arms would have liked to jump upon the heads of the populace to get a better view. Above the mass of small, narrow, commonplace heads towered the large head of a butcher,

admiring the whole process with the air of a connoisseur, and exchanging monosyllabic words with the gunsmith whom he called gossip because he had once got drunk in the same dram shop with him on a holiday. Some entered into warm discussions, others even laid wages. But the majority were of the sort who, all the world over, look on at the world and at everything that goes on in it

and merely pick at their noses. In the foreground, close to the bearded city guards stood a young noble, or one who appeared to be such, in warlike garb, who had donned literally everything he owned so that nothing but a ragged shirt and his old shoes were left in his quarters.

Two chains, one on top of the other, hung around his neck, with some ducats or other depending from them. He stood with his mistress Eusicia and kept glancing around incessantly to make sure that no one soiled her silken gown. He explained everything to her so perfectly that no one could have added a single word.

All these people, my dear Euscia, he said, whom you behold have come hither to see the criminals executed, and that man yonder, my love, who holds an axe and other instruments in his hands, is the executioner, and he will dispatch them. And when he begins to break them on the wheel, and to torch them in other ways, the criminal will still be alive. But when he cuts off his head, then, my love, he will die at once. Before that, he will cry out and move about, but just as soon as

his head is cut off, it will be impossible for him to cry out, or to eat, or to drink, because, my dear, he will no longer have any head, and Eusisio listened to it all with terror and curiosity. The roofs of the houses were dotted with people. From the dormer windows peered very strange faces with beards and something resembling caps. Upon the balconies beneath awnings sat the aristocracy. The lovely little hands of a smiling young lady, gleaming like white sugar, clasped the railing. Illustrious nobles all decidedly stout of figure looked on with an air of importance. A servitor, in brilliant garb, with backward flowing sleeves, carried round diverse beverages and vians.

Sometimes a black-eyed rogue would take her cakes or fruit and fling them among the crowd with her own noble little hand. The throng of hungry knights held up their caps to catch it, and some tall noble, in faded scarlet jacket and discoloured braid, thrusting his head above the throng, was the first to grasp it with the aid of his long arms, and kissed his booty, pressed it to his heart, and finally put it in his mouth. A hawk, suspended beneath the balcony in a gilded cage, was also a spectator. With beak inclined to one side and one foot raised, he also watched the people attentively. But suddenly a murmur ran through the crowd and a rumour spread, They're coming! They're coming! The Cossacks! The Cossacks walked with uncovered heads and their long scalp locks floating. Their beards had grown. They walked neither timidly nor surlily, but with a certain haughtiness.

Their garments of handsome cloth were thread bare and hung about them in tatters. They neither looked at nor saluted the populace. At the head of all walked Ostap. What were old Taras' feelings when he beheld his Ostap? What was in his heart then? He gazed at him from among the crowd and lost not a single one of his movements. The men had already approached the place of execution. Ostap halted.

He was to be the first to quaff the bitter cup. He glanced at his comrades, raised his hand, and said in a loud voice, God grant that none of the heretics who stand here may hear in pious wretches, How Christians suffer! Let none of us utter a single word! Then he walked up to the scaffold. Well done, son! Well done! said Bulber softly and bowed his grey head. The executioner tore off Ostap's old rags. They fastened his arms and legs in stocks, expressly prepared,

and, we will not harrow the reader with a picture of the hellish tortures which would make his hair rise upright on his head. They were the offspring of that coarse, wild age. when men still led the bloody life of warlike expeditions only, and hardened their souls within them until no sense of humanity remained. In vain did some, a few who were exceptions in that age, opposed such terrible measures. In vain did the king and many knights, enlightened in mind and soul,

demonstrate that such severity of punishment could only fan the flame of vengeance in the Cossack nation. But the power of the king and the opinion of the wise was nothing in comparison with the savage will of the magnates of the kingdom who, by their thoughtlessness, an incomprehensible lack of all far-sighted policy, their childish self-love and petty pride converted the diet into a satire on government. Ostap endured the tortures and torments like a giant. Not a cry, not a groan was audible. Even when they began to break the bones in his arms and legs, when the horrible cracking could

be heard by the most remote spectators, amid the death-like stillness of the throng. When even the young ladies turned aside their eyes, nothing even resembling a groan escaped his lips, nor did his face quiver. Tara stood in the crowd with bowed head. But at the same time, raising his eyes proudly, he said, with approbation,

Well done, son, well done! But when they took him to the last deadly tortures, it seemed as though his strength were on the point of failing, and he turned his eyes about him, on all sides. Oh God, all strangers, all unknown faces, if only someone of his near relatives were but present at his death, he would not have wished to hear the sobs and anguish of his feeble mother,

or the unreasoning shrieks of a wife, tearing her hair and beating her white breast. He would have liked to see a strong man who could refresh him with a wise word and cheer him at the end. And his strength failed him, and he cried aloud in the weakness of his soul. Father, where are you? Do you hear it all? I hear! rang through the universal silence and all that million of people shuddered in concert. A detachment of mounted soldiers hastened anxiously to scan the throng of people.

Yankle turned pale as death. And when the horseman arrived within a short distance of him, he turned round in terror to look at Terrace. But Taras was no longer beside him. Every trace of him was lost. End of Chapter 11. Chapter 12 of Taras Bulba by Gogol. Translated by Isabel Hapgood.

This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain. Traces of Taras made themselves apparent. 120,000 Cossacks descended upon the border marches of the Ukraine. This was not a small division or detachment which had sallied force for plunder or in pursuit of the Tatars. No, the whole nation had risen, for the measure of the people's patience was full to overflowing. They had risen to avenge the mockery of their rights,

the dishonorable humiliation of their characters, the insults to the faith of their ancestors and their sacred customs, the dishonouring of their church, the dissolute excesses of the foreign nobles, the union, the disgraceful domination of judum on Christian's soil, and all that had excited and doubled the stern hatred, which the Cossacks had cherished for ages. Hetman Ostronitza, young but strong in spirit, led the entire innumerable Cossack forces. By his side could be seen his very aged and experienced friend and counsellor, Guna.

Eight colonels led regiments of 12,000 each. Two Yassal's general and a chief bearer of the Hetman's Mesa office rode behind the Hetman. A cornet general carried the principal stand. Many other standards and banners floated afar. The assistance of the Hetman's mace-bearer bore the Hetman's staff. There are also many other officials of the regiment, of the transport wagons and of the general army, and regimental scribes, and with them detachments of foot soldiers and of cavalry.

There are almost as many free Cossacks and volunteers as there were registered Cossacks. The Cossacks has risen up everywhere, in Chigarin, from Peria Slav, from Baturin, from Glukov, from Glukov, from the regions of the Lower Dnieper, from the whole of its upper course and from the islands. Innumerable horses and countless camps of carts stretched across the plain. And among all these Cossacks, among all those eight regiments,

one regiment was the flower of them all, and it was led by Taras Bulba. Everything contributed to give him weight over the others, his advanced years, his experience and skill in directing his troops, and his hatred of the foe, which surpassed that of all the rest. His grey head dreamed of nothing but fire and the halter, and his utterances in the councils of war breathe nothing short of annihilation. It is not worthwhile to

describe all the battles in which the Cossacks distinguish themselves, or the gradual course of the campaign. All that is set down in the chronicles of old. Everyone knows what an army raised on Russian soil for the faith is like. There is no power stronger than faith. It is menacing and invincible as a rock not made by human hands, amid the stormy, ever-changing sea. From the very heart of the depths of the sea, it lifts its impregnable walls to heaven, all built of a single compact stone.

It is visible from every side, and looks the waves straight in the eye as they roll past, and woe to the vessel which is dashed against it. The rigging flies into splinters, everything in it sinks and is crushed into dust, and the startled air reverberates with the cries of the drowning. The pages of the chronicles contain a minute description of how the Polish garrisons fled from the liberated towns, how the unscrupulous Jewish revenue farmers were hung,

how weak was the royal Hetman, Nikolai Potoski, with his numerous army against this invincible force, how broken, pursued, he drowned the best part of his army in a small stream, how the fierce Cossack regiments besieged him in the small town of Pologne, and how driven to extremities, the Polish Hetman promised, under oath, full satisfaction for everything in the name of his king and the government officials, and the restitution of all their former rights and privileges. But the Cossacks were not the men to be tricked by all that. They already knew full well the value of a Polish oath.

And Potoski would never more have pranced on his 6,000 ducat race. horse of the cabada, attracting the glances of distinguished ladies and the envy of the nobility. He would never more have cut a figure in the diet, giving luxurious feasts as senators, if the Russian priests who were in the little town had not saved him. When all the clergy in their brilliant gold vestments, with the bishop himself, cross in hand, an Episcopal mitre on head, went out to meet the Cossacks, bearing the holy pictures in the cross, all the Cossacks bowed their heads, and doffed their caps. No one lower than the king himself would they have respected at such an hour. But their boldness subsided before the Church of Christ, and they paid respect to their

priesthood. The Hetman and the colonels agreed to release Potoski, after having extracted from him a solemn oath to leave all the Christian churches at liberty, to lay aside the ancient enmity, and to do no injury to the Cossack army. One colonel alone would not agree to such a peace. That one was Taras. He tore a handful of hair from his head and cried, Eh, headman and colonels, commit no such womanish deed. Trust not the Leaks. The dogs will betray you. When the regimental scribe presented the agreement,

and the Hetman set his powerful hand to it, Taras drew out his genuine Damascus blade, a rich Turkish sabre of the finest steel, broke it in twain like a reed, and flung the two fragments far away. away from him on either side, saying, Farewell, as the two pieces of this sword will never reunite and form one sword again,

so we, comrades, shall never more behold one another in this world. Remember my parting words. Here his voice rose higher and higher, and acquired a hitherto unknown power, and his prophetic utterances troubled them all. Before your death hour, you will remember me. Do you think that you have purchased peace and quiet? Do you think that you are going to reign like Polish lords? You will reign like

Polish lords, but after quite another fashion. They will flay the skin from your head, Hetman. They will stuff it with bran, and long will it be exhibited at all the fares, and neither will you retain your heads, noble sirs. You will perish in damp dungeons, walled about with stone, if they do not boil you alive in kettles as they boil sheep. "'And you, my men,' he went on, turning to his followers, "'which of you wants to die a proper death? "'Not through sorrows and womanish longing, "'nor drunk under a hedge alongside of the dram shop,

"'but an honourable Cossack death, "'all in one bed like bride and groom. "'Or perhaps you would like to go back home "'and turn infidels and carry Polish Catholic priests on your backs. "'We'll follow you, Sir Colonel, we'll follow you,' shouted his whole regiment, and many others joined them. If you mean to follow me, then come on, said Taras, pulling his cap further down on his brows, and throwing a menacing glance at the others. He walked to his horse and shouted to his men,

Let no one reproach us with any insulting speeches. Now, hey there, my lads, we'll go and pay a visit to the Catholics. Thereupon he lashed his horse, and there followed him a camp of a hundred carts, and with them many cavalry and foot soldiers, and turning, he threatened with his glance all who remained behind, and Roth was in his eye. The regiment marched off in full view of the whole army, and Taras continued long to turn and glower. The Hetman and the colonels were disquieted. All grew thoughtful and remained long silent, as though oppressed by some heavy foreboding. Not in vain did Taras prophesy.

All came to pass as he had foretold. A little while afterwards, after the treacherous attack at Kanev, the Hetman's head was mounted on a stake, together with the heads of many among his principal officers. And what of Taras? Taras roamed all over Poland with his regiment, burned 18 towns and nearly 40 churches, and reached Krakow. He slew many nobles of all degrees

and plundered the richest and finest castes. The Cossacks opened and poured out on the ground, the century-old mead and wine carefully hoarded up in the nobleman's cellars. They cut and burned rich cloths, garments and utensils, which they found in the storerooms. Spare nothing! Taras kept repeating, only that. The Cossacks spared not the black-browed gentlewoman, the brilliant white-bosomed maidens. They could not save themselves, not even at the altar itself. Taras burned them together with the altar. Many were the snowy hands upraised to heaven from amid the fiery flames,

accompanied by piteous shrieks, which would have moved the damp earth itself to pity, and caused the step-grass to bend low with compassion at their fate. But the ruthless Cossacks paid no heed, and picking up the children in the streets upon their lances, they cast them also into the flames. This is in commemoration of Ostap, you devilish liaques, was all that Taras said,

and such commemorations for Ostap he arranged in every village, until the Polish government perceived that Taras's raids were more than ordinary expeditions for plunder. And that same Potoski was given five regiments and ordered to capture Taras without fail. Six days did the Cossacks retreat along the country lanes before the pursuit. Their horses barely endured this excessive flight,

but they saved the Cossacks. But this time Potoski was equal to the task entrusted to him. Unwearily, he followed them and reached the bank of the Dnieper, where Tarras had taken possession of a ruined and abandoned castle for the purpose of resting. On the very brink of the Dnieper it could be seen, with its shattered ramparts and the ruined remains of its walls. The summit of the cliff was strewn with rubbish and broken bricks, ready at any moment to detach themselves and fly to the bottom.

The Royal Hetman, Potoski, surrounded, it on the two sides which faced the plane. Four days did the Cossacks fight and struggle, defending themselves with bricks and stones. But their provisions and their strength became exhausted, and Tarrus resolved to cut his way through the ranks. And the Cossacks would have cut their way out, and their swift steeds might again have served them faithfully, had not Tarrus halted suddenly in the very midst of their flight, and shouted, halt! My piper's dropped with it's tobacco. I won't let those devilish liaques have my pipe. And the old Ataman bent down and searched in the grass for his pipe full of tobacco. His inseparable companion on all his

expeditions on sea and land and at home. But in the meantime, a band of liaqs suddenly dashed up and seized him by his mighty shoulders. He tried to struggle with all his limbs, but he failed to scatter the haydukes over the ground as he had been wont to do. Oh, old age, old age! He said, and the stalwart old Cossack wept. But it was not his age that was to blame. Nearly 30 men were hanging on his arms and legs. The raven is caught, shouted the liax. Now it is only necessary to think how we can best show him honour, the dog, and they decided, with the permission of the Hetman, to burn him alive in the sight of everyone. Nearby stood a naked tree, whose crest had been blasted by lightning. They bound him with iron chains to the trunk of the tree.

driving nails through his hands and raising him as high as possible, that the old Cossack might be everywhere visible, and they immediately began to build a pyre of faggots at the foot of the tree. But Tarras did not look at the pyre, nor did he think of the fire with which they were preparing to burn him. He gazed anxiously, the great-hearted man, in the direction whence the Cossacks were firing. From his lofty post of observation he could see everything, as in the palm of his hand. "'Take possession, my lads! "'Take possession quickly!' he shouted.

"'Of the hillock behind the forest! "'They can't approach it!' "'But the wind did not carry his words to them. "'Dell perish! Perish for nothing!' he said in despair, "'and glanced down to whether Dineppe gleamed. "'Joy shone in his eyes. "'He descried the sterns of four boats "'peeping out from behind the bushes,

"'and he gathered together all the strength of his voice "'and shouted in a ringing tone, To the shore! To the shore, my lads! Descend the path on the left, under the cliff! There are boats on the strand. Seize them all that the foe may not catch you! This time the breeze blew from the other quarter, and all his words were audible to the Cossacks. But for this council he received a blow on the head with the butt end of an axe, which made everything dance before his eyes. The Cossacks rode down the cliff path at full speed, but the pursuers are at their heels. They looked, the path wound and twisted and made many curves aside.

Ah, comrades, luck's against us, said they all, then halted for an instant, raised their whips, and their tatar horses rose from the ground, clove air like serpents, flew over the precipice and plunged straight into the Dnieper. Two only failed to land in the river, and thundered from the height upon the stones, and perished there with their steeds, before they could even utter a cry. But the rest of the Cossacks were already swimming with their horses and unfastening the boats. The Leaks halted on the brink of the precipice, astounded at this wonderful feat of the Cossacks, and thinking, shall we leap down to them or not? One young colonel, a lively, hot-blooded fellow, own brother to the beautiful pole,

who had seduced poor Andri, did not reflect long, but hurled himself and his horse after the Cossacks with all his might. He turned three somersaults in the air with his might. his steed and landed heavily on the jagged cliffs. The sharp stones tore him in pieces as he fell into the abyss and his brains mingled with blood bespattered the shrubs which grew on the uneven walls of the precipice. When Taras Bulba recovered from the blow and glanced at the Dnieper, the Cossacks were already in the skiffs and were rowing away. Bullets shawed upon them from above but did not reach them and the old Ataman's eyes sparkled with joy. Farewell comrades. He shouted to them from above.

Remember me and come hither again next spring to make merry. What if ye have captured me, ye devilishly acts? Think ye that there is anything in the world which the Cossack fears? Wait, the time will come when ye shall learn what the Orthodox Russian faith is like. Already the peoples far and near are beginning to understand it. A czar shall arise from the Russian soil and there shall not be a power in the world which shall not submit it. itself to him. But the fire had already risen above the faggots. It was lapping his feet, and the flames spread to the tree. But can any fire, flames or power be found on earth capable

of overpowering Russian strength? Not small is the river Dinepa, and in it are many deep pools, dense reed beds, shallows and little bays. Its watery mirror gleams brightly, resounding with the ringing plaint of the swan. and the proud wild goose glide swiftly over it, and many other woodcocks, tawny-throated grouse, and various other sorts of birds to be found among the reeds and along its shores. The Cossacks floated swiftly on in the narrow, double-rudded boats,

rode stoutly, carefully shunning the reefs, cleaving the ranks of the birds which rose on the wing, and talked of their Atomahn. End of Chapter 12. End of Taras Bulba. by Nicolai Gogol, translated by Isabel Happgood.