TARAS BULBA AND OTHER TALES

By Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol

Introduction by John Cournos

Contents:

 Taras Bulba St. John's Eve The Cloak How the Two Ivans Quarrelled The Mysterious Portrait The Calash

INTRODUCTION

Russian literature, so full of enigmas, contains no greater creativemystery than Nikolai Vasil'evich Gogol (1809-1852), who has done forthe Russian novel and Russian prose what Pushkin has done for Russianpoetry. Before these two men came Russian literature can hardly havebeen said to exist. It was pompous and effete with pseudo-classicism;foreign influences were strong; in the speech of the upper circles therewas an over-fondness for German, French, and English words. Between themthe two friends, by force of their great genius, cleared away the debriswhich made for sterility and erected in their stead a new structure outof living Russian words. The spoken word, born of the people, gave souland wing to literature; only by coming to earth, the native earth, wasit enabled to soar. Coming up from Little Russia, the Ukraine, withCossack blood in his veins, Gogol injected his own healthy virus intoan effete body, blew his own virile spirit, the spirit of his race, intoits nostrils, and gave the Russian novel its direction to this very day. 

More than that. The nomad and romantic in him, troubled and restlesswith Ukrainian myth, legend, and song, impressed upon Russianliterature, faced with the realities of modern life, a spirit titanicand in clash with its material, and produced in the mastery of thisevery-day material, commonly called sordid, a phantasmagoria intensewith beauty. A clue to all Russian realism may be found in a Russiancritic's observation about Gogol: "Seldom has nature created a man soromantic in bent, yet so masterly in portraying all that is unromanticin life. " But this statement does not cover the whole ground, for it iseasy to see in almost all of Gogol's work his "free Cossack soul" tryingto break through the shell of sordid to-day like some ancient demon, essentially Dionysian. So that his works, true though they are to ourlife, are at once a reproach, a protest, and a challenge, ever callingfor joy, ancient joy, that is no more with us. And they have all the joyand sadness of the Ukrainian songs he loved so much. Ukrainian was toGogol "the language of the soul, " and it was in Ukrainian songs ratherthan in old chronicles, of which he was not a little contemptuous, thathe read the history of his people. Time and again, in his essays and inhis letters to friends, he expresses his boundless joy in these songs:"O songs, you are my joy and my life! How I love you. What are thebloodless chronicles I pore over beside those clear, live chronicles!I cannot live without songs; they. .. Reveal everything more and moreclearly, oh, how clearly, gone-by life and gone-by men. .. . The songsof Little Russia are her everything, her poetry, her history, and herancestral grave. He who has not penetrated them deeply knows nothing ofthe past of this blooming region of Russia. "

Indeed, so great was his enthusiasm for his own land that aftercollecting material for many years, the year 1833 finds him at work ona history of "poor Ukraine, " a work planned to take up six volumes; andwriting to a friend at this time he promises to say much in it that hasnot been said before him. Furthermore, he intended to follow this workwith a universal history in eight volumes with a view to establishing, as far as may be gathered, Little Russia and the world in properrelation, connecting the two; a quixotic task, surely. A poet, passionate, religious, loving the heroic, we find him constantlyimpatient and fuming at the lifeless chronicles, which leave him cold ashe seeks in vain for what he cannot find. "Nowhere, " he writes in 1834, "can I find anything of the time which ought to be richer than anyother in events. Here was a people whose whole existence was passed inactivity, and which, even if nature had made it inactive, was compelledto go forward to great affairs and deeds because of its neighbours, itsgeographic situation, the constant danger to its existence. .. . If theCrimeans and the Turks had had a literature I am convinced that nohistory of an independent nation in Europe would prove so interesting asthat of the Cossacks. " Again he complains of the "withered chronicles";it is only the wealth of his country's song that encourages him to go onwith its history. 

Too much a visionary and a poet to be an impartial historian, it ishardly astonishing to note the judgment he passes on his own work, during that same year, 1834: "My history of Little Russia's past is anextraordinarily made thing, and it could not be otherwise. " The deeperhe goes into Little Russia's past the more fanatically he dreams ofLittle Russia's future. St. Petersburg wearies him, Moscow awakens noemotion in him, he yearns for Kieff, the mother of Russian cities, whichin his vision he sees becoming "the Russian Athens. " Russian historygives him no pleasure, and he separates it definitely from Ukrainianhistory. He is "ready to cast everything aside rather than read Russianhistory, " he writes to Pushkin. During his seven-year stay in St. Petersburg (1829-36) Gogol zealously gathered historical material and, in the words of Professor Kotlyarevsky, "lived in the dream of becomingthe Thucydides of Little Russia. " How completely he disassociatedUkrainia from Northern Russia may be judged by the conspectus of hislectures written in 1832. He says in it, speaking of the conquest ofSouthern Russia in the fourteenth century by Prince Guedimin at the headof his Lithuanian host, still dressed in the skins of wild beasts, stillworshipping the ancient fire and practising pagan rites: "Then SouthernRussia, under the mighty protection of Lithuanian princes, completelyseparated itself from the North. Every bond between them was broken;two kingdoms were established under a single name--Russia--one under theTatar yoke, the other under the same rule with Lithuanians. But actuallythey had no relation with one another; different laws, differentcustoms, different aims, different bonds, and different activities gavethem wholly different characters. "

This same Prince Guedimin freed Kieff from the Tatar yoke. This city hadbeen laid waste by the golden hordes of Ghengis Khan and hidden for avery long time from the Slavonic chronicler as behind an impenetrablecurtain. A shrewd man, Guedimin appointed a Slavonic prince to ruleover the city and permitted the inhabitants to practise their ownfaith, Greek Christianity. Prior to the Mongol invasion, which broughtconflagration and ruin, and subjected Russia to a two-century bondage, cutting her off from Europe, a state of chaos existed and the separatetribes fought with one another constantly and for the most pettyreasons. Mutual depredations were possible owing to the absence ofmountain ranges; there were no natural barriers against sudden attack. The openness of the steppe made the people war-like. But this veryopenness made it possible later for Guedimin's pagan hosts, fresh fromthe fir forests of what is now White Russia, to make a clean sweepof the whole country between Lithuania and Poland, and thus give thescattered princedoms a much-needed cohesion. In this way Ukrainia wasformed. Except for some forests, infested with bears, the country wasone vast plain, marked by an occasional hillock. Whole herds of wildhorses and deer stampeded the country, overgrown with tall grass, whileflocks of wild goats wandered among the rocks of the Dnieper. Apart fromthe Dnieper, and in some measure the Desna, emptying into it, there wereno navigable rivers and so there was little opportunity for a commercialpeople. Several tributaries cut across, but made no real boundary line. Whether you looked to the north towards Russia, to the east towards theTatars, to the south towards the Crimean Tatars, to the west towardsPoland, everywhere the country bordered on a field, everywhere on aplain, which left it open to the invader from every side. Had there beenhere, suggests Gogol in his introduction to his never-written historyof Little Russia, if upon one side only, a real frontier of mountain orsea, the people who settled here might have formed a definite politicalbody. Without this natural protection it became a land subject toconstant attack and despoliation. "There where three hostile nationscame in contact it was manured with bones, wetted with blood. A singleTatar invasion destroyed the whole labour of the soil-tiller; themeadows and the cornfields were trodden down by horses or destroyedby flame, the lightly-built habitations reduced to the ground, theinhabitants scattered or driven off into captivity together with cattle. It was a land of terror, and for this reason there could develop in itonly a warlike people, strong in its unity and desperate, a people whosewhole existence was bound to be trained and confined to war. "

This constant menace, this perpetual pressure of foes on all sides, acted at last like a fierce hammer shaping and hardening resistanceagainst itself. The fugitive from Poland, the fugitive from the Tatarand the Turk, homeless, with nothing to lose, their lives ever exposedto danger, forsook their peaceful occupations and became transformedinto a warlike people, known as the Cossacks, whose appearance towardsthe end of the thirteenth century or at the beginning of the fourteenthwas a remarkable event which possibly alone (suggests Gogol) preventedany further inroads by the two Mohammedan nations into Europe. Theappearance of the Cossacks was coincident with the appearance in Europeof brotherhoods and knighthood-orders, and this new race, in spite ofits living the life of marauders, in spite of turnings its foes' tacticsupon its foes, was not free of the religious spirit of its time; if itwarred for its existence it warred not less for its faith, which wasGreek. Indeed, as the nation grew stronger and became conscious of itsstrength, the struggle began to partake something of the nature of areligious war, not alone defensive but aggressive also, against theunbeliever. While any man was free to join the brotherhood it wasobligatory to believe in the Greek faith. It was this religious unity, blazed into activity by the presence across the borders of unbelievingnations, that alone indicated the germ of a political body in thisgathering of men, who otherwise lived the audacious lives of a bandof highway robbers. "There was, however, " says Gogol, "none of theausterity of the Catholic knight in them; they bound themselves to novows or fasts; they put no self-restraint upon themselves or mortifiedtheir flesh, but were indomitable like the rocks of the Dnieper amongwhich they lived, and in their furious feasts and revels they forgotthe whole world. That same intimate brotherhood, maintained in robbercommunities, bound them together. They had everything in common--wine, food, dwelling. A perpetual fear, a perpetual danger, inspired them witha contempt towards life. The Cossack worried more about a good measureof wine than about his fate. One has to see this denizen of the frontierin his half-Tatar, half-Polish costume--which so sharply outlined thespirit of the borderland--galloping in Asiatic fashion on his horse, nowlost in thick grass, now leaping with the speed of a tiger from ambush, or emerging suddenly from the river or swamp, all clinging with mud, andappearing an image of terror to the Tatar. .. . "

Little by little the community grew and with its growing it began toassume a general character. The beginning of the sixteenth century foundwhole villages settled with families, enjoying the protection of theCossacks, who exacted certain obligations, chiefly military, so thatthese settlements bore a military character. The sword and the ploughwere friends which fraternised at every settler's. On the other hand, Gogol tells us, the gay bachelors began to make depredations across theborder to sweep down on Tatars' wives and their daughters and to marrythem. "Owing to this co-mingling, their facial features, so differentfrom one another's, received a common impress, tending towards theAsiatic. And so there came into being a nation in faith and placebelonging to Europe; on the other hand, in ways of life, customs, anddress quite Asiatic. It was a nation in which the world's two extremescame in contact; European caution and Asiatic indifference, niavete andcunning, an intense activity and the greatest laziness and indulgence, an aspiration to development and perfection, and again a desire toappear indifferent to perfection. "

All of Ukraine took on its colour from the Cossack, and if I have drawnlargely on Gogol's own account of the origins of this race, it wasbecause it seemed to me that Gogol's emphasis on the heroic rather thanon the historical--Gogol is generally discounted as an historian--wouldgive the reader a proper approach to the mood in which he created "TarasBulba, " the finest epic in Russian literature. Gogol never wrote eitherhis history of Little Russia or his universal history. Apart fromseveral brief studies, not always reliable, the net result of his manyyears' application to his scholarly projects was this brief epicin prose, Homeric in mood. The sense of intense living, "livingdangerously"--to use a phrase of Nietzsche's, the recognition of courageas the greatest of all virtues--the God in man, inspired Gogol, livingin an age which tended toward grey tedium, with admiration for his morefortunate forefathers, who lived in "a poetic time, when everything waswon with the sword, when every one in his turn strove to be an activebeing and not a spectator. " Into this short work he poured all his loveof the heroic, all his romanticism, all his poetry, all his joy. Itsabundance of life bears one along like a fast-flowing river. And itis not without humour, a calm, detached humour, which, as the criticBolinsky puts it, is not there merely "because Gogol has a tendency tosee the comic in everything, but because it is true to life. "

Yet "Taras Bulba" was in a sense an accident, just as many other worksof great men are accidents. It often requires a happy combinationof circumstances to produce a masterpiece. I have already told in myintroduction to "Dead Souls" (1) how Gogol created his great realisticmasterpiece, which was to influence Russian literature for generationsto come, under the influence of models so remote in time or placeas "Don Quixote" or "Pickwick Papers"; and how this combination ofinfluences joined to his own genius produced a work quite new andoriginal in effect and only remotely reminiscent of the models whichhave inspired it. And just as "Dead Souls" might never have been writtenif "Don Quixote" had not existed, so there is every reason to believethat "Taras Bulba" could not have been written without the "Odyssey. "Once more ancient fire gave life to new beauty. And yet at the timeGogol could not have had more than a smattering of the "Odyssey. "The magnificent translation made by his friend Zhukovsky had not yetappeared and Gogol, in spite of his ambition to become a historian, wasnot equipped as a scholar. But it is evident from his dithyrambic letteron the appearance of Zhukovsky's version, forming one of the famousseries of letters known as "Correspondence with Friends, " that he wasbetter acquainted with the spirit of Homer than any mere scholar couldbe. That letter, unfortunately unknown to the English reader, would makeevery lover of the classics in this day of their disparagement dancewith joy. He describes the "Odyssey" as the forgotten source of all thatis beautiful and harmonious in life, and he greets its appearance inRussian dress at a time when life is sordid and discordant as a thinginevitable, "cooling" in effect upon a too hectic world. He sees in itsperfect grace, its calm and almost childlike simplicity, a power forindividual and general good. "It combines all the fascination of a fairytale and all the simple truth of human adventure, holding out thesame allurement to every being, whether he is a noble, a commoner, amerchant, a literate or illiterate person, a private soldier, a lackey, children of both sexes, beginning at an age when a child begins to lovea fairy tale--all might read it or listen to it, without tedium. " Everyone will draw from it what he most needs. Not less than upon thesehe sees its wholesome effect on the creative writer, its refreshinginfluence on the critic. But most of all he dwells on its heroicqualities, inseparable to him from what is religious in the "Odyssey";and, says Gogol, this book contains the idea that a human being, "wherever he might be, whatever pursuit he might follow, is threatenedby many woes, that he must need wrestle with them--for that very purposewas life given to him--that never for a single instant must he despair, just as Odysseus did not despair, who in every hard and oppressivemoment turned to his own heart, unaware that with this inner scrutinyof himself he had already said that hidden prayer uttered in a moment ofdistress by every man having no understanding whatever of God. " Then hegoes on to compare the ancient harmony, perfect down to every detail ofdress, to the slightest action, with our slovenliness and confusion andpettiness, a sad result--considering our knowledge of past experience, our possession of superior weapons, our religion given to make us holyand superior beings. And in conclusion he asks: Is not the "Odyssey" inevery sense a deep reproach to our nineteenth century?

 (1) Everyman's Library, No. 726. 

An understanding of Gogol's point of view gives the key to "TarasBulba. " For in this panoramic canvas of the Setch, the militarybrotherhood of the Cossacks, living under open skies, picturesquely andheroically, he has drawn a picture of his romantic ideal, which if farfrom perfect at any rate seemed to him preferable to the grey tedium ofa city peopled with government officials. Gogol has written in "TarasBulba" his own reproach to the nineteenth century. It is sad and joyouslike one of those Ukrainian songs which have helped to inspire him towrite it. And then, as he cut himself off more and more from the worldof the past, life became a sadder and still sadder thing to him; modernlife, with all its gigantic pettiness, closed in around him, he began towrite of petty officials and of petty scoundrels, "commonplace heroes"he called them. But nothing is ever lost in this world. Gogol'sromanticism, shut in within himself, finding no outlet, became a flame. It was a flame of pity. He was like a man walking in hell, pitying. Andthat was the miracle, the transfiguration. Out of that flame of pity theRussian novel was born. 

JOHN COURNOS

Evenings on the Farm near the Dikanka, 1829-31; Mirgorod, 1831-33; TarasBulba, 1834; Arabesques (includes tales, The Portrait and A Madman'sDiary), 1831-35; The Cloak, 1835; The Revizor (The Inspector-General), 1836; Dead Souls, 1842; Correspondence with Friends, 1847; Letters, 1847, 1895, 4 vols. 1902. 

ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS: Cossack Tales (The Night of Christmas Eve, TarassBoolba), trans. By G. Tolstoy, 1860; St. John's Eve and Other Stories, trans. By Isabel F. Hapgood, New York, Crowell, 1886; Taras Bulba: AlsoSt. John's Eve and Other Stories, London, Vizetelly, 1887; Taras Bulba, trans. By B. C. Baskerville, London, Scott, 1907; The Inspector: aComedy, Calcutta, 1890; The Inspector-General, trans. By A. A. Sykes, London, Scott, 1892; Revizor, trans. For the Yale Dramatic Associationby Max S. Mandell, New Haven, Conn. , 1908; Home Life in Russia(adaptation of Dead Souls), London, Hurst, 1854; Tchitchikoff'sJourney's; or Dead Souls, trans. By Isabel F. Hapgood, New York, Crowell, 1886; Dead Souls, London, Vizetelly, 1887; Dead Souls, London, Maxwell 1887; Dead Souls, London, Fisher Unwin, 1915; Dead Souls, London, Everyman's Library (Intro. By John Cournos), 1915; Meditationson the Divine Liturgy, trans. By L. Alexeieff, London, A. R. Mowbray andCo. , 1913. 

LIVES, etc. : (Russian) Kotlyarevsky (N. A. ), 1903; Shenrok (V. I. ), Materials for a Biography, 1892; (French) Leger (L. ), Nicholas Gogol, 1914. 

TARAS BULBA

CHAPTER I

"Turn round, my boy! How ridiculous you look! What sort of a priest'scassock have you got on? Does everybody at the academy dress like that?"

With such words did old Bulba greet his two sons, who had been absentfor their education at the Royal Seminary of Kief, and had now returnedhome to their father. 

His sons had but just dismounted from their horses. They were a coupleof stout lads who still looked bashful, as became youths recentlyreleased from the seminary. Their firm healthy faces were covered withthe first down of manhood, down which had, as yet, never known a razor. They were greatly discomfited by such a reception from their father, andstood motionless with eyes fixed upon the ground. 

"Stand still, stand still! let me have a good look at you, " hecontinued, turning them around. "How long your gaberdines are! Whatgaberdines! There never were such gaberdines in the world before. Justrun, one of you! I want to see whether you will not get entangled in theskirts, and fall down. "

"Don't laugh, don't laugh, father!" said the eldest lad at length. 

"How touchy we are! Why shouldn't I laugh?"

"Because, although you are my father, if you laugh, by heavens, I willstrike you!"

"What kind of son are you? what, strike your father!" exclaimed TarasBulba, retreating several paces in amazement. 

"Yes, even my father. I don't stop to consider persons when an insult isin question. "

"So you want to fight me? with your fist, eh?"

"Any way. "

"Well, let it be fisticuffs, " said Taras Bulba, turning up his sleeves. "I'll see what sort of a man you are with your fists. "

And father and son, in lieu of a pleasant greeting after longseparation, began to deal each other heavy blows on ribs, back, andchest, now retreating and looking at each other, now attacking afresh. 

"Look, good people! the old man has gone man! he has lost his sensescompletely!" screamed their pale, ugly, kindly mother, who was standingon the threshold, and had not yet succeeded in embracing her darlingchildren. "The children have come home, we have not seen them for over ayear; and now he has taken some strange freak--he's pommelling them. "

"Yes, he fights well, " said Bulba, pausing; "well, by heavens!" hecontinued, rather as if excusing himself, "although he has never triedhis hand at it before, he will make a good Cossack! Now, welcome, son!embrace me, " and father and son began to kiss each other. "Good lad! seethat you hit every one as you pommelled me; don't let any one escape. Nevertheless your clothes are ridiculous all the same. What rope is thishanging there?--And you, you lout, why are you standing there with yourhands hanging beside you?" he added, turning to the youngest. "Why don'tyou fight me? you son of a dog!"

"What an idea!" said the mother, who had managed in the meantime toembrace her youngest. "Who ever heard of children fighting their ownfather? That's enough for the present; the child is young, he has hada long journey, he is tired. " The child was over twenty, and about sixfeet high. "He ought to rest, and eat something; and you set him tofighting!"

"You are a gabbler!" said Bulba. "Don't listen to your mother, my lad;she is a woman, and knows nothing. What sort of petting do you need? Aclear field and a good horse, that's the kind of petting for you! And doyou see this sword? that's your mother! All the rest people stuff yourheads with is rubbish; the academy, books, primers, philosophy, and allthat, I spit upon it all!" Here Bulba added a word which is not used inprint. "But I'll tell you what is best: I'll take you to Zaporozhe(1) this very week. That's where there's science for you! There's yourschool; there alone will you gain sense. "

 (1) The Cossack country beyond (za) the falls (porozhe) of the Dnieper. 

"And are they only to remain home a week?" said the worn old mothersadly and with tears in her eyes. "The poor boys will have no chance oflooking around, no chance of getting acquainted with the home where theywere born; there will be no chance for me to get a look at them. "

"Enough, you've howled quite enough, old woman! A Cossack is not bornto run around after women. You would like to hide them both under yourpetticoat, and sit upon them as a hen sits on eggs. Go, go, and letus have everything there is on the table in a trice. We don't want anydumplings, honey-cakes, poppy-cakes, or any other such messes: give usa whole sheep, a goat, mead forty years old, and as much corn-brandy aspossible, not with raisins and all sorts of stuff, but plain scorchingcorn-brandy, which foams and hisses like mad. "

Bulba led his sons into the principal room of the hut; and two prettyservant girls wearing coin necklaces, who were arranging the apartment, ran out quickly. They were either frightened at the arrival of the youngmen, who did not care to be familiar with anyone; or else they merelywanted to keep up their feminine custom of screaming and rushing awayheadlong at the sight of a man, and then screening their blushes forsome time with their sleeves. The hut was furnished according to thefashion of that period--a fashion concerning which hints linger only inthe songs and lyrics, no longer sung, alas! in the Ukraine as of yore byblind old men, to the soft tinkling of the native guitar, to thepeople thronging round them--according to the taste of that warlike andtroublous time, of leagues and battles prevailing in the Ukraine afterthe union. Everything was cleanly smeared with coloured clay. On thewalls hung sabres, hunting-whips, nets for birds, fishing-nets, guns, elaborately carved powder-horns, gilded bits for horses, andtether-ropes with silver plates. The small window had round dullpanes, through which it was impossible to see except by opening the onemoveable one. Around the windows and doors red bands were painted. Onshelves in one corner stood jugs, bottles, and flasks of green andblue glass, carved silver cups, and gilded drinking vessels of variousmakes--Venetian, Turkish, Tscherkessian, which had reached Bulba's cabinby various roads, at third and fourth hand, a thing common enough inthose bold days. There were birch-wood benches all around the room, a huge table under the holy pictures in one corner, and a huge stovecovered with particoloured patterns in relief, with spaces between itand the wall. All this was quite familiar to the two young men, whowere wont to come home every year during the dog-days, since they hadno horses, and it was not customary to allow students to ride afield onhorseback. The only distinctive things permitted them were long locks ofhair on the temples, which every Cossack who bore weapons was entitledto pull. It was only at the end of their course of study that Bulba hadsent them a couple of young stallions from his stud. 

Bulba, on the occasion of his sons' arrival, ordered all the sotniks orcaptains of hundreds, and all the officers of the band who were of anyconsequence, to be summoned; and when two of them arrived with hisold comrade, the Osaul or sub-chief, Dmitro Tovkatch, he immediatelypresented the lads, saying, "See what fine young fellows they are! Ishall send them to the Setch (2) shortly. " The guests congratulatedBulba and the young men, telling them they would do well and that therewas no better knowledge for a young man than a knowledge of that sameZaporozhian Setch. 

 (2) The village or, rather, permanent camp of the Zaporozhian Cossacks. 

"Come, brothers, seat yourselves, each where he likes best, at thetable; come, my sons. First of all, let's take some corn-brandy, " saidBulba. "God bless you! Welcome, lads; you, Ostap, and you, Andrii. Godgrant that you may always be successful in war, that you may beatthe Musselmans and the Turks and the Tatars; and that when the Polesundertake any expedition against our faith, you may beat the Poles. Come, clink your glasses. How now? Is the brandy good? What'scorn-brandy in Latin? The Latins were stupid: they did not know therewas such a thing in the world as corn-brandy. What was the name of theman who wrote Latin verses? I don't know much about reading and writing, so I don't quite know. Wasn't it Horace?"

"What a dad!" thought the elder son Ostap. "The old dog knowseverything, but he always pretends the contrary. "

"I don't believe the archimandrite allowed you so much as a smell ofcorn-brandy, " continued Taras. "Confess, my boys, they thrashed you wellwith fresh birch-twigs on your backs and all over your Cossack bodies;and perhaps, when you grew too sharp, they beat you with whips. And noton Saturday only, I fancy, but on Wednesday and Thursday. "

"What is past, father, need not be recalled; it is done with. "

"Let them try it know, " said Andrii. "Let anybody just touch me, let anyTatar risk it now, and he'll soon learn what a Cossack's sword is like!"

"Good, my son, by heavens, good! And when it comes to that, I'll go withyou; by heavens, I'll go too! What should I wait here for? To become abuckwheat-reaper and housekeeper, to look after the sheep and swine, andloaf around with my wife? Away with such nonsense! I am a Cossack; I'llhave none of it! What's left but war? I'll go with you to Zaporozhe tocarouse; I'll go, by heavens!" And old Bulba, growing warm by degreesand finally quite angry, rose from the table, and, assuming a dignifiedattitude, stamped his foot. "We will go to-morrow! Wherefore delay? Whatenemy can we besiege here? What is this hut to us? What do we want withall these things? What are pots and pans to us?" So saying, he began toknock over the pots and flasks, and to throw them about. 

The poor old woman, well used to such freaks on the part of her husband, looked sadly on from her seat on the wall-bench. She did not dare say aword; but when she heard the decision which was so terrible for her, shecould not refrain from tears. As she looked at her children, from whomso speedy a separation was threatened, it is impossible to describe thefull force of her speechless grief, which seemed to quiver in her eyesand on her lips convulsively pressed together. 

Bulba was terribly headstrong. He was one of those characters whichcould only exist in that fierce fifteenth century, and in thathalf-nomadic corner of Europe, when the whole of Southern Russia, deserted by its princes, was laid waste and burned to the quick bypitiless troops of Mongolian robbers; when men deprived of houseand home grew brave there; when, amid conflagrations, threateningneighbours, and eternal terrors, they settled down, and growingaccustomed to looking these things straight in the face, trainedthemselves not to know that there was such a thing as fear in the world;when the old, peacable Slav spirit was fired with warlike flame, andthe Cossack state was instituted--a free, wild outbreak of Russiannature--and when all the river-banks, fords, and like suitable placeswere peopled by Cossacks, whose number no man knew. Their bold comradeshad a right to reply to the Sultan when he asked how many they were, "Who knows? We are scattered all over the steppes; wherever there is ahillock, there is a Cossack. "

It was, in fact, a most remarkable exhibition of Russian strength, forced by dire necessity from the bosom of the people. In place of theoriginal provinces with their petty towns, in place of the warringand bartering petty princes ruling in their cities, there arose greatcolonies, kurens (3), and districts, bound together by one common dangerand hatred against the heathen robbers. The story is well known howtheir incessant warfare and restless existence saved Europe from themerciless hordes which threatened to overwhelm her. The Polish kings, who now found themselves sovereigns, in place of the provincial princes, over these extensive tracts of territory, fully understood, despite theweakness and remoteness of their own rule, the value of the Cossacks, and the advantages of the warlike, untrammelled life led by them. Theyencouraged them and flattered this disposition of mind. Under theirdistant rule, the hetmans or chiefs, chosen from among the Cossacksthemselves, redistributed the territory into military districts. Itwas not a standing army, no one saw it; but in case of war and generaluprising, it required a week, and no more, for every man to appear onhorseback, fully armed, receiving only one ducat from the king; and intwo weeks such a force had assembled as no recruiting officers wouldever have been able to collect. When the expedition was ended, the armydispersed among the fields and meadows and the fords of the Dnieper;each man fished, wrought at his trade, brewed his beer, and was oncemore a free Cossack. Their foreign contemporaries rightly marvelled attheir wonderful qualities. There was no handicraft which the Cossack wasnot expert at: he could distil brandy, build a waggon, make powder, and do blacksmith's and gunsmith's work, in addition to committing wildexcesses, drinking and carousing as only a Russian can--all this he wasequal to. Besides the registered Cossacks, who considered themselvesbound to appear in arms in time of war, it was possible to collect atany time, in case of dire need, a whole army of volunteers. All that wasrequired was for the Osaul or sub-chief to traverse the market-placesand squares of the villages and hamlets, and shout at the top of hisvoice, as he stood in his waggon, "Hey, you distillers and beer-brewers!you have brewed enough beer, and lolled on your stoves, and stuffedyour fat carcasses with flour, long enough! Rise, win glory and warlikehonours! You ploughmen, you reapers of buckwheat, you tenders of sheep, you danglers after women, enough of following the plough, and soilingyour yellow shoes in the earth, and courting women, and wasting yourwarlike strength! The hour has come to win glory for the Cossacks!"These words were like sparks falling on dry wood. The husbandman brokehis plough; the brewers and distillers threw away their casks anddestroyed their barrels; the mechanics and merchants sent their tradeand their shop to the devil, broke pots and everything else in theirhomes, and mounted their horses. In short, the Russian character herereceived a profound development, and manifested a powerful outwardsexpression. 

 (3) Cossack villages. In the Setch, a large wooden barrack. 

Taras was one of the band of old-fashioned leaders; he was bornfor warlike emotions, and was distinguished for his uprightness ofcharacter. At that epoch the influence of Poland had already begun tomake itself felt upon the Russian nobility. Many had adopted Polishcustoms, and began to display luxury in splendid staffs of servants, hawks, huntsmen, dinners, and palaces. This was not to Taras's taste. Heliked the simple life of the Cossacks, and quarrelled with those of hiscomrades who were inclined to the Warsaw party, calling them serfs ofthe Polish nobles. Ever on the alert, he regarded himself as the legalprotector of the orthodox faith. He entered despotically into anyvillage where there was a general complaint of oppression by the revenuefarmers and of the addition of fresh taxes on necessaries. He and hisCossacks executed justice, and made it a rule that in three cases itwas absolutely necessary to resort to the sword. Namely, when thecommissioners did not respect the superior officers and stood beforethem covered; when any one made light of the faith and did not observethe customs of his ancestors; and, finally, when the enemy wereMussulmans or Turks, against whom he considered it permissible, in everycase, to draw the sword for the glory of Christianity. 

Now he rejoiced beforehand at the thought of how he would presenthimself with his two sons at the Setch, and say, "See what fine youngfellows I have brought you!" how he would introduce them to all his oldcomrades, steeled in warfare; how he would observe their first exploitsin the sciences of war and of drinking, which was also regarded as oneof the principal warlike qualities. At first he had intended to sendthem forth alone; but at the sight of their freshness, stature, andmanly personal beauty his martial spirit flamed up and he resolved to gowith them himself the very next day, although there was no necessity forthis except his obstinate self-will. He began at once to hurry about andgive orders; selected horses and trappings for his sons, looked throughthe stables and storehouses, and chose servants to accompany them onthe morrow. He delegated his power to Osaul Tovkatch, and gave with ita strict command to appear with his whole force at the Setch the veryinstant he should receive a message from him. Although he was jolly, andthe effects of his drinking bout still lingered in his brain, he forgotnothing. He even gave orders that the horses should be watered, theircribs filled, and that they should be fed with the finest corn; and thenhe retired, fatigued with all his labours. 

"Now, children, we must sleep, but to-morrow we shall do what God wills. Don't prepare us a bed: we need no bed; we will sleep in the courtyard. "

Night had but just stole over the heavens, but Bulba always went tobed early. He lay down on a rug and covered himself with a sheepskinpelisse, for the night air was quite sharp and he liked to lie warm whenhe was at home. He was soon snoring, and the whole household speedilyfollowed his example. All snored and groaned as they lay in differentcorners. The watchman went to sleep the first of all, he had drunk somuch in honour of the young masters' home-coming. 

The mother alone did not sleep. She bent over the pillow of herbeloved sons, as they lay side by side; she smoothed with a comb theircarelessly tangled locks, and moistened them with her tears. She gazedat them with her whole soul, with every sense; she was wholly merged inthe gaze, and yet she could not gaze enough. She had fed them at herown breast, she had tended them and brought them up; and now to see themonly for an instant! "My sons, my darling sons! what will become of you!what fate awaits you?" she said, and tears stood in the wrinkles whichdisfigured her once beautiful face. In truth, she was to be pitied, aswas every woman of that period. She had lived only for a moment of love, only during the first ardour of passion, only during the first flush ofyouth; and then her grim betrayer had deserted her for the sword, forhis comrades and his carouses. She saw her husband two or three days ina year, and then, for several years, heard nothing of him. And whenshe did see him, when they did live together, what a life was hers! Sheendured insult, even blows; she felt caresses bestowed only in pity;she was a misplaced object in that community of unmarried warriors, uponwhich wandering Zaporozhe cast a colouring of its own. Her pleasurelessyouth flitted by; her ripe cheeks and bosom withered away unkissed andbecame covered with premature wrinkles. Love, feeling, everything thatis tender and passionate in a woman, was converted in her into maternallove. She hovered around her children with anxiety, passion, tears, likethe gull of the steppes. They were taking her sons, her darling sons, from her--taking them from her, so that she should never see them again!Who knew? Perhaps a Tatar would cut off their heads in the very firstskirmish, and she would never know where their deserted bodies mightlie, torn by birds of prey; and yet for each single drop of their bloodshe would have given all hers. Sobbing, she gazed into their eyes, andthought, "Perhaps Bulba, when he wakes, will put off their departure fora day or two; perhaps it occurred to him to go so soon because he hadbeen drinking. "

The moon from the summit of the heavens had long since lit up the wholecourtyard filled with sleepers, the thick clump of willows, and the tallsteppe-grass, which hid the palisade surrounding the court. She stillsat at her sons' pillow, never removing her eyes from them for a moment, nor thinking of sleep. Already the horses, divining the approach ofdawn, had ceased eating and lain down upon the grass; the topmost leavesof the willows began to rustle softly, and little by little therippling rustle descended to their bases. She sat there until daylight, unwearied, and wishing in her heart that the night might prolong itselfindefinitely. From the steppes came the ringing neigh of the horses, andred streaks shone brightly in the sky. Bulba suddenly awoke, and sprangto his feet. He remembered quite well what he had ordered the nightbefore. "Now, my men, you've slept enough! 'tis time, 'tis time! Waterthe horses! And where is the old woman?" He generally called his wifeso. "Be quick, old woman, get us something to eat; the way is long. "

The poor old woman, deprived of her last hope, slipped sadly into thehut. 

Whilst she, with tears, prepared what was needed for breakfast, Bulbagave his orders, went to the stable, and selected his best trappings forhis children with his own hand. 

The scholars were suddenly transformed. Red morocco boots with silverheels took the place of their dirty old ones; trousers wide as the BlackSea, with countless folds and plaits, were kept up by golden girdlesfrom which hung long slender thongs, with tassles and other tinklingthings, for pipes. Their jackets of scarlet cloth were girt by floweredsashes into which were thrust engraved Turkish pistols; their swordsclanked at their heels. Their faces, already a little sunburnt, seemedto have grown handsomer and whiter; their slight black moustaches nowcast a more distinct shadow on this pallor and set off their healthyyouthful complexions. They looked very handsome in their black sheepskincaps, with cloth-of-gold crowns. 

When their poor mother saw them, she could not utter a word, and tearsstood in her eyes. 

"Now, my lads, all is ready; no delay!" said Bulba at last. "But we mustfirst all sit down together, in accordance with Christian custom beforea journey. "

All sat down, not excepting the servants, who had been standingrespectfully at the door. 

"Now, mother, bless your children, " said Bulba. "Pray God that they mayfight bravely, always defend their warlike honour, always defend thefaith of Christ; and, if not, that they may die, so that their breathmay not be longer in the world. "

"Come to your mother, children; a mother's prayer protects on land andsea. "

The mother, weak as mothers are, embraced them, drew out two smallholy pictures, and hung them, sobbing, around their necks. "May God'smother--keep you! Children, do not forget your mother--send some littleword of yourselves--" She could say no more. 

"Now, children, let us go, " said Bulba. 

At the door stood the horses, ready saddled. Bulba sprang upon his"Devil, " which bounded wildly, on feeling on his back a load of overthirty stone, for Taras was extremely stout and heavy. 

When the mother saw that her sons were also mounted, she rushed towardsthe younger, whose features expressed somewhat more gentleness thanthose of his brother. She grasped his stirrup, clung to his saddle, andwith despair in her eyes, refused to loose her hold. Two stout Cossacksseized her carefully, and bore her back into the hut. But before thecavalcade had passed out of the courtyard, she rushed with the speed ofa wild goat, disproportionate to her years, to the gate, stopped ahorse with irresistible strength, and embraced one of her sons with mad, unconscious violence. Then they led her away again. 

The young Cossacks rode on sadly, repressing their tears out of fear oftheir father, who, on his side, was somewhat moved, although he strovenot to show it. The morning was grey, the green sward bright, the birdstwittered rather discordantly. They glanced back as they rode. Theirpaternal farm seemed to have sunk into the earth. All that was visibleabove the surface were the two chimneys of their modest hut and the topsof the trees up whose trunks they had been used to climb like squirrels. Before them still stretched the field by which they could recall thewhole story of their lives, from the years when they rolled in its dewygrass down to the years when they awaited in it the dark-browed Cossackmaiden, running timidly across it on quick young feet. There is thepole above the well, with the waggon wheel fastened to its top, risingsolitary against the sky; already the level which they have traversedappears a hill in the distance, and now all has disappeared. Farewell, childhood, games, all, all, farewell!

CHAPTER II

All three horsemen rode in silence. Old Taras's thoughts were far away:before him passed his youth, his years--the swift-flying years, overwhich the Cossack always weeps, wishing that his life might be allyouth. He wondered whom of his former comrades he should meet at theSetch. He reckoned up how many had already died, how many were stillalive. Tears formed slowly in his eyes, and his grey head bent sadly. 

His sons were occupied with other thoughts. But we must speak further ofhis sons. They had been sent, when twelve years old, to the academy atKief, because all leaders of that day considered it indispensable togive their children an education, although it was afterwards utterlyforgotten. Like all who entered the academy, they were wild, having beenbrought up in unrestrained freedom; and whilst there they had acquiredsome polish, and pursued some common branches of knowledge which gavethem a certain resemblance to each other. 

The elder, Ostap, began his scholastic career by running away in thecourse of the first year. They brought him back, whipped him well, andset him down to his books. Four times did he bury his primer in theearth; and four times, after giving him a sound thrashing, did they buyhim a new one. But he would no doubt have repeated this feat for thefifth time, had not his father given him a solemn assurance that hewould keep him at monastic work for twenty years, and sworn in advancethat he should never behold Zaporozhe all his life long, unless helearned all the sciences taught in the academy. It was odd that the manwho said this was that very Taras Bulba who condemned all learning, andcounselled his children, as we have seen, not to trouble themselves atall about it. From that moment, Ostap began to pore over his tiresomebooks with exemplary diligence, and quickly stood on a level with thebest. The style of education in that age differed widely from the mannerof life. The scholastic, grammatical, rhetorical, and logical subtleties in vogue were decidedly out of consonance with the times, neverhaving any connection with, and never being encountered in, actual life. Those who studied them, even the least scholastic, could not apply theirknowledge to anything whatever. The learned men of those days wereeven more incapable than the rest, because farther removed from allexperience. Moreover, the republican constitution of the academy, the fearful multitude of young, healthy, strong fellows, inspired thestudents with an activity quite outside the limits of their learning. Poor fare, or frequent punishments of fasting, with the numerousrequirements arising in fresh, strong, healthy youth, combined to arousein them that spirit of enterprise which was afterwards further developedamong the Zaporozhians. The hungry student running about the streets ofKief forced every one to be on his guard. Dealers sitting in the bazaarcovered their pies, their cakes, and their pumpkin-rolls with theirhands, like eagles protecting their young, if they but caught sight ofa passing student. The consul or monitor, who was bound by his duty tolook after the comrades entrusted to his care, had such frightfully widepockets to his trousers that he could stow away the whole contentsof the gaping dealer's stall in them. These students constituted anentirely separate world, for they were not admitted to the highercircles, composed of Polish and Russian nobles. Even the Waiwode, AdamKisel, in spite of the patronage he bestowed upon the academy, did notseek to introduce them into society, and ordered them to be kept morestrictly in supervision. This command was quite superfluous, for neitherthe rector nor the monkish professors spared rod or whip; and thelictors sometimes, by their orders, lashed their consuls so severelythat the latter rubbed their trousers for weeks afterwards. This was tomany of them a trifle, only a little more stinging than good vodka withpepper: others at length grew tired of such constant blisters, and ranaway to Zaporozhe if they could find the road and were not caught on theway. Ostap Bulba, although he began to study logic, and even theology, with much zeal, did not escape the merciless rod. Naturally, allthis tended to harden his character, and give him that firmness whichdistinguishes the Cossacks. He always held himself aloof from hiscomrades. 

He rarely led others into such hazardous enterprises as robbing astrange garden or orchard; but, on the other hand, he was always amongthe first to join the standard of an adventurous student. Andnever, under any circumstances, did he betray his comrades; neitherimprisonment nor beatings could make him do so. He was unassailable byany temptations save those of war and revelry; at least, he scarcelyever dreamt of others. He was upright with his equals. He waskind-hearted, after the only fashion that kind-heartedness could existin such a character and at such a time. He was touched to his very heartby his poor mother's tears; but this only vexed him, and caused him tohang his head in thought. 

His younger brother, Andrii, had livelier and more fully developedfeelings. He learned more willingly and without the effort with whichstrong and weighty characters generally have to make in order to applythemselves to study. He was more inventive-minded than his brother, andfrequently appeared as the leader of dangerous expeditions; sometimes, thanks to the quickness of his mind, contriving to escape punishmentwhen his brother Ostap, abandoning all efforts, stripped off hisgaberdine and lay down upon the floor without a thought of begging formercy. He too thirsted for action; but, at the same time, his soul wasaccessible to other sentiments. The need of love burned ardently withinhim. When he had passed his eighteenth year, woman began to presentherself more frequently in his dreams; listening to philosophicaldiscussions, he still beheld her, fresh, black-eyed, tender; before himconstantly flitted her elastic bosom, her soft, bare arms; the very gownwhich clung about her youthful yet well-rounded limbs breathed into hisvisions a certain inexpressible sensuousness. He carefully concealedthis impulse of his passionate young soul from his comrades, because inthat age it was held shameful and dishonourable for a Cossack to thinkof love and a wife before he had tasted battle. On the whole, during thelast year, he had acted more rarely as leader to the bands of students, but had roamed more frequently alone, in remote corners of Kief, amonglow-roofed houses, buried in cherry orchards, peeping alluringly at thestreet. Sometimes he betook himself to the more aristocratic streets, in the old Kief of to-day, where dwelt Little Russian and Polish nobles, and where houses were built in more fanciful style. Once, as he wasgaping along, an old-fashioned carriage belonging to some Polish noblealmost drove over him; and the heavily moustached coachman, who sat onthe box, gave him a smart cut with his whip. The young student fired up;with thoughtless daring he seized the hind-wheel with his powerful handsand stopped the carriage. But the coachman, fearing a drubbing, lashedhis horses; they sprang forward, and Andrii, succeeding happily infreeing his hands, was flung full length on the ground with his faceflat in the mud. The most ringing and harmonious of laughs resoundedabove him. He raised his eyes and saw, standing at a window, a beautysuch as he had never beheld in all his life, black-eyed, and withskin white as snow illumined by the dawning flush of the sun. She waslaughing heartily, and her laugh enhanced her dazzling loveliness. Takenaback he gazed at her in confusion, abstractedly wiping the mud fromhis face, by which means it became still further smeared. Who couldthis beauty be? He sought to find out from the servants, who, inrich liveries, stood at the gate in a crowd surrounding a youngguitar-player; but they only laughed when they saw his besmeared faceand deigned him no reply. At length he learned that she was the daughterof the Waiwode of Koven, who had come thither for a time. The followingnight, with the daring characteristic of the student, he crept throughthe palings into the garden and climbed a tree which spread its branchesupon the very roof of the house. From the tree he gained the roof, andmade his way down the chimney straight into the bedroom of the beauty, who at that moment was seated before a lamp, engaged in removing thecostly earrings from her ears. The beautiful Pole was so alarmed onsuddenly beholding an unknown man that she could not utter a singleword; but when she perceived that the student stood before her withdowncast eyes, not daring to move a hand through timidity, when sherecognised in him the one who had fallen in the street, laughter againoverpowered her. 

Moreover, there was nothing terrible about Andrii's features; he wasvery handsome. She laughed heartily, and amused herself over him fora long time. The lady was giddy, like all Poles; but her eyes--herwondrous clear, piercing eyes--shot one glance, a long glance. Thestudent could not move hand or foot, but stood bound as in a sack, whenthe Waiwode's daughter approached him boldly, placed upon his head herglittering diadem, hung her earrings on his lips, and flung over hima transparent muslin chemisette with gold-embroidered garlands. Sheadorned him, and played a thousand foolish pranks, with the childishcarelessness which distinguishes the giddy Poles, and which threw thepoor student into still greater confusion. 

He cut a ridiculous feature, gazing immovably, and with open mouth, intoher dazzling eyes. A knock at the door startled her. She ordered himto hide himself under the bed, and, as soon as the disturber was gone, called her maid, a Tatar prisoner, and gave her orders to conduct him tothe garden with caution, and thence show him through the fence. But ourstudent this time did not pass the fence so successfully. The watchmanawoke, and caught him firmly by the foot; and the servants, assembling, beat him in the street, until his swift legs rescued him. After thatit became very dangerous to pass the house, for the Waiwode's domesticswere numerous. He met her once again at church. She saw him, and smiledpleasantly, as at an old acquaintance. He saw her once more, by chance;but shortly afterwards the Waiwode departed, and, instead of thebeautiful black-eyed Pole, some fat face or other gazed from the window. This was what Andrii was thinking about, as he hung his head and kepthis eyes on his horse's mane. 

In the meantime the steppe had long since received them all into itsgreen embrace; and the high grass, closing round, concealed them, tillonly their black Cossack caps appeared above it. 

"Eh, eh, why are you so quiet, lads?" said Bulba at length, waking fromhis own reverie. "You're like monks. Now, all thinking to the Evil One, once for all! Take your pipes in your teeth, and let us smoke, and spuron our horses so swiftly that no bird can overtake us. "

And the Cossacks, bending low on their horses' necks, disappeared in thegrass. Their black caps were no longer to be seen; a streak of troddengrass alone showed the trace of their swift flight. 

The sun had long since looked forth from the clear heavens and inundatedthe steppe with his quickening, warming light. All that was dim anddrowsy in the Cossacks' minds flew away in a twinkling: their heartsfluttered like birds. 

The farther they penetrated the steppe, the more beautiful it became. Then all the South, all that region which now constitutes New Russia, even as far as the Black Sea, was a green, virgin wilderness. No ploughhad ever passed over the immeasurable waves of wild growth; horsesalone, hidden in it as in a forest, trod it down. Nothing in naturecould be finer. The whole surface resembled a golden-green ocean, uponwhich were sprinkled millions of different flowers. Through the tall, slender stems of the grass peeped light-blue, dark-blue, and lilacstar-thistles; the yellow broom thrust up its pyramidal head; theparasol-shaped white flower of the false flax shimmered on high. Awheat-ear, brought God knows whence, was filling out to ripening. Amongst the roots of this luxuriant vegetation ran partridges withoutstretched necks. The air was filled with the notes of a thousanddifferent birds. On high hovered the hawks, their wings outspread, andtheir eyes fixed intently on the grass. The cries of a flock of wildducks, ascending from one side, were echoed from God knows what distantlake. From the grass arose, with measured sweep, a gull, and skimmedwantonly through blue waves of air. And now she has vanished on high, and appears only as a black dot: now she has turned her wings, andshines in the sunlight. Oh, steppes, how beautiful you are!

Our travellers halted only a few minutes for dinner. Their escort of tenCossacks sprang from their horses and undid the wooden casks of brandy, and the gourds which were used instead of drinking vessels. They ateonly cakes of bread and dripping; they drank but one cup apiece tostrengthen them, for Taras Bulba never permitted intoxication upon theroad, and then continued their journey until evening. 

In the evening the whole steppe changed its aspect. All its variedexpanse was bathed in the last bright glow of the sun; and as it grewdark gradually, it could be seen how the shadow flitted across it and itbecame dark green. The mist rose more densely; each flower, each bladeof grass, emitted a fragrance as of ambergris, and the whole steppedistilled perfume. Broad bands of rosy gold were streaked across thedark blue heaven, as with a gigantic brush; here and there gleamed, in white tufts, light and transparent clouds: and the freshest, most enchanting of gentle breezes barely stirred the tops of thegrass-blades, like sea-waves, and caressed the cheek. The music whichhad resounded through the day had died away, and given place to another. The striped marmots crept out of their holes, stood erect on theirhind legs, and filled the steppe with their whistle. The whirr of thegrasshoppers had become more distinctly audible. Sometimes the cry ofthe swan was heard from some distant lake, ringing through the air likea silver trumpet. The travellers, halting in the midst of the plain, selected a spot for their night encampment, made a fire, and hung overit the kettle in which they cooked their oatmeal; the steam rising andfloating aslant in the air. Having supped, the Cossacks lay down tosleep, after hobbling their horses and turning them out to graze. Theylay down in their gaberdines. The stars of night gazed directly downupon them. They could hear the countless myriads of insects which filledthe grass; their rasping, whistling, and chirping, softened by the freshair, resounded clearly through the night, and lulled the drowsy ear. Ifone of them rose and stood for a time, the steppe presented itself tohim strewn with the sparks of glow-worms. At times the night skywas illumined in spots by the glare of burning reeds along pools orriver-bank; and dark flights of swans flying to the north were suddenlylit up by the silvery, rose-coloured gleam, till it seemed as though redkerchiefs were floating in the dark heavens. 

The travellers proceeded onward without any adventure. They came acrossno villages. It was ever the same boundless, waving, beautiful steppe. Only at intervals the summits of distant forests shone blue, on onehand, stretching along the banks of the Dnieper. Once only did Taraspoint out to his sons a small black speck far away amongst the grass, saying, "Look, children! yonder gallops a Tatar. " The little head withits long moustaches fixed its narrow eyes upon them from afar, itsnostrils snuffing the air like a greyhound's, and then disappeared likean antelope on its owner perceiving that the Cossacks were thirteenstrong. "And now, children, don't try to overtake the Tatar! You wouldnever catch him to all eternity; he has a horse swifter than my Devil. "But Bulba took precautions, fearing hidden ambushes. They galloped alongthe course of a small stream, called the Tatarka, which falls into theDnieper; rode into the water and swam with their horses some distancein order to conceal their trail. Then, scrambling out on the bank, theycontinued their road. 

Three days later they were not far from the goal of their journey. Theair suddenly grew colder: they could feel the vicinity of the Dnieper. And there it gleamed afar, distinguishable on the horizon as a darkband. It sent forth cold waves, spreading nearer, nearer, and finallyseeming to embrace half the entire surface of the earth. This was thatsection of its course where the river, hitherto confined by the rapids, finally makes its own away and, roaring like the sea, rushes on at will;where the islands, flung into its midst, have pressed it fartherfrom their shores, and its waves have spread widely over the earth, encountering neither cliffs nor hills. The Cossacks, alighting fromtheir horses, entered the ferry-boat, and after a three hours' sailreached the shores of the island of Khortitz, where at that time stoodthe Setch, which so often changed its situation. 

A throng of people hastened to the shore with boats. The Cossacksarranged the horses' trappings. Taras assumed a stately air, pulled hisbelt tighter, and proudly stroked his moustache. His sons also inspectedthemselves from head to foot, with some apprehension and an undefinedfeeling of satisfaction; and all set out together for the suburb, whichwas half a verst from the Setch. On their arrival, they were deafened bythe clang of fifty blacksmiths' hammers beating upon twenty-five anvilssunk in the earth. Stout tanners seated beneath awnings were scrapingox-hides with their strong hands; shop-keepers sat in their booths, withpiles of flints, steels, and powder before them; Armenians spread outtheir rich handkerchiefs; Tatars turned their kabobs upon spits; a Jew, with his head thrust forward, was filtering some corn-brandy from acask. But the first man they encountered was a Zaporozhetz (1) who wassleeping in the very middle of the road with legs and arms outstretched. Taras Bulba could not refrain from halting to admire him. "Howsplendidly developed he is; phew, what a magnificent figure!" hesaid, stopping his horse. It was, in fact, a striking picture. ThisZaporozhetz had stretched himself out in the road like a lion; hisscalp-lock, thrown proudly behind him, extended over upwards of a footof ground; his trousers of rich red cloth were spotted with tar, to showhis utter disdain for them. Having admired to his heart's content, Bulbapassed on through the narrow street, crowded with mechanics exercisingtheir trades, and with people of all nationalities who thronged thissuburb of the Setch, resembling a fair, and fed and clothed the Setchitself, which knew only how to revel and burn powder. 

 (1) Sometimes written Zaporovian. 

At length they left the suburb behind them, and perceived some scatteredkurens (2), covered with turf, or in Tatar fashion with felt. Some werefurnished with cannon. Nowhere were any fences visible, or any of thoselow-roofed houses with verandahs supported upon low wooden pillars, suchas were seen in the suburb. A low wall and a ditch, totally unguarded, betokened a terrible degree of recklessness. Some sturdy Zaporozhtzilying, pipe in mouth, in the very road, glanced indifferently at them, but never moved from their places. Taras threaded his way carefullyamong them, with his sons, saying, "Good-day, gentles. "--"Good-dayto you, " answered the Zaporozhtzi. Scattered over the plain werepicturesque groups. From their weatherbeaten faces, it was plain thatall were steeled in battle, and had faced every sort of bad weather. Andthere it was, the Setch! There was the lair from whence all those men, proud and strong as lions, issued forth! There was the spot whencepoured forth liberty and Cossacks all over the Ukraine. 

 (2) Enormous wooden sheds, each inhabited by a troop or kuren. 

The travellers entered the great square where the council generally met. On a huge overturned cask sat a Zaporozhetz without his shirt; he washolding it in his hands, and slowly sewing up the holes in it. Againtheir way was stopped by a whole crowd of musicians, in the midst ofwhom a young Zaporozhetz was dancing, with head thrown back and armsoutstretched. He kept shouting, "Play faster, musicians! Begrudgenot, Thoma, brandy to these orthodox Christians!" And Thoma, with hisblackened eye, went on measuring out without stint, to every one whopresented himself, a huge jugful. 

About the youthful Zaporozhetz four old men, moving their feet quitebriskly, leaped like a whirlwind to one side, almost upon the musicians'heads, and, suddenly, retreating, squatted down and drummed the hardearth vigorously with their silver heels. The earth hummed dully allabout, and afar the air resounded with national dance tunes beaten bythe clanging heels of their boots. 

But one shouted more loudly than all the rest, and flew after the othersin the dance. His scalp-lock streamed in the wind, his muscular chestwas bare, his warm, winter fur jacket was hanging by the sleeves, andthe perspiration poured from him as from a pig. "Take off your jacket!"said Taras at length: "see how he steams!"--"I can't, " shouted theCossack. "Why?"--"I can't: I have such a disposition that whatever Itake off, I drink up. " And indeed, the young fellow had not had acap for a long time, nor a belt to his caftan, nor an embroideredneckerchief: all had gone the proper road. The throng increased; morefolk joined the dancer: and it was impossible to observe without emotionhow all yielded to the impulse of the dance, the freest, the wildest, the world has ever seen, still called from its mighty originators, theKosachka. 

"Oh, if I had no horse to hold, " exclaimed Taras, "I would join thedance myself. "

Meanwhile there began to appear among the throng men who were respectedfor their prowess throughout all the Setch--old greyheads who had beenleaders more than once. Taras soon found a number of familiarfaces. Ostap and Andrii heard nothing but greetings. "Ah, it isyou, Petcheritza! Good day, Kozolup!"--"Whence has God brought you, Taras?"--"How did you come here, Doloto? Health to you, Kirdyaga!Hail to you, Gustui! Did I ever think of seeing you, Remen?" And theseheroes, gathered from all the roving population of Eastern Russia, kissed each other and began to ask questions. "But what has become ofKasyan? Where is Borodavka? and Koloper? and Pidsuitok?" And in reply, Taras Bulba learned that Borodavka had been hung at Tolopan, thatKoloper had been flayed alive at Kizikirmen, that Pidsuitok's head hadbeen salted and sent in a cask to Constantinople. Old Bulba hung hishead and said thoughtfully, "They were good Cossacks. "

CHAPTER III

Taras Bulba and his sons had been in the Setch about a week. Ostap andAndrii occupied themselves but little with the science of war. The Setchwas not fond of wasting time in warlike exercises. The young generationlearned these by experience alone, in the very heat of battles, whichwere therefore incessant. The Cossacks thought it a nuisance to fill upthe intervals of this instruction with any kind of drill, exceptperhaps shooting at a mark, and on rare occasions with horse-racing andwild-beast hunts on the steppes and in the forests. All the rest ofthe time was devoted to revelry--a sign of the wide diffusion of moralliberty. The whole of the Setch presented an unusual scene: it was oneunbroken revel; a ball noisily begun, which had no end. Some busiedthemselves with handicrafts; others kept little shops and traded;but the majority caroused from morning till night, if the wherewithaljingled in their pockets, and if the booty they had captured had notalready passed into the hands of the shopkeepers and spirit-sellers. This universal revelry had something fascinating about it. It was notan assemblage of topers, who drank to drown sorrow, but simply a wildrevelry of joy. Every one who came thither forgot everything, abandonedeverything which had hitherto interested him. He, so to speak, spatupon his past and gave himself recklessly up to freedom and thegood-fellowship of men of the same stamp as himself--idlers havingneither relatives nor home nor family, nothing, in short, save the freesky and the eternal revel of their souls. This gave rise to that wildgaiety which could not have sprung from any other source. The tales andtalk current among the assembled crowd, reposing lazily on the ground, were often so droll, and breathed such power of vivid narration, thatit required all the nonchalance of a Zaporozhetz to retain his immovableexpression, without even a twitch of the moustache--a feature which tothis day distinguishes the Southern Russian from his northern brethren. It was drunken, noisy mirth; but there was no dark ale-house where aman drowns thought in stupefying intoxication: it was a dense throng ofschoolboys. 

The only difference as regarded the students was that, instead ofsitting under the pointer and listening to the worn-out doctrines of ateacher, they practised racing with five thousand horses; instead of thefield where they had played ball, they had the boundless borderlands, where at the sight of them the Tatar showed his keen face and the Turkfrowned grimly from under his green turban. The difference was that, instead of being forced to the companionship of school, they themselveshad deserted their fathers and mothers and fled from their homes; thathere were those about whose neck a rope had already been wound, and who, instead of pale death, had seen life, and life in all its intensity;those who, from generous habits, could never keep a coin in theirpockets; those who had thitherto regarded a ducat as wealth, and whosepockets, thanks to the Jew revenue-farmers, could have been turned wrongside out without any danger of anything falling from them. Here werestudents who could not endure the academic rod, and had not carried awaya single letter from the schools; but with them were also some who knewabout Horace, Cicero, and the Roman Republic. There were many leaderswho afterwards distinguished themselves in the king's armies; and therewere numerous clever partisans who cherished a magnanimous convictionthat it was of no consequence where they fought, so long as they didfight, since it was a disgrace to an honourable man to live withoutfighting. There were many who had come to the Setch for the sake ofbeing able to say afterwards that they had been there and were thereforehardened warriors. But who was not there? This strange republic was anecessary outgrowth of the epoch. Lovers of a warlike life, of goldenbeakers and rich brocades, of ducats and gold pieces, could always findemployment there. The lovers of women alone could find naught, for nowoman dared show herself even in the suburbs of the Setch. 

It seemed exceedingly strange to Ostap and Andrii that, although a crowdof people had come to the Setch with them, not a soul inquired, "Whencecome these men? who are they? and what are their names?" They had comethither as though returning to a home whence they had departed only anhour before. The new-comer merely presented himself to the Koschevoi, orhead chief of the Setch, who generally said, "Welcome! Do you believe inChrist?"--"I do, " replied the new-comer. "And do you believe in theHoly Trinity?"--"I do. "--"And do you go to church?"--"I do. " "Now crossyourself. " The new-comer crossed himself. "Very good, " replied theKoschevoi; "enter the kuren where you have most acquaintances. " Thisconcluded the ceremony. And all the Setch prayed in one church, and werewilling to defend it to their last drop of blood, although they wouldnot hearken to aught about fasting or abstinence. Jews, Armenians, and Tatars, inspired by strong avarice, took the liberty of living andtrading in the suburbs; for the Zaporozhtzi never cared for bargaining, and paid whatever money their hand chanced to grasp in their pocket. Moreover, the lot of these gain-loving traders was pitiable in theextreme. They resembled people settled at the foot of Vesuvius; for whenthe Zaporozhtzi lacked money, these bold adventurers broke down theirbooths and took everything gratis. The Setch consisted of over sixtykurens, each of which greatly resembled a separate independent republic, but still more a school or seminary of children, always ready foranything. No one had any occupation; no one retained anything forhimself; everything was in the hands of the hetman of the kuren, who, on that account, generally bore the title of "father. " In his hands weredeposited the money, clothes, all the provisions, oatmeal, grain, eventhe firewood. They gave him money to take care of. Quarrels amongst theinhabitants of the kuren were not unfrequent; and in such cases theyproceeded at once to blows. The inhabitants of the kuren swarmed intothe square, and smote each other with their fists, until one side hadfinally gained the upper hand, when the revelry began. Such was theSetch, which had such an attraction for young men. 

Ostap and Andrii flung themselves into this sea of dissipation withall the ardour of youth, forgot in a trice their father's house, theseminary, and all which had hitherto exercised their minds, and gavethemselves wholly up to their new life. Everything interested them--thejovial habits of the Setch, and its chaotic morals and laws, which evenseemed to them too strict for such a free republic. If a Cossack stolethe smallest trifle, it was considered a disgrace to the whole Cossackcommunity. He was bound to the pillar of shame, and a club was laidbeside him, with which each passer-by was bound to deal him a blow untilin this manner he was beaten to death. He who did not pay his debts waschained to a cannon, until some one of his comrades should decideto ransom him by paying his debts for him. But what made the deepestimpression on Andrii was the terrible punishment decreed for murder. Ahole was dug in his presence, the murderer was lowered alive into it, and over him was placed a coffin containing the body of the man he hadkilled, after which the earth was thrown upon both. Long afterwards thefearful ceremony of this horrible execution haunted his mind, and theman who had been buried alive appeared to him with his terrible coffin. 

Both the young Cossacks soon took a good standing among their fellows. They often sallied out upon the steppe with comrades from their kuren, and sometimes too with the whole kuren or with neighbouring kurens, toshoot the innumerable steppe-birds of every sort, deer, and goats. Orthey went out upon the lakes, the river, and its tributaries allotted toeach kuren, to throw their nets and draw out rich prey for the enjoymentof the whole kuren. Although unversed in any trade exercised by aCossack, they were soon remarked among the other youths for theirobstinate bravery and daring in everything. Skilfully and accuratelythey fired at the mark, and swam the Dnieper against the current--adeed for which the novice was triumphantly received into the circle ofCossacks. 

But old Taras was planning a different sphere of activity for them. Such an idle life was not to his mind; he wanted active employment. Hereflected incessantly how to stir up the Setch to some bold enterprise, wherein a man could revel as became a warrior. At length he went one dayto the Koschevoi, and said plainly:--

"Well, Koschevoi, it is time for the Zaporozhtzi to set out. "

"There is nowhere for them to go, " replied the Koschevoi, removing hisshort pipe from his mouth and spitting to one side. 

"What do you mean by nowhere? We can go to Turkey or Tatary. "

"Impossible to go either to Turkey or Tatary, " replied the Koschevoi, putting his pipe coolly into his mouth again. 

"Why impossible?"

"It is so; we have promised the Sultan peace. "

"But he is a Mussulman; and God and the Holy Scriptures command us toslay Mussulmans. "

"We have no right. If we had not sworn by our faith, it might be done;but now it is impossible. "

"How is it impossible? How can you say that we have no right? Here aremy two sons, both young men. Neither has been to war; and you say thatwe have no right, and that there is no need for the Zaporozhtzi to setout on an expedition. "

"Well, it is not fitting. "

"Then it must be fitting that Cossack strength should be wasted in vain, that a man should disappear like a dog without having done a single gooddeed, that he should be of no use to his country or to Christianity!Why, then, do we live? What the deuce do we live for? just tell me that. You are a sensible man, you were not chosen as Koschevoi without reason:so just tell me what we live for?"

The Koschevoi made no reply to this question. He was an obstinateCossack. He was silent for a while, and then said, "Anyway, there willnot be war. "

"There will not be war?" Taras asked again. 

"No. "

"Then it is no use thinking about it?"

"It is not to be thought of. "

"Wait, you devil's limb!" said Taras to himself; "you shall learn toknow me!" and he at once resolved to have his revenge on the Koschevoi. 

Having made an agreement with several others, he gave them liquor; andthe drunken Cossacks staggered into the square, where on a post hungthe kettledrums which were generally beaten to assemble the people. Notfinding the sticks, which were kept by the drummer, they seized a pieceof wood and began to beat. The first to respond to the drum-beat was thedrummer, a tall man with but one eye, but a frightfully sleepy one forall that. 

"Who dares to beat the drum?" he shouted. 

"Hold your tongue! take your sticks, and beat when you are ordered!"replied the drunken men. 

The drummer at once took from his pocket the sticks which he had broughtwith him, well knowing the result of such proceedings. The drum rattled, and soon black swarms of Cossacks began to collect like bees in thesquare. All formed in a ring; and at length, after the third summons, the chiefs began to arrive--the Koschevoi with staff in hand, the symbolof his office; the judge with the army-seal; the secretary with hisink-bottle; and the osaul with his staff. The Koschevoi and the chiefstook off their caps and bowed on all sides to the Cossacks, who stoodproudly with their arms akimbo. 

"What means this assemblage? what do you wish, gentles?" said theKoschevoi. Shouts and exclamations interrupted his speech. 

"Resign your staff! resign your staff this moment, you son of Satan!we will have you no longer!" shouted some of the Cossacks in the crowd. Some of the sober ones appeared to wish to oppose this, but both soberand drunken fell to blows. The shouting and uproar became universal. 

The Koschevoi attempted to speak; but knowing that the self-willedmultitude, if enraged, might beat him to death, as almost alwayshappened in such cases, he bowed very low, laid down his staff, and hidhimself in the crowd. 

"Do you command us, gentles, to resign our insignia of office?" saidthe judge, the secretary, and the osaul, as they prepared to give up theink-horn, army-seal, and staff, upon the spot. 

"No, you are to remain!" was shouted from the crowd. "We only wantedto drive out the Koschevoi because he is a woman, and we want a man forKoschevoi. "

"Whom do you now elect as Koschevoi?" asked the chiefs. 

"We choose Kukubenko, " shouted some. 

"We won't have Kukubenko!" screamed another party: "he is too young; themilk has not dried off his lips yet. "

"Let Schilo be hetman!" shouted some: "make Schilo our Koschevoi!"

"Away with your Schilo!" yelled the crowd; "what kind of a Cossack is hewho is as thievish as a Tatar? To the devil in a sack with your drunkenSchilo!"

"Borodaty! let us make Borodaty our Koschevoi!"

"We won't have Borodaty! To the evil one's mother with Borodaty!"

"Shout Kirdyanga!" whispered Taras Bulba to several. 

"Kirdyanga, Kirdyanga!" shouted the crowd. "Borodaty, Borodaty!Kirdyanga, Kirdyanga! Schilo! Away with Schilo! Kirdyanga!"

All the candidates, on hearing their names mentioned, quitted thecrowd, in order not to give any one a chance of supposing that they werepersonally assisting in their election. 

"Kirdyanga, Kirdyanga!" echoed more strongly than the rest. 

"Borodaty!"

They proceeded to decide the matter by a show of hands, and Kirdyangawon. 

"Fetch Kirdyanga!" they shouted. Half a score of Cossacks immediatelyleft the crowd--some of them hardly able to keep their feet, to such anextent had they drunk--and went directly to Kirdyanga to inform him ofhis election. 

Kirdyanga, a very old but wise Cossack, had been sitting for some timein his kuren, as if he knew nothing of what was going on. 

"What is it, gentles? What do you wish?" he inquired. 

"Come, they have chosen you for Koschevoi. "

"Have mercy, gentles!" said Kirdyanga. "How can I be worthy of suchhonour? Why should I be made Koschevoi? I have not sufficient capacityto fill such a post. Could no better person be found in all the army?"

"Come, I say!" shouted the Zaporozhtzi. Two of them seized him by thearms; and in spite of his planting his feet firmly they finally draggedhim to the square, accompanying his progress with shouts, blows frombehind with their fists, kicks, and exhortations. "Don't hold back, youson of Satan! Accept the honour, you dog, when it is given!" In thismanner Kirdyanga was conducted into the ring of Cossacks. 

"How now, gentles?" announced those who had brought him, "are you agreedthat this Cossack shall be your Koschevoi?"

"We are all agreed!" shouted the throng, and the whole plain trembledfor a long time afterwards from the shout. 

One of the chiefs took the staff and brought it to the newly electedKoschevoi. Kirdyanga, in accordance with custom, immediately refusedit. The chief offered it a second time; Kirdyanga again refused it, andthen, at the third offer, accepted the staff. A cry of approbation rangout from the crowd, and again the whole plain resounded afar with theCossacks' shout. Then there stepped out from among the people the fouroldest of them all, white-bearded, white-haired Cossacks; though therewere no very old men in the Setch, for none of the Zaporozhtzi ever diedin their beds. Taking each a handful of earth, which recent rain hadconverted into mud, they laid it on Kirdyanga's head. The wet earthtrickled down from his head on to his moustache and cheeks and smearedhis whole face. But Kirdyanga stood immovable in his place, and thankedthe Cossacks for the honour shown him. 

Thus ended the noisy election, concerning which we cannot say whether itwas as pleasing to the others as it was to Bulba; by means of it he hadrevenged himself on the former Koschevoi. Moreover, Kirdyanga was an oldcomrade, and had been with him on the same expeditions by sea and land, sharing the toils and hardships of war. The crowd immediately dispersedto celebrate the election, and such revelry ensued as Ostap and Andriihad not yet beheld. The taverns were attacked and mead, corn-brandy, andbeer seized without payment, the owners being only too glad to escapewith whole skins themselves. The whole night passed amid shouts, songs, and rejoicings; and the rising moon gazed long at troops of musicianstraversing the streets with guitars, flutes, tambourines, and the churchchoir, who were kept in the Setch to sing in church and glorify thedeeds of the Zaporozhtzi. At length drunkenness and fatigue began tooverpower even these strong heads, and here and there a Cossack couldbe seen to fall to the ground, embracing a comrade in fraternal fashion;whilst maudlin, and even weeping, the latter rolled upon the earth withhim. Here a whole group would lie down in a heap; there a man wouldchoose the most comfortable position and stretch himself out on a log ofwood. The last, and strongest, still uttered some incoherent speeches;finally even they, yielding to the power of intoxication, flungthemselves down and all the Setch slept. 

CHAPTER IV

But next day Taras Bulba had a conference with the new Koschevoi as tothe method of exciting the Cossacks to some enterprise. The Koschevoi, a shrewd and sensible Cossack, who knew the Zaporozhtzi thoroughly, saidat first, "Oaths cannot be violated by any means"; but after a pauseadded, "No matter, it can be done. We will not violate them, but letus devise something. Let the people assemble, not at my summons, but oftheir own accord. You know how to manage that; and I will hasten to thesquare with the chiefs, as though we know nothing about it. "

Not an hour had elapsed after their conversation, when the drums againthundered. The drunken and senseless Cossacks assembled. A myriadCossack caps were sprinkled over the square. A murmur arose, "Why? What?Why was the assembly beaten?" No one answered. At length, in onequarter and another, it began to be rumoured about, "Behold, the Cossackstrength is being vainly wasted: there is no war! Behold, our leadershave become as marmots, every one; their eyes swim in fat! Plainly, there is no justice in the world!" The other Cossacks listened at first, and then began themselves to say, "In truth, there is no justice in theworld!" Their leaders seemed surprised at these utterances. Finally theKoschevoi stepped forward: "Permit me, Cossacks, to address you. "

"Do so!"

"Touching the matter in question, gentles, none know better thanyourselves that many Zaporozhtzi have run in debt to the Jew ale-housekeepers and to their brethren, so that now they have not an atom ofcredit. Again, touching the matter in question, there are many youngfellows who have no idea of what war is like, although you know, gentles, that without war a young man cannot exist. How make aZaporozhetz out of him if he has never killed a Mussulman?"

"He speaks well, " thought Bulba. 

"Think not, however, gentles, that I speak thus in order to break thetruce; God forbid! I merely mention it. Besides, it is a shame tosee what sort of church we have for our God. Not only has the churchremained without exterior decoration during all the years which by God'smercy the Setch has stood, but up to this day even the holy pictureshave no adornments. No one has even thought of making them a silverframe; they have only received what some Cossacks have left them intheir wills; and these gifts were poor, since they had drunk up nearlyall they had during their lifetime. I am making you this speech, therefore, not in order to stir up a war against the Mussulmans; we havepromised the Sultan peace, and it would be a great sin in us to breakthis promise, for we swore it on our law. "

"What is he mixing things up like that for?" said Bulba to himself. 

"So you see, gentles, that war cannot be begun; honour does not permitit. But according to my poor opinion, we might, I think, send out a fewyoung men in boats and let them plunder the coasts of Anatolia a little. What do you think, gentles?"

"Lead us, lead us all!" shouted the crowd on all sides. "We are ready tolay down our lives for our faith. "

The Koschevoi was alarmed. He by no means wished to stir up allZaporozhe; a breach of the truce appeared to him on this occasionunsuitable. "Permit me, gentles, to address you further. "

"Enough!" yelled the Cossacks; "you can say nothing better. "

"If it must be so, then let it be so. I am the slave of your will. Weknow, and from Scripture too, that the voice of the people is the voiceof God. It is impossible to devise anything better than the whole nationhas devised. But here lies the difficulty; you know, gentles, thatthe Sultan will not permit that which delights our young men to gounpunished. We should be prepared at such a time, and our forces shouldbe fresh, and then we should fear no one. But during their absence theTatars may assemble fresh forces; the dogs do not show themselves insight and dare not come while the master is at home, but they can bitehis heels from behind, and bite painfully too. And if I must tell youthe truth, we have not boats enough, nor powder ready in sufficientquantity, for all to go. But I am ready, if you please; I am the slaveof your will. "

The cunning hetman was silent. The various groups began to discuss thematter, and the hetmans of the kurens to take counsel together; few weredrunk fortunately, so they decided to listen to reason. 

A number of men set out at once for the opposite shore of the Dnieper, to the treasury of the army, where in strictest secrecy, under water andamong the reeds, lay concealed the army chest and a portion of thearms captured from the enemy. Others hastened to inspect the boats andprepare them for service. In a twinkling the whole shore wasthronged with men. Carpenters appeared with axes in their hands. Old, weatherbeaten, broad-shouldered, strong-legged Zaporozhtzi, with blackor silvered moustaches, rolled up their trousers, waded up to theirknees in water, and dragged the boats on to the shore with stout ropes;others brought seasoned timber and all sorts of wood. The boats werefreshly planked, turned bottom upwards, caulked and tarred, and thenbound together side by side after Cossack fashion, with long strands ofreeds, so that the swell of the waves might not sink them. Far along theshore they built fires and heated tar in copper cauldrons to smear theboats. The old and the experienced instructed the young. The blows andshouts of the workers rose all over the neighbourhood; the bank shookand moved about. 

About this time a large ferry-boat began to near the shore. The mass ofpeople standing in it began to wave their hands from a distance. Theywere Cossacks in torn, ragged gaberdines. Their disordered garments, formany had on nothing but their shirts, with a short pipe in their mouths, showed that they had either escaped from some disaster or had carousedto such an extent that they had drunk up all they had on their bodies. A short, broad-shouldered Cossack of about fifty stepped out from themidst of them and stood in front. He shouted and waved his hand morevigorously than any of the others; but his words could not be heard forthe cries and hammering of the workmen. 

"Whence come you!" asked the Koschevoi, as the boat touched the shore. All the workers paused in their labours, and, raising their axes andchisels, looked on expectantly. 

"From a misfortune!" shouted the short Cossack. 

"From what?"

"Permit me, noble Zaporozhtzi, to address you. "

"Speak!"

"Or would you prefer to assemble a council?"

"Speak, we are all here. "

The people all pressed together in one mass. 

"Have you then heard nothing of what has been going on in the hetman'sdominions?"

"What is it?" inquired one of the kuren hetmans. 

"Eh! what! Evidently the Tatars have plastered up your ears so that youmight hear nothing. "

"Tell us then; what has been going on there?"

"That is going on the like of which no man born or christened ever yethas 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 churches are no longerours. "

"How not ours?"

"They are pledged to the Jews. If the Jew is not first paid, there canbe no mass. "

"What are you saying?"

"And if the dog of a Jew does not make a sign with his unclean hand overthe holy Easter-bread, it cannot be consecrated. "

"He lies, brother gentles. It cannot be that an unclean Jew puts hismark upon the holy Easter-bread. "

"Listen! I have not yet told all. Catholic priests are going about allover the Ukraine in carts. The harm lies not in the carts, but in thefact that not horses, but orthodox Christians (1), are harnessed tothem. Listen! I have not yet told all. They say that the Jewesses aremaking themselves petticoats out of our popes' vestments. Such are thedeeds that are taking place in the Ukraine, gentles! And you sit hererevelling in Zaporozhe; and evidently the Tatars have so scared you thatyou have no eyes, no ears, no anything, and know nothing that is goingon in the world. "

 (1) That is of the Greek Church. The Poles were Catholics. 

"Stop, stop!" broke in the Koschevoi, who up to that moment had stoodwith his eyes fixed upon the earth like all Zaporozhtzi, who, onimportant occasions, never yielded to their first impulse, but keptsilence, and meanwhile concentrated inwardly all the power of theirindignation. "Stop! I also have a word to say. But what were youabout? When your father the devil was raging thus, what were you doingyourselves? Had you no swords? How came you to permit such lawlessness?"

"Eh! how did we come to permit such lawlessness? You would have triedwhen there were fifty thousand of the Lyakhs (2) alone; yes, and it isa shame not to be concealed, when there are also dogs among us who havealready accepted their faith. "

 (2) Lyakhs, an opprobrious name for the Poles. 

"But your hetman and your leaders, what have they done?"

"God preserve any one from such deeds as our leaders performed!"

"How so?"

"Our hetman, roasted in a brazen ox, now lies in Warsaw; and theheads and hands of our leaders are being carried to all the fairs as aspectacle for the people. That is what our leaders did. "

The whole throng became wildly excited. At first silence reigned allalong the shore, like that which precedes a tempest; and then suddenlyvoices were raised and all the shore spoke:--

"What! The Jews hold the Christian churches in pledge! Roman Catholicpriests have harnessed and beaten orthodox Christians! What! suchtorture has been permitted on Russian soil by the cursed unbelievers!And they have done such things to the leaders and the hetman? Nay, thisshall not be, it shall not be. " Such words came from all quarters. TheZaporozhtzi were moved, and knew their power. It was not the excitementof a giddy-minded folk. All who were thus agitated were strong, firmcharacters, not easily aroused, but, once aroused, preserving theirinward heat long and obstinately. "Hang all the Jews!" rang through thecrowd. "They shall not make petticoats for their Jewesses out of popes'vestments! They shall not place their signs upon the holy wafers! Drownall the heathens in the Dnieper!" These words uttered by some one inthe throng flashed like lightning through all minds, and the crowd flungthemselves upon the suburb with the intention of cutting the throats ofall the Jews. 

The poor sons of Israel, losing all presence of mind, and not being inany case courageous, hid themselves in empty brandy-casks, in ovens, andeven crawled under the skirts of their Jewesses; but the Cossacks foundthem wherever they were. 

"Gracious nobles!" shrieked one Jew, tall and thin as a stick, thrustinghis sorry visage, distorted with terror, from among a group of hiscomrades, "gracious nobles! suffer us to say a word, only one word. Wewill reveal to you what you never yet have heard, a thing more importantthan I can say--very important!"

"Well, say it, " said Bulba, who always liked to hear what an accused manhad to say. 

"Gracious nobles, " exclaimed the Jew, "such nobles were never seen, byheavens, never! Such good, kind, and brave men there never were in theworld before!" His voice died away and quivered with fear. "How was itpossible that we should think any evil of the Zaporozhtzi? Those menare not of us at all, those who have taken pledges in the Ukraine. Byheavens, they are not of us! They are not Jews at all. The evil onealone knows what they are; they are only fit to be spit upon and castaside. Behold, my brethren, say the same! Is it not true, Schloma? is itnot true, Schmul?"

"By heavens, it is true!" replied Schloma and Schmul, from among thecrowd, both pale as clay, in their ragged caps. 

"We never yet, " continued the tall Jew, "have had any secret intercoursewith your enemies, and we will have nothing to do with Catholics;may the evil one fly away with them! We are like own brothers to theZaporozhtzi. "

"What! the Zaporozhtzi are brothers to you!" exclaimed some one inthe crowd. "Don't wait! the cursed Jews! Into the Dnieper with them, gentles! Drown all the unbelievers!"

These words were the signal. They seized the Jews by the arms and beganto hurl them into the waves. Pitiful cries resounded on all sides; butthe stern Zaporozhtzi only laughed when they saw the Jewish legs, casedin shoes and stockings, struggling in the air. The poor orator who hadcalled down destruction upon himself jumped out of the caftan, by whichthey had seized him, and in his scant parti-coloured under waistcoatclasped Bulba's legs, and cried, in piteous tones, "Great lord! graciousnoble! I knew your brother, the late Doroscha. He was a warrior who wasan ornament to all knighthood. I gave him eight hundred sequins when hewas obliged to ransom himself from the Turks. "

"You knew my brother?" asked Taras. 

"By heavens, I knew him. He was a magnificent nobleman. "

"And what is your name?"

"Yankel. "

"Good, " said Taras; and after reflecting, he turned to the Cossacks andspoke as follows: "There will always be plenty of time to hang the Jew, if it proves necessary; but for to-day give him to me. "

So saying, Taras led him to his waggon, beside which stood his Cossacks. "Crawl under the waggon; lie down, and do not move. And you, brothers, do not surrender this Jew. "

So saying, he returned to the square, for the whole crowd had long sincecollected there. All had at once abandoned the shore and the preparationof the boats; for a land-journey now awaited them, and not a sea-voyage, and they needed horses and waggons, not ships. All, both young and old, wanted to go on the expedition; and it was decided, on the advice ofthe chiefs, the hetmans of the kurens, and the Koschevoi, and withthe approbation of the whole Zaporozhtzian army, to march straight toPoland, to avenge the injury and disgrace to their faith and to Cossackrenown, to seize booty from the cities, to burn villages and grain, andspread their glory far over the steppe. All at once girded and armedthemselves. The Koschevoi grew a whole foot taller. He was no longerthe timid executor of the restless wishes of a free people, but theiruntrammelled master. He was a despot, who know only to command. All theindependent and pleasure-loving warriors stood in an orderly line, withrespectfully bowed heads, not venturing to raise their eyes, when theKoschevoi gave his orders. He gave these quietly, without shouting andwithout haste, but with pauses between, like an experienced man deeplylearned in Cossack affairs, and carrying into execution, not for thefirst time, a wisely matured enterprise. 

"Examine yourselves, look well to yourselves; examine all yourequipments thoroughly, " he said; "put your teams and your tar-boxes (3)in order; test your weapons. Take not many clothes with you: a shirt anda couple of pairs of trousers to each Cossack, and a pot of oatmealand millet apiece--let no one take any more. There will be plenty ofprovisions, all that is needed, in the waggons. Let every Cossack havetwo horses. And two hundred yoke of oxen must be taken, for we shallrequire them at the fords and marshy places. Keep order, gentles, aboveall things. I know that there are some among you whom God has made sogreedy that they would like to tear up silk and velvet for foot-cloths. Leave off such devilish habits; reject all garments as plunder, and takeonly weapons: though if valuables offer themselves, ducats or silver, they are useful in any case. I tell you this beforehand, gentles, if anyone gets drunk on the expedition, he will have a short shrift: I willhave him dragged by the neck like a dog behind the baggage waggons, nomatter who he may be, even were he the most heroic Cossack in the wholearmy; he shall be shot on the spot like a dog, and flung out, withoutsepulture, to be torn by the birds of prey, for a drunkard on the marchdeserves no 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, attach no importance to such trifles. Mix a charge of powder in a cup ofbrandy, quaff it heartily, and all will pass off--you will not even haveany fever; and if the wound is large, put simple earth upon it, mixingit first with spittle in your palm, and that will dry it up. And now towork, to work, lads, and look well to all, and without haste. "

 (3) The Cossack waggons have their axles smeared with tar instead of grease. 

So spoke the Koschevoi; and no sooner had he finished his speech thanall the Cossacks at once set to work. All the Setch grew sober. Nowherewas a single drunken man to be found, it was as though there never hadbeen such a thing among the Cossacks. Some attended to the tyres of thewheels, others changed the axles of the waggons; some carried sacks ofprovisions to them or leaded them with arms; others again drove up thehorses and oxen. On all sides resounded the tramp of horses' hoofs, test-shots from the guns, the clank of swords, the lowing of oxen, the screech of rolling waggons, talking, sharp cries and urging-on ofcattle. Soon the Cossack force spread far over all the plain; and he whomight have undertaken to run from its van to its rear would have hada long course. In the little wooden church the priest was offering upprayers and sprinkling all worshippers with holy water. All kissed thecross. When the camp broke up and the army moved out of the Setch, allthe Zaporozhtzi turned their heads back. "Farewell, our mother!" theysaid almost in one breath. "May God preserve thee from all misfortune!"

As he passed through the suburb, Taras Bulba saw that his Jew, Yankel, had already erected a sort of booth with an awning, and was sellingflint, screwdrivers, powder, and all sorts of military stores needed onthe road, even to rolls and bread. "What devils these Jews are!" thoughtTaras; and riding up to him, he said, "Fool, why are you sitting here?do you want to be shot like a crow?"

Yankel in reply approached nearer, and making a sign with both hands, asthough wishing to impart some secret, said, "Let the noble lord butkeep silence and say nothing to any one. Among the Cossack waggons isa waggon of mine. I am carrying all sorts of needful stores for theCossacks, and on the journey I will furnish every sort of provisions ata lower price than any Jew ever sold at before. 'Tis so, by heavens! byheavens, 'tis so!"

Taras Bulba shrugged his shoulders in amazement at the Jewish nature, and went on to the camp. 

CHAPTER V

All South-west Poland speedily became a prey to fear. Everywhere therumour flew, "The Zaporozhtzi! The Zaporozhtzi have appeared!" Allwho could flee did so. All rose and scattered after the manner of thatlawless, reckless age, when they built neither fortresses nor castles, but each man erected a temporary dwelling of straw wherever he happenedto find himself. He thought, "It is useless to waste money and labour onan izba, when the roving Tatars will carry it off in any case. " All wasin an uproar: one exchanged his plough and oxen for a horse and gun, andjoined an armed band; another, seeking concealment, drove off his cattleand carried off all the household stuff he could. Occasionally, on theroad, some were encountered who met their visitors with arms in theirhands; but the majority fled before their arrival. All knew that it washard to deal with the raging and warlike throng known by the name ofthe Zaporozhian army; a body which, under its independent and disorderlyexterior, concealed an organisation well calculated for times of battle. The horsemen rode steadily on without overburdening or heating theirhorses; the foot-soldiers marched only by night, resting during the day, and selecting for this purpose desert tracts, uninhabited spots, andforests, of which there were then plenty. Spies and scouts were sentahead to study the time, place, and method of attack. And lo! theZaporozhtzi suddenly appeared in those places where they were leastexpected: then all were put to the sword; the villages were burned; andthe horses and cattle which were not driven off behind the army killedupon the spot. They seemed to be fiercely revelling, rather thancarrying out a military expedition. Our hair would stand on end nowadaysat the horrible traits of that fierce, half-civilised age, which theZaporozhtzi everywhere exhibited: children killed, women's breasts cutopen, the skin flayed from the legs up to the knees, and the victim thenset at liberty. In short, the Cossacks paid their former debts incoin of full weight. The abbot of one monastery, on hearing of theirapproach, sent two monks to say that they were not behaving as theyshould; that there was an agreement between the Zaporozhtzi and thegovernment; that they were breaking faith with the king, and violatingall international rights. "Tell your bishop from me and from all theZaporozhtzi, " said the Koschevoi, "that he has nothing to fear: theCossacks, so far, have only lighted and smoked their pipes. " And themagnificent abbey was soon wrapped in the devouring flames, its tallGothic windows showing grimly through the waves of fire as they parted. The fleeing mass of monks, women, and Jews thronged into those townswhere any hope lay in the garrison and the civic forces. The aid sentin season by the government, but delayed on the way, consisted of afew troops which either were unable to enter the towns or, seized withfright, turned their backs at the very first encounter and fled ontheir swift horses. However, several of the royal commanders, who hadconquered in former battles, resolved to unite their forces and confrontthe Zaporozhtzi. 

And here, above all, did our young Cossacks, disgusted with pillage, greed, and a feeble foe, and burning with the desire to distinguishthemselves in presence of their chiefs, seek to measure themselves insingle combat with the warlike and boastful Lyakhs, prancing on theirspirited horses, with the sleeves of their jackets thrown back andstreaming in the wind. This game was inspiriting; they won at it manycostly sets of horse-trappings and valuable weapons. In a month thescarcely fledged birds attained their full growth, were completelytransformed, and became men; their features, in which hitherto a traceof youthful softness had been visible, grew strong and grim. But it waspleasant to old Taras to see his sons among the foremost. It seemedas though Ostap were designed by nature for the game of war and thedifficult science of command. Never once losing his head or becomingconfused under any circumstances, he could, with a cool audacity almostsupernatural in a youth of two-and-twenty, in an instant gauge thedanger and the whole scope of the matter, could at once devise a meansof escaping, but of escaping only that he might the more surely conquer. His movements now began to be marked by the assurance which comes fromexperience, and in them could be detected the germ of the future leader. His person strengthened, and his bearing grew majestically leonine. "What a fine leader he will make one of these days!" said old Taras. "Hewill make a splendid leader, far surpassing even his father!"

Andrii gave himself up wholly to the enchanting music of blades andbullets. He knew not what it was to consider, or calculate, or tomeasure his own as against the enemy's strength. He gazed on battle withmad delight and intoxication: he found something festal in the momentswhen a man's brain burns, when all things wave and flutter before hiseyes, when heads are stricken off, horses fall to the earth with a soundof thunder, and he rides on like a drunken man, amid the whistling ofbullets and the flashing of swords, dealing blows to all, and heedingnot those aimed at himself. More than once their father marvelled tooat Andrii, seeing him, stirred only by a flash of impulse, dash atsomething which a sensible man in cold blood never would have attempted, and, by the sheer force of his mad attack, accomplish such wonders ascould not but amaze even men grown old in battle. Old Taras admired andsaid, "And he too will make a good warrior if the enemy does notcapture him meanwhile. He is not Ostap, but he is a dashing warrior, nevertheless. "

The army decided to march straight on the city of Dubno, which, rumoursaid, contained much wealth and many rich inhabitants. The journey wasaccomplished in a day and a half, and the Zaporozhtzi appeared beforethe city. The inhabitants resolved to defend themselves to the utmostextent of their power, and to fight to the last extremity, preferring todie in their squares and streets, and on their thresholds, rather thanadmit the enemy to their houses. A high rampart of earth surrounded thecity; and in places where it was low or weak, it was strengthened by awall of stone, or a house which served as a redoubt, or even an oakenstockade. The garrison was strong and aware of the importance of theirposition. The Zaporozhtzi attacked the wall fiercely, but were met witha shower of grapeshot. The citizens and residents of the town evidentlydid not wish to remain idle, but gathered on the ramparts; in their eyescould be read desperate resistance. The women too were determined totake part in the fray, and upon the heads of the Zaporozhians raineddown stones, casks of boiling water, and sacks of lime which blindedthem. The Zaporozhtzi were not fond of having anything to do withfortified places: sieges were not in their line. The Koschevoi orderedthem to retreat, saying, "It is useless, brother gentles; we willretire: but may I be a heathen Tatar, and not a Christian, if we do notclear them out of that town! may they all perish of hunger, the dogs!"The army retreated, surrounded the town, and, for lack of something todo, busied themselves with devastating the surrounding country, burningthe neighbouring villages and the ricks of unthreshed grain, and turningtheir droves of horses loose in the cornfields, as yet untouched by thereaping-hook, where the plump ears waved, fruit, as luck would have it, of an unusually good harvest which should have liberally rewarded alltillers of the soil that season. 

With horror those in the city beheld their means of subsistencedestroyed. Meanwhile the Zaporozhtzi, having formed a double ring oftheir waggons around the city, disposed themselves as in the Setch inkurens, smoked their pipes, bartered their booty for weapons, playedat leapfrog and odd-and-even, and gazed at the city with deadlycold-bloodedness. At night they lighted their camp fires, and the cooksboiled the porridge for each kuren in huge copper cauldrons; whilstan alert sentinel watched all night beside the blazing fire. But theZaporozhtzi soon began to tire of inactivity and prolonged sobriety, unaccompanied by any fighting. The Koschevoi even ordered the allowanceof wine to be doubled, which was sometimes done in the army when nodifficult enterprises or movements were on hand. The young men, andTaras Bulba's sons in particular, did not like this life. Andrii wasvisibly bored. "You silly fellow!" said Taras to him, "be patient, youwill be hetman one day. He is not a good warrior who loses heart in animportant enterprise; but he who is not tired even of inactivity, whoendures all, and who even if he likes a thing can give it up. " But hotyouth cannot agree with age; the two have different natures, and look atthe same thing with different eyes. 

But in the meantime Taras's band, led by Tovkatch, arrived; with himwere also two osauls, the secretary, and other regimental officers: theCossacks numbered over four thousand in all. There were among them manyvolunteers, who had risen of their own free will, without any summons, as soon as they had heard what the matter was. The osauls brought toTaras's sons the blessing of their aged mother, and to each a picturein a cypress-wood frame from the Mezhigorski monastery at Kief. The twobrothers hung the pictures round their necks, and involuntarily grewpensive as they remembered their old mother. What did this blessingprophecy? Was it a blessing for their victory over the enemy, and thena joyous return to their home with booty and glory, to be everlastinglycommemorated in the songs of guitar-players? or was it. .. ? But thefuture is unknown, and stands before a man like autumnal fogs risingfrom the swamps; birds fly foolishly up and down in it with flappingwings, never recognising each other, the dove seeing not the vulture, nor the vulture the dove, and no one knowing how far he may be flyingfrom destruction. 

Ostap had long since attended to his duties and gone to the kuren. Andrii, without knowing why, felt a kind of oppression at his heart. TheCossacks had finished their evening meal; the wonderful July night hadcompletely fallen; still he did not go to the kuren, nor lie down tosleep, but gazed unconsciously at the whole scene before him. In the skyinnumerable stars twinkled brightly. The plain was covered far and widewith scattered waggons with swinging tar-buckets, smeared with tar, andloaded with every description of goods and provisions captured from thefoe. Beside the waggons, under the waggons, and far beyond the waggons, Zaporozhtzi were everywhere visible, stretched upon the grass. Theyall slumbered in picturesque attitudes; one had thrust a sack underhis head, another his cap, and another simply made use of his comrade'sside. Swords, guns, matchlocks, short pipe-stems with copper mountings, iron awls, and a flint and steel were inseparable from every Cossack. The heavy oxen lay with their feet doubled under them like huge whitishmasses, and at a distance looked like gray stones scattered on theslopes of the plain. On all sides the heavy snores of sleeping warriorsbegan to arise from the grass, and were answered from the plain by theringing neighs of their steeds, chafing at their hobbled feet. Meanwhilea certain threatening magnificence had mingled with the beauty of theJuly night. It was the distant glare of the burning district afar. In one place the flames spread quietly and grandly over the sky; inanother, suddenly bursting into a whirlwind, they hissed and flewupwards to the very stars, and floating fragments died away in the mostdistant quarter of the heavens. Here the black, burned monastery likea grim Carthusian monk stood threatening, and displaying its darkmagnificence at every flash; there blazed the monastery garden. Itseemed as though the trees could be heard hissing as they stood wrappedin smoke; and when the fire burst forth, it suddenly lighted up the ripeplums with a phosphoric lilac-coloured gleam, or turned the yellowingpears here and there to pure gold. In the midst of them hung blackagainst the wall of the building, or the trunk of a tree, the body ofsome poor Jew or monk who had perished in the flames with the structure. Above the distant fires hovered a flock of birds, like a cluster oftiny black crosses upon a fiery field. The town thus laid bare seemed tosleep; the spires and roofs, and its palisade and walls, gleamed quietlyin the glare of the distant conflagrations. Andrii went the rounds ofthe Cossack ranks. The camp-fires, beside which the sentinels sat, wereready to go out at any moment; and even the sentinels slept, havingdevoured oatmeal and dumplings with true Cossack appetites. He wasastonished at such carelessness, thinking, "It is well that there is nostrong enemy at hand and nothing to fear. " Finally he went to one ofthe waggons, climbed into it, and lay down upon his back, putting hisclasped hands under his head; but he could not sleep, and gazed long atthe sky. It was all open before him; the air was pure and transparent;the dense clusters of stars in the Milky Way, crossing the sky like abelt, were flooded with light. From time to time Andrii in some degreelost consciousness, and a light mist of dream veiled the heavens fromhim for a moment; but then he awoke, and they became visible again. 

During one of these intervals it seemed to him that some strange humanfigure flitted before him. Thinking it to be merely a vision which wouldvanish at once, he opened his eyes, and beheld a withered, emaciatedface bending over him, and gazing straight into his own. Long coal-blackhair, unkempt, dishevelled, fell from beneath a dark veil which hadbeen thrown over the head; whilst the strange gleam of the eyes, and thedeath-like tone of the sharp-cut features, inclined him to think thatit was an apparition. His hand involuntarily grasped his gun; and heexclaimed almost convulsively: "Who are you? If you are an evil spirit, avaunt! If you are a living being, you have chosen an ill time for yourjest. I will kill you with one shot. "

In answer to this, the apparition laid its finger upon its lips andseemed to entreat silence. He dropped his hands and began to look moreattentively. He recognised it to be a woman from the long hair, thebrown neck, and the half-concealed bosom. But she was not a nativeof those regions: her wide cheek-bones stood out prominently over herhollow cheeks; her small eyes were obliquely set. The more he gazed ather features, the more he found them familiar. Finally he could restrainhimself no longer, and said, "Tell me, who are you? It seems to me thatI know you, or have seen you somewhere. "

"Two years ago in Kief. "

"Two years ago in Kief!" repeated Andrii, endeavouring to collect inhis mind all that lingered in his memory of his former student life. Helooked intently at her once more, and suddenly exclaimed at the top ofhis voice, "You are the Tatar! the servant of the lady, the Waiwode'sdaughter!"

"Sh!" cried the Tatar, clasping her hands with a supplicating glance, trembling all over, and turning her head round in order to see whetherany one had been awakened by Andrii's loud exclamation. 

"Tell me, tell me, why are you here?" said Andrii almost breathlessly, in a whisper, interrupted every moment by inward emotion. "Where is thelady? is she alive?"

"She is now in the city. "

"In the city!" he exclaimed, again almost in a shriek, and feeling allthe blood suddenly rush to his heart. "Why is she in the city?"

"Because the old lord himself is in the city: he has been Waiwode ofDubno for the last year and a half. "

"Is she married? How strange you are! Tell me about her. "

"She has eaten nothing for two days. "

"What!"

"And not one of the inhabitants has had a morsel of bread for a longwhile; all have long been eating earth. "

Andrii was astounded. 

"The lady saw you from the city wall, among the Zaporozhtzi. She said tome, 'Go tell the warrior: if he remembers me, let him come to me; and donot forget to make him give you a bit of bread for my aged mother, forI do not wish to see my mother die before my very eyes. Better that Ishould die first, and she afterwards! Beseech him; clasp his knees, hisfeet: he also has an aged mother, let him give you the bread for hersake!'"

Many feelings awoke in the young Cossack's breast. 

"But how came you here? how did you get here?"

"By an underground passage. "

"Is there an underground passage?"

"Yes. "

"Where?"

"You will not betray it, warrior?"

"I swear it by the holy cross!"

"You descend into a hole, and cross the brook, yonder among the reeds. "

"And it leads into the city?"

"Straight into the monastery. "

"Let us go, let us go at once. "

"A bit of bread, in the name of Christ and of His holy mother!"

"Good, so be it. Stand here beside the waggon, or, better still, liedown in it: no one will see you, all are asleep. I will return at once. "

And he set off for the baggage waggons, which contained the provisionsbelonging to their kuren. His heart beat. All the past, all that hadbeen extinguished by the Cossack bivouacks, and by the stern battle oflife, flamed out at once on the surface and drowned the present in itsturn. Again, as from the dark depths of the sea, the noble lady rosebefore him: again there gleamed in his memory her beautiful arms, hereyes, her laughing mouth, her thick dark-chestnut hair, falling in curlsupon her shoulders, and the firm, well-rounded limbs of her maiden form. No, they had not been extinguished in his breast, they had not vanished, they had simply been laid aside, in order, for a time, to make way forother strong emotions; but often, very often, the young Cossack's deepslumber had been troubled by them, and often he had lain sleepless onhis couch, without being able to explain the cause. 

His heart beat more violently at the thought of seeing her again, andhis young knees shook. On reaching the baggage waggons, he had quiteforgotten what he had come for; he raised his hand to his brow andrubbed it long, trying to recollect what he was to do. At length heshuddered, and was filled with terror as the thought suddenly occurredto him that she was dying of hunger. He jumped upon the waggon andseized several large loaves of black bread; but then he thought, "Isthis not food, suited to a robust and easily satisfied Zaporozhetz, toocoarse and unfit for her delicate frame?" Then he recollected that theKoschevoi, on the previous evening, had reproved the cooks for havingcooked up all the oatmeal into porridge at once, when there was plentyfor three times. Sure that he would find plenty of porridge in thekettles, he drew out his father's travelling kettle and went with itto the cook of their kuren, who was sleeping beside two big cauldrons, holding about ten pailfuls, under which the ashes still glowed. Glancinginto them, he was amazed to find them empty. It must have requiredsupernatural powers to eat it all; the more so, as their kuren numberedfewer than the others. He looked into the cauldron of the otherkurens--nothing anywhere. Involuntarily the saying recurred to his mind, "The Zaporozhtzi are like children: if there is little they eat it, if there is much they leave nothing. " What was to be done? There was, somewhere in the waggon belonging to his father's band, a sack ofwhite bread, which they had found when they pillaged the bakery ofthe monastery. He went straight to his father's waggon, but it was notthere. Ostap had taken it and put it under his head; and there he lay, stretched out on the ground, snoring so that the whole plain rang again. Andrii seized the sack abruptly with one hand and gave it a jerk, sothat Ostap's head fell to the ground. The elder brother sprang up in hissleep, and, sitting there with closed eyes, shouted at the top of hislungs, "Stop them! Stop the cursed Lyakhs! Catch the horses! catchthe horses!"--"Silence! I'll kill you, " shouted Andrii in terror, flourishing the sack over him. But Ostap did not continue his speech, sank down again, and gave such a snore that the grass on which he laywaved with his breath. 

Andrii glanced timidly on all sides to see if Ostap's talking in hissleep had waked any of the Cossacks. Only one long-locked head wasraised in the adjoining kuren, and after glancing about, was droppedback on the ground. After waiting a couple of minutes he set out withhis load. The Tatar woman was lying where he had left her, scarcelybreathing. "Come, rise up. Fear not, all are sleeping. Can you take oneof these loaves if I cannot carry all?" So saying, he swung the sack onto his back, pulled out another sack of millet as he passed the waggon, took in his hands the loaves he had wanted to give the Tatar woman tocarry, and, bending somewhat under the load, went boldly through theranks of sleeping Zaporozhtzi. 

"Andrii, " said old Bulba, as he passed. His heart died within him. Hehalted, trembling, and said softly, "What is it?"

"There's a woman with you. When I get up I'll give you a soundthrashing. Women will lead you to no good. " So saying, he leaned hishand upon his hand and gazed intently at the muffled form of the Tatar. 

Andrii stood there, more dead than alive, not daring to look in hisfather's face. When he did raise his eyes and glance at him, old Bulbawas asleep, with his head still resting in the palm of his hand. 

Andrii crossed himself. Fear fled from his heart even more rapidly thanit had assailed it. When he turned to look at the Tatar woman, she stoodbefore him, muffled in her mantle, like a dark granite statue, and thegleam of the distant dawn lighted up only her eyes, dull as those ofa corpse. He plucked her by the sleeve, and both went on together, glancing back continually. At length they descended the slope of a smallravine, almost a hole, along the bottom of which a brook flowed lazily, overgrown with sedge, and strewed with mossy boulders. Descending intothis ravine, they were completely concealed from the view of all theplain occupied by the Zaporovian camp. At least Andrii, glancing back, saw that the steep slope rose behind him higher than a man. On itssummit appeared a few blades of steppe-grass; and behind them, in thesky, hung the moon, like a golden sickle. The breeze rising on thesteppe warned them that the dawn was not far off. But nowhere wasthe crow of the cock heard. Neither in the city nor in the devastatedneighbourhood had there been a cock for a long time past. They crossedthe brook on a small plank, beyond which rose the opposite bank, whichappeared higher than the one behind them and rose steeply. It seemed asthough this were the strong point of the citadel upon which the besiegedcould rely; at all events, the earthen wall was lower there, and nogarrison appeared behind it. But farther on rose the thick monasterywalls. The steep bank was overgrown with steppe-grass, and in the narrowravine between it and the brook grew tall reeds almost as high as a man. At the summit of the bank were the remains of a wattled fence, whichhad formerly surrounded some garden, and in front of it were visiblethe wide leaves of the burdock, from among which rose blackthorn, andsunflowers lifting their heads high above all the rest. Here the Tatarflung off her slippers and went barefoot, gathering her clothes upcarefully, for the spot was marshy and full of water. Forcing their wayamong the reeds, they stopped before a ruined outwork. Skirting thisoutwork, they found a sort of earthen arch--an opening not much largerthan the opening of an oven. The Tatar woman bent her head and wentfirst. Andrii followed, bending low as he could, in order to pass withhis sacks; and both soon found themselves in total darkness. 

CHAPTER VI

Andrii could hardly move in the dark and narrow earthen burrow, as hefollowed the Tatar, dragging after him his sacks of bread. "It will soonbe light, " said his guide: "we are approaching the spot where I placed alight. " And in fact the dark earthen walls began to be gradually lit up. They reached a widening in the passage where, it seemed, there had oncebeen a chapel; at least, there was a small table against the wall, likean altar, and above, the faded, almost entirely obliterated picture of aCatholic Madonna. A small silver lamp hanging before it barely illuminedit. The Tatar stooped and picked up from the ground a copper candlestickwhich she had left there, a candlestick with a tall, slender stem, andsnuffers, pin, and extinguisher hanging about it on chains. She lightedit at the silver lamp. The light grew stronger; and as they went on, nowillumined by it, and again enveloped in pitchy shadow, they suggested apicture by Gerard Dow. 

The warrior's fresh, handsome countenance, overflowing with health andyouth, presented a strong contrast to the pale, emaciated face of hiscompanion. The passage grew a little higher, so that Andrii could holdhimself erect. He gazed with curiosity at the earthen walls. Here andthere, as in the catacombs at Kief, were niches in the walls; and insome places coffins were standing. Sometimes they came across humanbones which had become softened with the dampness and were crumblinginto dust. It was evident that pious folk had taken refuge here from thestorms, sorrows, and seductions of the world. It was extremely dampin some places; indeed there was water under their feet at intervals. Andrii was forced to halt frequently to allow his companion to rest, forher fatigue kept increasing. The small piece of bread she had swallowedonly caused a pain in her stomach, of late unused to food; and she oftenstood motionless for minutes together in one spot. 

At length a small iron door appeared before them. "Glory be to God, wehave arrived!" said the Tatar in a faint voice, and tried to lift herhand to knock, but had no strength to do so. Andrii knocked hard at thedoor in her stead. There was an echo as though a large space lay beyondthe door; then the echo changed as if resounding through lofty arches. In a couple of minutes, keys rattled, and steps were heard descendingsome stairs. At length the door opened, and a monk, standing on thenarrow stairs with the key and a light in his hands, admitted them. Andrii involuntarily halted at the sight of a Catholic monk--one ofthose who had aroused such hate and disdain among the Cossacks that theytreated them even more inhumanly than they treated the Jews. 

The monk, on his part, started back on perceiving a Zaporovian Cossack, but a whisper from the Tatar reassured him. He lighted them in, fastenedthe door behind them, and led them up the stairs. They found themselvesbeneath the dark and lofty arches of the monastery church. Before one ofthe altars, adorned with tall candlesticks and candles, knelt a priestpraying quietly. Near him on each side knelt two young choristers inlilac cassocks and white lace stoles, with censers in their hands. Heprayed for the performance of a miracle, that the city might be saved;that their souls might be strengthened; that patience might be giventhem; that doubt and timid, weak-spirited mourning over earthlymisfortunes might be banished. A few women, resembling shadows, kneltsupporting themselves against the backs of the chairs and dark woodenbenches before them, and laying their exhausted heads upon them. A fewmen stood sadly, leaning against the columns upon which the wide archesrested. The stained-glass window above the altar suddenly glowed withthe rosy light of dawn; and from it, on the floor, fell circles of blue, yellow, and other colours, illuminating the dim church. The whole altarwas lighted up; the smoke from the censers hung a cloudy rainbow in theair. Andrii gazed from his dark corner, not without surprise, at thewonders worked by the light. At that moment the magnificent swell ofthe organ filled the whole church. It grew deeper and deeper, expanded, swelled into heavy bursts of thunder; and then all at once, turning intoheavenly music, its ringing tones floated high among the arches, likeclear maiden voices, and again descended into a deep roar and thunder, and then ceased. The thunderous pulsations echoed long and tremulouslyamong the arches; and Andrii, with half-open mouth, admired the wondrousmusic. 

Then he felt some one plucking the shirt of his caftan. "It is time, "said the Tatar. They traversed the church unperceived, and emerged uponthe square in front. Dawn had long flushed the heavens; all announcedsunrise. The square was empty: in the middle of it still stood woodenpillars, showing that, perhaps only a week before, there had been amarket here stocked with provisions. The streets, which were unpaved, were simply a mass of dried mud. The square was surrounded by small, one-storied stone or mud houses, in the walls of which were visiblewooden stakes and posts obliquely crossed by carved wooden beams, as wasthe manner of building in those days. Specimens of it can still beseen in some parts of Lithuania and Poland. They were all covered withenormously high roofs, with a multitude of windows and air-holes. Onone side, close to the church, rose a building quite detached from andtaller than the rest, probably the town-hall or some official structure. It was two stories high, and above it, on two arches, rose a belvederewhere a watchman stood; a huge clock-face was let into the roof. 

The square seemed deserted, but Andrii thought he heard a feeble groan. Looking about him, he perceived, on the farther side, a group of twoor three men lying motionless upon the ground. He fixed his eyes moreintently on them, to see whether they were asleep or dead; and, at thesame moment, stumbled over something lying at his feet. It was the deadbody of a woman, a Jewess apparently. She appeared to be young, thoughit was scarcely discernible in her distorted and emaciated features. Upon her head was a red silk kerchief; two rows of pearls or pearl beadsadorned the beads of her head-dress, from beneath which two long curlshung down upon her shrivelled neck, with its tightly drawn veins. Besideher lay a child, grasping convulsively at her shrunken breast, andsqueezing it with involuntary ferocity at finding no milk there. Heneither wept nor screamed, and only his gently rising and falling bodywould have led one to guess that he was not dead, or at least onthe point of breathing his last. They turned into a street, and weresuddenly stopped by a madman, who, catching sight of Andrii's preciousburden, sprang upon him like a tiger, and clutched him, yelling, "Bread!" But his strength was not equal to his madness. Andrii repulsedhim and he fell to the ground. Moved with pity, the young Cossack flunghim a loaf, which he seized like a mad dog, gnawing and biting it; butnevertheless he shortly expired in horrible suffering, there in thestreet, from the effect of long abstinence. The ghastly victims ofhunger startled them at every step. Many, apparently unable to enduretheir torments in their houses, seemed to run into the streets to seewhether some nourishing power might not possibly descend from the air. At the gate of one house sat an old woman, and it was impossible to saywhether she was asleep or dead, or only unconscious; at all events, sheno longer saw or heard anything, and sat immovable in one spot, her headdrooping on her breast. From the roof of another house hung a wornand wasted body in a rope noose. The poor fellow could not endure thetortures of hunger to the last, and had preferred to hasten his end by avoluntary death. 

At the sight of such terrible proofs of famine, Andrii could not refrainfrom saying to the Tatar, "Is there really nothing with which they canprolong life? If a man is driven to extremities, he must feed on what hehas hitherto despised; he can sustain himself with creatures which areforbidden by the law. Anything can be eaten under such circumstances. "

"They have eaten everything, " said the Tatar, "all the animals. Not ahorse, nor a dog, nor even a mouse is to be found in the whole city. We never had any store of provisions in the town: they were all broughtfrom the villages. "

"But how can you, while dying such a fearful death, still dream ofdefending the city?"

"Possibly the Waiwode might have surrendered; but yesterday morning thecommander of the troops at Buzhana sent a hawk into the city with a notesaying that it was not to be given up; that he was coming to its rescuewith his forces, and was only waiting for another leader, that theymight march together. And now they are expected every moment. But wehave reached the house. "

Andrii had already noticed from a distance this house, unlike theothers, and built apparently by some Italian architect. It wasconstructed of thin red bricks, and had two stories. The windows of thelower story were sheltered under lofty, projecting granite cornices. The upper story consisted entirely of small arches, forming a gallery;between the arches were iron gratings enriched with escutcheons; whilstupon the gables of the house more coats-of-arms were displayed. Thebroad external staircase, of tinted bricks, abutted on the square. At the foot of it sat guards, who with one hand held their halberdsupright, and with the other supported their drooping heads, and in thisattitude more resembled apparitions than living beings. They neitherslept nor dreamed, but seemed quite insensible to everything; they evenpaid no attention to who went up the stairs. At the head of the stairs, they found a richly-dressed warrior, armed cap-a-pie, and holding abreviary in his hand. He turned his dim eyes upon them; but the Tatarspoke a word to him, and he dropped them again upon the open pagesof his breviary. They entered the first chamber, a large one, servingeither as a reception-room, or simply as an ante-room; it was filledwith soldiers, servants, secretaries, huntsmen, cup-bearers, and theother servitors indispensable to the support of a Polish magnate'sestate, all seated along the walls. The reek of extinguished candles wasperceptible; and two were still burning in two huge candlesticks, nearlyas tall as a man, standing in the middle of the room, although morninghad long since peeped through the wide grated window. Andrii wanted togo straight on to the large oaken door adorned with a coat-of-arms anda profusion of carved ornaments, but the Tatar pulled his sleeve andpointed to a small door in the side wall. Through this they gained acorridor, and then a room, which he began to examine attentively. Thelight which filtered through a crack in the shutter fell upon severalobjects--a crimson curtain, a gilded cornice, and a painting on thewall. Here the Tatar motioned to Andrii to wait, and opened the doorinto another room from which flashed the light of a fire. He heard awhispering, and a soft voice which made him quiver all over. Throughthe open door he saw flit rapidly past a tall female figure, with a longthick braid of hair falling over her uplifted hands. The Tatar returnedand told him to go in. 

He could never understand how he entered and how the door was shutbehind him. Two candles burned in the room and a lamp glowed before theimages: beneath the lamp stood a tall table with steps to kneel uponduring prayer, after the Catholic fashion. But his eye did not seekthis. He turned to the other side and perceived a woman, who appeared tohave been frozen or turned to stone in the midst of some quick movement. It seemed as though her whole body had sought to spring towards him, andhad suddenly paused. And he stood in like manner amazed before her. Notthus had he pictured to himself that he should find her. This was notthe same being he had formerly known; nothing about her resembled herformer self; but she was twice as beautiful, twice as enchanting, now than she had been then. Then there had been something unfinished, incomplete, about her; now here was a production to which the artisthad given the finishing stroke of his brush. That was a charming, giddygirl; this was a woman in the full development of her charms. Asshe raised her eyes, they were full of feeling, not of mere hintsof feeling. The tears were not yet dry in them, and framed them in ashining dew which penetrated the very soul. Her bosom, neck, and armswere moulded in the proportions which mark fully developed loveliness. Her hair, which had in former days waved in light ringlets about herface, had become a heavy, luxuriant mass, a part of which was caughtup, while part fell in long, slender curls upon her arms and breast. Itseemed as though her every feature had changed. In vain did he seekto discover in them a single one of those which were engraved in hismemory--a single one. Even her great pallor did not lessen herwonderful beauty; on the contrary, it conferred upon it an irresistible, inexpressible charm. Andrii felt in his heart a noble timidity, and stood motionless before her. She, too, seemed surprised at theappearance of the Cossack, as he stood before her in all the beauty andmight of his young manhood, and in the very immovability of his limbspersonified the utmost freedom of movement. His eyes beamed with cleardecision; his velvet brows curved in a bold arch; his sunburnt cheeksglowed with all the ardour of youthful fire; and his downy blackmoustache shone like silk. 

"No, I have no power to thank you, noble sir, " she said, her silveryvoice all in a tremble. "God alone can reward you, not I, a weak woman. "She dropped her eyes, her lids fell over them in beautiful, snowysemicircles, guarded by lashes long as arrows; her wondrous face bowedforward, and a delicate flush overspread it from within. Andrii knew notwhat to say; he wanted to say everything. He had in his mind to say itall ardently as it glowed in his heart--and could not. He felt somethingconfining his mouth; voice and words were lacking; he felt that it wasnot for him, bred in the seminary and in the tumult of a roaming life, to reply fitly to such language, and was angry with his Cossack nature. 

At that moment the Tatar entered the room. She had cut up the breadwhich the warrior had brought into small pieces on a golden plate, whichshe placed before her mistress. The lady glanced at her, at the bread, at her again, and then turned her eyes towards Andrii. There was a greatdeal in those eyes. That gentle glance, expressive of her weakness andher inability to give words to the feeling which overpowered her, wasfar more comprehensible to Andrii than any words. His heart suddenlygrew light within him, all seemed made smooth. The mental emotions andthe feelings which up to that moment he had restrained with a heavycurb, as it were, now felt themselves released, at liberty, and anxiousto pour themselves out in a resistless torrent of words. Suddenly thelady turned to the Tatar, and said anxiously, "But my mother? you tookher some?"

"She is asleep. "

"And my father?"

"I carried him some; he said that he would come to thank the young lordin person. "

She took the bread and raised it to her mouth. With inexpressibledelight Andrii watched her break it with her shining fingers and eatit; but all at once he recalled the man mad with hunger, who had expiredbefore his eyes on swallowing a morsel of bread. He turned pale and, seizing her hand, cried, "Enough! eat no more! you have not eaten forso long that too much bread will be poison to you now. " And she at oncedropped her hand, laid her bread upon the plate, and gazed into his eyeslike a submissive child. And if any words could express--But neitherchisel, nor brush, nor mighty speech is capable of expressing what issometimes seen in glances of maidens, nor the tender feeling which takespossession of him who receives such maiden glances. 

"My queen!" exclaimed Andrii, his heart and soul filled with emotion, "what do you need? what do you wish? command me! Impose on me the mostimpossible task in all the world: I fly to fulfil it! Tell me to do thatwhich it is beyond the power of man to do: I will fulfil it if I destroymyself. I will ruin myself. And I swear by the holy cross that ruin foryour sake is as sweet--but no, it is impossible to say how sweet! I havethree farms; half my father's droves of horses are mine; all that mymother brought my father, and which she still conceals from him--allthis is mine! Not one of the Cossacks owns such weapons as I; for thepommel of my sword alone they would give their best drove of horses andthree thousand sheep. And I renounce all this, I discard it, I throw itaside, I will burn and drown it, if you will but say the word, or evenmove your delicate black brows! But I know that I am talking madly andwide of the mark; that all this is not fitting here; that it is not forme, who have passed my life in the seminary and among the Zaporozhtzi, to speak as they speak where kings, princes, and all the best of nobleknighthood have been. I can see that you are a different being from therest of us, and far above all other boyars' wives and maiden daughters. "

With growing amazement the maiden listened, losing no single word, tothe frank, sincere language in which, as in a mirror, the young, strongspirit reflected itself. Each simple word of this speech, uttered in avoice which penetrated straight to the depths of her heart, was clothedin power. She advanced her beautiful face, pushed back her troublesomehair, opened her mouth, and gazed long, with parted lips. Then she triedto say something and suddenly stopped, remembering that the warriorwas known by a different name; that his father, brothers, country, laybeyond, grim avengers; that the Zaporozhtzi besieging the city wereterrible, and that the cruel death awaited all who were within itswalls, and her eyes suddenly filled with tears. She seized a silkembroidered handkerchief and threw it over her face. In a moment it wasall wet; and she sat for some time with her beautiful head thrown back, and her snowy teeth set on her lovely under-lip, as though she suddenlyfelt the sting of a poisonous serpent, without removing the handkerchieffrom her face, lest he should see her shaken with grief. 

"Speak but one word to me, " said Andrii, and he took her satin-skinnedhand. A sparkling fire coursed through his veins at the touch, and hepressed the hand lying motionless in his. 

But she still kept silence, never taking the kerchief from her face, andremaining motionless. 

"Why are you so sad? Tell me, why are you so sad?"

She cast away the handkerchief, pushed aside the long hair which fellover her eyes, and poured out her heart in sad speech, in a quiet voice, like the breeze which, rising on a beautiful evening, blows through thethick growth of reeds beside the stream. They rustle, murmur, andgive forth delicately mournful sounds, and the traveller, pausing ininexplicable sadness, hears them, and heeds not the fading light, northe gay songs of the peasants which float in the air as they return fromtheir labours in meadow and stubble-field, nor the distant rumble of thepassing waggon. 

"Am not I worthy of eternal pity? Is not the mother that bore meunhappy? Is it not a bitter lot which has befallen me? Art not thou acruel executioner, fate? Thou has brought all to my feet--the highestnobles in the land, the richest gentlemen, counts, foreign barons, allthe flower of our knighthood. All loved me, and any one of them wouldhave counted my love the greatest boon. I had but to beckon, and thebest of them, the handsomest, the first in beauty and birth would havebecome my husband. And to none of them didst thou incline my heart, Obitter fate; but thou didst turn it against the noblest heroes of ourland, and towards a stranger, towards our enemy. O most holy mother ofGod! for what sin dost thou so pitilessly, mercilessly, persecute me?In abundance and superfluity of luxury my days were passed, the richestdishes and the sweetest wine were my food. And to what end was it all?What was it all for? In order that I might at last die a death morecruel than that of the meanest beggar in the kingdom? And it was notenough that I should be condemned to so horrible a fate; not enoughthat before my own end I should behold my father and mother perishin intolerable torment, when I would have willingly given my own lifetwenty times over to save them; all this was not enough, but before myown death I must hear words of love such as I had never before dreamedof. It was necessary that he should break my heart with his words; thatmy bitter lot should be rendered still more bitter; that my younglife should be made yet more sad; that my death should seem even moreterrible; and that, dying, I should reproach thee still more, O cruelfate! and thee--forgive my sin--O holy mother of God!"

As she ceased in despair, her feelings were plainly expressed in herface. Every feature spoke of gnawing sorrow and, from the sadly bowedbrow and downcast eyes to the tears trickling down and drying on hersoftly burning cheeks, seemed to say, "There is no happiness in thisface. "

"Such a thing was never heard of since the world began. It cannot be, "said Andrii, "that the best and most beautiful of women should suffer sobitter a fate, when she was born that all the best there is in the worldshould bow before her as before a saint. No, you will not die, you shallnot die! I swear by my birth and by all there is dear to me in theworld that you shall not die. But if it must be so; if nothing, neitherstrength, nor prayer, nor heroism, will avail to avert this cruelfate--then we will die together, and I will die first. I will die beforeyou, at your beauteous knees, and even in death they shall not divideus. "

"Deceive not yourself and me, noble sir, " she said, gently shaking herbeautiful head; "I know, and to my great sorrow I know but too well, that it is impossible for you to love me. I know what your duty is, andyour faith. Your father calls you, your comrades, your country, and weare your enemies. "

"And what are my father, my comrades, my country to me?" said Andrii, with a quick movement of his head, and straightening up his figure likea poplar beside the river. "Be that as it may, I have no one, no one!"he repeated, with that movement of the hand with which the Cossackexpresses his determination to do some unheard-of deed, impossible toany other man. "Who says that the Ukraine is my country? Who gave it tome for my country? Our country is the one our soul longs for, the onewhich is dearest of all to us. My country is--you! That is my nativeland, and I bear that country in my heart. I will bear it there all mylife, and I will see whether any of the Cossacks can tear it thence. AndI will give everything, barter everything, I will destroy myself, forthat country!"

Astounded, she gazed in his eyes for a space, like a beautiful statue, and then suddenly burst out sobbing; and with the wonderful feminineimpetuosity which only grand-souled, uncalculating women, created forfine impulses of the heart, are capable of, threw herself upon his neck, encircling it with her wondrous snowy arms, and wept. At that momentindistinct shouts rang through the street, accompanied by the sound oftrumpets and kettledrums; but he heard them not. He was only consciousof the beauteous mouth bathing him with its warm, sweet breath, of thetears streaming down his face, and of her long, unbound perfumed hair, veiling him completely in its dark and shining silk. 

At that moment the Tatar ran in with a cry of joy. "Saved, saved!" shecried, beside herself. "Our troops have entered the city. They havebrought corn, millet, flour, and Zaporozhtzi in chains!" But no oneheard that "our troops" had arrived in the city, or what they hadbrought with them, or how they had bound the Zaporozhtzi. Filled withfeelings untasted as yet upon earth, Andrii kissed the sweet mouth whichpressed his cheek, and the sweet mouth did not remain unresponsive. Inthis union of kisses they experienced that which it is given to a man tofeel but once on earth. 

And the Cossack was ruined. He was lost to Cossack chivalry. Never againwill Zaporozhe, nor his father's house, nor the Church of God, beholdhim. The Ukraine will never more see the bravest of the children whohave undertaken to defend her. Old Taras may tear the grey hair from hisscalp-lock, and curse the day and hour in which such a son was born todishonour him. 

CHAPTER VII

Noise and movement were rife in the Zaporozhian camp. At first, no onecould account for the relieving army having made its way into the city;but it afterwards appeared that the Pereyaslavsky kuren, encamped beforethe wide gate of the town, had been dead drunk. It was no wonder thathalf had been killed, and the other half bound, before they knew what itwas all about. Meantime the neighbouring kurens, aroused by the tumult, succeeded in grasping their weapons; but the relieving force had alreadypassed through the gate, and its rear ranks fired upon the sleepy andonly half-sober Zaporozhtzi who were pressing in disorder upon them, andkept them back. 

The Koschevoi ordered a general assembly; and when all stood in a ringand had removed their caps and became quiet, he said: "See what happenedlast night, brother gentles! See what drunkenness has led to! See whatshame the enemy has put upon us! It is evident that, if your allowancesare kindly doubled, then you are ready to stretch out at full length, and the enemies of Christ can not only take your very trousers off you, but sneeze in your faces without your hearing them!"

The Cossacks all stood with drooping heads, knowing that they wereguilty; only Kukubenko, the hetman of the Nezamisky kuren, answeredback. "Stop, father!" said he; "although it is not lawful to makea retort when the Koschevoi speaks before the whole army, yet it isnecessary to say that that was not the state of the case. You have notbeen quite just in your reprimand. The Cossacks would have been guilty, and deserving of death, had they got drunk on the march, or when engagedon heavy toilsome labour during war; but we have been sitting hereunoccupied, loitering in vain before the city. There was no fast orother Christian restraint; how then could it be otherwise than that aman should get drunk in idleness? There is no sin in that. But we hadbetter show them what it is to attack innocent people. They first beatus well, and now we will beat them so that not half a dozen of them willever see home again. "

The speech of the hetman of the kuren pleased the Cossacks. They raisedtheir drooping heads upright and many nodded approvingly, muttering, "Kukubenko has spoken well!" And Taras Bulba, who stood not far from theKoschevoi, said: "How now, Koschevoi? Kukubenko has spoken truth. Whathave you to say to this?"

"What have I to say? I say, Blessed be the father of such a son! Itdoes not need much wisdom to utter words of reproof; but much wisdomis needed to find such words as do not embitter a man's misfortune, butencourage him, restore to him his spirit, put spurs to the horse of hissoul, refreshed by water. I meant myself to speak words of comfort toyou, but Kukubenko has forestalled me. "

"The Koschevoi has also spoken well!" rang through the ranks of theZaporozhtzi. "His words are good, " repeated others. And even thegreyheads, who stood there like dark blue doves, nodded their heads and, twitching their grey moustaches, muttered softly, "That was well said. "

"Listen now, gentles, " continued the Koschevoi. "To take the city, byscaling its walls, or undermining them as the foreign engineers do, is not proper, not Cossack fashion. But, judging from appearances, the enemy entered the city without many provisions; they had not manywaggons with them. The people in the city are hungry; they will all eatheartily, and the horses will soon devour the hay. I don't know whethertheir saints will fling them down anything from heaven with hayforks;God only knows that though there are a great many Catholic priests amongthem. By one means or another the people will seek to leave the city. Divide yourselves, therefore, into three divisions, and take up yourposts before the three gates; five kurens before the principal gate, andthree kurens before each of the others. Let the Dadikivsky and Korsunskykurens go into ambush and Taras and his men into ambush too. TheTitarevsky and Timoschevsky kurens are to guard the baggage train onthe right flank, the Scherbinovsky and Steblikivsky on the left, and toselect from their ranks the most daring young men to face the foe. TheLyakhs are of a restless nature and cannot endure a siege, and perhapsthis very day they will sally forth from the gates. Let each hetmaninspect his kuren; those whose ranks are not full are to be recruitedfrom the remains of the Pereyaslavsky kuren. Inspect them all anew. Givea loaf and a beaker to each Cossack to strengthen him. But surely everyone must be satiated from last night; for all stuffed themselves sothat, to tell the truth, I am only surprised that no one burst in thenight. And here is one further command: if any Jew spirit-seller sells aCossack so much as a single jug of brandy, I will nail pig's ears to hisvery forehead, the dog, and hang him up by his feet. To work, brothers, to work!"

Thus did the Koschevoi give his orders. All bowed to their girdles, andwithout putting on their caps set out for their waggons and camps. Itwas only when they had gone some distance that they covered themselves. All began to equip themselves: they tested their swords, poured powderfrom the sacks into their powder-flasks, drew up and arranged thewaggons, and looked to their horses. 

On his way to his band, Taras wondered what had become of Andrii; couldhe have been captured and found while asleep with the others? But no, Andrii was not the man to go alive into captivity. Yet he was not to beseen among the slaughtered Cossacks. Taras pondered deeply and went pasthis men without hearing that some one had for some time been callinghim by name. "Who wants me?" he said, finally arousing himself fromhis reflections. Before him stood the Jew, Yankel. "Lord colonel! lordcolonel!" said the Jew in a hasty and broken voice, as though desirousof revealing something not utterly useless, "I have been in the city, lord colonel!"

Taras looked at the Jew, and wondered how he had succeeded in gettinginto the city. "What enemy took you there?"

"I will tell you at once, " said Yankel. "As soon as I heard the uproarthis morning, when the Cossacks began to fire, I seized my caftan and, without stopping to put it on, ran at the top of my speed, thrustingmy arms in on the way, because I wanted to know as soon as possible thecause of the noise and why the Cossacks were firing at dawn. I ran tothe very gate of the city, at the moment when the last of the army waspassing through. I looked, and in command of the rearguard was CornetGalyandovitch. He is a man well known to me; he has owed me a hundredducats these three years past. I ran after him, as though to claim thedebt of him, and so entered the city with them. "

"You entered the city, and wanted him to settle the debt!" said Bulba;"and he did not order you to be hung like a dog on the spot?"

"By heavens, he did want to hang me, " replied the Jew; "his servants hadalready seized me and thrown a rope about my neck. But I besought thenoble lord, and said that I would wait for the money as long as hislordship liked, and promised to lend him more if he would only help meto collect my debts from the other nobles; for I can tell my lord thatthe noble cornet had not a ducat in his pocket, although he has farmsand estates and four castles and steppe-land that extends clear toSchklof; but he has not a penny, any more than a Cossack. If the BreslauJews had not equipped him, he would never have gone on this campaign. That was the reason he did not go to the Diet. "

"What did you do in the city? Did you see any of our people?"

"Certainly, there are many of them there: Itzok, Rachum, Samuel, Khaivalkh, Evrei the pawnbroker--"

"May they die, the dogs!" shouted Taras in a rage. "Why do you name yourJewish tribe to me? I ask you about our Zaporozhtzi. "

"I saw none of our Zaporozhtzi; I saw only Lord Andrii. "

"You saw Andrii!" shouted Bulba. "What is he doing? Where did you seehim? In a dungeon? in a pit? dishonoured? bound?"

"Who would dare to bind Lord Andrii? now he is so grand a knight. I hardly recognised him. Gold on his shoulders and his belt, goldeverywhere about him; as the sun shines in spring, when every birdtwitters and sings in the orchard, so he shines, all gold. And hishorse, which the Waiwode himself gave him, is the very best; that horsealone is worth two hundred ducats. "

Bulba was petrified. "Why has he put on foreign garments?"

"He put them on because they were finer. And he rides about, and theothers ride about, and he teaches them, and they teach him; like thevery grandest Polish noble. "

"Who forced him to do this?"

"I should not say that he had been forced. Does not my lord know that hewent over to them of his own free will?"

"Who went over?"

"Lord Andrii. "

"Went where?"

"Went over to their side; he is now a thorough foreigner. "

"You lie, you hog's ear!"

"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? Do not I know that Jews are hunglike dogs if they lie to nobles?"

"Then it means, according to you, he has betrayed his native land andhis faith?"

"I do not say that he has betrayed anything; I merely said that he hadgone over to the other side. "

"You lie, you imp of a Jew! Such a deed was never known in a Christianland. You are making a mistake, dog!"

"May the grass grow upon the threshold of my house if I am mistaken!May every one spit upon the grave of my father, my mother, my father'sfather, and my mother's father, if I am mistaken! If my lord wished Ican even tell him why he went over to them. "

"Why?"

"The Waiwode has a beautiful daughter. Holy Father! what a beauty!"Here the Jew tried his utmost to express beauty by extending his hands, screwing up his eyes, and twisting his mouth to one side as thoughtasting something on trial. 

"Well, what of that?"

"He did it all for her, he went there for her sake. When a man is inlove, then all things are the same to him; like the sole of a shoe whichyou can bend in any direction if you soak it in water. "

Bulba reflected deeply. He remembered the power of weak woman--howshe had ruined many a strong man, and that this was the weak point inAndrii's nature--and stood for some time in one spot, as though rootedthere. "Listen, my lord, I will tell my lord all, " said the Jew. "Assoon as I heard the uproar, and saw them going through the city gate, I seized a string of pearls, in case of any emergency. For thereare beauties and noble-women there; 'and if there are beauties andnoble-women, ' I said to myself, 'they will buy pearls, even if they havenothing to eat. ' And, as soon as ever the cornet's servants had set meat liberty, I hastened to the Waiwode's residence to sell my pearls. Iasked all manner of questions of the lady's Tatar maid; the weddingis to take place immediately, as soon as they have driven off theZaporozhtzi. Lord Andrii has promised to drive off the Zaporovians. "

"And you did not kill him on the spot, you devil's brat?" shouted Bulba. 

"Why should I kill him? He went over of his own free will. What is hiscrime? He liked it better there, so he went there. "

"And you saw him face to face?"

"Face to face, by heavens! such a magnificent warrior! more splendidthan all the rest. God bless him, he knew me, and when I approached himhe said at once--"

"What did he say?"

"He said--First he beckoned me with his finger, and then he said, 'Yankel!' Lord Andrii said, 'Yankel, tell my father, tell my brother, tell all the Cossacks, all the Zaporozhtzi, everybody, that my fatheris no longer my father, nor my brother my brother, nor my comrades mycomrades; and that I will fight them all, all. '"

"You lie, imp of a Jew!" shouted Taras, beside himself. "You lie, dog! Iwill kill you, Satan! Get away from here! if not, death awaits you!" Sosaying, Taras drew his sword. 

The terrified Jew set off instantly, at the full speed of his thin, shrunken legs. He ran for a long time, without looking back, through theCossack camp, and then far out on the deserted plain, although Tarasdid not chase him at all, reasoning that it was foolish to thus vent hisrage on the first person who presented himself. 

Then he recollected that he had seen Andrii on the previous nighttraversing the camp with some woman, and he bowed his grey head. Stillhe would not believe that so disgraceful a thing could have happened, and that his own son had betrayed his faith and soul. 

Finally he placed his men in ambush in a wood--the only one which hadnot been burned by the Cossacks--whilst the Zaporozhians, foot andhorse, set out for the three gates by three different roads. Oneafter another the kurens turned out: Oumansky, Popovichesky, Kanevsky, Steblikovsky, Nezamaikovsky, Gurgazif, Titarevsky, Tomischevsky. ThePereyaslavsky kuren alone was wanting. Its Cossacks had smoked and drankto their destruction. Some awoke to find themselves bound in the enemy'shands; others never woke at all but passed in their sleep into thedamp earth; and the hetman Khlib himself, minus his trousers andaccoutrements, found himself in the camp of the Lyakhs. 

The uproar among the Zaporozhtzi was heard in the city. All the besiegedhastened to the ramparts, and a lively scene was presented to theCossacks. The handsome Polish heroes thronged on the wall. The brazenhelmets of some shone like the sun, and were adorned with feathers whiteas swans. Others wore pink and blue caps, drooping over one ear, andcaftans with the sleeves thrown back, embroidered with gold. Theirweapons were richly mounted and very costly, as were their equipments. In the front rank the Budzhakovsky colonel stood proudly in his red capornamented with gold. He was a tall, stout man, and his rich and amplecaftan hardly covered him. Near the side gate stood another colonel. Hewas a dried-up little man, but his small, piercing eyes gleamed sharplyfrom under his thick and shaggy brows, and as he turned quickly on allsides, motioning boldly with his thin, withered hand, and giving out hisorders, it was evident that, in spite of his little body, he understoodmilitary science thoroughly. Not far from him stood a very tall cornet, with thick moustaches and a highly-coloured complexion--a noble fondof strong mead and hearty revelry. Behind them were many nobles who hadequipped themselves, some with their own ducats, some from the royaltreasury, some with money obtained from the Jews, by pawning everythingthey found in their ancestral castles. Many too were parasites, whom thesenators took with them to dinners for show, and who stole silver cupsfrom the table and the sideboard, and when the day's display was overmounted some noble's coach-box and drove his horses. There were folk ofall kinds there. Sometimes they had not enough to drink, but all wereequipped for war. 

The Cossack ranks stood quietly before the walls. There was no goldabout them, save where it shone on the hilt of a sword or the mountingsof a gun. The Zaporozhtzi were not given to decking themselves outgaily for battle: their coats-of-mail and garments were plain, and theirblack-bordered red-crowned caps showed darkly in the distance. 

Two men--Okhrim Nasch and Mikiga Golokopuitenko--advanced from theZaporozhian ranks. One was quite young, the other older; both fierce inwords, and not bad specimens of Cossacks in action. They were followedby Demid Popovitch, a strongly built Cossack who had been hangingabout the Setch for a long time, after having been in Adrianople andundergoing a great deal in the course of his life. He had been burned, and had escaped to the Setch with blackened head and singed moustaches. But Popovitch recovered, let his hair grow, raised moustaches thickand black as pitch, and was a stout fellow, according to his own bitingspeech. 

"Red jackets on all the army, but I should like to know what sort of menare under them, " he cried. 

"I will show you, " shouted the stout colonel from above. "I will capturethe whole of you. Surrender your guns and horses, slaves. Did you seehow I caught your men?--Bring out a Zaporozhetz on the wall for them tosee. "

And they let out a Zaporozhetz bound with stout cords. 

Before them stood Khlib, the hetman of the Pereyaslavsky kuren, withouthis trousers or accoutrements, just as they had captured him in hisdrunken sleep. He bowed his head in shame before the Cossacks at hisnakedness, and at having been thus taken like a dog, while asleep. Hishair had turned grey in one night. 

"Grieve not, Khlib: we will rescue you, " shouted the Cossacks frombelow. 

"Grieve not, friend, " cried the hetman Borodaty. "It is not your faultthat they caught you naked: that misfortune might happen to any man. Butit is a disgrace to them that they should have exposed you to dishonour, and not covered your nakedness decently. "

"You seem to be a brave army when you have people who are asleep tofight, " remarked Golokopuitenko, glancing at the ramparts. 

"Wait a bit, we'll singe your top-knots for you!" was the reply. 

"I should like to see them singe our scalp locks!" said Popovitch, prancing about before them on his horse; and then, glancing at hiscomrades, he added, "Well, perhaps the Lyakhs speak the truth: if thatfat-bellied fellow leads them, they will all find a good shelter. "

"Why do you think they will find a good shelter?" asked the Cossacks, knowing that Popovitch was probably preparing some repartee. 

"Because the whole army will hide behind him; and the devil himselfcouldn't help you to reach any one with your spear through that belly ofhis!"

The Cossacks laughed, some of them shaking their heads and saying, "Whata fellow Popovitch is for a joke! but now--" But the Cossacks had nottime to explain what they meant by that "now. "

"Fall back, fall back quickly from the wall!" shouted the Koschevoi, seeing that the Lyakhs could not endure these biting words, and that thecolonel was waving his hand. 

The Cossacks had hardly retreated from the wall before the grape-shotrained down. On the ramparts all was excitement, and the grey-hairedWaiwode himself appeared on horseback. The gates opened and the garrisonsallied forth. In the van came hussars in orderly ranks, behind them thehorsemen in armour, and then the heroes in brazen helmets; after whomrode singly the highest nobility, each man accoutred as he pleased. These haughty nobles would not mingle in the ranks with others, andsuch of them as had no commands rode apart with their own immediatefollowing. Next came some more companies, and after these the cornet, then more files of men, and the stout colonel; and in the rear of thewhole force the little colonel. 

"Keep them from forming in line!" shouted the Koschevoi; "let all thekurens attack them at once! Block the other gate! Titarevsky kuren, fallon one flank! Dyadovsky kuren, charge on the other! Attack them inthe rear, Kukubenko and Palivod! Check them, break them!" The Cossacksattacked on all sides, throwing the Lyakhs into confusion and gettingconfused themselves. They did not even give the foe time to fire, itcame to swords and spears at once. All fought hand to hand, and each manhad an opportunity to distinguish himself. 

Demid Popovitch speared three soldiers, and struck two of the highestnobles from their saddles, saying, "Good horses! I have long wantedjust such horses. " And he drove the horses far afield, shouting to theCossacks standing about to catch them. Then he rushed again into thefray, fell upon the dismounted nobles, slew one, and throwing his lassoround the neck of the other, tied him to his saddle and dragged him overthe plain, after having taken from him his sword from its rich hilt andremoved from his girdle a whole bag of ducats. 

Kobita, a good Cossack, though still very young, attacked one of thebravest men in the Polish army, and they fought long together. Theygrappled, and the Cossack mastering his foe, and throwing him down, stabbed him in the breast with his sharp Turkish knife. But he did notlook out for himself, and a bullet struck him on the temple. The man whostruck him down was the most distinguished of the nobles, the handsomestscion of an ancient and princely race. Like a stately poplar, hebestrode his dun-coloured steed, and many heroic deeds did he perform. He cut two Cossacks in twain. Fedor Korzh, the brave Cossack, heoverthrew together with his horse, shooting the steed and picking offthe rider with his spear. Many heads and hands did he hew off; and slewKobita by sending a bullet through his temple. 

"There's a man I should like to measure strength with!" shoutedKukubenko, the hetman of the Nezamaikovsky kuren. Spurring his horse, he dashed straight at the Pole's back, shouting loudly, so that all whostood near shuddered at the unearthly yell. The boyard tried to wheelhis horse suddenly and face him, but his horse would not obey him;scared by the terrible cry, it bounded aside, and the Lyakh receivedKukubenko's fire. The ball struck him in the shoulder-blade, and herolled from his saddle. Even then he did not surrender and strove todeal his enemy a blow, but his hand was weak. Kukubenko, taking hisheavy sword in both hands, thrust it through his mouth. The sword, breaking out two teeth, cut the tongue in twain, pierced the windpipe, and penetrated deep into the earth, nailing him to the ground. Hisnoble blood, red as viburnum berries beside the river, welled forth ina stream staining his yellow, gold-embroidered caftan. But Kukubenko hadalready left him, and was forcing his way, with his Nezamaikovsky kuren, towards another group. 

"He has left untouched rich plunder, " said Borodaty, hetman of theOumansky kuren, leaving his men and going to the place where thenobleman killed by Kukubenko lay. "I have killed seven nobles with myown hand, but such spoil I never beheld on any one. " Prompted by greed, Borodaty bent down to strip off the rich armour, and had already securedthe Turkish knife set with precious stones, and taken from the foe'sbelt a purse of ducats, and from his breast a silver case containing amaiden's curl, cherished tenderly as a love-token. But he heeded not howthe red-faced cornet, whom he had already once hurled from the saddleand given a good blow as a remembrance, flew upon him from behind. Thecornet swung his arm with all his might, and brought his sword down uponBorodaty's bent neck. Greed led to no good: the head rolled off, and thebody fell headless, sprinkling the earth with blood far and wide; whilstthe Cossack soul ascended, indignant and surprised at having so soonquitted so stout a frame. The cornet had not succeeded in seizing thehetman's head by its scalp-lock, and fastening it to his saddle, beforean avenger had arrived. 

As a hawk floating in the sky, sweeping in great circles with his mightywings, suddenly remains poised in air, in one spot, and thence dartsdown like an arrow upon the shrieking quail, so Taras's son Ostap dartedsuddenly upon the cornet and flung a rope about his neck with one cast. The cornet's red face became a still deeper purple as the cruelnoose compressed his throat, and he tried to use his pistol; but hisconvulsively quivering hand could not aim straight, and the bullet flewwild across the plain. Ostap immediately unfastened a silken cord whichthe cornet carried at his saddle bow to bind prisoners, and having withit bound him hand and foot, attached the cord to his saddle and draggedhim across the field, calling on all the Cossacks of the Oumansky kurento come and render the last honours to their hetman. 

When the Oumantzi heard that the hetman of their kuren, Borodaty, wasno longer among the living, they deserted the field of battle, rushed tosecure his body, and consulted at once as to whom they should select astheir leader. At length they said, "But why consult? It is impossible tofind a better leader than Bulba's son, Ostap; he is younger than allthe rest of us, it is true; but his judgment is equal to that of theeldest. "

Ostap, taking off his cap, thanked his comrades for the honour, and didnot decline it on the ground of youth or inexperience, knowing that wartime is no fitting season for that; but instantly ordered them straightto the fray, and soon showed them that not in vain had they chosen himas hetman. The Lyakhs felt that the matter was growing too hot for them, and retreated across the plain in order to form again at its otherend. But the little colonel signalled to the reserve of four hundred, stationed at the gate, and these rained shot upon the Cossacks. Tolittle purpose, however, their shot only taking effect on the Cossackoxen, which were gazing wildly upon the battle. The frightened oxen, bellowing with fear, dashed into the camp, breaking the line of waggonsand trampling on many. But Taras, emerging from ambush at the momentwith his troops, headed off the infuriated cattle, which, startled byhis yell, swooped down upon the Polish troops, overthrew the cavalry, and crushed and dispersed them all. 

"Thank you, oxen!" cried the Zaporozhtzi; "you served us on the march, and now you serve us in war. " And they attacked the foe withfresh vigour killing many of the enemy. Several distinguishedthemselves--Metelitza and Schilo, both of the Pisarenki, Vovtuzenko, andmany others. The Lyakhs seeing that matters were going badly for themflung away their banners and shouted for the city gates to be opened. With a screeching sound the iron-bound gates swung open and received theweary and dust-covered riders, flocking like sheep into a fold. Many ofthe Zaporozhtzi would have pursued them, but Ostap stopped his Oumantzi, saying, "Farther, farther from the walls, brother gentles! it isnot well to approach them too closely. " He spoke truly; for from theramparts the foe rained and poured down everything which came tohand, and many were struck. At that moment the Koschevoi came up andcongratulated him, saying, "Here is the new hetman leading the army likean old one!" Old Bulba glanced round to see the new hetman, and beheldOstap sitting on his horse at the head of the Oumantzi, his cap on oneside and the hetman's staff in his hand. "Who ever saw the like!" heexclaimed; and the old man rejoiced, and began to thank all the Oumantzifor the honour they had conferred upon his son. 

The Cossacks retired, preparing to go into camp; but the Lyakhs showedthemselves again on the city ramparts with tattered mantles. Many richcaftans were spotted with blood, and dust covered the brazen helmets. 

"Have you bound us?" cried the Zaporozhtzi to them from below. 

"We will do so!" shouted the big colonel from above, showing them arope. The weary, dust-covered warriors ceased not to threaten, nor themost zealous on both sides to exchange fierce remarks. 

At length all dispersed. Some, weary with battle, stretched themselvesout to rest; others sprinkled their wounds with earth, and bound themwith kerchiefs and rich stuffs captured from the enemy. Others, who werefresher, began to inspect the corpses and to pay them the last honours. They dug graves with swords and spears, brought earth in their caps andthe skirts of their garments, laid the Cossacks' bodies out decently, and covered them up in order that the ravens and eagles might not clawout their eyes. But binding the bodies of the Lyakhs, as they cameto hand, to the tails of horses, they let these loose on the plain, pursuing them and beating them for some time. The infuriated horses flewover hill and hollow, through ditch and brook, dragging the bodies ofthe Poles, all covered with blood and dust, along the ground. 

All the kurens sat down in circles in the evening, and talked for a longtime of their deeds, and of the achievements which had fallen to theshare of each, for repetition by strangers and posterity. It was longbefore they lay down to sleep; and longer still before old Taras, meditating what it might signify that Andrii was not among the foe, lay down. Had the Judas been ashamed to come forth against his owncountrymen? or had the Jew been deceiving him, and had he simply goneinto the city against his will? But then he recollected that there wereno bounds to a woman's influence upon Andrii's heart; he felt ashamed, and swore a mighty oath to himself against the fair Pole who hadbewitched his son. And he would have kept his oath. He would not havelooked at her beauty; he would have dragged her forth by her thick andsplendid hair; he would have trailed her after him over all the plain, among all the Cossacks. Her beautiful shoulders and bosom, white asfresh-fallen snow upon the mountain-tops, would have been crushed toearth and covered with blood and dust. Her lovely body would have beentorn to pieces. But Taras, who did not foresee what God prepares forman on the morrow, began to grow drowsy, and finally fell asleep. TheCossacks still talked among themselves; and the sober sentinel stood allnight long beside the fire without blinking and keeping a good look outon all sides. 

CHAPTER VIII

The sun had not ascended midway in the heavens when all the armyassembled in a group. News had come from the Setch that during theCossacks' absence the Tatars had plundered it completely, unearthed thetreasures which were kept concealed in the ground, killed or carriedinto captivity all who had remained behind, and straightway set out, with all the flocks and droves of horses they had collected, forPerekop. One Cossack only, Maksin Galodukha, had broken loose from theTatars' hands, stabbed the Mirza, seized his bag of sequins, and ona Tatar horse, in Tatar garments, had fled from his pursuers fortwo nights and a day and a half, ridden his horse to death, obtainedanother, killed that one too, and arrived at the Zaporozhian camp upona third, having learned upon the road that the Zaporozhtzi were beforeDubno. He could only manage to tell them that this misfortune had takenplace; but as to how it happened--whether the remaining Zaporozhtzi hadbeen carousing after Cossack fashion, and had been carried drunk intocaptivity, and how the Tatars were aware of the spot where the treasuresof the army were concealed--he was too exhausted to say. Extremelyfatigued, his body swollen, and his face scorched and weatherbeaten, hehad fallen down, and a deep sleep had overpowered him. 

In such cases it was customary for the Cossacks to pursue the robbers atonce, endeavouring to overtake them on the road; for, let the prisonersonce be got to the bazaars of Asia Minor, Smyrna, or the island ofCrete, and God knows in what places the tufted heads of Zaporozhtzimight not be seen. This was the occasion of the Cossacks' assembling. They all stood to a man with their caps on; for they had not met tolisten to the commands of their hetman, but to take counsel together asequals among equals. "Let the old men first advise, " was shouted to thecrowd. "Let the Koschevoi give his opinion, " cried others. 

The Koschevoi, taking off his cap and speaking not as commander, but asa comrade among comrades, thanked all the Cossacks for the honour, andsaid, "There are among us many experienced men and much wisdom; butsince you have thought me worthy, my counsel is not to lose time inpursuing the Tatars, for you know yourselves what the Tatar is. He willnot pause with his stolen booty to await our coming, but will vanish ina twinkling, so that you can find no trace of him. Therefore my adviceis to go. We have had good sport here. The Lyakhs now know what Cossacksare. We have avenged our faith to the extent of our ability; there isnot much to satisfy greed in the famished city, and so my advice is togo. "

"To go, " rang heavily through the Zaporozhian kurens. But such wordsdid not suit Taras Bulba at all; and he brought his frowning, iron-greybrows still lower down over his eyes, brows like bushes growing on darkmountain heights, whose crowns are suddenly covered with sharp northernfrost. 

"No, Koschevoi, your counsel is not good, " said he. "You cannot saythat. You have evidently forgotten that those of our men captured by theLyakhs will remain prisoners. You evidently wish that we should not heedthe first holy law of comradeship; that we should leave our brethren tobe flayed alive, or carried about through the towns and villages aftertheir Cossack bodies have been quartered, as was done with the hetmanand the bravest Russian warriors in the Ukraine. Have the enemy notdesecrated the holy things sufficiently without that? What are we? Iask you all what sort of a Cossack is he who would desert his comrade inmisfortune, and let him perish like a dog in a foreign land? If it hascome to such a pass that no one has any confidence in Cossack honour, permitting men to spit upon his grey moustache, and upbraid him withoffensive words, then let no one blame me; I will remain here alone. "

All the Zaporozhtzi who were there wavered. 

"And have you forgotten, brave comrades, " said the Koschevoi, "thatthe Tatars also have comrades of ours in their hands; that if we do notrescue them now their lives will be sacrificed in eternal imprisonmentamong the infidels, which is worse than the most cruel death? Have youforgotten that they now hold all our treasure, won by Christian blood?"

The Cossacks reflected, not knowing what to say. None of them wished todeserve ill repute. Then there stepped out in front of them the oldestin years of all the Zaporozhian army, Kasyan Bovdug. He was respected byall the Cossacks. Twice had he been chosen Koschevoi, and had also beena stout warrior; but he had long been old, and had ceased to go uponraids. Neither did the old man like to give advice to any one; but lovedto lie upon his side in the circle of Cossacks, listening to talesof every occurrence on the Cossack marches. He never joined in theconversation, but only listened, and pressed the ashes with his fingerin his short pipe, which never left his mouth; and would sit so longwith his eyes half open, that the Cossacks never knew whether he wereasleep or still listening. He always stayed at home during their raids, but this time the old man had joined the army. He had waved his hand inCossack fashion, and said, "Wherever you go, I am going too; perhaps Imay be of some service to the Cossack nation. " All the Cossacks becamesilent when he now stepped forward before the assembly, for it was longsince any speech from him had been heard. Every one wanted to know whatBovdug had to say. 

"It is my turn to speak a word, brother gentles, " he began: "listen, my children, to an old man. The Koschevoi spoke well as the head of theCossack army; being bound to protect it, and in respect to the treasuresof the army he could say nothing wiser. That is so! Let that be my firstremark; but now listen to my second. And this is my second remark: Tarasspoke even more truly. God grant him many years, and that such leadersmay be plentiful in the Ukraine! A Cossack's first duty and honour is toguard comradeship. Never in all my life, brother gentles, have I heardof any Cossack deserting or betraying any of his comrades. Both thosemade captive at the Setch and these taken here are our comrades. Whetherthey be few or many, it makes no difference; all are our comrades, and all are dear to us. So this is my speech: Let those to whom theprisoners captured by the Tatars are dear set out after the Tatars; andlet those to whom the captives of the Poles are dear, and who donot care to desert a righteous cause, stay behind. The Koschevoi, inaccordance with his duty, will accompany one half in pursuit of theTatars, and the other half can choose a hetman to lead them. But ifyou will heed the words of an old man, there is no man fitter to bethe commanding hetman than Taras Bulba. Not one of us is his equal inheroism. "

Thus spoke Bovdug, and paused; and all the Cossacks rejoiced that theold man had in this manner brought them to an agreement. All flung uptheir caps and shouted, "Thanks, father! He kept silence for a long, long time, but he has spoken at last. Not in vain did he say, when weprepared for this expedition, that he might be useful to the Cossacknation: even so it has come to pass!"

"Well, are you agreed upon anything?" asked the Koschevoi. 

"We are all agreed!" cried the Cossacks. 

"Then the council is at an end?"

"At an end!" cried the Cossacks. 

"Then listen to the military command, children, " said the Koschevoi, stepping forward, and putting on his cap; whilst all the Cossacks tookoff theirs, and stood with uncovered heads, and with eyes fixed upon theearth, as was always the custom among them when the leader prepared tospeak. "Now divide yourselves, brother gentles! Let those who wish to gostand on the right, and those who wish to stay, on the left. Where themajority of a kuren goes there its officers are to go: if the minorityof a kuren goes over, it must be added to another kuren. "

Then they began to take up their positions, some to the right and someto the left. Whither the majority of a kuren went thither the hetmanwent also; and the minority attached itself to another kuren. It cameout pretty even on both sides. Those who wished to remain were nearlythe whole of the Nezamaikovsky kuren, the entire Oumansky kuren, theentire Kanevsky kuren, and the larger half of the Popovitchsky, theTimoschevsky and the Steblikivsky kurens. All the rest preferred to goin pursuit of the Tatars. On both sides there were many stout and braveCossacks. Among those who decided to follow the Tatars were Tcherevaty, and those good old Cossacks Pokotipole, Lemisch, and Prokopovitch Koma. Demid Popovitch also went with that party, because he could not sit longin one place: he had tried his hand on the Lyakhs and wanted to try iton the Tatars also. The hetmans of kurens were Nostiugan, Pokruischka, Nevnimsky, and numerous brave and renowned Cossacks who wished to testtheir swords and muscles in an encounter with the Tatars. There werelikewise many brave Cossacks among those who preferred to remain, including the kuren hetmans, Demitrovitch, Kukubenko, Vertikhvist, Balan, and Ostap Bulba. Besides these there were plenty of stout anddistinguished warriors: Vovtuzenko, Tcherevitchenko, Stepan Guska, Okhrim Guska, Vikola Gonstiy, Zadorozhniy, Metelitza, Ivan Zakrutiguba, Mosiy Pisarenko, and still another Pisarenko, and many others. They wereall great travellers; they had visited the shores of Anatolia, the saltmarshes and steppes of the Crimea, all the rivers great and small whichempty into the Dnieper, and all the fords and islands of the Dnieper;they had been in Moldavia, Wallachia, and Turkey; they had sailed allover the Black Sea, in their double-ruddered Cossack boats; they hadattacked with fifty skiffs in line the tallest and richest ships; theyhad sunk many a Turkish galley, and had burnt much, very much powder intheir day; more than once they had made foot-bandages from velvets andrich stuffs; more than once they had beaten buckles for their girdlesout of sequins. Every one of them had drunk and revelled away what wouldhave sufficed any other for a whole lifetime, and had nothing to showfor it. They spent it all, like Cossacks, in treating all the world, andin hiring music that every one might be merry. Even now few of themhad amassed any property: some caskets, cups, and bracelets were hiddenbeneath the reeds on the islands of the Dnieper in order that the Tatarsmight not find them if by mishap they should succeed in falling suddenlyon the Setch; but it would have been difficult for the Tatars to findthem, for the owners themselves had forgotten where they had buriedthem. Such were the Cossacks who wished to remain and take vengeance onthe Lyakhs for their trusty comrades and the faith of Christ. The oldCossack Bovdug wished also to remain with them, saying, "I am not ofan age to pursue the Tatars, but this is a place to meet a good Cossackdeath. I have long prayed God that when my life was to end I might endit in battle for a holy and Christian cause. And so it has come topass. There can be no more glorious end in any other place for the agedCossack. "

When they had all separated, and were ranged in two lines on oppositesides, the Koschevoi passed through the ranks, and said, "Well, brothergentles, are the two parties satisfied with each other?"

"All satisfied, father!" replied the Cossacks. 

"Then kiss each other, and bid each other farewell; for God knowswhether you will ever see each other alive again. Obey your hetman, but you know yourselves what you have to do: you know yourselves whatCossack honour requires. "

And all the Cossacks kissed each other. The hetmans first began it. Stroking down their grey moustaches, they kissed each other, making thesign of the cross, and then, grasping hands firmly, wanted to ask ofeach other, "Well, brother, shall we see one another again or not?" Butthey did not ask the question: they kept silence, and both grey-headswere lost in thought. Then the Cossacks took leave of each other to thelast man, knowing that there was a great deal of work before them all. Yet they were not obliged to part at once: they would have to wait untilnight in order not to let the Lyakhs perceive the diminution in theCossack army. Then all went off, by kurens, to dine. 

After dinner, all who had the prospect of the journey before them laydown to rest, and fell into a deep and long sleep, as though foreseeingthat it was the last sleep they should enjoy in such security. Theyslept even until sunset; and when the sun had gone down and it had grownsomewhat dusky, began to tar the waggons. All being in readiness, theysent the waggons ahead, and having pulled off their caps once more totheir comrades, quietly followed the baggage train. The cavalry, without shouts or whistles to the horses, tramped lightly after thefoot-soldiers, and all soon vanished in the darkness. The only sound wasthe dull thud of horses' hoofs, or the squeak of some wheel which hadnot got into working order, or had not been properly tarred amid thedarkness. 

Their comrades stood for some time waving their hands, though nothingwas visible. But when they returned to their camping places and saw bythe light of the gleaming stars that half the waggons were gone, and many of their comrades, each man's heart grew sad; all becameinvoluntarily pensive, and drooped their heads towards the earth. 

Taras saw how troubled were the Cossack ranks, and that sadness, unsuited to brave men, had begun to quietly master the Cossack hearts;but he remained silent. He wished to give them time to become accustomedto the melancholy caused by their parting from their comrades; but, meanwhile, he was preparing to rouse them at one blow, by a loudbattle-cry in Cossack fashion, in order that good cheer might returnto the soul of each with greater strength than before. Of this only theSlav nature, a broad, powerful nature, which is to others what the seais to small rivulets, is capable. In stormy times it roars and thunders, raging, and raising such waves as weak rivers cannot throw up; butwhen it is windless and quiet, it spreads its boundless glassy surface, clearer than any river, a constant delight to the eye. 

Taras ordered his servants to unload one of the waggons which stoodapart. It was larger and stronger than any other in the Cossack camp;two stout tires encircled its mighty wheels. It was heavily laden, covered with horsecloths and strong wolf-skins, and firmly bound withtightly drawn tarred ropes. In the waggon were flasks and casks ofgood old wine, which had long lain in Taras's cellar. He had brought italong, in case a moment should arrive when some deed awaited them worthyof being handed down to posterity, so that each Cossack, to the verylast man, might quaff it, and be inspired with sentiments fitting to theoccasion. On receiving his command, the servants hastened to the waggon, hewed asunder the stout ropes with their swords, removed the thickwolf-skins and horsecloths, and drew forth the flasks and casks. 

"Take them all, " said Bulba, "all there are; take them, that every onemay be supplied. Take jugs, or the pails for watering the horses; takesleeve or cap; but if you have nothing else, then hold your two handsunder. "

All the Cossacks seized something: one took a jug, another a pail, another a sleeve, another a cap, and another held both hands. Taras'sservants, making their way among the ranks, poured out for all from thecasks and flasks. But Taras ordered them not to drink until he shouldgive the signal for all to drink together. It was evident that he wishedto say something. He knew that however good in itself the wine might beand however fitted to strengthen the spirit of man, yet, if a suitablespeech were linked with it, then the strength of the wine and of thespirit would be doubled. 

"I treat you, brother gentles, " thus spoke Bulba, "not in honour ofyour having made me hetman, however great such an honour may be, nor inhonour of our parting from our comrades. To do both would be fitting ata fitting time; but the moment before us is not such a time. Thework before us is great both in labour and in glory for the Cossacks. Therefore let us drink all together, let us drink before all else to theholy orthodox faith, that the day may finally come when it may be spreadover all the world, and that everywhere there may be but one faith, and that all Mussulmans may become Christians. And let us also drinktogether to the Setch, that it may stand long for the ruin of theMussulmans, and that every year there may issue forth from it young men, each better, each handsomer than the other. And let us drink to our ownglory, that our grandsons and their sons may say that there were oncemen who were not ashamed of comradeship, and who never betrayed eachother. Now to the faith, brother gentles, to the faith!"

"To the faith!" cried those standing in the ranks hard by, with thickvoices. "To the faith!" those more distant took up the cry; and all, both young and old, drank to the faith. 

"To the Setch!" said Taras, raising his hand high above his head. 

"To the Setch!" echoed the foremost ranks. "To the Setch!" said theold men, softly, twitching their grey moustaches; and eagerly as younghawks, the youths repeated, "To the Setch!" And the distant plain heardhow the Cossacks mentioned their Setch. 

"Now a last draught, comrades, to the glory of all Christians now livingin the world!"

And every Cossack drank a last draught to the glory of all Christians inthe world. And among all the ranks in the kurens they long repeated, "Toall the Christians in the world!"

The pails were empty, but the Cossacks still stood with their handsuplifted. Although the eyes of all gleamed brightly with the wine, they were thinking deeply. Not of greed or the spoils of war were theythinking now, nor of who would be lucky enough to get ducats, fineweapons, embroidered caftans, and Tcherkessian horses; but theymeditated like eagles perched upon the rocky crests of mountains, fromwhich the distant sea is visible, dotted, as with tiny birds, withgalleys, ships, and every sort of vessel, bounded only by the scarcelyvisible lines of shore, with their ports like gnats and their forestslike fine grass. Like eagles they gazed out on all the plain, with theirfate darkling in the distance. All the plain, with its slopes and roads, will be covered with their white projecting bones, lavishly washed withtheir Cossack blood, and strewn with shattered waggons and with brokenswords and spears; the eagles will swoop down and tear out their Cossackeyes. But there is one grand advantage: not a single noble deed will belost, and the Cossack glory will not vanish like the tiniest grain ofpowder from a gun-barrel. The guitar-player with grey beard falling uponhis breast, and perhaps a white-headed old man still full of ripe, manlystrength will come, and will speak his low, strong words of them. Andtheir glory will resound through all the world, and all who are bornthereafter will speak of them; for the word of power is carried afar, ringing like a booming brazen bell, in which the maker has mingled muchrich, pure silver, that is beautiful sound may be borne far and widethrough the cities, villages, huts, and palaces, summoning all betimesto holy prayer. 

CHAPTER IX

In the city, no one knew that one-half of the Cossacks had gone inpursuit of the Tatars. From the tower of the town hall the sentinel onlyperceived that a part of the waggons had been dragged into the forest;but it was thought that the Cossacks were preparing an ambush--a viewtaken by the French engineer also. Meanwhile, the Koschevoi's wordsproved not unfounded, for a scarcity of provisions arose in the city. According to a custom of past centuries, the army did not separate asmuch as was necessary. They tried to make a sortie; but half of thosewho did so were instantly killed by the Cossacks, and the otherhalf driven back into the city with no results. But the Jews availedthemselves of the opportunity to find out everything; whither andwhy the Zaporozhtzi had departed, and with what leaders, and whichparticular kurens, and their number, and how many had remained on thespot, and what they intended to do; in short, within a few minutes allwas known in the city. 

The besieged took courage, and prepared to offer battle. Taras hadalready divined it from the noise and movement in the city, and hastenedabout, making his arrangements, forming his men, and giving orders andinstructions. He ranged the kurens in three camps, surrounding themwith the waggons as bulwarks--a formation in which the Zaporozhtzi wereinvincible--ordered two kurens into ambush, and drove sharp stakes, broken guns, and fragments of spears into a part of the plain, with aview to forcing the enemy's cavalry upon it if an opportunity shouldpresent itself. When all was done which was necessary, he made a speechto the Cossacks, not for the purpose of encouraging and freshening uptheir spirits--he knew their souls were strong without that--but simplybecause he wished to tell them all he had upon his heart. 

"I want to tell you, brother gentles, what our brotherhood is. You haveheard from your fathers and grandfathers in what honour our land hasalways been held by all. We made ourselves known to the Greeks, and wetook gold from Constantinople, and our cities were luxurious, and wehad, too, our temples, and our princes--the princes of the Russianpeople, our own princes, not Catholic unbelievers. But the Mussulmanstook all; all vanished, and we remained defenceless; yea, like a widowafter the death of a powerful husband: defenceless was our land as wellas ourselves! Such was the time, comrades, when we joined hands in abrotherhood: that is what our fellowship consists in. There is no moresacred brotherhood. The father loves his children, the mother loves herchildren, the children love their father and mother; but this is notlike that, brothers. The wild beast also loves its young. But a man canbe related only by similarity of mind and not of blood. There have beenbrotherhoods in other lands, but never any such brotherhoods as on ourRussian soil. It has happened to many of you to be in foreign lands. Youlook: there are people there also, God's creatures, too; and you talkwith them as with the men of your own country. But when it comes tosaying a hearty word--you will see. No! they are sensible people, but not the same; the same kind of people, and yet not the same! No, brothers, to love as the Russian soul loves, is to love not with themind or anything else, but with all that God has given, all that iswithin you. Ah!" said Taras, and waved his hand, and wiped his greyhead, and twitched his moustache, and then went on: "No, no one elsecan love in that way! I know that baseness has now made its way intoour land. Men care only to have their ricks of grain and hay, and theirdroves of horses, and that their mead may be safe in their cellars;they adopt, the devil only knows what Mussulman customs. They speakscornfully with their tongues. They care not to speak their realthoughts with their own countrymen. They sell their own things to theirown comrades, like soulless creatures in the market-place. The favourof a foreign king, and not even a king, but the poor favour of a Polishmagnate, who beats them on the mouth with his yellow shoe, is dearerto them than all brotherhood. But the very meanest of these vile men, whoever he may be, given over though he be to vileness and slavishness, even he, brothers, has some grains of Russian feeling; and they willassert themselves some day. And then the wretched man will beat hisbreast with his hands; and will tear his hair, cursing his vile lifeloudly, and ready to expiate his disgraceful deeds with torture. Letthem know what brotherhood means on Russian soil! And if it has come tothe point that a man must die for his brotherhood, it is not fit thatany of them should die so. No! none of them. It is not a fit thing fortheir mouse-like natures. "

Thus spoke the hetman; and after he had finished his speech he stillcontinued to shake his head, which had grown grey in Cossack service. All who stood there were deeply affected by his speech, which went totheir very hearts. The oldest in the ranks stood motionless, their greyheads drooping. Tears trickled quietly from their aged eyes; theywiped them slowly away with their sleeves, and then all, as if withone consent, waved their hands in the air at the same moment, and shooktheir experienced heads. For it was evident that old Taras recalled tothem many of the best-known and finest traits of the heart in a manwho has become wise through suffering, toil, daring, and every earthlymisfortune, or, though unknown to them, of many things felt by young, pure spirits, to the eternal joy of the parents who bore them. 

But the army of the enemy was already marching out of the city, soundingdrums and trumpets; and the nobles, with their arms akimbo, were ridingforth too, surrounded by innumerable servants. The stout colonel gavehis orders, and they began to advance briskly on the Cossack camps, pointing their matchlocks threateningly. Their eyes flashed, and theywere brilliant with brass armour. As soon as the Cossacks saw that theyhad come within gunshot, their matchlocks thundered all together, andthey continued to fire without cessation. 

The detonations resounded through the distant fields and meadows, merging into one continuous roar. The whole plain was shrouded in smoke, but the Zaporozhtzi continued to fire without drawing breath--the rearranks doing nothing but loading the guns and handing them to those infront, thus creating amazement among the enemy, who could not understandhow the Cossacks fired without reloading. Amid the dense smoke whichenveloped both armies, it could not be seen how first one and thenanother dropped: but the Lyakhs felt that the balls flew thickly, andthat the affair was growing hot; and when they retreated to escape fromthe smoke and see how matters stood, many were missing from their ranks, but only two or three out of a hundred were killed on the Cossackside. Still the Cossacks went on firing off their matchlocks without amoment's intermission. Even the foreign engineers were amazed at tacticsheretofore unknown to them, and said then and there, in the presence ofall, "These Zaporozhtzi are brave fellows. That is the way men in otherlands ought to fight. " And they advised that the cannons should at oncebe turned on the camps. Heavily roared the iron cannons with their widethroats; the earth hummed and trembled far and wide, and the smoke laytwice as heavy over the plain. They smelt the reek of the powder amongthe squares and streets in the most distant as well as the nearestquarters of the city. But those who laid the cannons pointed them toohigh, and the shot describing too wide a curve flew over the headsof the camps, and buried themselves deep in the earth at a distance, tearing the ground, and throwing the black soil high in the air. Atthe sight of such lack of skill the French engineer tore his hair, andundertook to lay the cannons himself, heeding not the Cossack bulletswhich showered round him. 

Taras saw from afar that destruction menaced the whole Nezamaikovskyand Steblikivsky kurens, and gave a ringing shout, "Get away from thewaggons instantly, and mount your horses!" But the Cossacks would nothave succeeded in effecting both these movements if Ostap had notdashed into the middle of the foe and wrenched the linstocks from sixcannoneers. But he could not wrench them from the other four, for theLyakhs drove him back. Meanwhile the foreign captain had taken the luntin his own hand to fire the largest cannon, such a cannon as none of theCossacks had ever beheld before. It looked horrible with its wide mouth, and a thousand deaths poured forth from it. And as it thundered, the three others followed, shaking in fourfold earthquake the dullyresponsive earth. Much woe did they cause. For more than one Cossackwailed the aged mother, beating with bony hands her feeble breast;more than one widow was left in Glukhof, Nemirof, Chernigof, and othercities. The loving woman will hasten forth every day to the bazaar, grasping at all passers-by, scanning the face of each to see if therebe not among them one dearer than all; but though many an army willpass through the city, never among them will a single one of all theirdearest be. 

Half the Nezamaikovsky kuren was as if it had never been. As the hailsuddenly beats down a field where every ear of grain shines like purestgold, so were they beaten down. 

How the Cossacks hastened thither! How they all started up! How ragedKukubenko, the hetman, when he saw that the best half of his kuren wasno more! He fought his way with his remaining Nezamaikovtzi to the verymidst of the fray, cut down in his wrath, like a cabbage, the first manhe met, hurled many a rider from his steed, piercing both horse and manwith his lance; and making his way to the gunners, captured some ofthe cannons. Here he found the hetman of the Oumansky kuren, and StepanGuska, hard at work, having already seized the largest cannon. He leftthose Cossacks there, and plunged with his own into another mass of thefoe, making a lane through it. Where the Nezamaikovtzi passed there wasa street; where they turned about there was a square as where streetsmeet. The foemen's ranks were visibly thinning, and the Lyakhsfalling in sheaves. Beside the waggons stood Vovtuzenko, and in frontTcherevitchenko, and by the more distant ones Degtyarenko; and behindthem the kuren hetman, Vertikhvist. Degtyarenko had pierced two Lyakhswith his spear, and now attacked a third, a stout antagonist. Agile andstrong was the Lyakh, with glittering arms, and accompanied by fiftyfollowers. He fell fiercely upon Degtyarenko, struck him to the earth, and, flourishing his sword above him, cried, "There is not one of youCossack dogs who has dared to oppose me. "

"Here is one, " said Mosiy Schilo, and stepped forward. He was amuscular Cossack, who had often commanded at sea, and undergone manyvicissitudes. The Turks had once seized him and his men at Trebizond, and borne them captives to the galleys, where they bound them hand andfoot with iron chains, gave them no food for a week at a time, and madethem drink sea-water. The poor prisoners endured and suffered all, butwould not renounce their orthodox faith. Their hetman, Mosiy Schilo, could not bear it: he trampled the Holy Scriptures under foot, wound thevile turban about his sinful head, and became the favourite of a pasha, steward of a ship, and ruler over all the galley slaves. The poor slavessorrowed greatly thereat, for they knew that if he had renounced hisfaith he would be a tyrant, and his hand would be the more heavy andsevere upon them. So it turned out. Mosiy Schilo had them put in newchains, three to an oar. The cruel fetters cut to the very bone; andhe beat them upon the back. But when the Turks, rejoicing at havingobtained such a servant, began to carouse, and, forgetful of theirlaw, got all drunk, he distributed all the sixty-four keys among theprisoners, in order that they might free themselves, fling their chainsand manacles into the sea, and, seizing their swords, in turn kill theTurks. Then the Cossacks collected great booty, and returned with gloryto their country; and the guitar-players celebrated Mosiy Schilo'sexploits for a long time. They would have elected him Koschevoi, buthe was a very eccentric Cossack. At one time he would perform some featwhich the most sagacious would never have dreamed of. At another, follysimply took possession of him, and he drank and squandered everythingaway, was in debt to every one in the Setch, and, in addition to that, stole like a street thief. He carried off a whole Cossack equipment froma strange kuren by night and pawned it to the tavern-keeper. For thisdishonourable act they bound him to a post in the bazaar, and laid aclub beside him, in order that every one who passed should, accordingto the measure of his strength, deal him a blow. But there was not oneZaporozhetz out of them all to be found who would raise the club againsthim, remembering his former services. Such was the Cossack, MosiySchilo. 

"Here is one who will kill you, dog!" he said, springing upon the Lyakh. How they hacked away! their shoulder-plates and breast-plates bentunder their blows. The hostile Lyakh cut through Schilo's shirt of mail, reaching the body itself with his blade. The Cossack's shirt was dyedpurple: but Schilo heeded it not. He brandished his brawny hand, heavyindeed was that mighty fist, and brought the pommel of his sword downunexpectedly upon his foeman's head. The brazen helmet flew into piecesand the Lyakh staggered and fell; but Schilo went on hacking and cuttinggashes in the body of the stunned man. Kill not utterly thine enemy, Cossack: look back rather! The Cossack did not turn, and one of the deadman's servants plunged a knife into his neck. Schilo turned and tried toseize him, but he disappeared amid the smoke of the powder. On all sidesrose the roar of matchlocks. Schilo knew that his wound was mortal. Hefell with his hand upon his wound, and said, turning to his comrades, "Farewell, brother gentles, my comrades! may the holy Russian land standforever, and may it be eternally honoured!" And as he closed his failingeyes, the Cossack soul fled from his grim body. Then Zadorozhniy cameforward with his men, Vertikhvist issued from the ranks, and Balabanstepped forth. 

"What now, gentles?" said Taras, calling to the hetmans by name: "thereis yet powder in the power-flasks? The Cossack force is not weakened?the Cossacks do not yield?"

"There is yet powder in the flasks, father; the Cossack force is notweakened yet: the Cossacks yield not!"

And the Cossacks pressed vigorously on: the foemen's ranks weredisordered. The short colonel beat the assembly, and ordered eightpainted standards to be displayed to collect his men, who were scatteredover all the plain. All the Lyakhs hastened to the standards. But theyhad not yet succeeded in ranging themselves in order, when the hetmanKukubenko attacked their centre again with his Nezamaikovtzi and fellstraight upon the stout colonel. The colonel could not resist theattack, and, wheeling his horse about, set out at a gallop; butKukubenko pursued him for a considerable distance cross the plain andprevented him from joining his regiment. 

Perceiving this from the kuren on the flank, Stepan Guska set outafter him, lasso in hand, bending his head to his horse's neck. Takingadvantage of an opportunity, he cast his lasso about his neck at thefirst attempt. The colonel turned purple in the face, grasped the cordwith both hands, and tried to break it; but with a powerful thrustStepan drove his lance through his body, and there he remained pinned tothe earth. But Guska did not escape his fate. The Cossacks had but timeto look round when they beheld Stepan Guska elevated on four spears. Allthe poor fellow succeeded in saying was, "May all our enemies perish, and may the Russian land rejoice forever!" and then he yielded up hissoul. 

The Cossacks glanced around, and there was Metelitza on one side, entertaining the Lyakhs by dealing blows on the head to one and another;on the other side, the hetman Nevelitchkiy was attacking with his men;and Zakrutibuga was repulsing and slaying the enemy by the waggons. The third Pisarenko had repulsed a whole squadron from the more distantwaggons; and they were still fighting and killing amongst the otherwaggons, and even upon them. 

"How now, gentles?" cried Taras, stepping forward before them all: "isthere still powder in your flasks? Is the Cossack force still strong? dothe Cossacks yield?"

"There is still powder in the flasks, father; the Cossack force is stillstrong: the Cossacks yield not!"

But Bovdug had already fallen from the waggons; a bullet had struck himjust below the heart. The old man collected all his strength, and said, "I sorrow not to part from the world. God grant every man such an end!May the Russian land be forever glorious!" And Bovdug's spirit flewabove, to tell the old men who had gone on long before that men stillknew how to fight on Russian soil, and better still, that they knew howto die for it and the holy faith. 

Balaban, hetman of a kuren, soon after fell to the ground also from awaggon. Three mortal wounds had he received from a lance, a bullet, and a sword. He had been one of the very best of Cossacks, and hadaccomplished a great deal as a commander on naval expeditions; but moreglorious than all the rest was his raid on the shores of Anatolia. Theycollected many sequins, much valuable Turkish plunder, caftans, andadornments of every description. But misfortune awaited them on theirway back. They came across the Turkish fleet, and were fired on by theships. Half the boats were crushed and overturned, drowning more thanone; but the bundles of reeds bound to the sides, Cossack fashion, savedthe boats from completely sinking. Balaban rowed off at full speed, and steered straight in the face of the sun, thus rendering himselfinvisible to the Turkish ships. All the following night they spent inbaling out the water with pails and their caps, and in repairing thedamaged places. They made sails out of their Cossack trousers, and, sailing off, escaped from the fastest Turkish vessels. And not only didthey arrive unharmed at the Setch, but they brought a gold-embroideredvesture for the archimandrite at the Mezhigorsky Monastery in Kief, and an ikon frame of pure silver for the church in honour ofthe Intercession of the Virgin Mary, which is in Zaporozhe. Theguitar-players celebrated the daring of Balaban and his Cossacks fora long time afterwards. Now he bowed his head, feeling the pains whichprecede death, and said quietly, "I am permitted, brother gentles, todie a fine death. Seven have I hewn in pieces, nine have I pierced withmy lance, many have I trampled upon with my horse's hoofs; and I nolonger remember how many my bullets have slain. May our Russian landflourish forever!" and his spirit fled. 

Cossacks, Cossacks! abandon not the flower of your army. Alreadywas Kukubenko surrounded, and seven men only remained of all theNezamaikovsky kuren, exhausted and with garments already stained withtheir blood. Taras himself, perceiving their straits, hastened totheir rescue; but the Cossacks arrived too late. Before the enemieswho surrounded him could be driven off, a spear was buried just belowKukubenko's heart. He sank into the arms of the Cossacks who caught him, and his young blood flowed in a stream, like precious wine brought fromthe cellar in a glass vessel by careless servants, who, stumbling at theentrance, break the rich flask. The wine streams over the ground, andthe master, hastening up, tears his hair, having reserved it, in orderthat if God should grant him, in his old age, to meet again the comradeof his youth, they might over it recall together former days, when a manenjoyed himself otherwise and better than now. Kukubenko cast his eyesaround, and said, "I thank God that it has been my lot to die beforeyour eyes, comrades. May they live better who come after us than we havelived; and may our Russian land, beloved by Christ, flourish forever!"and his young spirit fled. The angels took it in their arms and bore itto heaven: it will be well with him there. "Sit down at my right hand, Kukubenko, " Christ will say to him: "you never betrayed your comrades, you never committed a dishonourable act, you never sold a man intomisery, you preserved and defended my church. " The death of Kukubenkosaddened them all. The Cossack ranks were terribly thinned. Many bravemen were missing, but the Cossacks still stood their ground. 

"How now, gentles, " cried Taras to the remaining kurens: "is there stillpowder in your flasks? Are your swords blunted? Are the Cossack forceswearied? Have the Cossacks given way?"

"There is still an abundance of powder; our swords are still sharp; theCossack forces are not wearied, and the Cossacks have not yet yielded. "

And the Cossacks again strained every nerve, as though they had sufferedno loss. Only three kuren hetmans still remained alive. Red blood flowedin streams everywhere; heaps of their bodies and of those of the enemywere piled high. Taras looked up to heaven, and there already hovered aflock of vultures. Well, there would be prey for some one. And there thefoe were raising Metelitza on their lances, and the head of the secondPisarenko was dizzily opening and shutting its eyes; and the mangledbody of Okhrim Guska fell upon the ground. "Now, " said Taras, and waveda cloth on high. Ostap understood this signal and springing quicklyfrom his ambush attacked sharply. The Lyakhs could not withstand thisonslaught; and he drove them back, and chased them straight to the spotwhere the stakes and fragments of spears were driven into the earth. Thehorses began to stumble and fall and the Lyakhs to fly over their heads. At that moment the Korsuntzi, who had stood till the last by the baggagewaggons, perceived that they still had some bullets left, and suddenlyfired a volley from their matchlocks. The Lyakhs became confused, andlost their presence of mind; and the Cossacks took courage. "The victoryis ours!" rang Cossack voices on all sides; the trumpets sounded and thebanner of victory was unfurled. The beaten Lyakhs ran in all directionsand hid themselves. "No, the victory is not yet complete, " said Taras, glancing at the city gate; and he was right. 

The gates opened, and out dashed a hussar band, the flower of all thecavalry. Every rider was mounted on a matched brown horse from theKabardei; and in front rode the handsomest, the most heroic of them all. His black hair streamed from beneath his brazen helmet; and from hisarm floated a rich scarf, embroidered by the hands of a peerless beauty. Taras sprang back in horror when he saw that it was Andrii. And thelatter meanwhile, enveloped in the dust and heat of battle, eager todeserve the scarf which had been bound as a gift upon his arm, flew onlike a greyhound; the handsomest, most agile, and youngest of all theband. The experienced huntsman urges on the greyhound, and he springsforward, tossing up the snow, and a score of times outrunning the hare, in the ardour of his course. And so it was with Andrii. Old Taras pausedand observed how he cleared a path before him, hewing away and dealingblows to the right and the left. Taras could not restrain himself, butshouted: "Your comrades! your comrades! you devil's brat, would you killyour own comrades?" But Andrii distinguished not who stood before him, comrades or strangers; he saw nothing. Curls, long curls, were whathe saw; and a bosom like that of a river swan, and a snowy neck andshoulders, and all that is created for rapturous kisses. 

"Hey there, lads! only draw him to the forest, entice him to the forestfor me!" shouted Taras. Instantly thirty of the smartest Cossacksvolunteered to entice him thither; and setting their tall caps firmlyspurred their horses straight at a gap in the hussars. They attacked thefront ranks in flank, beat them down, cut them off from the rear ranks, and slew many of them. Golopuitenko struck Andrii on the back with hissword, and immediately set out to ride away at the top of his speed. How Andrii flew after him! How his young blood coursed through all hisveins! Driving his sharp spurs into his horse's flanks, he tore alongafter the Cossacks, never glancing back, and not perceiving that onlytwenty men at the most were following him. The Cossacks fled at fullgallop, and directed their course straight for the forest. Andriiovertook them, and was on the point of catching Golopuitenko, when apowerful hand seized his horse's bridle. Andrii looked; before him stoodTaras! He trembled all over, and turned suddenly pale, like a studentwho, receiving a blow on the forehead with a ruler, flushes up likefire, springs in wrath from his seat to chase his comrade, and suddenlyencounters his teacher entering the classroom; in the instant hiswrathful impulse calms down and his futile anger vanishes. In this wise, in an instant, Andrii's wrath was as if it had never existed. And hebeheld before him only his terrible father. 

"Well, what are we going to do now?" said Taras, looking him straightin the eyes. But Andrii could make no reply to this, and stood with hiseyes fixed on the ground. 

"Well, son; did your Lyakhs help you?"

Andrii made no answer. 

"To think that you should be such a traitor! that you should betray yourfaith! betray your comrades! Dismount from your horse!"

Obedient as a child, he dismounted, and stood before Taras more deadthan alive. 

"Stand still, do not move! I gave you life, I will also kill you!" saidTaras, and, retreating a step backwards, he brought his gun up to hisshoulder. Andrii was white as a sheet; his lips moved gently, and heuttered a name; but it was not the name of his native land, nor of hismother, nor his brother; it was the name of the beautiful Pole. Tarasfired. 

Like the ear of corn cut down by the reaping-hook, like the young lambwhen it feels the deadly steel in its heart, he hung his head and rolledupon the grass without uttering a word. 

The murderer of his son stood still, and gazed long upon the lifelessbody. Even in death he was very handsome; his manly face, so short atime ago filled with power, and with an irresistible charm for everywoman, still had a marvellous beauty; his black brows, like sombrevelvet, set off his pale features. 

"Is he not a true Cossack?" said Taras; "he is tall of stature, andblack-browed, his face is that of a noble, and his hand was strong inbattle! He is fallen! fallen without glory, like a vile dog!"

"Father, what have you done? Was it you who killed him?" said Ostap, coming up at this moment. 

Taras nodded. 

Ostap gazed intently at the dead man. He was sorry for his brother, andsaid at once: "Let us give him honourable burial, father, that the foemay not dishonour his body, nor the birds of prey rend it. "

"They will bury him without our help, " said Taras; "there will be plentyof mourners and rejoicers for him. "

And he reflected for a couple of minutes, whether he should fling him tothe wolves for prey, or respect in him the bravery which every brave manis bound to honour in another, no matter whom? Then he saw Golopuitenkogalloping towards them and crying: "Woe, hetman, the Lyakhs have beenreinforced, a fresh force has come to their rescue!" Golopuitenko hadnot finished speaking when Vovtuzenko galloped up: "Woe, hetman! a freshforce is bearing down upon us. "

Vovtuzenko had not finished speaking when Pisarenko rushed up withouthis horse: "Where are you, father? The Cossacks are seeking foryou. Hetman Nevelitchkiy is killed, Zadorozhniy is killed, andTcherevitchenko: but the Cossacks stand their ground; they will not diewithout looking in your eyes; they want you to gaze upon them once morebefore the hour of death arrives. "

"To horse, Ostap!" said Taras, and hastened to find his Cossacks, tolook once more upon them, and let them behold their hetman once morebefore the hour of death. But before they could emerge from the wood, the enemy's force had already surrounded it on all sides, and horsemenarmed with swords and spears appeared everywhere between the trees. "Ostap, Ostap! don't yield!" shouted Taras, and grasping his sword hebegan to cut down all he encountered on every side. But six suddenlysprang upon Ostap. They did it in an unpropitious hour: the head of oneflew off, another turned to flee, a spear pierced the ribs of a third;a fourth, more bold, bent his head to escape the bullet, and the bulletstriking his horse's breast, the maddened animal reared, fell back uponthe earth, and crushed his rider under him. "Well done, son! Well done, Ostap!" cried Taras: "I am following you. " And he drove off thosewho attacked him. Taras hewed and fought, dealing blows at one afteranother, but still keeping his eye upon Ostap ahead. He saw that eightmore were falling upon his son. "Ostap, Ostap! don't yield!" But theyhad already overpowered Ostap; one had flung his lasso about his neck, and they had bound him, and were carrying him away. "Hey, Ostap, Ostap!"shouted Taras, forcing his way towards him, and cutting men down likecabbages to right and left. "Hey, Ostap, Ostap!" But something at thatmoment struck him like a heavy stone. All grew dim and confused beforehis eyes. In one moment there flashed confusedly before him heads, spears, smoke, the gleam of fire, tree-trunks, and leaves; and then hesank heavily to the earth like a felled oak, and darkness covered hiseyes. 

CHAPTER X

"I have slept a long while!" said Taras, coming to his senses, as ifafter a heavy drunken sleep, and trying to distinguish the objects abouthim. A terrible weakness overpowered his limbs. The walls and cornersof a strange room were dimly visible before him. At length he perceivedthat Tovkatch was seated beside him, apparently listening to his everybreath. 

"Yes, " thought Tovkatch, "you might have slept forever. " But he saidnothing, only shook his finger, and motioned him to be silent. 

"But tell me where I am now?" asked Taras, straining his mind, andtrying to recollect what had taken place. 

"Be silent!" cried his companion sternly. "Why should you want toknow? Don't you see that you are all hacked to pieces? Here I have beengalloping with you for two weeks without taking a breath; and you havebeen burnt up with fever and talking nonsense. This is the first timeyou have slept quietly. Be silent if you don't wish to do yourself aninjury. "

But Taras still tried to collect his thoughts and to recall what hadpassed. "Well, the Lyakhs must have surrounded and captured me. I had nochance of fighting my way clear from the throng. "

"Be silent, I tell you, you devil's brat!" cried Tovkatch angrily, as anurse, driven beyond her patience, cries out at her unruly charge. "Whatgood will it do you to know how you got away? It is enough that you didget away. Some people were found who would not abandon you; let thatbe enough for you. It is something for me to have ridden all nightwith you. You think that you passed for a common Cossack? No, they haveoffered a reward of two thousand ducats for your head. "

"And Ostap!" cried Taras suddenly, and tried to rise; for all at once herecollected that Ostap had been seized and bound before his very eyes, and that he was now in the hands of the Lyakhs. Grief overpowered him. He pulled off and tore in pieces the bandages from his wounds, and threwthem far from him; he tried to say something, but only articulated someincoherent words. Fever and delirium seized upon him afresh, and heuttered wild and incoherent speeches. Meanwhile his faithful comradestood beside him, scolding and showering harsh, reproachful words uponhim without stint. Finally, he seized him by the arms and legs, wrappedhim up like a child, arranged all his bandages, rolled him in anox-hide, bound him with bast, and, fastening him with ropes to hissaddle, rode with him again at full speed along the road. 

"I'll get you there, even if it be not alive! I will not abandon yourbody for the Lyakhs to make merry over you, and cut your body in twainand fling it into the water. Let the eagle tear out your eyes if it mustbe so; but let it be our eagle of the steppe and not a Polish eagle, notone which has flown hither from Polish soil. I will bring you, though itbe a corpse, to the Ukraine!"

Thus spoke his faithful companion. He rode without drawing rein, dayand night, and brought Taras still insensible into the Zaporozhian Setchitself. There he undertook to cure him, with unswerving care, by the aidof herbs and liniments. He sought out a skilled Jewess, who made Tarasdrink various potions for a whole month, and at length he improved. Whether it was owing to the medicine or to his iron constitution gainingthe upper hand, at all events, in six weeks he was on his feet. Hiswounds had closed, and only the scars of the sabre-cuts showed howdeeply injured the old Cossack had been. But he was markedly sad andmorose. Three deep wrinkles engraved themselves upon his brow and nevermore departed thence. Then he looked around him. All was new in theSetch; all his old companions were dead. Not one was left of those whohad stood up for the right, for faith and brotherhood. And those who hadgone forth with the Koschevoi in pursuit of the Tatars, they also hadlong since disappeared. All had perished. One had lost his head inbattle; another had died for lack of food, amid the salt marshes of theCrimea; another had fallen in captivity and been unable to survive thedisgrace. Their former Koschevoi was no longer living, nor any of hisold companions, and the grass was growing over those once alert withpower. He felt as one who had given a feast, a great noisy feast. Allthe dishes had been smashed in pieces; not a drop of wine was leftanywhere; the guests and servants had all stolen valuable cups andplatters; and he, like the master of the house, stood sadly thinkingthat it would have been no feast. In vain did they try to cheer Tarasand to divert his mind; in vain did the long-bearded, grey-hairedguitar-players come by twos and threes to glorify his Cossack deeds. Hegazed grimly and indifferently at everything, with inappeasable griefprinted on his stolid face; and said softly, as he drooped his head, "Myson, my Ostap!"

The Zaporozhtzi assembled for a raid by sea. Two hundred boats werelaunched on the Dnieper, and Asia Minor saw those who manned them, withtheir shaven heads and long scalp-locks, devote her thriving shores tofire and sword; she saw the turbans of her Mahometan inhabitants strewn, like her innumerable flowers, over the blood-sprinkled fields, andfloating along her river banks; she saw many tarry Zaporozhian trousers, and strong hands with black hunting-whips. The Zaporozhtzi ate up andlaid waste all the vineyards. In the mosques they left heaps of dung. They used rich Persian shawls for sashes, and girded their dirtygaberdines with them. Long afterwards, short Zaporozhian pipes werefound in those regions. They sailed merrily back. A ten-gun Turkish shippursued them and scattered their skiffs, like birds, with a volley fromits guns. A third part of them sank in the depths of the sea; but therest again assembled, and gained the mouth of the Dnieper with twelvekegs full of sequins. But all this did not interest Taras. He went offupon the steppe as though to hunt; but the charge remained in his gun, and, laying down the weapon, he would seat himself sadly on the shoresof the sea. He sat there long with drooping head, repeating continually, "My Ostap, my Ostap!" Before him spread the gleaming Black Sea; inthe distant reeds the sea-gull screamed. His grey moustache turned tosilver, and the tears fell one by one upon it. 

At last Taras could endure it no longer. "Whatever happens, I must goand find out what he is doing. Is he alive, or in the grave? I willknow, cost what it may!" Within a week he found himself in the cityof Ouman, fully armed, and mounted, with lance, sword, canteen, pot ofoatmeal, powder horn, cord to hobble his horse, and other equipments. He went straight to a dirty, ill-kept little house, the small windowsof which were almost invisible, blackened as they were with some unknowndirt. The chimney was wrapped in rags; and the roof, which was fullof holes, was covered with sparrows. A heap of all sorts of refuse laybefore the very door. From the window peered the head of a Jewess, in ahead-dress with discoloured pearls. 

"Is your husband at home?" said Bulba, dismounting, and fastening hishorse's bridle to an iron hook beside the door. 

"He is at home, " said the Jewess, and hastened out at once with ameasure of corn for the horse, and a stoup of beer for the rider. 

"Where is your Jew?"

"He is in the other room at prayer, " replied the Jewess, bowing andwishing Bulba good health as he raised the cup to his lips. 

"Remain here, feed and water my horse, whilst I go speak with him alone. I have business with him. "

This Jew was the well-known Yankel. He was there as revenue-farmer andtavern-keeper. He had gradually got nearly all the neighbouring noblemenand gentlemen into his hands, had slowly sucked away most of theirmoney, and had strongly impressed his presence on that locality. For adistance of three miles in all directions, not a single farm remained ina proper state. All were falling in ruins; all had been drunk away, and poverty and rags alone remained. The whole neighbourhood wasdepopulated, as if after a fire or an epidemic; and if Yankel had livedthere ten years, he would probably have depopulated the Waiwode's wholedomains. 

Taras entered the room. The Jew was praying, enveloped in his dirtyshroud, and was turning to spit for the last time, according to theforms of his creed, when his eye suddenly lighted on Taras standingbehind him. The first thing that crossed Yankel's mind was the twothousand ducats offered for his visitor's head; but he was ashamed ofhis avarice, and tried to stifle within him the eternal thought of gold, which twines, like a snake, about the soul of a Jew. 

"Listen, Yankel, " said Taras to the Jew, who began to bow low beforehim, and as he spoke he shut the door so that they might not be seen, "I saved your life: the Zaporozhtzi would have torn you to pieces like adog. Now it is your turn to do me a service. "

The Jew's face clouded over a little. 

"What service? If it is a service I can render, why should I not renderit?"

"Ask no questions. Take me to Warsaw. "

"To Warsaw? Why to Warsaw?" said the Jew, and his brows and shouldersrose in amazement. 

"Ask me nothing. Take me to Warsaw. I must see him once more at anycost, and say one word to him. "

"Say a word to whom?"

"To him--to Ostap--to my son. "

"Has not my lord heard that already--"

"I know, I know all. They offer two thousand ducats for my head. Theyknow its value, fools! I will give you five thousand. Here are twothousand on the spot, " and Bulba poured out two thousand ducats from aleather purse, "and the rest when I return. "

The Jew instantly seized a towel and concealed the ducats under it. "Ai, glorious money! ai, good money!" he said, twirling one gold piece in hishand and testing it with his teeth. "I don't believe the man fromwhom my lord took these fine gold pieces remained in the world an hourlonger; he went straight to the river and drowned himself, after theloss of such magnificent gold pieces. "

"I should not have asked you, I might possibly have found my own wayto Warsaw; but some one might recognise me, and then the cursed Lyakhswould capture me, for I am not clever at inventions; whilst that is justwhat you Jews are created for. You would deceive the very devil. Youknow every trick: that is why I have come to you; and, besides, I coulddo nothing of myself in Warsaw. Harness the horse to your waggon at onceand take me. "

"And my lord thinks that I can take the nag at once, and harness him, and say 'Get up, Dapple!' My lord thinks that I can take him just as heis, without concealing him?"

"Well, hide me, hide me as you like: in an empty cask?"

"Ai, ai! and my lord thinks he can be concealed in an empty cask? Doesnot my lord know that every man thinks that every cast he sees containsbrandy?"

"Well, let them think it is brandy. "

"Let them think it is brandy?" said the Jew, and grasped his ear-lockswith both hands, and then raised them both on high. 

"Well, why are you so frightened?"

"And does not my lord know that God has made brandy expressly for everyone to sip? They are all gluttons and fond of dainties there: a noblemanwill run five versts after a cask; he will make a hole in it, and assoon as he sees that nothing runs out, he will say, 'A Jew does notcarry empty casks; there is certainly something wrong. Seize the Jew, bind the Jew, take away all the Jew's money, put the Jew in prison!'Then all the vile people will fall upon the Jew, for every one takes aJew for a dog; and they think he is not a man, but only a Jew. "

"Then put me in the waggon with some fish over me. "

"I cannot, my lord, by heaven, I cannot: all over Poland the people areas hungry as dogs now. They will steal the fish, and feel my lord. "

"Then take me in the fiend's way, only take me. "

"Listen, listen, my lord!" said the Jew, turning up the ends of hissleeves, and approaching him with extended arms. "This is what wewill do. They are building fortresses and castles everywhere: Frenchengineers have come from Germany, and so a great deal of brick and stoneis being carried over the roads. Let my lord lie down in the bottom ofthe waggon, and over him I will pile bricks. My lord is strong and well, apparently, so he will not mind if it is a little heavy; and I will makea hole in the bottom of the waggon in order to feed my lord. "

"Do what you will, only take me!"

In an hour, a waggon-load of bricks left Ouman, drawn by two sorry nags. On one of them sat tall Yankel, his long, curling ear-locks flowingfrom beneath his Jewish cap, as he bounced about on the horse, like averst-mark planted by the roadside. 

CHAPTER XI

At the time when these things took place, there were as yet on thefrontiers neither custom-house officials nor guards--those bugbearsof enterprising people--so that any one could bring across anything hefancied. If any one made a search or inspection, he did it chieflyfor his own pleasure, especially if there happened to be in the waggonobjects attractive to his eye, and if his own hand possessed a certainweight and power. But the bricks found no admirers, and they entered theprincipal gate unmolested. Bulba, in his narrow cage, could only hearthe noise, the shouts of the driver, and nothing more. Yankel, bouncingup and down on his dust-covered nag, turned, after making severaldetours, into a dark, narrow street bearing the names of the Muddy andalso of the Jews' street, because Jews from nearly every part of Warsawwere to be found here. This street greatly resembled a back-yard turnedwrong side out. The sun never seemed to shine into it. The black woodenhouses, with numerous poles projecting from the windows, still furtherincreased the darkness. Rarely did a brick wall gleam red among them;for these too, in many places, had turned quite black. Here and there, high up, a bit of stuccoed wall illumined by the sun glistened withintolerable whiteness. Pipes, rags, shells, broken and discarded tubs:every one flung whatever was useless to him into the street, thusaffording the passer-by an opportunity of exercising all his five senseswith the rubbish. A man on horseback could almost touch with his handthe poles thrown across the street from one house to another, upon whichhung Jewish stockings, short trousers, and smoked geese. Sometimes apretty little Hebrew face, adorned with discoloured pearls, peeped outof an old window. A group of little Jews, with torn and dirty garmentsand curly hair, screamed and rolled about in the dirt. A red-haired Jew, with freckles all over his face which made him look like a sparrow'segg, gazed from a window. He addressed Yankel at once in his gibberish, and Yankel at once drove into a court-yard. Another Jew came along, halted, and entered into conversation. When Bulba finally emerged frombeneath the bricks, he beheld three Jews talking with great warmth. 

Yankel turned to him and said that everything possible would be done;that his Ostap was in the city jail, and that although it would bedifficult 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 incomprehensibletongue. Taras looked hard at each of them. Something seemed to havemoved him deeply; over his rough and stolid countenance a flame of hopespread, of hope such as sometimes visits a man in the last depths of hisdespair; his aged heart began to beat violently as though he had been ayouth. 

"Listen, Jews!" said he, and there was a triumphant ring in his words. "You can do anything in the world, even extract things from the bottomof the sea; and it has long been a proverb, that a Jew will steal fromhimself if he takes a fancy to steal. Set my Ostap at liberty! give hima chance to escape from their diabolical hands. I promised this man fivethousand ducats; I will add another five thousand: all that I have, richcups, buried gold, houses, all, even to my last garment, I will partwith; and I will enter into a contract with you for my whole life, togive you half of all the booty I may gain in war. "

"Oh, impossible, dear lord, it is impossible!" said Yankel with a sigh. 

"Impossible, " said another Jew. 

All three Jews looked at each other. 

"We might try, " said the third, glancing timidly at the other two. "Godmay favour us. "

All three Jews discussed the matter in German. Bulba, in spite ofhis straining ears, could make nothing of it; he only caught the word"Mardokhai" often repeated. 

"Listen, my lord!" said Yankel. "We must consult with a man such asthere never was before in the world. .. Ugh, ugh! as wise as Solomon; andif he will do nothing, then no one in the world can. Sit here: this isthe key; admit no one. " The Jews went out into the street. 

Taras locked the door, and looked out from the little window upon thedirty Jewish street. The three Jews halted in the middle of the streetand began to talk with a good deal of warmth: a fourth soon joined them, and finally a fifth. Again he heard repeated, "Mardokhai, Mardokhai!"The Jews glanced incessantly towards one side of the street; at lengthfrom a dirty house near the end of it emerged a foot in a Jewish shoeand the skirts of a caftan. "Ah! Mardokhai, Mardokhai!" shouted the Jewsin one voice. A thin Jew somewhat shorter than Yankel, but even morewrinkled, and with a huge upper lip, approached the impatient group; andall the Jews made haste to talk to him, interrupting each other. Duringthe recital, Mardokhai glanced several times towards the little window, and Taras divined that the conversation concerned him. 

Mardokhai waved his hands, listened, interrupted, spat frequently to oneside, and, pulling up the skirts of his caftan, thrust his hand into hispocket and drew out some jingling thing, showing very dirty trousers inthe operation. Finally all the Jews set up such a shouting that theJew who was standing guard was forced to make a signal for silence, andTaras began to fear for his safety; but when he remembered that Jews canonly consult in the street, and that the demon himself cannot understandtheir language, he regained his composure. 

Two minutes later the Jews all entered the room together. Mardokhaiapproached Taras, tapped him on the shoulder, and said, "When we set towork it will be all right. " Taras looked at this Solomon whom the worldhad never known and conceived some hope: indeed, his face might wellinspire confidence. His upper lip was simply an object of horror; itsthickness being doubtless increased by adventitious circumstances. ThisSolomon's beard consisted only of about fifteen hairs, and they were onthe left side. Solomon's face bore so many scars of battle, received forhis daring, that he had doubtless lost count of them long before, andhad grown accustomed to consider them as birthmarks. 

Mardokhai departed, accompanied by his comrades, who were filled withadmiration at his wisdom. Bulba remained alone. He was in a strange, unaccustomed situation for the first time in his life; he felt uneasy. His mind was in a state of fever. He was no longer unbending, immovable, strong as an oak, as he had formerly been: but felt timid and weak. Hetrembled at every sound, at every fresh Jewish face which showed itselfat the end of the street. In this condition he passed the whole day. He neither ate nor drank, and his eye never for a moment left the smallwindow looking on the street. Finally, late at night, Mardokhai andYankel made their appearance. Taras's heart died within him. 

"What news? have you been successful?" he asked with the impatience of awild horse. 

But before the Jews had recovered breath to answer, Taras perceived thatMardokhai no longer had the locks, which had formerly fallen in greasycurls from under his felt cap. It was evident that he wished to saysomething, but he uttered only nonsense which Taras could make nothingof. Yankel himself put his hand very often to his mouth as thoughsuffering from a cold. 

"Oh, dearest lord!" said Yankel: "it is quite impossible now! byheaven, impossible! Such vile people that they deserve to be spit upon!Mardokhai here says the same. Mardokhai has done what no man in theworld ever did, but God did not will that it should be so. Threethousand soldiers are in garrison here, and to-morrow the prisoners areall to be executed. "

Taras looked the Jew straight in the face, but no longer with impatienceor anger. 

"But if my lord wishes to see his son, then it must be early to-morrowmorning, before the sun has risen. The sentinels have consented, and onegaoler has promised. But may he have no happiness in the world, woeis me! What greedy people! There are none such among us: I gave fiftyducats to each sentinel and to the gaoler. "

"Good. Take me to him!" exclaimed Taras, with decision, and with allhis firmness of mind restored. He agreed to Yankel's proposition that heshould disguise himself as a foreign count, just arrived from Germany, for which purpose the prudent Jew had already provided a costume. Itwas already night. The master of the house, the red-haired Jew withfreckles, pulled out a mattress covered with some kind of rug, andspread it on a bench for Bulba. Yankel lay upon the floor on a similarmattress. The red-haired Jew drank a small cup of brandy, took off hiscaftan, and betook himself--looking, in his shoes and stockings, verylike a lean chicken--with his wife, to something resembling a cupboard. Two little Jews lay down on the floor beside the cupboard, like a coupleof dogs. But Taras did not sleep; he sat motionless, drumming on thetable with his fingers. He kept his pipe in his mouth, and puffed outsmoke, which made the Jew sneeze in his sleep and pull his coverlet overhis nose. Scarcely was the sky touched with the first faint gleams ofdawn than he pushed Yankel with his foot, saying: "Rise, Jew, and giveme your count's dress!"

In a moment he was dressed. He blackened his moustache and eyebrows, puton his head a small dark cap; even the Cossacks who knew him best wouldnot have recognised him. Apparently he was not more than thirty-five. A healthy colour glowed on his cheeks, and his scars lent him an air ofcommand. The gold-embroidered dress became him extremely well. 

The streets were still asleep. Not a single one of the market folk asyet showed himself in the city, with his basket on his arm. Yankel andBulba made their way to a building which presented the appearance of acrouching stork. It was large, low, wide, and black; and on one side along slender tower like a stork's neck projected above the roof. Thisbuilding served for a variety of purposes; it was a barrack, a jail, andthe criminal court. The visitors entered the gate and found themselvesin a vast room, or covered courtyard. About a thousand men were sleepinghere. Straight before them was a small door, in front of which sat twosentries playing at some game which consisted in one striking the palmof the other's hand with two fingers. They paid little heed to the newarrivals, and only turned their heads when Yankel said, "It is we, sirs;do you hear? it is we. "

"Go in!" said one of them, opening the door with one hand, and holdingout the other to his comrade to receive his blows. 

They entered a low and dark corridor, which led them to a similar roomwith small windows overhead. "Who goes there?" shouted several voices, and Taras beheld a number of warriors in full armour. "We have beenordered to admit no one. "

"It is we!" cried Yankel; "we, by heavens, noble sirs!" But no onewould listen to him. Fortunately, at that moment a fat man came up, whoappeared to be a commanding officer, for he swore louder than all theothers. 

"My lord, it is we! you know us, and the lord count will thank you. "

"Admit them, a hundred fiends, and mother of fiends! Admit no one else. And no one is to draw his sword, nor quarrel. "

The conclusion of this order the visitors did not hear. "It is we, it isI, it is your friends!" Yankel said to every one they met. 

"Well, can it be managed now?" he inquired of one of the guards, whenthey at length reached the end of the corridor. 

"It is possible, but I don't know whether you will be able to gainadmission to the prison itself. Yana is not here now; another man iskeeping watch in his place, " replied the guard. 

"Ai, ai!" cried the Jew softly: "this is bad, my dear lord!"

"Go on!" said Taras, firmly, and the Jew obeyed. 

At the arched entrance of the vaults stood a heyduke, with a moustachetrimmed in three layers: the upper layer was trained backwards, thesecond straight forward, and the third downwards, which made him greatlyresemble a cat. 

The Jew shrank into nothing and approached him almost sideways: "Yourhigh excellency! High and illustrious lord!"

"Are you speaking to me, Jew?"

"To you, illustrious lord. "

"Hm, but I am merely a heyduke, " said the merry-eyed man with thetriple-tiered moustache. 

"And I thought it was the Waiwode himself, by heavens! Ai, ai, ai!"Thereupon the Jew twisted his head about and spread out his fingers. "Ai, what a fine figure! Another finger's-breadth and he would bea colonel. The lord no doubt rides a horse as fleet as the wind andcommands the troops!"

The heyduke twirled the lower tier of his moustache, and his eyesbeamed. 

"What a warlike people!" continued the Jew. "Ah, woe is me, what afine race! Golden cords and trappings that shine like the sun; and themaidens, wherever they see warriors--Ai, ai!" Again the Jew wagged hishead. 

The heyduke twirled his upper moustache and uttered a sound somewhatresembling the neighing of a horse. 

"I pray my lord to do us a service!" exclaimed the Jew: "this princehas come hither from a foreign land, and wants to get a look at theCossacks. He never, in all his life, has seen what sort of people theCossacks are. "

The advent of foreign counts and barons was common enough in Poland:they were often drawn thither by curiosity to view this half-Asiaticcorner of Europe. They regarded Moscow and the Ukraine as situated inAsia. So the heyduke bowed low, and thought fit to add a few words ofhis own. 

"I do not know, your excellency, " said he, "why you should desire tosee them. They are dogs, not men; and their faith is such as no onerespects. "

"You lie, you son of Satan!" exclaimed Bulba. "You are a dog yourself!How dare you say that our faith is not respected? It is your hereticalfaith which is not respected. "

"Oho!" said the heyduke. "I can guess who you are, my friend; you areone of the breed of those under my charge. So just wait while I summonour men. "

Taras realised his indiscretion, but vexation and obstinacy hinderedhim from devising a means of remedying it. Fortunately Yankel managed tointerpose at this moment:--

"Most noble lord, how is it possible that the count can be a Cossack? Ifhe were a Cossack, where could have he obtained such a dress, and such acount-like mien?"

"Explain that yourself. " And the heyduke opened his wide mouth to shout. 

"Your royal highness, silence, silence, for heaven's sake!" criedYankel. "Silence! we will pay you for it in a way you never dreamed of:we will give you two golden ducats. "

"Oho! two ducats! I can't do anything with two ducats. I give my barbertwo ducats for only shaving the half of my beard. Give me a hundredducats, Jew. " Here the heyduke twirled his upper moustache. "If youdon't, I will shout at once. "

"Why so much?" said the Jew, sadly, turning pale, and undoing hisleather purse; but it was lucky that he had no more in it, and that theheyduke could not count over a hundred. 

"My lord, my lord, let us depart quickly! Look at the evil-mindedfellow!" said Yankel to Taras, perceiving that the heyduke was turningthe money over in his hand as though regretting that he had not demandedmore. 

"What do you mean, you devil of a heyduke?" said Bulba. "What do youmean by taking our money and not letting us see the Cossacks? No, youmust let us see them. Since you have taken the money, you have no rightto refuse. "

"Go, go to the devil! If you won't, I'll give the alarm this moment. Take yourselves off quickly, I say!"

"My lord, my lord, let us go! in God's name let us go! Curse him! May hedream such things that he will have to spit, " cried poor Yankel. 

Bulba turned slowly, with drooping head, and retraced his steps, followed by the complaints of Yankel who was sorrowing at the thought ofthe wasted ducats. 

"Why be angry? Let the dog curse. That race cannot help cursing. Oh, woeis me, what luck God sends to some people! A hundred ducats merely fordriving us off! And our brother: they have torn off his ear-locks, andthey made wounds on his face that you cannot bear to look at, and yet noone will give him a hundred gold pieces. O heavens! Merciful God!"

But this failure made a much deeper impression on Bulba, expressed by adevouring flame in his eyes. 

"Let us go, " he said, suddenly, as if arousing himself; "let us go tothe square. I want to see how they will torture him. "

"Oh, my lord! why go? That will do us no good now. "

"Let us go, " said Bulba, obstinately; and the Jew followed him, sighinglike a nurse. 

The square on which the execution was to take place was not hard tofind: for the people were thronging thither from all quarters. Inthat savage age such a thing constituted one of the most noteworthyspectacles, not only for the common people, but among the higherclasses. A number of the most pious old men, a throng of young girls, and the most cowardly women, who dreamed the whole night afterwards oftheir bloody corpses, and shrieked as loudly in their sleep as adrunken hussar, missed, nevertheless, no opportunity of gratifying theircuriosity. "Ah, what tortures!" many of them would cry, hysterically, covering their eyes and turning away; but they stood their ground for agood while, all the same. Many a one, with gaping mouth and outstretchedhands, would have liked to jump upon other folk's heads, to get abetter view. Above the crowd towered a bulky butcher, admiring the wholeprocess with the air of a connoisseur, and exchanging brief remarks witha gunsmith, whom he addressed as "Gossip, " because he got drunk in thesame alehouse with him on holidays. Some entered into warm discussions, others even laid wagers. But the majority were of the species who, allthe world over, look on at the world and at everything that goes onin it and merely scratch their noses. In the front ranks, close to thebearded civic-guards, stood a young noble, in warlike array, who hadcertainly put his whole wardrobe on his back, leaving only his tornshirt and old shoes at his quarters. Two chains, one above the other, hung around his neck. He stood beside his mistress, Usisya, and glancedabout incessantly to see that no one soiled her silk gown. He explainedeverything to her so perfectly that no one could have added a word. "Allthese people whom you see, my dear Usisya, " he said, "have come to seethe criminals executed; and that man, my love, yonder, holding theaxe and other instruments in his hands, is the executioner, who willdespatch them. When he begins to break them on the wheel, and torturethem in other ways, the criminals will still be alive; but when he cutsoff their heads, then, my love, they will die at once. Before that, theywill cry and move; but as soon as their heads are cut off, it will beimpossible for them to cry, or to eat or drink, because, my dear, theywill no longer have any head. " Usisya listened to all this with terrorand curiosity. 

The upper stories of the houses were filled with people. From thewindows in the roof peered strange faces with beards and somethingresembling caps. Upon the balconies, beneath shady awnings, sat thearistocracy. The hands of smiling young ladies, brilliant as whitesugar, rested on the railings. Portly nobles looked on with dignity. Servants in rich garb, with flowing sleeves, handed round variousrefreshments. Sometimes a black-eyed young rogue would take her cake orfruit and fling it among the crowd with her own noble little hand. Thecrowd of hungry gentles held up their caps to receive it; and some tallnoble, whose head rose amid the throng, with his faded red jacket anddiscoloured gold braid, and who was the first to catch it with theaid of his long arms, would kiss his booty, press it to his heart, andfinally put it in his mouth. The hawk, suspended beneath the balcony ina golden cage, was also a spectator; with beak inclined to one side, and with one foot raised, he, too, watched the people attentively. Butsuddenly a murmur ran through the crowd, and a rumour spread, "They arecoming! they are coming! the Cossacks!"

They were bare-headed, with their long locks floating in the air. Theirbeards had grown, and their once handsome garments were worn out, andhung about them in tatters. They walked neither timidly nor surlily, butwith a certain pride, neither looking at nor bowing to the people. Atthe head of all came Ostap. 

What were old Taras's feelings when thus he beheld his Ostap? Whatfilled his heart then? He gazed at him from amid the crowd, and lostnot a single movement of his. They reached the place of execution. Ostapstopped. He was to be the first to drink the bitter cup. He glanced athis comrades, raised his hand, and said in a loud voice: "God grantthat none of the heretics who stand here may hear, the unclean dogs, howChristians suffer! Let none of us utter a single word. " After this heascended the scaffold. 

"Well done, son! well done!" said Bulba, softly, and bent his grey head. 

The executioner tore off his old rags; they fastened his hands and feetin stocks prepared expressly, and--We will not pain the reader with apicture of the hellish tortures which would make his hair rise uprighton his head. They were the outcome of that coarse, wild age, when menstill led a life of warfare which hardened their souls until no sense ofhumanity was left in them. In vain did some, not many, in that age makea stand against such terrible measures. In vain did the king and manynobles, enlightened in mind and spirit, demonstrate that such severityof punishment could but fan the flame of vengeance in the Cossacknation. But the power of the king, and the opinion of the wise, was asnothing before the savage will of the magnates of the kingdom, who, bytheir thoughtlessness and unconquerable lack of all far-sighted policy, their childish self-love and miserable pride, converted the Diet intothe mockery of a government. Ostap endured the torture like a giant. Nota cry, not a groan, was heard. Even when they began to break the bonesin his hands and feet, when, amid the death-like stillness of the crowd, the horrible cracking was audible to the most distant spectators;when even his tormentors turned aside their eyes, nothing like a groanescaped his lips, nor did his face quiver. Taras stood in the crowdwith bowed head; and, raising his eyes proudly at that moment, he said, approvingly, "Well done, boy! well done!"

But when they took him to the last deadly tortures, it seemed as thoughhis strength were failing. He cast his eyes around. 

O God! all strangers, all unknown faces! If only some of his relativeshad been present at his death! He would not have cared to hear the sobsand anguish of his poor, weak mother, nor the unreasoning cries of awife, tearing her hair and beating her white breast; but he would haveliked to see a strong man who might refresh him with a word of wisdom, and cheer his end. And his strength failed him, and he cried in theweakness of his soul, "Father! where are you? do you hear?"

"I hear!" rang through the universal silence, and those thousands ofpeople shuddered in concert. A detachment of cavalry hastened to searchthrough the throng of people. Yankel turned pale as death, and when thehorsemen had got within a short distance of him, turned round in terrorto look for Taras; but Taras was no longer beside him; every trace ofhim was lost. 

CHAPTER XII

They soon found traces of Taras. An army of a hundred and twentythousand Cossacks appeared on the frontier of the Ukraine. This was nosmall detachment sallying forth for plunder or in pursuit of the Tatars. No: the whole nation had risen, for the measure of the people's patiencewas over-full; they had risen to avenge the disregard of their rights, the dishonourable humiliation of themselves, the insults to the faith oftheir fathers and their sacred customs, the outrages upon their church, the excesses of the foreign nobles, the disgraceful domination of theJews on Christian soil, and all that had aroused and deepened the sternhatred of the Cossacks for a long time past. Hetman Ostranitza, young, but firm in mind, led the vast Cossack force. Beside him was seen hisold and experienced friend and counsellor, Gunya. Eight leaders ledbands of twelve thousand men each. Two osauls and a bunchuzhniy assistedthe hetman. A cornet-general carried the chief standard, whilst manyother banners and standards floated in the air; and the comrades of thestaff bore the golden staff of the hetman, the symbol of his office. There were also many other officials belonging to the different bands, the baggage train and the main force with detachments of infantry andcavalry. There were almost as many free Cossacks and volunteers as therewere registered Cossacks. The Cossacks had risen everywhere. They camefrom Tchigirin, from Pereyaslaf, from Baturin, from Glukhof, from theregions of the lower Dnieper, and from all its upper shores and islands. An uninterrupted stream of horses and herds of cattle stretched acrossthe plain. And among all these Cossacks, among all these bands, one wasthe choicest; and that was the band led by Taras Bulba. All contributedto give him an influence over the others: his advanced years, hisexperience and skill in directing an army, and his bitter hatred of thefoe. His unsparing fierceness and cruelty seemed exaggerated even to theCossacks. His grey head dreamed of naught save fire and sword, and hisutterances at the councils of war breathed only annihilation. 

It is useless to describe all the battles in which the Cossacksdistinguished themselves, or the gradual courses of the campaign. Allthis is set down in the chronicles. It is well known what an army raisedon Russian soil, for the orthodox faith, is like. There is no powerstronger than faith. It is threatening and invincible like a rock, andrising amidst the stormy, ever-changing sea. From the very bottom of thesea it rears to heaven its jagged sides of firm, impenetrable stone. Itis visible from everywhere, and looks the waves straight in the faceas they roll past. And woe to the ship which is dashed against it! Itsframe flies into splinters, everything in it is split and crushed, andthe startled air re-echoes the piteous cries of the drowning. 

In the pages of the chronicles there is a minute description of how thePolish garrisons fled from the freed cities; how the unscrupulous Jewishtavern-keepers were hung; how powerless was the royal hetman, NikolaiPototzky, with his numerous army, against this invincible force; how, routed and pursued, he lost the best of his troops by drowning in asmall stream; how the fierce Cossack regiments besieged him in thelittle town of Polon; and how, reduced to extremities, he promised, under oath, on the part of the king and the government, its fullsatisfaction to all, and the restoration of all their rights andprivileges. But the Cossacks were not men to give way for this. Theyalready knew well what a Polish oath was worth. And Pototzky would nevermore have pranced on his six-thousand ducat horse from the Kabardei, attracting the glances of distinguished ladies and the envy of thenobility; he would never more have made a figure in the Diet, by givingcostly feasts to the senators--if the Russian priests who were in thelittle town had not saved him. When all the popes, in their brilliantgold vestments, went out to meet the Cossacks, bearing the holy picturesand the cross, with the bishop himself at their head, crosier in handand mitre on his head, the Cossacks all bowed their heads and took offtheir caps. To no one lower than the king himself would they have shownrespect at such an hour; but their daring fell before the Church ofChrist, and they honoured their priesthood. The hetman and leadersagreed to release Pototzky, after having extracted from him a solemnoath to leave all the Christian churches unmolested, to forswear theancient enmity, and to do no harm to the Cossack forces. One leaderalone would not consent to such a peace. It was Taras. He tore a handfulof hair from his head, and cried:

"Hetman and leaders! Commit no such womanish deed. Trust not the Lyakhs;slay the dogs!"

When the secretary presented the agreement, and the hetman put his handto it, Taras drew a genuine Damascene blade, a costly Turkish sabreof the finest steel, broke it in twain like a reed, and threw the twopieces far away on each side, saying, "Farewell! As the two pieces ofthis sword will never reunite and form one sword again, so we, comrades, shall nevermore behold each other in this world. Remember my partingwords. " As he spoke his voice grew stronger, rose higher, and acquired ahitherto unknown power; and his prophetic utterances troubled them all. "Before the death hour you will remember me! Do you think that you havepurchased peace and quiet? do you think that you will make a great show?You will make a great show, but after another fashion. They will flaythe skin from your head, hetman, they will stuff it with bran, andlong will it be exhibited at fairs. Neither will you retain your heads, gentles. You will be thrown into damp dungeons, walled about with stone, if they do not boil you alive in cauldrons like sheep. And you, men, " hecontinued, turning to his followers, "which of you wants to die his truedeath? not through sorrows and the ale-house; but an honourable Cossackdeath, all in one bed, like bride and groom? But, perhaps, you wouldlike to return home, and turn infidels, and carry Polish priests on yourbacks?"

"We will follow you, noble leader, we will follow you!" shouted all hisband, and many others joined them. 

"If it is to be so, then follow me, " said Taras, pulling his cap fartherover his brows. Looking menacingly at the others, he went to hishorse, and cried to his men, "Let no one reproach us with any insultingspeeches. Now, hey there, men! we'll call on the Catholics. " And thenhe struck his horse, and there followed him a camp of a hundred waggons, and with them many Cossack cavalry and infantry; and, turning, hethreatened with a glance all who remained behind, and wrath was in hiseye. The band departed in full view of all the army, and Taras continuedlong to turn and glower. 

The hetman and leaders were uneasy; all became thoughtful, and remainedsilent, as though oppressed by some heavy foreboding. Not in vain hadTaras prophesied: all came to pass as he had foretold. A little later, after the treacherous attack at Kaneva, the hetman's head was mounted ona stake, together with those of many of his officers. 

And what of Taras? Taras made raids all over Poland with his band, burned eighteen towns and nearly forty churches, and reached Cracow. He killed many nobles, and plundered some of the richest and finestcastles. The Cossacks emptied on the ground the century-old mead andwine, carefully hoarded up in lordly cellars; they cut and burned therich garments and equipments which they found in the wardrobes. "Spare nothing, " was the order of Taras. The Cossacks spared not theblack-browed gentlewomen, the brilliant, white-bosomed maidens: thesecould not save themselves even at the altar, for Taras burned them withthe altar itself. Snowy hands were raised to heaven from amid fieryflames, with piteous shrieks which would have moved the damp earthitself to pity and caused the steppe-grass to bend with compassionat their fate. But the cruel Cossacks paid no heed; and, raising thechildren in the streets upon the points of their lances, they cast themalso into the flames. 

"This is a mass for the soul of Ostap, you heathen Lyakhs, " was allthat Taras said. And such masses for Ostap he had sung in every village, until the Polish Government perceived that Taras's raids were more thanordinary expeditions for plunder; and Pototzky was given five regiments, and ordered to capture him without fail. 

Six days did the Cossacks retreat along the by-roads before theirpursuers; their horses were almost equal to this unchecked flight, andnearly saved them. But this time Pototzky was also equal to the taskintrusted to him; unweariedly he followed them, and overtook them on thebank of the Dniester, where Taras had taken possession of an abandonedand ruined castle for the purpose of resting. 

On the very brink of the Dniester it stood, with its shattered rampartsand the ruined remnants of its walls. The summit of the cliff was strewnwith ragged stones and broken bricks, ready at any moment to detachthemselves. The royal hetman, Pototzky, surrounded it on the two sideswhich faced the plain. Four days did the Cossacks fight, tearing downbricks and stones for missiles. But their stones and their strengthwere at length exhausted, and Taras resolved to cut his way through thebeleaguering forces. And the Cossacks would have cut their way through, and their swift steeds might again have served them faithfully, had notTaras halted suddenly in the very midst of their flight, and shouted, "Halt! my pipe has dropped with its tobacco: I won't let those heathenLyakhs have my pipe!" And the old hetman stooped down, and felt in thegrass for his pipe full of tobacco, his inseparable companion on all hisexpeditions by sea and land and at home. 

But in the meantime a band of Lyakhs suddenly rushed up, and seized himby the shoulders. He struggled with all might; but he could not scatteron the earth, as he had been wont to do, the heydukes who had seizedhim. "Oh, old age, old age!" he exclaimed: and the stout old Cossackwept. But his age was not to blame: nearly thirty men were clinging tohis arms and legs. 

"The raven is caught!" yelled the Lyakhs. "We must think how we can showhim the most honour, the dog!" They decided, with the permission of thehetman, to burn him alive in the sight of all. There stood hard by aleafless tree, the summit of which had been struck by lightning. Theyfastened him with iron chains and nails driven through his hands high upon the trunk of the tree, so that he might be seen from all sides; andbegan at once to place fagots at its foot. But Taras did not look atthe wood, nor did he think of the fire with which they were preparing toroast him: he gazed anxiously in the direction whence his Cossacks werefiring. From his high point of observation he could see everything as inthe palm of his hand. 

"Take possession, men, " he shouted, "of the hillock behind the wood:they cannot climb it!" But the wind did not carry his words to them. "They are lost, lost!" he said in despair, and glanced down to wherethe water of the Dniester glittered. Joy gleamed in his eyes. He saw thesterns of four boats peeping out from behind some bushes; exerted allthe power of his lungs, and shouted in a ringing tone, "To the bank, tothe bank, men! descend the path to the left, under the cliff. There areboats on the bank; take all, that they may not catch you. "

This time the breeze blew from the other side, and his words wereaudible to the Cossacks. But for this counsel he received a blow on thehead with the back of an axe, which made everything dance before hiseyes. 

The Cossacks descended the cliff path at full speed, but their pursuerswere at their heels. They looked: the path wound and twisted, and mademany detours to one side. "Comrades, we are trapped!" said they. Allhalted for an instant, raised their whips, whistled, and their Tatarhorses rose from the ground, clove the air like serpents, flew overthe precipice, and plunged straight into the Dniester. Two only did notalight in the river, but thundered down from the height upon the stones, and perished there with their horses without uttering a cry. But theCossacks had already swum shoreward from their horses, and unfastenedthe boats, when the Lyakhs halted on the brink of the precipice, astounded by this wonderful feat, and thinking, "Shall we jump down tothem, or not?"

One young colonel, a lively, hot-blooded soldier, own brother to thebeautiful Pole who had seduced poor Andrii, did not reflect long, butleaped with his horse after the Cossacks. He made three turns in the airwith his steed, and fell heavily on the rocks. The sharp stones tore himin pieces; and his brains, mingled with blood, bespattered the shrubsgrowing on the uneven walls of the precipice. 

When Taras Bulba recovered from the blow, and glanced towards theDniester, the Cossacks were already in the skiffs and rowing away. Ballswere showered upon them from above but did not reach them. And the oldhetman's eyes sparkled with joy. 

"Farewell, comrades!" he shouted to them from above; "remember me, andcome hither again next spring and make merry in the same fashion! What!cursed Lyakhs, have ye caught me? Think ye there is anything in theworld that a Cossack fears? Wait; the time will come when ye shall learnwhat the orthodox Russian faith is! Already the people scent it far andnear. A czar shall arise from Russian soil, and there shall not be apower in the world which shall not submit to him!" But fire had alreadyrisen from the fagots; it lapped his feet, and the flame spread to thetree. .. . But can any fire, flames, or power be found on earth which arecapable of overpowering Russian strength?

Broad is the river Dniester, and in it are many deep pools, densereed-beds, clear shallows and little bays; its watery mirror gleams, filled with the melodious plaint of the swan, the proud wild gooseglides swiftly over it; and snipe, red-throated ruffs, and other birdsare to be found among the reeds and along the banks. The Cossacks rowedswiftly on in the narrow double-ruddered boats--rowed stoutly, carefullyshunning the sand bars, and cleaving the ranks of the birds, which tookwing--rowed, and talked of their hetman. 

ST. JOHN'S EVE

A STORY TOLD BY THE SACRISTAN OF THE DIKANKA CHURCH

Thoma Grigroovitch had one very strange eccentricity: to the day ofhis death he never liked to tell the same thing twice. There were timeswhen, if you asked him to relate a thing afresh, he would interpolatenew matter, or alter it so that it was impossible to recognise it. Onceupon a time, one of those gentlemen who, like the usurers at our yearlyfairs, clutch and beg and steal every sort of frippery, and issue meanlittle volumes, no thicker than an A B C book, every month, or evenevery week, wormed this same story out of Thoma Grigorovitch, and thelatter completely forgot about it. But that same young gentleman, in thepea-green caftan, came from Poltava, bringing with him a little book, and, opening it in the middle, showed it to us. Thoma Grigorovitchwas on the point of setting his spectacles astride of his nose, butrecollected that he had forgotten to wind thread about them and stickthem together with wax, so he passed it over to me. As I understandnothing about reading and writing, and do not wear spectacles, Iundertook to read it. I had not turned two leaves when all at once hecaught me by the hand and stopped me. 

"Stop! tell me first what you are reading. "

I confess that I was a trifle stunned by such a question. 

"What! what am I reading, Thoma Grigorovitch? Why, your own words. "

"Who told you that they were my words?"

"Why, what more would you have? Here it is printed: 'Related by such andsuch a sacristan. '"

"Spit on the head of the man who printed that! he lies, the dog of aMoscow pedlar! Did I say that? ''Twas just the same as though one hadn'this wits about him!' Listen. I'll tell the tale to you on the spot. "

We moved up to the table, and he began. 

*****

My grandfather (the kingdom of heaven be his! may he eat only wheatenrolls and poppy-seed cakes with honey in the other world!) could tell astory wonderfully well. When he used to begin a tale you could notstir from the spot all day, but kept on listening. He was not like thestory-teller of the present day, when he begins to lie, with a tongue asthough he had had nothing to eat for three days, so that you snatch yourcap and flee from the house. I remember my old mother was alive then, and in the long winter evenings when the frost was crackling out ofdoors, and had sealed up hermetically the narrow panes of our cottage, she used to sit at her wheel, drawing out a long thread in her hand, rocking the cradle with her foot, and humming a song, which I seem tohear even now. 

The lamp, quivering and flaring up as though in fear of something, lighted up our cottage; the spindle hummed; and all of us children, collected in a cluster, listened to grandfather, who had not crawledoff the stove for more than five years, owing to his great age. But thewondrous tales of the incursions of the Zaporozhian Cossacks and thePoles, the bold deeds of Podkova, of Poltar-Kozhukh, and Sagaidatchnii, did not interest us so much as the stories about some deed of old whichalways sent a shiver through our frames and made our hair rise uprighton our heads. Sometimes such terror took possession of us in consequenceof them, that, from that evening forward, Heaven knows how wonderfuleverything seemed to us. If one chanced to go out of the cottage afternightfall for anything, one fancied that a visitor from the other worldhad lain down to sleep in one's bed; and I have often taken my ownsmock, at a distance, as it lay at the head of the bed, for the Evil Onerolled up into a ball! But the chief thing about grandfather's storieswas, that he never lied in all his life; and whatever he said was so, was so. 

I will now tell you one of his wonderful tales. I know that there are agreat many wise people who copy in the courts, and can even readcivil documents, but who, if you were to put into their hand a simpleprayer-book, could not make out the first letter in it, and would showall their teeth in derision. These people laugh at everything you tellthem. Along comes one of them--and doesn't believe in witches! Yes, glory to God that I have lived so long in the world! I have seenheretics to whom it would be easier to lie in confession than it wouldbe to our brothers and equals to take snuff, and these folk would denythe existence of witches! But let them just dream about something, andthey won't even tell what it was! There, it is no use talking aboutthem!

No one could have recognised the village of ours a little over a hundredyears ago; it was a hamlet, the poorest kind of a hamlet. Half a scoreof miserable farmhouses, unplastered and badly thatched, were scatteredhere and there about the fields. There was not a yard or a decent shedto shelter animals or waggons. That was the way the wealthy lived:and if you had looked for our brothers, the poor--why, a hole in theground--that was a cabin for you! Only by the smoke could you tell thata God-created man lived there. You ask why they lived so? It was notentirely through poverty: almost every one led a raiding Cossack life, and gathered not a little plunder in foreign lands; it was ratherbecause it was little use building up a good wooden house. Manyfolk were engaged in raids all over the country--Crimeans, Poles, Lithuanians! It was quite possible that their own countrymen might makea descent and plunder everything. Anything was possible. 

In this hamlet a man, or rather a devil in human form, often made hisappearance. Why he came, and whence, no one knew. He prowled about, gotdrunk, and suddenly disappeared as if into the air, leaving no traceof his existence. Then, behold, he seemed to have dropped from the skyagain, and went flying about the street of the village, of which notrace now remains, and which was not more than a hundred paces fromDikanka. He would collect together all the Cossacks he met; thenthere were songs, laughter, and cash in plenty, and vodka flowed likewater. .. . He would address the pretty girls, and give them ribbons, earrings, strings of beads--more than they knew what to do with. Itis true that the pretty girls rather hesitated about accepting hispresents: God knows, perhaps, what unclean hands they had passedthrough. My grandfather's aunt, who kept at that time a tavern, in whichBasavriuk (as they called this devil-man) often caroused, said that noconsideration on the earth would have induced her to accept a gift fromhim. But then, again, how avoid accepting? Fear seized on every one whenhe knit his shaggy brows, and gave a sidelong glance which might sendyour feet God knows whither: whilst if you did accept, then the nextnight some fiend from the swamp, with horns on his head, came and beganto squeeze your neck, if there was a string of beads upon it; or biteyour finger, if there was a ring upon it; or drag you by the hair, ifribbons were braided in it. God have mercy, then, on those who heldsuch gifts! But here was the difficulty: it was impossible to get rid ofthem; if you threw them into the water, the diabolical ring or necklacewould skim along the surface and into your hand. 

There was a church in the village--St. Pantelei, if I remember rightly. There lived there a priest, Father Athanasii of blessed memory. Observing that Basavriuk did not come to church, even at Easter, hedetermined to reprove him and impose penance upon him. Well, he hardlyescaped with his life. "Hark ye, sir!" he thundered in reply, "learnto mind your own business instead of meddling in other people's, if youdon't want that throat of yours stuck with boiling kutya (1). " What wasto be done with this unrepentant man? Father Athanasii contentedhimself with announcing that any one who should make the acquaintanceof Basavriuk would be counted a Catholic, an enemy of Christ's orthodoxchurch, not a member of the human race. 

 (1) A dish of rice or wheat flour, with honey and raisins, which is brought to the church on the celebration of memorial masses. 

In this village there was a Cossack named Korzh, who had a labourer whompeople called Peter the Orphan--perhaps because no one remembered eitherhis father or mother. The church elder, it is true, said that they haddied of the pest in his second year; but my grandfather's aunt would nothear of that, and tried with all her might to furnish him with parents, although poor Peter needed them about as much as we need last year'ssnow. She said that his father had been in Zaporozhe, and had been takenprisoner by the Turks, amongst whom he underwent God only knows whattortures, until having, by some miracle, disguised himself as a eunuch, he made his escape. Little cared the black-browed youths and maidensabout Peter's parents. They merely remarked, that if he only had a newcoat, a red sash, a black lambskin cap with a smart blue crown on hishead, a Turkish sabre by his side, a whip in one hand and a pipe withhandsome mountings in the other, he would surpass all the young men. Butthe pity was, that the only thing poor Peter had was a grey gaberdinewith more holes in it than there are gold pieces in a Jew's pocket. Butthat was not the worst of it. Korzh had a daughter, such a beauty as Ithink you can hardly have chanced to see. My grandfather's aunt usedto say--and you know that it is easier for a woman to kiss the Evil Onethan to call any one else a beauty--that this Cossack maiden's cheekswere as plump and fresh as the pinkest poppy when, bathed in God's dew, it unfolds its petals, and coquets with the rising sun; that her browswere evenly arched over her bright eyes like black cords, such as ourmaidens buy nowadays, for their crosses and ducats, off the Moscowpedlars who visit the villages with their baskets; that her littlemouth, at sight of which the youths smacked their lips, seemed made towarble the songs of nightingales; that her hair, black as the raven'swing, and soft as young flax, fell in curls over her shoulders, forour maidens did not then plait their hair in pigtails interwoven withpretty, bright-hued ribbons. Eh! may I never intone another alleluia inthe choir, if I would not have kissed her, in spite of the grey which ismaking its way through the old wool which covers my pate, and of the oldwoman beside me, like a thorn in my side! Well, you know what happenswhen young men and maidens live side by side. In the twilight the heelsof red boots were always visible in the place where Pidorka chatted withher Peter. But Korzh would never have suspected anything out of theway, only one day--it is evident that none but the Evil One could haveinspired him--Peter took into his head to kiss the maiden's rosy lipswith all his heart, without first looking well about him; and that sameEvil One--may the son of a dog dream of the holy cross!--caused the oldgrey-beard, like a fool, to open the cottage door at that same moment. Korzh was petrified, dropped his jaw, and clutched at the door forsupport. Those unlucky kisses completely stunned him. 

Recovering himself, he took his grandfather's hunting whip from thewall, and was about to belabour Peter's back with it, when Pidorka'slittle six-year-old brother Ivas rushed up from somewhere or other, and, grasping his father's legs with his little hands, screamed out, "Daddy, daddy! don't beat Peter!" What was to be done? A father's heart is notmade of stone. Hanging the whip again on the wall, he led Peter quietlyfrom the house. "If you ever show yourself in my cottage again, or evenunder the windows, look out, Peter, for, by heaven, your black moustachewill disappear; and your black locks, though wound twice about yourears, will take leave of your pate, or my name is not Terentiy Korzh. "So saying, he gave him such a taste of his fist in the nape of his neck, that all grew dark before Peter, and he flew headlong out of the place. 

So there was an end of their kissing. Sorrow fell upon our turtledoves; and a rumour grew rife in the village that a certain Pole, all embroidered with gold, with moustaches, sabre, spurs, and pocketsjingling like the bells of the bag with which our sacristan Taras goesthrough the church every day, had begun to frequent Korzh's house. Now, it is well known why a father has visitors when there is a black-broweddaughter about. So, one day, Pidorka burst into tears, and caught thehand of her brother Ivas. "Ivas, my dear! Ivas, my love! fly to Peter, my child of gold, like an arrow from a bow. Tell him all: I would haveloved his brown eyes, I would have kissed his fair face, but my fatedecrees otherwise. More than one handkerchief have I wet with burningtears. I am sad and heavy at heart. And my own father is my enemy. Iwill not marry the Pole, whom I do not love. Tell him they are makingready for a wedding, but there will be no music at our wedding:priests will sing instead of pipes and viols. I shall not dance with mybridegroom: they will carry me out. Dark, dark will be my dwelling ofmaple wood; and, instead of chimneys, a cross will stand upon the roof. "

Peter stood petrified, without moving from the spot, when the innocentchild lisped out Pidorka's words to him. "And I, wretched man, hadthought to go to the Crimea and Turkey, to win gold and return to thee, my beauty! But it may not be. We have been overlooked by the evil eye. Itoo shall have a wedding, dear one; but no ecclesiastics will be presentat that wedding. The black crow instead of the pope will caw over me;the bare plain will be my dwelling; the dark blue cloud my roof-tree. The eagle will claw out my brown eyes: the rain will wash my Cossackbones, and the whirlwinds dry them. But what am I? Of what should Icomplain? 'Tis clear God willed it so. If I am to be lost, then so beit!" and he went straight to the tavern. 

My late grandfather's aunt was somewhat surprised at seeing Peter at thetavern, at an hour when good men go to morning mass; and stared at himas though in a dream when he called for a jug of brandy, about half apailful. But the poor fellow tried in vain to drown his woe. The vodkastung his tongue like nettles, and tasted more bitter than wormwood. Heflung the jug from him upon the ground. 

"You have sorrowed enough, Cossack, " growled a bass voice behind him. He looked round--it was Basavriuk! Ugh, what a face! His hair was likea brush, his eyes like those of a bull. "I know what you lack: here itis. " As he spoke he jingled a leather purse which hung from his girdleand smiled diabolically. Peter shuddered. "Ha, ha, ha! how it shines!"he roared, shaking out ducats into his hands: "ha, ha, ha! how itjingles! And I only ask one thing for a whole pile of such shiners. "

"It is the Evil One!" exclaimed Peter. "Give me them! I'm ready foranything!"

They struck hands upon it, and Basavriuk said, "You are just in time, Peter: to-morrow is St. John the Baptist's day. Only on this one nightin the year does the fern blossom. I will await you at midnight in theBear's ravine. "

I do not believe that chickens await the hour when the housewife bringstheir corn with as much anxiety as Peter awaited the evening. He keptlooking to see whether the shadows of the trees were not lengthening, whether the sun was not turning red towards setting; and, the longer hewatched, the more impatient he grew. How long it was! Evidently, God'sday had lost its end somewhere. But now the sun has set. The sky is redonly on one side, and it is already growing dark. It grows colder in thefields. It gets gloomier and gloomier, and at last quite dark. At last!With heart almost bursting from his bosom, he set out and cautiouslymade his way down through the thick woods into the deep hollow calledthe Bear's ravine. Basavriuk was already waiting there. It was so darkthat you could not see a yard before you. Hand in hand they enteredthe ravine, pushing through the luxuriant thorn-bushes and stumbling atalmost every step. At last they reached an open spot. Peter looked abouthim: he had never chanced to come there before. Here Basavriuk halted. 

"Do you see before you three hillocks? There are a great many kinds offlowers upon them. May some power keep you from plucking even one ofthem. But as soon as the fern blossoms, seize it, and look not round, nomatter what may seem to be going on behind thee. "

Peter wanted to ask some questions, but behold Basavriuk was no longerthere. He approached the three hillocks--where were the flowers? He sawnone. The wild steppe-grass grew all around, and hid everything in itsluxuriance. But the lightning flashed; and before him was a whole bed offlowers, all wonderful, all strange: whilst amongst them there werealso the simple fronds of fern. Peter doubted his senses, and stoodthoughtfully before them, arms akimbo. 

"What manner of prodigy is this? why, one can see these weeds ten timesa day. What is there marvellous about them? Devil's face must be mockingme!"

But behold! the tiny flower-bud of the fern reddened and moved as thoughalive. It was a marvel in truth. It grew larger and larger, and glowedlike a burning coal. The tiny stars of light flashed up, something burstsoftly, and the flower opened before his eyes like a flame, lighting theothers about it. 

"Now is the time, " thought Peter, and extended his hand. He saw hundredsof hairy hands reach also for the flower from behind him, and there wasa sound of scampering in his rear. He half closed his eyes, and pluckedsharply at the stalk, and the flower remained in his hand. 

All became still. 

Upon a stump sat Basavriuk, quite blue like a corpse. He did not move somuch as a finger. Hi eyes were immovably fixed on something visibleto him alone; his mouth was half open and speechless. Nothing stirredaround. Ugh! it was horrible! But then a whistle was heard which madePeter's heart grow cold within him; and it seemed to him that the grasswhispered, and the flowers began to talk among themselves in delicatevoices, like little silver bells, while the trees rustled in murmuringcontention;--Basavriuk's face suddenly became full of life, and his eyessparkled. "The witch has just returned, " he muttered between histeeth. "Hearken, Peter: a charmer will stand before you in a moment; dowhatever she commands; if not--you are lost forever. "

Then he parted the thorn-bushes with a knotty stick and before himstood a tiny farmhouse. Basavriuk smote it with his fist, and the walltrembled. A large black dog ran out to meet them, and with a whinetransformed itself into a cat and flew straight at his eyes. 

"Don't be angry, don't be angry, you old Satan!" said Basavriuk, employing such words as would have made a good man stop his ears. Behold, instead of a cat, an old woman all bent into a bow, with aface wrinkled like a baked apple, and a nose and chin like a pair ofnutcrackers. 

"A fine charmer!" thought Peter; and cold chills ran down his back. Thewitch tore the flower from his hand, stooped and muttered over it for along time, sprinkling it with some kind of water. Sparks flew from hermouth, and foam appeared on her lips. 

"Throw it away, " she said, giving it back to Peter. 

Peter threw it, but what wonder was this? The flower did not fallstraight to the earth, but for a long while twinkled like a fiery ballthrough the darkness, and swam through the air like a boat. At lastit began to sink lower and lower, and fell so far away that the littlestar, hardly larger than a poppy-seed, was barely visible. "There!"croaked the old woman, in a dull voice: and Basavriuk, giving him aspade, said, "Dig here, Peter: you will find more gold than you or Korzhever dreamed of. "

Peter spat on his hands, seized the spade, pressed his foot on it, andturned up the earth, a second, a third, a fourth time. The spade clinkedagainst something hard, and would go no further. Then his eyes began todistinguish a small, iron-bound coffer. He tried to seize it; but thechest began to sink into the earth, deeper, farther, and deeper still:whilst behind him he heard a laugh like a serpent's hiss. 

"No, you shall not have the gold until you shed human blood, " said thewitch, and she led up to him a child of six, covered with a white sheet, and indicated by a sign that he was to cut off his head. 

Peter was stunned. A trifle, indeed, to cut off a man's, or even aninnocent child's, head for no reason whatever! In wrath he tore off thesheet enveloping the victim's head, and behold! before him stood Ivas. The poor child crossed his little hands, and hung his head. Peter flewat the witch with the knife like a madman, and was on the point oflaying hands on her. 

"What did you promise for the girl?" thundered Basavriuk; and likea shot he was on his back. The witch stamped her foot: a blue flameflashed from the earth and illumined all within it. The earth becametransparent as if moulded of crystal; and all that was within it becamevisible, as if in the palm of the hand. Ducats, precious stones inchests and pots, were piled in heaps beneath the very spot they stoodon. Peter's eyes flashed, his mind grew troubled. .. . He grasped theknife like a madman, and the innocent blood spurted into his eyes. Diabolical laughter resounded on all sides. Misshapen monsters flew pasthim in flocks. The witch, fastening her hands in the headless trunk, like a wolf, drank its blood. His head whirled. Collecting all hisstrength, he set out to run. Everything grew red before him. The treesseemed steeped in blood, and burned and groaned. The sky glowed andthreatened. Burning points, like lightning, flickered before his eyes. Utterly exhausted, he rushed into his miserable hovel and fell to theground like a log. A death-like sleep overpowered him. 

Two days and two nights did Peter sleep, without once awakening. When hecame to himself, on the third day, he looked long at all the corners ofhis hut, but in vain did he endeavour to recollect what had taken place;his memory was like a miser's pocket, from which you cannot entice aquarter of a kopek. Stretching himself, he heard something clash athis feet. He looked, there were two bags of gold. Then only, as if ina dream, he recollected that he had been seeking for treasure, and thatsomething had frightened him in the woods. 

Korzh saw the sacks--and was mollified. "A fine fellow, Peter, quiteunequalled! yes, and did I not love him? Was he not to me as my ownson?" And the old fellow repeated this fiction until he wept over ithimself. Pidorka began to tell Peter how some passing gipsies had stolenIvas; but he could not even recall him--to such a degree had the Devil'sinfluence darkened his mind! There was no reason for delay. The Pole wasdismissed, and the wedding-feast prepared; rolls were baked, towels andhandkerchiefs embroidered; the young people were seated at table;the wedding-loaf was cut; guitars, cymbals, pipes, viols sounded, andpleasure was rife. 

A wedding in the olden times was not like one of the present day. Mygrandfather's aunt used to tell how the maidens--in festive head-dressesof yellow, blue, and pink ribbons, above which they bound gold braid; inthin chemisettes embroidered on all the seams with red silk, and strewnwith tiny silver flowers; in morocco shoes, with high iron heels--dancedthe gorlitza as swimmingly as peacocks, and as wildly as the whirlwind;how the youths--with their ship-shaped caps upon their heads, the crownsof gold brocade, and two horns projecting, one in front and anotherbehind, of the very finest black lambskin; in tunics of the finest bluesilk with red borders--stepped forward one by one, their arms akimboin stately form, and executed the gopak; how the lads--in tall Cossackcaps, and light cloth gaberdines, girt with silver embroidered belts, their short pipes in their teeth--skipped before them and talkednonsense. Even Korzh as he gazed at the young people could not helpgetting gay in his old age. Guitar in hand, alternately puffing at hispipe and singing, a brandy-glass upon his head, the greybeard began thenational dance amid loud shouts from the merry-makers. 

What will not people devise in merry mood? They even began to disguisetheir faces till they did not look like human beings. On such occasionsone would dress himself as a Jew, another as the Devil: they would beginby kissing each other, and end by seizing each other by the hair. God bewith them! you laughed till you held your sides. They dressedthemselves in Turkish and Tatar garments. All upon them glowed like aconflagration, and then they began to joke and play pranks. .. . 

An amusing thing happened to my grandfather's aunt, who was at thiswedding. She was wearing an ample Tatar robe, and, wine-glass in hand, was entertaining the company. The Evil One instigated one man to pourvodka over her from behind. Another, at the same moment, evidently notby accident, struck a light, and held it to her. The flame flashed up, and poor aunt, in terror, flung her dress off, before them all. Screams, laughter, jests, arose as if at a fair. In a word, the old folks couldnot recall so merry a wedding. 

Pidorka and Peter began to live like a gentleman and lady. There wasplenty of everything and everything was fine. .. . But honest folk shooktheir heads when they marked their way of living. "From the Devilno good can come, " they unanimously agreed. "Whence, except from thetempter of orthodox people, came this wealth? Where else could he havegot such a lot of gold from? Why, on the very day that he got rich, didBasavriuk vanish as if into thin air?"

Say, if you can, that people only imagine things! A month had notpassed, and no one would have recognised Peter. He sat in one spot, saying no word to any one; but continually thinking and seemingly tryingto recall something. When Pidorka succeeded in getting him to speak, heappeared to forget himself, and would carry on a conversation, and evengrow cheerful; but if he inadvertently glanced at the sacks, "Stop, stop! I have forgotten, " he would cry, and again plunge into reverie andstrive to recall something. Sometimes when he sat still a long time inone place, it seemed to him as though it were coming, just coming backto mind, but again all would fade away. It seemed as if he was sittingin the tavern: they brought him vodka; vodka stung him; vodka wasrepulsive to him. Some one came along and struck him on the shoulder;but beyond that everything was veiled in darkness before him. Theperspiration would stream down his face, and he would sit exhausted inthe same place. 

What did not Pirdorka do? She consulted the sorceresses; and they pouredout fear, and brewed stomach ache (2)--but all to no avail. And so thesummer passed. Many a Cossack had mowed and reaped; many a Cossack, moreenterprising than the rest, had set off upon an expedition. Flocks ofducks were already crowding the marshes, but there was not even a hintof improvement. 

 (2) "To pour out fear" refers to a practice resorted to in case of fear. When it is desired to know what caused this, melted lead or wax is poured into water, and the object whose form it assumes is the one which frightened the sick person; after this, the fear departs. Sonyashnitza is brewed for giddiness and pain in the bowels. To this end, a bit of stump is burned, thrown into a jug, and turned upside down into a bowl filled with water, which is placed on the patient's stomach: after an incantation, he is given a spoonful of this water to drink. 

It was red upon the steppes. Ricks of grain, like Cossack's caps, dottedthe fields here and there. On the highway were to be encountered waggonsloaded with brushwood and logs. The ground had become more solid, andin places was touched with frost. Already had the snow begun to falland the branches of the trees were covered with rime like rabbit-skin. Already on frosty days the robin redbreast hopped about on thesnow-heaps like a foppish Polish nobleman, and picked out grains ofcorn; and children, with huge sticks, played hockey upon the ice; whiletheir fathers lay quietly on the stove, issuing forth at intervalswith lighted pipes in their lips, to growl, in regular fashion, at theorthodox frost, or to take the air, and thresh the grain spread out inthe barn. At last the snow began to melt, and the ice slipped away: butPeter remained the same; and, the more time went on, the more morose hegrew. He sat in the cottage as though nailed to the spot, with the sacksof gold at his feet. He grew averse to companionship, his hair grewlong, he became terrible to look at; and still he thought of butone thing, still he tried to recall something, and got angry andill-tempered because he could not. Often, rising wildly from his seat, he gesticulated violently and fixed his eyes on something as thoughdesirous of catching it: his lips moving as though desirous of utteringsome long-forgotten word, but remaining speechless. Fury would takepossession of him: he would gnaw and bite his hands like a man halfcrazy, and in his vexation would tear out his hair by the handful, until, calming down, he would relapse into forgetfulness, as it were, and then would again strive to recall the past and be again seized withfury and fresh tortures. What visitation of God was this?

Pidorka was neither dead not alive. At first it was horrible for her toremain alone with him in the cottage; but, in course of time, the poorwoman grew accustomed to her sorrow. But it was impossible to recognisethe Pidorka of former days. No blushes, no smiles: she was thin and wornwith grief, and had wept her bright eyes away. Once some one who tookpity on her advised her to go to the witch who dwelt in the Bear'sravine, and enjoyed the reputation of being able to cure every diseasein the world. She determined to try that last remedy: and finallypersuaded the old woman to come to her. This was on St. John's Eve, asit chanced. Peter lay insensible on the bench, and did not observe thenewcomer. Slowly he rose, and looked about him. Suddenly he trembled inevery limb, as though he were on the scaffold: his hair rose upon hishead, and he laughed a laugh that filled Pidorka's heart with fear. 

"I have remembered, remembered!" he cried, in terrible joy; and, swinging a hatchet round his head, he struck at the old woman with allhis might. The hatchet penetrated the oaken door nearly four inches. Theold woman disappeared; and a child of seven, covered in a white sheet, stood in the middle of the cottage. .. . The sheet flew off. "Ivas!" criedPidorka, and ran to him; but the apparition became covered from head tofoot with blood, and illumined the whole room with red light. .. . 

She ran into the passage in her terror, but, on recovering herself alittle, wished to help Peter. In vain! the door had slammed to behindher, so that she could not open it. People ran up, and began to knock:they broke in the door, as though there were but one mind among them. The whole cottage was full of smoke; and just in the middle, where Peterhad stood, was a heap of ashes whence smoke was still rising. They flungthemselves upon the sacks: only broken potsherds lay there instead ofducats. The Cossacks stood with staring eyes and open mouths, as ifrooted to the earth, not daring to move a hair, such terror did thiswonder inspire in them. 

I do not remember what happened next. Pidorka made a vow to go upon apilgrimage, collected the property left her by her father, and in a fewdays it was as if she had never been in the village. Whither she hadgone, no one could tell. Officious old women would have despatchedher to the same place whither Peter had gone; but a Cossack from Kiefreported that he had seen, in a cloister, a nun withered to a mereskeleton who prayed unceasingly. Her fellow-villagers recognised her asPidorka by the tokens--that no one heard her utter a word; and thatshe had come on foot, and had brought a frame for the picture of God'smother, set with such brilliant stones that all were dazzled at thesight. 

But this was not the end, if you please. On the same day that the EvilOne made away with Peter, Basavriuk appeared again; but all fled fromhim. They knew what sort of a being he was--none else than Satan, who had assumed human form in order to unearth treasures; and, sincetreasures do not yield to unclean hands, he seduced the young. That sameyear, all deserted their earthen huts and collected in a village; buteven there there was no peace on account of that accursed Basavriuk. 

My late grandfather's aunt said that he was particularly angry withher because she had abandoned her former tavern, and tried with allhis might to revenge himself upon her. Once the village elders wereassembled in the tavern, and, as the saying goes, were arranging theprecedence at the table, in the middle of which was placed a smallroasted lamb, shame to say. They chattered about this, that, and theother--among the rest about various marvels and strange things. Well, they saw something; it would have been nothing if only one had seen it, but all saw it, and it was this: the sheep raised his head, his gogglingeyes became alive and sparkled; and the black, bristling moustache, which appeared for one instant, made a significant gesture at thosepresent. All at once recognised Basavriuk's countenance in the sheep'shead; my grandfather's aunt thought it was on the point of asking forvodka. The worthy elders seized their hats and hastened home. 

Another time, the church elder himself, who was fond of an occasionalprivate interview with my grandfather's brandy-glass, had not succeededin getting to the bottom twice, when he beheld the glass bowing verylow to him. "Satan take you, let us make the sign of the cross overyou!"--And the same marvel happened to his better half. She had justbegun to mix the dough in a huge kneading-trough when suddenly thetrough sprang up. "Stop, stop! where are you going?" Putting its armsakimbo, with dignity, it went skipping all about the cottage--you maylaugh, but it was no laughing matter to our grandfathers. And in vaindid Father Athanasii go through all the village with holy water, and chase the Devil through all the streets with his brush. My lategrandfather's aunt long complained that, as soon as it was dark, someone came knocking at her door and scratching at the wall. 

Well! All appears to be quiet now in the place where our village stands;but it was not so very long ago--my father was still alive--thatI remember how a good man could not pass the ruined tavern whicha dishonest race had long managed for their own interest. From thesmoke-blackened chimneys smoke poured out in a pillar, and rising highin the air, rolled off like a cap, scattering burning coals over thesteppe; and Satan (the son of a dog should not be mentioned) sobbed sopitifully in his lair that the startled ravens rose in flocks from theneighbouring oak-wood and flew through the air with wild cries. 

THE CLOAK

In the department of--but it is better not to mention the department. There is nothing more irritable than departments, regiments, courts ofjustice, and, in a word, every branch of public service. Each individualattached to them nowadays thinks all society insulted in his person. Quite recently a complaint was received from a justice of the peace, inwhich he plainly demonstrated that all the imperial institutions weregoing to the dogs, and that the Czar's sacred name was being taken invain; and in proof he appended to the complaint a romance in which thejustice of the peace is made to appear about once every ten lines, and sometimes in a drunken condition. Therefore, in order to avoid allunpleasantness, it will be better to describe the department in questiononly as a certain department. 

So, in a certain department there was a certain official--not a veryhigh one, it must be allowed--short of stature, somewhat pock-marked, red-haired, and short-sighted, with a bald forehead, wrinkled cheeks, and a complexion of the kind known as sanguine. The St. Petersburgclimate was responsible for this. As for his official status, he waswhat is called a perpetual titular councillor, over which, as is wellknown, some writers make merry, and crack their jokes, obeying thepraiseworthy custom of attacking those who cannot bite back. 

His family name was Bashmatchkin. This name is evidently derived from"bashmak" (shoe); but when, at what time, and in what manner, is notknown. His father and grandfather, and all the Bashmatchkins, alwayswore boots, which only had new heels two or three times a year. His namewas Akakiy Akakievitch. It may strike the reader as rather singularand far-fetched, but he may rest assured that it was by no meansfar-fetched, and that the circumstances were such that it would havebeen impossible to give him any other. 

This is how it came about. 

Akakiy Akakievitch was born, if my memory fails me not, in the eveningof the 23rd of March. His mother, the wife of a Government officialand a very fine woman, made all due arrangements for having the childbaptised. She was lying on the bed opposite the door; on her rightstood the godfather, Ivan Ivanovitch Eroshkin, a most estimable man, who served as presiding officer of the senate, while the godmother, AnnaSemenovna Byelobrushkova, the wife of an officer of the quarter, anda woman of rare virtues. They offered the mother her choice of threenames, Mokiya, Sossiya, or that the child should be called after themartyr Khozdazat. "No, " said the good woman, "all those names are poor. "In order to please her they opened the calendar to another place;three more names appeared, Triphiliy, Dula, and Varakhasiy. "This isa judgment, " said the old woman. "What names! I truly never heard thelike. Varada or Varukh might have been borne, but not Triphiliy andVarakhasiy!" They turned to another page and found Pavsikakhiy andVakhtisiy. "Now I see, " said the old woman, "that it is plainly fate. And since such is the case, it will be better to name him after hisfather. His father's name was Akakiy, so let his son's be Akakiy too. "In this manner he became Akakiy Akakievitch. They christened the child, whereat he wept and made a grimace, as though he foresaw that he was tobe a titular councillor. 

In this manner did it all come about. We have mentioned it in order thatthe reader might see for himself that it was a case of necessity, andthat it was utterly impossible to give him any other name. When and howhe entered the department, and who appointed him, no one could remember. However much the directors and chiefs of all kinds were changed, hewas always to be seen in the same place, the same attitude, the sameoccupation; so that it was afterwards affirmed that he had been bornin undress uniform with a bald head. No respect was shown him in thedepartment. The porter not only did not rise from his seat when hepassed, but never even glanced at him, any more than if a fly had flownthrough the reception-room. His superiors treated him in coolly despoticfashion. Some sub-chief would thrust a paper under his nose withoutso much as saying, "Copy, " or "Here's a nice interesting affair, " oranything else agreeable, as is customary amongst well-bred officials. And he took it, looking only at the paper and not observing who handedit to him, or whether he had the right to do so; simply took it, and setabout copying it. 

The young officials laughed at and made fun of him, so far as theirofficial wit permitted; told in his presence various stories concoctedabout him, and about his landlady, an old woman of seventy; declaredthat she beat him; asked when the wedding was to be; and strewed bits ofpaper over his head, calling them snow. But Akakiy Akakievitch answerednot a word, any more than if there had been no one there besideshimself. It even had no effect upon his work: amid all these annoyanceshe never made a single mistake in a letter. But if the joking becamewholly unbearable, as when they jogged his hand and prevented hisattending to his work, he would exclaim, "Leave me alone! Why do youinsult me?" And there was something strange in the words and the voicein which they were uttered. There was in it something which moved topity; so much that one young man, a new-comer, who, taking pattern bythe others, had permitted himself to make sport of Akakiy, suddenlystopped short, as though all about him had undergone a transformation, and presented itself in a different aspect. Some unseen force repelledhim from the comrades whose acquaintance he had made, on the suppositionthat they were well-bred and polite men. Long afterwards, in his gayestmoments, there recurred to his mind the little official with the baldforehead, with his heart-rending words, "Leave me alone! Why do youinsult me?" In these moving words, other words resounded--"I am thybrother. " And the young man covered his face with his hand; and many atime afterwards, in the course of his life, shuddered at seeing howmuch inhumanity there is in man, how much savage coarseness is concealedbeneath delicate, refined worldliness, and even, O God! in that man whomthe world acknowledges as honourable and noble. 

It would be difficult to find another man who lived so entirely for hisduties. It is not enough to say that Akakiy laboured with zeal: no, he laboured with love. In his copying, he found a varied and agreeableemployment. Enjoyment was written on his face: some letters were evenfavourites with him; and when he encountered these, he smiled, winked, and worked with his lips, till it seemed as though each letter mightbe read in his face, as his pen traced it. If his pay had been inproportion to his zeal, he would, perhaps, to his great surprise, havebeen made even a councillor of state. But he worked, as his companions, the wits, put it, like a horse in a mill. 

Moreover, it is impossible to say that no attention was paid to him. Onedirector being a kindly man, and desirous of rewarding him for his longservice, ordered him to be given something more important than merecopying. So he was ordered to make a report of an already concludedaffair to another department: the duty consisting simply in changingthe heading and altering a few words from the first to the third person. This caused him so much toil that he broke into a perspiration, rubbedhis forehead, and finally said, "No, give me rather something to copy. "After that they let him copy on forever. 

Outside this copying, it appeared that nothing existed for him. He gaveno thought to his clothes: his undress uniform was not green, but a sortof rusty-meal colour. The collar was low, so that his neck, in spite ofthe fact that it was not long, seemed inordinately so as it emerged fromit, like the necks of those plaster cats which wag their heads, and arecarried about upon the heads of scores of image sellers. And somethingwas always sticking to his uniform, either a bit of hay or some trifle. Moreover, he had a peculiar knack, as he walked along the street, ofarriving beneath a window just as all sorts of rubbish were being flungout of it: hence he always bore about on his hat scraps of melon rindsand other such articles. Never once in his life did he give heed to whatwas going on every day in the street; while it is well known that hisyoung brother officials train the range of their glances till theycan see when any one's trouser straps come undone upon the oppositesidewalk, which always brings a malicious smile to their faces. ButAkakiy Akakievitch saw in all things the clean, even strokes of hiswritten lines; and only when a horse thrust his nose, from some unknownquarter, over his shoulder, and sent a whole gust of wind down his neckfrom his nostrils, did he observe that he was not in the middle of apage, but in the middle of the street. 

On reaching home, he sat down at once at the table, supped his cabbagesoup up quickly, and swallowed a bit of beef with onions, never noticingtheir taste, and gulping down everything with flies and anything elsewhich the Lord happened to send at the moment. His stomach filled, herose from the table, and copied papers which he had brought home. Ifthere happened to be none, he took copies for himself, for his owngratification, especially if the document was noteworthy, not on accountof its style, but of its being addressed to some distinguished person. 

Even at the hour when the grey St. Petersburg sky had quite dispersed, and all the official world had eaten or dined, each as he could, inaccordance with the salary he received and his own fancy; when all wereresting from the departmental jar of pens, running to and fro from theirown and other people's indispensable occupations, and from all the workthat an uneasy man makes willingly for himself, rather than what isnecessary; when officials hasten to dedicate to pleasure the time whichis left to them, one bolder than the rest going to the theatre; another, into the street looking under all the bonnets; another wasting hisevening in compliments to some pretty girl, the star of a small officialcircle; another--and this is the common case of all--visiting hiscomrades on the fourth or third floor, in two small rooms with anante-room or kitchen, and some pretensions to fashion, such as a lamp orsome other trifle which has cost many a sacrifice of dinner or pleasuretrip; in a word, at the hour when all officials disperse among thecontracted quarters of their friends, to play whist, as they sip theirtea from glasses with a kopek's worth of sugar, smoke long pipes, relateat times some bits of gossip which a Russian man can never, under anycircumstances, refrain from, and, when there is nothing else to talk of, repeat eternal anecdotes about the commandant to whom they had sent wordthat the tails of the horses on the Falconet Monument had been cut off, when all strive to divert themselves, Akakiy Akakievitch indulged inno kind of diversion. No one could ever say that he had seen him at anykind of evening party. Having written to his heart's content, he laydown to sleep, smiling at the thought of the coming day--of what Godmight send him to copy on the morrow. 

Thus flowed on the peaceful life of the man, who, with a salary of fourhundred rubles, understood how to be content with his lot; and thus itwould have continued to flow on, perhaps, to extreme old age, wereit not that there are various ills strewn along the path of life fortitular councillors as well as for private, actual, court, and everyother species of councillor, even for those who never give any advice ortake any themselves. 

There exists in St. Petersburg a powerful foe of all who receive asalary of four hundred rubles a year, or thereabouts. This foe is noother than the Northern cold, although it is said to be very healthy. At nine o'clock in the morning, at the very hour when the streets arefilled with men bound for the various official departments, it begins tobestow such powerful and piercing nips on all noses impartially that thepoor officials really do not know what to do with them. At an hour whenthe foreheads of even those who occupy exalted positions ache with thecold, and tears start to their eyes, the poor titular councillors aresometimes quite unprotected. Their only salvation lies in traversing asquickly as possible, in their thin little cloaks, five or six streets, and then warming their feet in the porter's room, and so thawing alltheir talents and qualifications for official service, which had becomefrozen on the way. 

Akakiy Akakievitch had felt for some time that his back and shoulderssuffered with peculiar poignancy, in spite of the fact that he triedto traverse the distance with all possible speed. He began finallyto wonder whether the fault did not lie in his cloak. He examined itthoroughly at home, and discovered that in two places, namely, on theback and shoulders, it had become thin as gauze: the cloth was worn tosuch a degree that he could see through it, and the lining had falleninto pieces. You must know that Akakiy Akakievitch's cloak served as anobject of ridicule to the officials: they even refused it the noble nameof cloak, and called it a cape. In fact, it was of singular make: itscollar diminishing year by year, but serving to patch its other parts. The patching did not exhibit great skill on the part of the tailor, and was, in fact, baggy and ugly. Seeing how the matter stood, AkakiyAkakievitch decided that it would be necessary to take the cloak toPetrovitch, the tailor, who lived somewhere on the fourth floor upa dark stair-case, and who, in spite of his having but one eye, andpock-marks all over his face, busied himself with considerable successin repairing the trousers and coats of officials and others; that is tosay, when he was sober and not nursing some other scheme in his head. 

It is not necessary to say much about this tailor; but, as it is thecustom to have the character of each personage in a novel clearlydefined, there is no help for it, so here is Petrovitch the tailor. Atfirst he was called only Grigoriy, and was some gentleman's serf; hecommenced calling himself Petrovitch from the time when he receivedhis free papers, and further began to drink heavily on all holidays, at first on the great ones, and then on all church festivities withoutdiscrimination, wherever a cross stood in the calendar. On this point hewas faithful to ancestral custom; and when quarrelling with his wife, hecalled her a low female and a German. As we have mentioned his wife, itwill be necessary to say a word or two about her. Unfortunately, littleis known of her beyond the fact that Petrovitch has a wife, who wearsa cap and a dress; but cannot lay claim to beauty, at least, no one butthe soldiers of the guard even looked under her cap when they met her. 

Ascending the staircase which led to Petrovitch's room--which staircasewas all soaked with dish-water, and reeked with the smell of spiritswhich affects the eyes, and is an inevitable adjunct to all darkstairways in St. Petersburg houses--ascending the stairs, AkakiyAkakievitch pondered how much Petrovitch would ask, and mentallyresolved not to give more than two rubles. The door was open; for themistress, in cooking some fish, had raised such a smoke in the kitchenthat not even the beetles were visible. Akakiy Akakievitch passedthrough the kitchen unperceived, even by the housewife, and at lengthreached a room where he beheld Petrovitch seated on a large unpaintedtable, with his legs tucked under him like a Turkish pasha. His feetwere bare, after the fashion of tailors who sit at work; and the firstthing which caught the eye was his thumb, with a deformed nail thick andstrong as a turtle's shell. About Petrovitch's neck hung a skein of silkand thread, and upon his knees lay some old garment. He had been tryingunsuccessfully for three minutes to thread his needle, and was enragedat the darkness and even at the thread, growling in a low voice, "Itwon't go through, the barbarian! you pricked me, you rascal!"

Akakiy Akakievitch was vexed at arriving at the precise moment whenPetrovitch was angry; he liked to order something of Petrovitch when thelatter was a little downhearted, or, as his wife expressed it, "whenhe had settled himself with brandy, the one-eyed devil!" Under suchcircumstances, Petrovitch generally came down in his price very readily, and even bowed and returned thanks. Afterwards, to be sure, his wifewould come, complaining that her husband was drunk, and so had fixedthe price too low; but, if only a ten-kopek piece were added, then thematter was settled. But now it appeared that Petrovitch was in a sobercondition, and therefore rough, taciturn, and inclined to demand, Satanonly knows what price. Akakiy Akakievitch felt this, and would gladlyhave beat a retreat; but he was in for it. Petrovitch screwed up hisone eye very intently at him, and Akakiy Akakievitch involuntarily said:"How do you do, Petrovitch?"

"I wish you a good morning, sir, " said Petrovitch, squinting at AkakiyAkakievitch's hands, to see what sort of booty he had brought. 

"Ah! I--to you, Petrovitch, this--" It must be known that AkakiyAkakievitch expressed himself chiefly by prepositions, adverbs, andscraps of phrases which had no meaning whatever. If the matter was avery difficult one, he had a habit of never completing his sentences; sothat frequently, having begun a phrase with the words, "This, in fact, is quite--" he forgot to go on, thinking that he had already finishedit. 

"What is it?" asked Petrovitch, and with his one eye scannedAkakievitch's whole uniform from the collar down to the cuffs, the back, the tails and the button-holes, all of which were well known to him, since they were his own handiwork. Such is the habit of tailors; it isthe first thing they do on meeting one. 

"But I, here, this--Petrovitch--a cloak, cloth--here you see, everywhere, in different places, it is quite strong--it is a littledusty, and looks old, but it is new, only here in one place it is alittle--on the back, and here on one of the shoulders, it is a littleworn, yes, here on this shoulder it is a little--do you see? that isall. And a little work--"

Petrovitch took the cloak, spread it out, to begin with, on thetable, looked hard at it, shook his head, reached out his hand tothe window-sill for his snuff-box, adorned with the portrait of somegeneral, though what general is unknown, for the place where the faceshould have been had been rubbed through by the finger, and a squarebit of paper had been pasted over it. Having taken a pinch of snuff, Petrovitch held up the cloak, and inspected it against the light, and again shook his head once more. After which he again lifted thegeneral-adorned lid with its bit of pasted paper, and having stuffed hisnose with snuff, closed and put away the snuff-box, and said finally, "No, it is impossible to mend it; it's a wretched garment!"

Akakiy Akakievitch's heart sank at these words. 

"Why is it impossible, Petrovitch?" he said, almost in the pleadingvoice of a child; "all that ails it is, that it is worn on theshoulders. You must have some pieces--"

"Yes, patches could be found, patches are easily found, " saidPetrovitch, "but there's nothing to sew them to. The thing is completelyrotten; if you put a needle to it--see, it will give way. "

"Let it give way, and you can put on another patch at once. "

"But there is nothing to put the patches on to; there's no use instrengthening it; it is too far gone. It's lucky that it's cloth; for, if the wind were to blow, it would fly away. "

"Well, strengthen it again. How will this, in fact--"

"No, " said Petrovitch decisively, "there is nothing to be done with it. It's a thoroughly bad job. You'd better, when the cold winter weathercomes on, make yourself some gaiters out of it, because stockingsare not warm. The Germans invented them in order to make more money. "Petrovitch loved, on all occasions, to have a fling at the Germans. "Butit is plain you must have a new cloak. "

At the word "new, " all grew dark before Akakiy Akakievitch's eyes, and everything in the room began to whirl round. The only thing he sawclearly was the general with the paper face on the lid of Petrovitch'ssnuff-box. "A new one?" said he, as if still in a dream: "why, I have nomoney for that. "

"Yes, a new one, " said Petrovitch, with barbarous composure. 

"Well, if it came to a new one, how would it--?"

"You mean how much would it cost?"

"Yes. "

"Well, you would have to lay out a hundred and fifty or more, " saidPetrovitch, and pursed up his lips significantly. He liked to producepowerful effects, liked to stun utterly and suddenly, and then to glancesideways to see what face the stunned person would put on the matter. 

"A hundred and fifty rubles for a cloak!" shrieked poor AkakiyAkakievitch, perhaps for the first time in his life, for his voice hadalways been distinguished for softness. 

"Yes, sir, " said Petrovitch, "for any kind of cloak. If you have amarten fur on the collar, or a silk-lined hood, it will mount up to twohundred. "

"Petrovitch, please, " said Akakiy Akakievitch in a beseeching tone, nothearing, and not trying to hear, Petrovitch's words, and disregardingall his "effects, " "some repairs, in order that it may wear yet a littlelonger. "

"No, it would only be a waste of time and money, " said Petrovitch; andAkakiy Akakievitch went away after these words, utterly discouraged. ButPetrovitch stood for some time after his departure, with significantlycompressed lips, and without betaking himself to his work, satisfiedthat he would not be dropped, and an artistic tailor employed. 

Akakiy Akakievitch went out into the street as if in a dream. "Such anaffair!" he said to himself: "I did not think it had come to--" and thenafter a pause, he added, "Well, so it is! see what it has come toat last! and I never imagined that it was so!" Then followed along silence, after which he exclaimed, "Well, so it is! see whatalready--nothing unexpected that--it would be nothing--what a strangecircumstance!" So saying, instead of going home, he went in exactlythe opposite direction without himself suspecting it. On the way, achimney-sweep bumped up against him, and blackened his shoulder, and awhole hatful of rubbish landed on him from the top of a house which wasbuilding. He did not notice it; and only when he ran against a watchman, who, having planted his halberd beside him, was shaking some snuff fromhis box into his horny hand, did he recover himself a little, and thatbecause the watchman said, "Why are you poking yourself into a man'svery face? Haven't you the pavement?" This caused him to look about him, and turn towards home. 

There only, he finally began to collect his thoughts, and to surveyhis position in its clear and actual light, and to argue with himself, sensibly and frankly, as with a reasonable friend with whom one candiscuss private and personal matters. "No, " said Akakiy Akakievitch, "itis impossible to reason with Petrovitch now; he is that--evidently hiswife has been beating him. I'd better go to him on Sunday morning; afterSaturday night he will be a little cross-eyed and sleepy, for he willwant to get drunk, and his wife won't give him any money; and at sucha time, a ten-kopek piece in his hand will--he will become more fitto reason with, and then the cloak, and that--" Thus argued AkakiyAkakievitch with himself, regained his courage, and waited until thefirst Sunday, when, seeing from afar that Petrovitch's wife had left thehouse, he went straight to him. 

Petrovitch's eye was, indeed, very much askew after Saturday: his headdrooped, and he was very sleepy; but for all that, as soon as he knewwhat it was a question of, it seemed as though Satan jogged his memory. "Impossible, " said he: "please to order a new one. " Thereupon AkakiyAkakievitch handed over the ten-kopek piece. "Thank you, sir; I willdrink your good health, " said Petrovitch: "but as for the cloak, don'ttrouble yourself about it; it is good for nothing. I will make you acapital new one, so let us settle about it now. "

Akakiy Akakievitch was still for mending it; but Petrovitch would nothear of it, and said, "I shall certainly have to make you a new one, andyou may depend upon it that I shall do my best. It may even be, as thefashion goes, that the collar can be fastened by silver hooks under aflap. "

Then Akakiy Akakievitch saw that it was impossible to get along withouta new cloak, and his spirit sank utterly. How, in fact, was it to bedone? Where was the money to come from? He might, to be sure, depend, in part, upon his present at Christmas; but that money had long beenallotted beforehand. He must have some new trousers, and pay a debt oflong standing to the shoemaker for putting new tops to his old boots, and he must order three shirts from the seamstress, and a couple ofpieces of linen. In short, all his money must be spent; and even if thedirector should be so kind as to order him to receive forty-five rublesinstead of forty, or even fifty, it would be a mere nothing, a mere dropin the ocean towards the funds necessary for a cloak: although heknew that Petrovitch was often wrong-headed enough to blurt out someoutrageous price, so that even his own wife could not refrain fromexclaiming, "Have you lost your senses, you fool?" At one time he wouldnot work at any price, and now it was quite likely that he had named ahigher sum than the cloak would cost. 

But although he knew that Petrovitch would undertake to make a cloakfor eighty rubles, still, where was he to get the eighty rubles from? Hemight possibly manage half, yes, half might be procured, but where wasthe other half to come from? But the reader must first be told wherethe first half came from. Akakiy Akakievitch had a habit of putting, forevery ruble he spent, a groschen into a small box, fastened with a lockand key, and with a slit in the top for the reception of money. At theend of every half-year he counted over the heap of coppers, and changedit for silver. This he had done for a long time, and in the course ofyears, the sum had mounted up to over forty rubles. Thus he had one halfon hand; but where was he to find the other half? where was he to getanother forty rubles from? Akakiy Akakievitch thought and thought, anddecided that it would be necessary to curtail his ordinary expenses, forthe space of one year at least, to dispense with tea in the evening; toburn no candles, and, if there was anything which he must do, to gointo his landlady's room, and work by her light. When he went into thestreet, he must walk as lightly as he could, and as cautiously, upon thestones, almost upon tiptoe, in order not to wear his heels down in tooshort a time; he must give the laundress as little to wash as possible;and, in order not to wear out his clothes, he must take them off, assoon as he got home, and wear only his cotton dressing-gown, which hadbeen long and carefully saved. 

To tell the truth, it was a little hard for him at first to accustomhimself to these deprivations; but he got used to them at length, aftera fashion, and all went smoothly. He even got used to being hungry inthe evening, but he made up for it by treating himself, so to say, inspirit, by bearing ever in mind the idea of his future cloak. From thattime forth his existence seemed to become, in some way, fuller, as if hewere married, or as if some other man lived in him, as if, in fact, hewere not alone, and some pleasant friend had consented to travel alonglife's path with him, the friend being no other than the cloak, withthick wadding and a strong lining incapable of wearing out. He becamemore lively, and even his character grew firmer, like that of a man whohas made up his mind, and set himself a goal. From his face and gait, doubt and indecision, all hesitating and wavering traits disappeared ofthemselves. Fire gleamed in his eyes, and occasionally the boldest andmost daring ideas flitted through his mind; why not, for instance, have marten fur on the collar? The thought of this almost made himabsent-minded. Once, in copying a letter, he nearly made a mistake, sothat he exclaimed almost aloud, "Ugh!" and crossed himself. Once, inthe course of every month, he had a conference with Petrovitch on thesubject of the cloak, where it would be better to buy the cloth, andthe colour, and the price. He always returned home satisfied, thoughtroubled, reflecting that the time would come at last when it could allbe bought, and then the cloak made. 

The affair progressed more briskly than he had expected. Far beyond allhis hopes, the director awarded neither forty nor forty-five rubles forAkakiy Akakievitch's share, but sixty. Whether he suspected that AkakiyAkakievitch needed a cloak, or whether it was merely chance, atall events, twenty extra rubles were by this means provided. Thiscircumstance hastened matters. Two or three months more of hunger andAkakiy Akakievitch had accumulated about eighty rubles. His heart, generally so quiet, began to throb. On the first possible day, he wentshopping in company with Petrovitch. They bought some very good cloth, and at a reasonable rate too, for they had been considering the matterfor six months, and rarely let a month pass without their visiting theshops to inquire prices. Petrovitch himself said that no better clothcould be had. For lining, they selected a cotton stuff, but so firmand thick that Petrovitch declared it to be better than silk, and evenprettier and more glossy. They did not buy the marten fur, because itwas, in fact, dear, but in its stead, they picked out the very best ofcat-skin which could be found in the shop, and which might, indeed, betaken for marten at a distance. 

Petrovitch worked at the cloak two whole weeks, for there was a greatdeal of quilting: otherwise it would have been finished sooner. Hecharged twelve rubles for the job, it could not possibly have beendone for less. It was all sewed with silk, in small, double seams; andPetrovitch went over each seam afterwards with his own teeth, stampingin various patterns. 

It was--it is difficult to say precisely on what day, but probablythe most glorious one in Akakiy Akakievitch's life, when Petrovitch atlength brought home the cloak. He brought it in the morning, beforethe hour when it was necessary to start for the department. Never did acloak arrive so exactly in the nick of time; for the severe cold had setin, and it seemed to threaten to increase. Petrovitch brought the cloakhimself as befits a good tailor. On his countenance was a significantexpression, such as Akakiy Akakievitch had never beheld there. Heseemed fully sensible that he had done no small deed, and crossed a gulfseparating tailors who only put in linings, and execute repairs, from those who make new things. He took the cloak out of the pockethandkerchief in which he had brought it. The handkerchief was freshfrom the laundress, and he put it in his pocket for use. Taking out thecloak, he gazed proudly at it, held it up with both hands, and flung itskilfully over the shoulders of Akakiy Akakievitch. Then he pulled itand fitted it down behind with his hand, and he draped it aroundAkakiy Akakievitch without buttoning it. Akakiy Akakievitch, like anexperienced man, wished to try the sleeves. Petrovitch helped him onwith them, and it turned out that the sleeves were satisfactory also. Inshort, the cloak appeared to be perfect, and most seasonable. Petrovitchdid not neglect to observe that it was only because he lived in a narrowstreet, and had no signboard, and had known Akakiy Akakievitch so long, that he had made it so cheaply; but that if he had been in business onthe Nevsky Prospect, he would have charged seventy-five rubles for themaking alone. Akakiy Akakievitch did not care to argue this point withPetrovitch. He paid him, thanked him, and set out at once in his newcloak for the department. Petrovitch followed him, and, pausing in thestreet, gazed long at the cloak in the distance, after which he went toone side expressly to run through a crooked alley, and emerge again intothe street beyond to gaze once more upon the cloak from another point, namely, directly in front. 

Meantime Akakiy Akakievitch went on in holiday mood. He was consciousevery second of the time that he had a new cloak on his shoulders; andseveral times he laughed with internal satisfaction. In fact, there weretwo advantages, one was its warmth, the other its beauty. He saw nothingof the road, but suddenly found himself at the department. He took offhis cloak in the ante-room, looked it over carefully, and confided itto the especial care of the attendant. It is impossible to say preciselyhow it was that every one in the department knew at once that AkakiyAkakievitch had a new cloak, and that the "cape" no longer existed. All rushed at the same moment into the ante-room to inspect it. Theycongratulated him and said pleasant things to him, so that he began atfirst to smile and then to grow ashamed. When all surrounded him, andsaid that the new cloak must be "christened, " and that he must givea whole evening at least to this, Akakiy Akakievitch lost his headcompletely, and did not know where he stood, what to answer, or how toget out of it. He stood blushing all over for several minutes, and wason the point of assuring them with great simplicity that it was not anew cloak, that it was so and so, that it was in fact the old "cape. "

At length one of the officials, a sub-chief probably, in order to showthat he was not at all proud, and on good terms with his inferiors, said, "So be it, only I will give the party instead of AkakiyAkakievitch; I invite you all to tea with me to-night; it happens quitea propos, as it is my name-day. " The officials naturally at once offeredthe sub-chief their congratulations and accepted the invitations withpleasure. Akakiy Akakievitch would have declined, but all declared thatit was discourteous, that it was simply a sin and a shame, and that hecould not possibly refuse. Besides, the notion became pleasant to himwhen he recollected that he should thereby have a chance of wearing hisnew cloak in the evening also. 

That whole day was truly a most triumphant festival day for AkakiyAkakievitch. He returned home in the most happy frame of mind, took offhis cloak, and hung it carefully on the wall, admiring afresh thecloth and the lining. Then he brought out his old, worn-out cloak, forcomparison. He looked at it and laughed, so vast was the difference. And long after dinner he laughed again when the condition of the "cape"recurred to his mind. He dined cheerfully, and after dinner wrotenothing, but took his ease for a while on the bed, until it got dark. Then he dressed himself leisurely, put on his cloak, and stepped outinto the street. Where the host lived, unfortunately we cannot say:our memory begins to fail us badly; and the houses and streets in St. Petersburg have become so mixed up in our head that it is very difficultto get anything out of it again in proper form. This much is certain, that the official lived in the best part of the city; and thereforeit must have been anything but near to Akakiy Akakievitch's residence. Akakiy Akakievitch was first obliged to traverse a kind of wilderness ofdeserted, dimly-lighted streets; but in proportion as he approached theofficial's quarter of the city, the streets became more lively, morepopulous, and more brilliantly illuminated. Pedestrians began to appear;handsomely dressed ladies were more frequently encountered; the menhad otter skin collars to their coats; peasant waggoners, with theirgrate-like sledges stuck over with brass-headed nails, became rarer;whilst on the other hand, more and more drivers in red velvet caps, lacquered sledges and bear-skin coats began to appear, and carriageswith rich hammer-cloths flew swiftly through the streets, their wheelsscrunching the snow. Akakiy Akakievitch gazed upon all this as upona novel sight. He had not been in the streets during the evening foryears. He halted out of curiosity before a shop-window to look at apicture representing a handsome woman, who had thrown off her shoe, thereby baring her whole foot in a very pretty way; whilst behind herthe head of a man with whiskers and a handsome moustache peeped throughthe doorway of another room. Akakiy Akakievitch shook his head andlaughed, and then went on his way. Why did he laugh? Either because hehad met with a thing utterly unknown, but for which every one cherishes, nevertheless, some sort of feeling; or else he thought, like manyofficials, as follows: "Well, those French! What is to be said? If theydo go in anything of that sort, why--" But possibly he did not think atall. 

Akakiy Akakievitch at length reached the house in which the sub-chieflodged. The sub-chief lived in fine style: the staircase was lit bya lamp; his apartment being on the second floor. On entering thevestibule, Akakiy Akakievitch beheld a whole row of goloshes on thefloor. Among them, in the centre of the room, stood a samovar ortea-urn, humming and emitting clouds of steam. On the walls hung allsorts of coats and cloaks, among which there were even some with beavercollars or velvet facings. Beyond, the buzz of conversation was audible, and became clear and loud when the servant came out with a trayful ofempty glasses, cream-jugs, and sugar-bowls. It was evident that theofficials had arrived long before, and had already finished their firstglass of tea. 

Akakiy Akakievitch, having hung up his own cloak, entered the innerroom. Before him all at once appeared lights, officials, pipes, andcard-tables; and he was bewildered by the sound of rapid conversationrising from all the tables, and the noise of moving chairs. He haltedvery awkwardly in the middle of the room, wondering what he ought to do. But they had seen him. They received him with a shout, and all throngedat once into the ante-room, and there took another look at his cloak. Akakiy Akakievitch, although somewhat confused, was frank-hearted, andcould not refrain from rejoicing when he saw how they praised his cloak. Then, of course, they all dropped him and his cloak, and returned, aswas proper, to the tables set out for whist. 

All this, the noise, the talk, and the throng of people was ratheroverwhelming to Akakiy Akakievitch. He simply did not know where hestood, or where to put his hands, his feet, and his whole body. Finallyhe sat down by the players, looked at the cards, gazed at the face ofone and another, and after a while began to gape, and to feel that itwas wearisome, the more so as the hour was already long past when heusually went to bed. He wanted to take leave of the host; but theywould not let him go, saying that he must not fail to drink a glassof champagne in honour of his new garment. In the course of an hour, supper, consisting of vegetable salad, cold veal, pastry, confectioner'spies, and champagne, was served. They made Akakiy Akakievitch drink twoglasses of champagne, after which he felt things grow livelier. 

Still, he could not forget that it was twelve o'clock, and that heshould have been at home long ago. In order that the host might notthink of some excuse for detaining him, he stole out of the roomquickly, sought out, in the ante-room, his cloak, which, to his sorrow, he found lying on the floor, brushed it, picked off every speck upon it, put it on his shoulders, and descended the stairs to the street. 

In the street all was still bright. Some petty shops, those permanentclubs of servants and all sorts of folk, were open. Others were shut, but, nevertheless, showed a streak of light the whole length of thedoor-crack, indicating that they were not yet free of company, and thatprobably some domestics, male and female, were finishing their storiesand conversations whilst leaving their masters in complete ignoranceas to their whereabouts. Akakiy Akakievitch went on in a happy frame ofmind: he even started to run, without knowing why, after some lady, whoflew past like a flash of lightning. But he stopped short, and went onvery quietly as before, wondering why he had quickened his pace. Soonthere spread before him those deserted streets, which are not cheerfulin the daytime, to say nothing of the evening. Now they were even moredim and lonely: the lanterns began to grow rarer, oil, evidently, hadbeen less liberally supplied. Then came wooden houses and fences: nota soul anywhere; only the snow sparkled in the streets, and mournfullyveiled the low-roofed cabins with their closed shutters. He approachedthe spot where the street crossed a vast square with houses barelyvisible on its farther side, a square which seemed a fearful desert. 

Afar, a tiny spark glimmered from some watchman's box, which seemedto stand on the edge of the world. Akakiy Akakievitch's cheerfulnessdiminished at this point in a marked degree. He entered the square, notwithout an involuntary sensation of fear, as though his heart warned himof some evil. He glanced back and on both sides, it was like a sea abouthim. "No, it is better not to look, " he thought, and went on, closinghis eyes. When he opened them, to see whether he was near the end ofthe square, he suddenly beheld, standing just before his very nose, somebearded individuals of precisely what sort he could not make out. Allgrew dark before his eyes, and his heart throbbed. 

"But, of course, the cloak is mine!" said one of them in a loud voice, seizing hold of his collar. Akakiy Akakievitch was about to shout"watch, " when the second man thrust a fist, about the size of a man'shead, into his mouth, muttering, "Now scream!"

Akakiy Akakievitch felt them strip off his cloak and give him a pushwith a knee: he fell headlong upon the snow, and felt no more. In a fewminutes he recovered consciousness and rose to his feet; but no one wasthere. He felt that it was cold in the square, and that his cloak wasgone; he began to shout, but his voice did not appear to reach to theoutskirts of the square. In despair, but without ceasing to shout, he started at a run across the square, straight towards the watchbox, beside which stood the watchman, leaning on his halberd, and apparentlycurious to know what kind of a customer was running towards him andshouting. Akakiy Akakievitch ran up to him, and began in a sobbing voiceto shout that he was asleep, and attended to nothing, and did not seewhen a man was robbed. The watchman replied that he had seen two menstop him in the middle of the square, but supposed that they werefriends of his; and that, instead of scolding vainly, he had bettergo to the police on the morrow, so that they might make a search forwhoever had stolen the cloak. 

Akakiy Akakievitch ran home in complete disorder; his hair, whichgrew very thinly upon his temples and the back of his head, whollydisordered; his body, arms, and legs covered with snow. The old woman, who was mistress of his lodgings, on hearing a terrible knocking, spranghastily from her bed, and, with only one shoe on, ran to open the door, pressing the sleeve of her chemise to her bosom out of modesty; but whenshe had opened it, she fell back on beholding Akakiy Akakievitch in sucha state. When he told her about the affair, she clasped her hands, andsaid that he must go straight to the district chief of police, for hissubordinate would turn up his nose, promise well, and drop the matterthere. The very best thing to do, therefore, would be to go to thedistrict chief, whom she knew, because Finnish Anna, her former cook, was now nurse at his house. She often saw him passing the house; andhe was at church every Sunday, praying, but at the same time gazingcheerfully at everybody; so that he must be a good man, judging from allappearances. Having listened to this opinion, Akakiy Akakievitch betookhimself sadly to his room; and how he spent the night there any one whocan put himself in another's place may readily imagine. 

Early in the morning, he presented himself at the district chief's; butwas told that this official was asleep. He went again at ten and wasagain informed that he was asleep; at eleven, and they said: "Thesuperintendent is not at home;" at dinner time, and the clerks in theante-room would not admit him on any terms, and insisted upon knowinghis business. So that at last, for once in his life, Akakiy Akakievitchfelt an inclination to show some spirit, and said curtly that he mustsee the chief in person; that they ought not to presume to refuse himentrance; that he came from the department of justice, and that when hecomplained of them, they would see. 

The clerks dared make no reply to this, and one of them went to callthe chief, who listened to the strange story of the theft of the coat. Instead of directing his attention to the principal points of thematter, he began to question Akakiy Akakievitch: Why was he goinghome so late? Was he in the habit of doing so, or had he been to somedisorderly house? So that Akakiy Akakievitch got thoroughly confused, and left him without knowing whether the affair of his cloak was inproper train or not. 

All that day, for the first time in his life, he never went near thedepartment. The next day he made his appearance, very pale, and in hisold cape, which had become even more shabby. The news of the robbery ofthe cloak touched many; although there were some officials present whonever lost an opportunity, even such a one as the present, of ridiculingAkakiy Akakievitch. They decided to make a collection for him on thespot, but the officials had already spent a great deal in subscribingfor the director's portrait, and for some book, at the suggestion of thehead of that division, who was a friend of the author; and so the sumwas trifling. 

One of them, moved by pity, resolved to help Akakiy Akakievitch withsome good advice at least, and told him that he ought not to go to thepolice, for although it might happen that a police-officer, wishingto win the approval of his superiors, might hunt up the cloak by somemeans, still his cloak would remain in the possession of the police ifhe did not offer legal proof that it belonged to him. The best thingfor him, therefore, would be to apply to a certain prominent personage;since this prominent personage, by entering into relations with theproper persons, could greatly expedite the matter. 

As there was nothing else to be done, Akakiy Akakievitch decided to goto the prominent personage. What was the exact official position of theprominent personage remains unknown to this day. The reader mustknow that the prominent personage had but recently become a prominentpersonage, having up to that time been only an insignificant person. Moreover, his present position was not considered prominent incomparison with others still more so. But there is always a circle ofpeople to whom what is insignificant in the eyes of others, is importantenough. Moreover, he strove to increase his importance by sundrydevices; for instance, he managed to have the inferior officials meethim on the staircase when he entered upon his service; no one was topresume to come directly to him, but the strictest etiquette must beobserved; the collegiate recorder must make a report to the governmentsecretary, the government secretary to the titular councillor, orwhatever other man was proper, and all business must come before him inthis manner. In Holy Russia all is thus contaminated with the love ofimitation; every man imitates and copies his superior. They even saythat a certain titular councillor, when promoted to the head of somesmall separate room, immediately partitioned off a private room forhimself, called it the audience chamber, and posted at the door a lackeywith red collar and braid, who grasped the handle of the door and openedto all comers; though the audience chamber could hardly hold an ordinarywriting-table. 

The manners and customs of the prominent personage were grand andimposing, but rather exaggerated. The main foundation of his systemwas strictness. "Strictness, strictness, and always strictness!" hegenerally said; and at the last word he looked significantly into theface of the person to whom he spoke. But there was no necessity forthis, for the half-score of subordinates who formed the entire force ofthe office were properly afraid; on catching sight of him afar offthey left their work and waited, drawn up in line, until he had passedthrough the room. His ordinary converse with his inferiors smacked ofsternness, and consisted chiefly of three phrases: "How dare you?" "Doyou know whom you are speaking to?" "Do you realise who stands beforeyou?"

Otherwise he was a very kind-hearted man, good to his comrades, andready to oblige; but the rank of general threw him completely off hisbalance. On receiving any one of that rank, he became confused, lost hisway, as it were, and never knew what to do. If he chanced to be amongsthis equals he was still a very nice kind of man, a very good fellow inmany respects, and not stupid; but the very moment that he found himselfin the society of people but one rank lower than himself he becamesilent; and his situation aroused sympathy, the more so as he felthimself that he might have been making an incomparably better use ofhis time. In his eyes there was sometimes visible a desire to join someinteresting conversation or group; but he was kept back by the thought, "Would it not be a very great condescension on his part? Would it notbe familiar? and would he not thereby lose his importance?" And inconsequence of such reflections he always remained in the same dumbstate, uttering from time to time a few monosyllabic sounds, and therebyearning the name of the most wearisome of men. 

To this prominent personage Akakiy Akakievitch presented himself, andthis at the most unfavourable time for himself though opportune forthe prominent personage. The prominent personage was in his cabinetconversing gaily with an old acquaintance and companion of his childhoodwhom he had not seen for several years and who had just arrived when itwas announced to him that a person named Bashmatchkin had come. He askedabruptly, "Who is he?"--"Some official, " he was informed. "Ah, he canwait! this is no time for him to call, " said the important man. 

It must be remarked here that the important man lied outrageously:he had said all he had to say to his friend long before; and theconversation had been interspersed for some time with very long pauses, during which they merely slapped each other on the leg, and said, "Youthink so, Ivan Abramovitch!" "Just so, Stepan Varlamitch!" Nevertheless, he ordered that the official should be kept waiting, in order to showhis friend, a man who had not been in the service for a long time, buthad lived at home in the country, how long officials had to wait in hisante-room. 

At length, having talked himself completely out, and more than that, having had his fill of pauses, and smoked a cigar in a very comfortablearm-chair with reclining back, he suddenly seemed to recollect, and saidto the secretary, who stood by the door with papers of reports, "So itseems that there is a tchinovnik waiting to see me. Tell him that he maycome in. " On perceiving Akakiy Akakievitch's modest mien and his wornundress uniform, he turned abruptly to him and said, "What do you want?"in a curt hard voice, which he had practised in his room in private, andbefore the looking-glass, for a whole week before being raised to hispresent rank. 

Akakiy Akakievitch, who was already imbued with a due amount of fear, became somewhat confused: and as well as his tongue would permit, explained, with a rather more frequent addition than usual of the word"that, " that his cloak was quite new, and had been stolen in the mostinhuman manner; that he had applied to him in order that he might, insome way, by his intermediation--that he might enter into correspondencewith the chief of police, and find the cloak. 

For some inexplicable reason this conduct seemed familiar to theprominent personage. "What, my dear sir!" he said abruptly, "are you notacquainted with etiquette? Where have you come from? Don't you knowhow such matters are managed? You should first have entered a complaintabout this at the court below: it would have gone to the head of thedepartment, then to the chief of the division, then it would have beenhanded over to the secretary, and the secretary would have given it tome. "

"But, your excellency, " said Akakiy Akakievitch, trying to collecthis small handful of wits, and conscious at the same time that hewas perspiring terribly, "I, your excellency, presumed to trouble youbecause secretaries--are an untrustworthy race. "

"What, what, what!" said the important personage. "Where did you getsuch courage? Where did you get such ideas? What impudence towardstheir chiefs and superiors has spread among the young generation!" Theprominent personage apparently had not observed that Akakiy Akakievitchwas already in the neighbourhood of fifty. If he could be called a youngman, it must have been in comparison with some one who was twenty. "Doyou know to whom you speak? Do you realise who stands before you? Do yourealise it? do you realise it? I ask you!" Then he stamped his foot andraised his voice to such a pitch that it would have frightened even adifferent man from Akakiy Akakievitch. 

Akakiy Akakievitch's senses failed him; he staggered, trembled in everylimb, and, if the porters had not run to support him, would havefallen to the floor. They carried him out insensible. But the prominentpersonage, gratified that the effect should have surpassed hisexpectations, and quite intoxicated with the thought that his word couldeven deprive a man of his senses, glanced sideways at his friendin order to see how he looked upon this, and perceived, not withoutsatisfaction, that his friend was in a most uneasy frame of mind, andeven beginning, on his part, to feel a trifle frightened. 

Akakiy Akakievitch could not remember how he descended the stairs andgot into the street. He felt neither his hands nor feet. Never in hislife had he been so rated by any high official, let alone a strange one. He went staggering on through the snow-storm, which was blowing in thestreets, with his mouth wide open; the wind, in St. Petersburg fashion, darted upon him from all quarters, and down every cross-street. In atwinkling it had blown a quinsy into his throat, and he reached homeunable to utter a word. His throat was swollen, and he lay down on hisbed. So powerful is sometimes a good scolding!

The next day a violent fever showed itself. Thanks to the generousassistance of the St. Petersburg climate, the malady progressed morerapidly than could have been expected: and when the doctor arrived, hefound, on feeling the sick man's pulse, that there was nothing to bedone, except to prescribe a fomentation, so that the patient might notbe left entirely without the beneficent aid of medicine; but at the sametime, he predicted his end in thirty-six hours. After this he turned tothe landlady, and said, "And as for you, don't waste your time on him:order his pine coffin now, for an oak one will be too expensive forhim. " Did Akakiy Akakievitch hear these fatal words? and if he heardthem, did they produce any overwhelming effect upon him? Did helament the bitterness of his life?--We know not, for he continued in adelirious condition. Visions incessantly appeared to him, each strangerthan the other. Now he saw Petrovitch, and ordered him to make a cloak, with some traps for robbers, who seemed to him to be always under thebed; and cried every moment to the landlady to pull one of them fromunder his coverlet. Then he inquired why his old mantle hung before himwhen he had a new cloak. Next he fancied that he was standing beforethe prominent person, listening to a thorough setting-down, and saying, "Forgive me, your excellency!" but at last he began to curse, utteringthe most horrible words, so that his aged landlady crossed herself, never in her life having heard anything of the kind from him, the moreso as those words followed directly after the words "your excellency. "Later on he talked utter nonsense, of which nothing could be made: allthat was evident being, that his incoherent words and thoughts hoveredever about one thing, his cloak. 

At length poor Akakiy Akakievitch breathed his last. They sealed upneither his room nor his effects, because, in the first place, therewere no heirs, and, in the second, there was very little to inheritbeyond a bundle of goose-quills, a quire of white official paper, threepairs of socks, two or three buttons which had burst off his trousers, and the mantle already known to the reader. To whom all this fell, Godknows. I confess that the person who told me this tale took no interestin the matter. They carried Akakiy Akakievitch out and buried him. 

And St. Petersburg was left without Akakiy Akakievitch, as though he hadnever lived there. A being disappeared who was protected by none, dearto none, interesting to none, and who never even attracted to himselfthe attention of those students of human nature who omit no opportunityof thrusting a pin through a common fly, and examining it under themicroscope. A being who bore meekly the jibes of the department, andwent to his grave without having done one unusual deed, but to whom, nevertheless, at the close of his life appeared a bright visitant in theform of a cloak, which momentarily cheered his poor life, and upon whom, thereafter, an intolerable misfortune descended, just as it descendsupon the mighty of this world!

Several days after his death, the porter was sent from the departmentto his lodgings, with an order for him to present himself thereimmediately; the chief commanding it. But the porter had to returnunsuccessful, with the answer that he could not come; and to thequestion, "Why?" replied, "Well, because he is dead! he was buried fourdays ago. " In this manner did they hear of Akakiy Akakievitch's death atthe department, and the next day a new official sat in his place, with ahandwriting by no means so upright, but more inclined and slanting. 

But who could have imagined that this was not really the end of AkakiyAkakievitch, that he was destined to raise a commotion after death, as if in compensation for his utterly insignificant life? But so ithappened, and our poor story unexpectedly gains a fantastic ending. 

A rumour suddenly spread through St. Petersburg that a dead man hadtaken to appearing on the Kalinkin Bridge and its vicinity at night inthe form of a tchinovnik seeking a stolen cloak, and that, under thepretext of its being the stolen cloak, he dragged, without regard torank or calling, every one's cloak from his shoulders, be it cat-skin, beaver, fox, bear, sable; in a word, every sort of fur and skin whichmen adopted for their covering. One of the department officials sawthe dead man with his own eyes and immediately recognised in him AkakiyAkakievitch. This, however, inspired him with such terror that he ranoff with all his might, and therefore did not scan the dead man closely, but only saw how the latter threatened him from afar with his finger. Constant complaints poured in from all quarters that the backs andshoulders, not only of titular but even of court councillors, wereexposed to the danger of a cold on account of the frequent dragging offof their cloaks. 

Arrangements were made by the police to catch the corpse, alive or dead, at any cost, and punish him as an example to others in the most severemanner. In this they nearly succeeded; for a watchman, on guard inKirushkin Alley, caught the corpse by the collar on the very scene ofhis evil deeds, when attempting to pull off the frieze coat of a retiredmusician. Having seized him by the collar, he summoned, with a shout, two of his comrades, whom he enjoined to hold him fast while he himselffelt for a moment in his boot, in order to draw out his snuff-box andrefresh his frozen nose. But the snuff was of a sort which even a corpsecould not endure. The watchman having closed his right nostril with hisfinger, had no sooner succeeded in holding half a handful up to the leftthan the corpse sneezed so violently that he completely filled the eyesof all three. While they raised their hands to wipe them, the dead manvanished completely, so that they positively did not know whether theyhad actually had him in their grip at all. Thereafter the watchmenconceived such a terror of dead men that they were afraid even to seizethe living, and only screamed from a distance, "Hey, there! go yourway!" So the dead tchinovnik began to appear even beyond the KalinkinBridge, causing no little terror to all timid people. 

But we have totally neglected that certain prominent personage who mayreally be considered as the cause of the fantastic turn taken by thistrue history. First of all, justice compels us to say that after thedeparture of poor, annihilated Akakiy Akakievitch he felt something likeremorse. Suffering was unpleasant to him, for his heart was accessibleto many good impulses, in spite of the fact that his rank oftenprevented his showing his true self. As soon as his friend had left hiscabinet, he began to think about poor Akakiy Akakievitch. And fromthat day forth, poor Akakiy Akakievitch, who could not bear up under anofficial reprimand, recurred to his mind almost every day. The thoughttroubled him to such an extent that a week later he even resolved tosend an official to him, to learn whether he really could assisthim; and when it was reported to him that Akakiy Akakievitch had diedsuddenly of fever, he was startled, hearkened to the reproaches of hisconscience, and was out of sorts for the whole day. 

Wishing to divert his mind in some way, and drive away the disagreeableimpression, he set out that evening for one of his friends' houses, where he found quite a large party assembled. What was better, nearlyevery one was of the same rank as himself, so that he need not feelin the least constrained. This had a marvellous effect upon his mentalstate. He grew expansive, made himself agreeable in conversation, inshort, he passed a delightful evening. After supper he drank a coupleof glasses of champagne--not a bad recipe for cheerfulness, as everyone knows. The champagne inclined him to various adventures; and hedetermined not to return home, but to go and see a certain well-knownlady of German extraction, Karolina Ivanovna, a lady, it appears, withwhom he was on a very friendly footing. 

It must be mentioned that the prominent personage was no longer a youngman, but a good husband and respected father of a family. Two sons, oneof whom was already in the service, and a good-looking, sixteen-year-olddaughter, with a rather retrousse but pretty little nose, came everymorning to kiss his hand and say, "Bonjour, papa. " His wife, a stillfresh and good-looking woman, first gave him her hand to kiss, and then, reversing the procedure, kissed his. But the prominent personage, thoughperfectly satisfied in his domestic relations, considered it stylish tohave a friend in another quarter of the city. This friend was scarcelyprettier or younger than his wife; but there are such puzzles in theworld, and it is not our place to judge them. So the important personagedescended the stairs, stepped into his sledge, said to the coachman, "To Karolina Ivanovna's, " and, wrapping himself luxuriously in hiswarm cloak, found himself in that delightful frame of mind than whicha Russian can conceive no better, namely, when you think of nothingyourself, yet when the thoughts creep into your mind of their ownaccord, each more agreeable than the other, giving you no trouble eitherto drive them away or seek them. Fully satisfied, he recalled all thegay features of the evening just passed, and all the mots which had madethe little circle laugh. Many of them he repeated in a low voice, andfound them quite as funny as before; so it is not surprising that heshould laugh heartily at them. Occasionally, however, he was interruptedby gusts of wind, which, coming suddenly, God knows whence or why, cuthis face, drove masses of snow into it, filled out his cloak-collar likea sail, or suddenly blew it over his head with supernatural force, andthus caused him constant trouble to disentangle himself. 

Suddenly the important personage felt some one clutch him firmly by thecollar. Turning round, he perceived a man of short stature, in an old, worn uniform, and recognised, not without terror, Akakiy Akakievitch. The official's face was white as snow, and looked just like a corpse's. But the horror of the important personage transcended all bounds when hesaw the dead man's mouth open, and, with a terrible odour of the grave, gave vent to the following remarks: "Ah, here you are at last! I haveyou, that--by the collar! I need your cloak; you took no trouble aboutmine, but reprimanded me; so now give up your own. "

The pallid prominent personage almost died of fright. Brave as he was inthe office and in the presence of inferiors generally, and although, atthe sight of his manly form and appearance, every one said, "Ugh! howmuch character he had!" at this crisis, he, like many possessed of anheroic exterior, experienced such terror, that, not without cause, hebegan to fear an attack of illness. He flung his cloak hastily from hisshoulders and shouted to his coachman in an unnatural voice, "Home atfull speed!" The coachman, hearing the tone which is generally employedat critical moments and even accompanied by something much moretangible, drew his head down between his shoulders in case of anemergency, flourished his whip, and flew on like an arrow. In a littlemore than six minutes the prominent personage was at the entrance of hisown house. Pale, thoroughly scared, and cloakless, he went home insteadof to Karolina Ivanovna's, reached his room somehow or other, and passedthe night in the direst distress; so that the next morning over theirtea his daughter said, "You are very pale to-day, papa. " But paparemained silent, and said not a word to any one of what had happened tohim, where he had been, or where he had intended to go. 

This occurrence made a deep impression upon him. He even began to say:"How dare you? do you realise who stands before you?" less frequentlyto the under-officials, and if he did utter the words, it was only afterhaving first learned the bearings of the matter. But the most noteworthypoint was, that from that day forward the apparition of the deadtchinovnik ceased to be seen. Evidently the prominent personage's cloakjust fitted his shoulders; at all events, no more instances of hisdragging cloaks from people's shoulders were heard of. But many activeand apprehensive persons could by no means reassure themselves, andasserted that the dead tchinovnik still showed himself in distant partsof the city. 

In fact, one watchman in Kolomna saw with his own eyes the apparitioncome from behind a house. But being rather weak of body, he darednot arrest him, but followed him in the dark, until, at length, theapparition looked round, paused, and inquired, "What do you want?" atthe same time showing a fist such as is never seen on living men. Thewatchman said, "It's of no consequence, " and turned back instantly. Butthe apparition was much too tall, wore huge moustaches, and, directingits steps apparently towards the Obukhoff bridge, disappeared in thedarkness of the night. 

HOW THE TWO IVANS QUARRELLED

CHAPTER I

IVAN IVANOVITCH AND IVAN NIKIFOROVITCH

A fine pelisse has Ivan Ivanovitch! splendid! And what lambskin! deucetake it, what lambskin! blue-black with silver lights. I'll forfeit, Iknow not what, if you find any one else owning such a one. Look at it, for heaven's sake, especially when he stands talking with any one! lookat him side-ways: what a pleasure it is! To describe it is impossible:velvet! silver! fire! Nikolai the Wonder-worker, saint of God! why haveI not such a pelisse? He had it made before Agafya Fedosyevna went toKief. You know Agafya Fedosyevna who bit the assessor's ear off?

Ivan Ivanovitch is a very handsome man. What a house he has in Mirgorod!Around it on every side is a balcony on oaken pillars, and on thebalcony are benches. Ivan Ivanovitch, when the weather gets too warm, throws off his pelisse and his remaining upper garments, and sits, inhis shirt sleeves, on the balcony to observe what is going on in thecourtyard and the street. What apples and pears he has under hisvery windows! You have but to open the window and the branches forcethemselves through into the room. All this is in front of the house;but you should see what he has in the garden. What is there not there?Plums, cherries, every sort of vegetable, sunflowers, cucumbers, melons, peas, a threshing-floor, and even a forge. 

A very fine man, Ivan Ivanovitch! He is very fond of melons: theyare his favourite food. As soon as he has dined, and come out on hisbalcony, in his shirt sleeves, he orders Gapka to bring two melons, andimmediately cuts them himself, collects the seeds in a paper, and beginsto eat. Then he orders Gapka to fetch the ink-bottle, and, with his ownhand, writes this inscription on the paper of seeds: "These melons wereeaten on such and such a date. " If there was a guest present, then itreads, "Such and such a person assisted. "

The late judge of Mirgorod always gazed at Ivan Ivanovitch's house withpleasure. The little house is very pretty. It pleases me because shedsand other little additions are built on to it on all sides; so that, looking at it from a distance, only roofs are visible, rising one aboveanother, and greatly resembling a plate full of pancakes, or, betterstill, fungi growing on the trunk of a tree. Moreover, the roof is allovergrown with weeds: a willow, an oak, and two apple-trees lean theirspreading branches against it. Through the trees peep little windowswith carved and white-washed shutters, which project even into thestreet. 

A very fine man, Ivan Ivanovitch! The commissioner of Poltava knows himtoo. Dorosh Tarasovitch Pukhivotchka, when he leaves Khorola, alwaysgoes to his house. And when Father Peter, the Protopope who lives atKoliberdas, invites a few guests, he always says that he knows of no onewho so well fulfils all his Christian duties and understands so well howto live as Ivan Ivanovitch. 

How time flies! More than ten years have already passed since he becamea widower. He never had any children. Gapka has children and they runabout the court-yard. Ivan Ivanovitch always gives each of them a cake, or a slice of melon, or a pear. 

Gapka carries the keys of the storerooms and cellars; but the key ofthe large chest which stands in his bedroom, and that of the centrestoreroom, Ivan Ivanovitch keeps himself; Gapka is a healthy girl, withruddy cheeks and calves, and goes about in coarse cloth garments. 

And what a pious man is Ivan Ivanovitch! Every Sunday he dons hispelisse and goes to church. On entering, he bows on all sides, generallystations himself in the choir, and sings a very good bass. When theservice is over, Ivan Ivanovitch cannot refrain from passing the poorpeople in review. He probably would not have cared to undertakethis tiresome work if his natural goodness had not urged him to it. "Good-day, beggar!" he generally said, selecting the most crippled oldwoman, in the most patched and threadbare garments. "Whence come you, mypoor woman?"

"I come from the farm, sir. 'Tis two days since I have eaten or drunk:my own children drove me out. "

"Poor soul! why did you come hither?"

"To beg alms, sir, to see whether some one will not give me at leastenough for bread. "

"Hm! so you want bread?" Ivan Ivanovitch generally inquired. 

"How should it be otherwise? I am as hungry as a dog. "

"Hm!" replied Ivan Ivanovitch usually, "and perhaps you would likebutter too?"

"Yes; everything which your kindness will give; I will be content withall. "

"Hm! Is butter better than bread?"

"How is a hungry person to choose? Anything you please, all is good. "Thereupon the old woman generally extended her hand. 

"Well, go with God's blessing, " said Ivan Ivanovitch. "Why do you standthere? I'm not beating you. " And turning to a second and a third withthe same questions, he finally returns home, or goes to drink a littleglass of vodka with his neighbour, Ivan Nikiforovitch, or the judge, orthe chief of police. 

Ivan Ivanovitch is very fond of receiving presents. They please himgreatly. 

A very fine man too is Ivan Nikiforovitch. They are such friends as theworld never saw. Anton Prokofievitch Pupopuz, who goes about to thishour in his cinnamon-coloured surtout with blue sleeves and dines everySunday with the judge, was in the habit of saying that the Devil himselfhad bound Ivan Ivanovitch and Ivan Nikiforovitch together with a rope:where one went, the other followed. 

Ivan Nikiforovitch has never married. Although it was reported thathe was married it was completely false. I know Ivan Nikiforovitch verywell, and am able to state that he never even had any intention ofmarrying. Where do all these scandals originate? In the same way itwas rumoured that Ivan Nikiforovitch was born with a tail! But thisinvention is so clumsy and at the same time so horrible and indecentthat I do not even consider it necessary to refute it for the benefit ofcivilised readers, to whom it is doubtless known that only witches, andvery few even of these, have tails. Witches, moreover, belong more tothe feminine than to the masculine gender. 

In spite of their great friendship, these rare friends are not alwaysagreed between themselves. Their characters can best be judged bycomparing them. Ivan Ivanovitch has the usual gift of speaking in anextremely pleasant manner. Heavens! How he does speak! The feeling canbest be described by comparing it to that which you experience when someone combs your head or draws his finger softly across your heel. Youlisten and listen until you drop your head. Pleasant, exceedinglypleasant! like the sleep after a bath. Ivan Nikiforovitch, on thecontrary, is more reticent; but if he once takes up his parable, lookout for yourself! He can talk your head off. 

Ivan Ivanovitch is tall and thin: Ivan Nikiforovitch is rather shorterin stature, but he makes it up in thickness. Ivan Ivanovitch's head islike a radish, tail down; Ivan Nikiforovitch's like a radish with thetail up. Ivan Ivanovitch lolls on the balcony in his shirt sleeves afterdinner only: in the evening he dons his pelisse and goes out somewhere, either to the village shop, where he supplies flour, or into the fieldsto catch quail. Ivan Nikiforovitch lies all day at his porch: if the dayis not too hot he generally turns his back to the sun and will not goanywhere. If it happens to occur to him in the morning he walks throughthe yard, inspects the domestic affairs, and retires again to his room. In early days he used to call on Ivan Ivanovitch. Ivan Ivanovitch is avery refined man, and never utters an impolite word. Ivan Nikiforovitchis not always on his guard. On such occasions Ivan Ivanovitch usuallyrises from his seat, and says, "Enough, enough, Ivan Nikiforovitch! It'sbetter to go out at once than to utter such godless words. "

Ivan Ivanovitch gets into a terrible rage if a fly falls into hisbeet-soup. Then he is fairly beside himself; he flings away his plateand the housekeeper catches it. Ivan Nikiforovitch is very fond ofbathing; and when he gets up to the neck in water, orders a table and asamovar, or tea urn, to be placed on the water, for he is very fond ofdrinking tea in that cool position. Ivan Ivanovitch shaves twice aweek; Ivan Nikiforovitch once. Ivan Ivanovitch is extremely curious. Godpreserve you if you begin to tell him anything and do not finish it! Ifhe is displeased with anything he lets it be seen at once. It is veryhard to tell from Ivan Nikiforovitch's countenance whether he is pleasedor angry; even if he is rejoiced at anything, he will not show it. IvanIvanovitch is of a rather timid character: Ivan Nikiforovitch, on thecontrary, has, as the saying is, such full folds in his trousers thatif you were to inflate them you might put the courtyard, with itsstorehouses and buildings, inside them. 

Ivan Ivanovitch has large, expressive eyes, of a snuff colour, and amouth shaped something like the letter V; Ivan Nikiforovitch has small, yellowish eyes, quite concealed between heavy brows and fat cheeks; andhis nose is the shape of a ripe plum. If Ivanovitch treats you to snuff, he always licks the cover of his box first with his tongue, then tapson it with his finger and says, as he raises it, if you are anacquaintance, "Dare I beg you, sir, to give me the pleasure?" if astranger, "Dare I beg you, sir, though I have not the honour ofknowing your rank, name, and family, to do me the favour?" but IvanNikiforovitch puts his box straight into your hand and merely adds, "Dome the favour. " Neither Ivan Ivanovitch nor Ivan Nikiforovitch lovesfleas; and therefore, neither Ivan Ivanovitch nor Ivan Nikiforovitchwill, on no account, admit a Jew with his wares, without purchasing ofhim remedies against these insects, after having first rated him wellfor belonging to the Hebrew faith. 

But in spite of numerous dissimilarities, Ivan Ivanovitch and IvanNikiforovitch are both very fine fellows. 

CHAPTER II

FROM WHICH MAY BE SEEN WHENCE AROSE THE DISCUSSION BETWEEN IVANIVANOVITCH AND IVAN NIKIFOROVITCH

One morning--it was in July--Ivan Ivanovitch was lying on his balcony. The day was warm; the air was dry, and came in gusts. Ivan Ivanovitchhad been to town, to the mower's, and at the farm, and had succeeded inasking all the muzhiks and women whom he met all manner of questions. He was fearfully tired and had laid down to rest. As he lay there, helooked at the storehouse, the courtyard, the sheds, the chickens runningabout, and thought to himself, "Heavens! What a well-to-do man I am!What is there that I have not? Birds, buildings, granaries, everythingI take a fancy to; genuine distilled vodka; pears and plums in theorchard; poppies, cabbages, peas in the garden; what is there that Ihave not? I should like to know what there is that I have not?"

As he put this question to himself, Ivan Ivanovitch reflected; andmeantime his eyes, in their search after fresh objects, crossed thefence into Ivan Nikiforovitch's yard and involuntarily took note ofa curious sight. A fat woman was bringing out clothes, which had beenpacked away, and spreading them out on the line to air. Presently anold uniform with worn trimmings was swinging its sleeves in the airand embracing a brocade gown; from behind it peeped a court-coat, withbuttons stamped with coats-of-arms, and moth-eaten collar; and whitekersymere pantaloons with spots, which had once upon a time clothed IvanNikiforovitch's legs, and might now possibly fit his fingers. Behindthem were speedily hung some more in the shape of the letter pi. Thencame a blue Cossack jacket, which Ivan Nikiforovitch had had made twentyyears before, when he was preparing to enter the militia, and allowedhis moustache to grow. And one after another appeared a sword, projecting into the air like a spit, and the skirts of a grass-greencaftan-like garment, with copper buttons the size of a five-kopek piece, unfolded themselves. From among the folds peeped a vest bound with gold, with a wide opening in front. The vest was soon concealed by an oldpetticoat belonging to his dead grandmother, with pockets which wouldhave held a water-melon. 

All these things piled together formed a very interesting spectaclefor Ivan Ivanovitch; while the sun's rays, falling upon a blue or greensleeve, a red binding, or a scrap of gold brocade, or playing inthe point of a sword, formed an unusual sight, similar to therepresentations of the Nativity given at farmhouses by wandering bands;particularly that part where the throng of people, pressing closetogether, gaze at King Herod in his golden crown or at Anthony leadinghis goat. 

Presently the old woman crawled, grunting, from the storeroom, draggingafter her an old-fashioned saddle with broken stirrups, worn leatherholsters, and saddle-cloth, once red, with gilt embroidery and copperdisks. 

"Here's a stupid woman, " thought Ivan Ivanovitch. "She'll be draggingIvan Nikiforovitch out and airing him next. "

Ivan Ivanovitch was not so far wrong in his surmise. Five minutes later, Ivan Nikiforovitch's nankeen trousers appeared, and took nearly half theyard to themselves. After that she fetched out a hat and a gun. "What'sthe meaning of this?" thought Ivan Ivanovitch. "I never knew IvanNikiforovitch had a gun. What does he want with it? Whether he shoots, or not, he keeps a gun! Of what use is it to him? But it's a splendidthing. I have long wanted just such a one. I should like that gun verymuch: I like to amuse myself with a gun. Hello, there, woman, woman!"shouted Ivan Ivanovitch, beckoning to her. 

The old woman approached the fence. 

"What's that you have there, my good woman?"

"A gun, as you see. "

"What sort of a gun?"

"Who knows what sort of a gun? If it were mine, perhaps I should knowwhat it is made of; but it is my master's, therefore I know nothing ofit. "

Ivan Ivanovitch rose, and began to examine the gun on all sides, andforgot to reprove the old woman for hanging it and the sword out to air. 

"It must be iron, " went on the old woman. 

"Hm, iron! why iron?" said Ivan Ivanovitch. "Has your master had itlong?"

"Yes; long, perhaps. "

"It's a nice gun!" continued Ivan Ivanovitch. "I will ask him for it. What can he want with it? I'll make an exchange with him for it. Is yourmaster at home, my good woman?"

"Yes. "

"What is he doing? lying down?"

"Yes, lying down. "

"Very well, I will come to him. "

Ivan Ivanovitch dressed himself, took his well-seasoned stick for thebenefit of the dogs, for, in Mirgorod, there are more dogs than peopleto be met in the street, and went out. 

Although Ivan Nikiforovitch's house was next door to Ivan Ivanovitch's, so that you could have got from one to the other by climbing the fence, yet Ivan Ivanovitch went by way of the street. From the street itwas necessary to turn into an alley which was so narrow that if twoone-horse carts chanced to meet they could not get out, and were forcedto remain there until the drivers, seizing the hind-wheels, dragged themback in opposite directions into the street, whilst pedestriansdrew aside like flowers growing by the fence on either hand. IvanIvanovitch's waggon-shed adjoined this alley on one side; and on theother were Ivan Nikiforovitch's granary, gate, and pigeon-house. 

Ivan Ivanovitch went up to the gate and rattled the latch. Within arosethe barking of dogs; but the motley-haired pack ran back, wagging theirtails when they saw the well-known face. Ivan Ivanovitch traversedthe courtyard, in which were collected Indian doves, fed by IvanNikiforovitch's own hand, melon-rinds, vegetables, broken wheels, barrel-hoops, and a small boy wallowing with dirty blouse--a picturesuch as painters love. The shadows of the fluttering clothes coverednearly the whole of the yard and lent it a degree of coolness. The womangreeted him with a bend of her head and stood, gaping, in one spot. The front of the house was adorned with a small porch, with its roofsupported on two oak pillars--a welcome protection from the sun, whichat that season in Little Russia loves not to jest, and bathes thepedestrian from head to foot in perspiration. It may be judged howpowerful Ivan Ivanovitch's desire to obtain the coveted article was whenhe made up his mind, at such an hour, to depart from his usual custom, which was to walk abroad only in the evening. 

The room which Ivan Ivanovitch entered was quite dark, for the shutterswere closed; and the ray of sunlight passing through a hole made in oneof them took on the colours of the rainbow, and, striking the oppositewall, sketched upon it a parti-coloured picture of the outlines ofroofs, trees, and the clothes suspended in the yard, only upside down. This gave the room a peculiar half-light. 

"God assist you!" said Ivan Ivanovitch. 

"Ah! how do you do, Ivan Ivanovitch?" replied a voice from the cornerof the room. Then only did Ivan Ivanovitch perceive Ivan Nikiforovitchlying upon a rug which was spread on the floor. "Excuse me for appearingbefore you in a state of nature. "

"Not at all. You have been asleep, Ivan Nikiforovitch?"

"I have been asleep. Have you been asleep, Ivan Ivanovitch?"

"I have. "

"And now you have risen?"

"Now I have risen. Christ be with you, Ivan Nikiforovitch! How can yousleep until this time? I have just come from the farm. There's very finebarley on the road, charming! and the hay is tall and soft and golden!"

"Gorpina!" shouted Ivan Nikiforovitch, "fetch Ivan Ivanovitch somevodka, and some pastry and sour cream!"

"Fine weather we're having to-day. "

"Don't praise it, Ivan Ivanovitch! Devil take it! You can't get awayfrom the heat. "

"Now, why need you mention the devil! Ah, Ivan Nikiforovitch! you willrecall my words when it's too late. You will suffer in the next worldfor such godless words. "

"How have I offended you, Ivan Ivanovitch? I have not attacked yourfather nor your mother. I don't know how I have insulted you. "

"Enough, enough, Ivan Nikiforovitch!"

"By Heavens, Ivan Ivanovitch, I did not insult you!"

"It's strange that the quails haven't come yet to the whistle. "

"Think what you please, but I have not insulted you in any way. "

"I don't know why they don't come, " said Ivan Ivanovitch, as if he didnot hear Ivan Nikiforovitch; "it is more than time for them already; butthey seem to need more time for some reason. "

"You say that the barley is good?"

"Splendid barley, splendid!"

A silence ensued. 

"So you are having your clothes aired, Ivan Nikiforovitch?" said IvanIvanovitch at length. 

"Yes; those cursed women have ruined some beautiful clothes; almost newthey were too. Now I'm having them aired; the cloth is fine and good. They only need turning to make them fit to wear again. "

"One thing among them pleased me extremely, Ivan Nikiforovitch. "

"What was that?"

"Tell me, please, what use do you make of the gun that has been put toair with the clothes?" Here Ivan Ivanovitch offered his snuff. "May Iask you to do me the favour?"

"By no means! take it yourself; I will use my own. " Thereupon IvanNikiforovitch felt about him, and got hold of his snuff-box. "Thatstupid woman! So she hung the gun out to air. That Jew at Sorotchintzimakes good snuff. I don't know what he puts in it, but it is so veryfragrant. It is a little like tansy. Here, take a little and chew it;isn't it like tansy?"

"Ivan Nikiforovitch, I want to talk about that gun; what are you goingto do with it? You don't need it. "

"Why don't I need it? I might want to go shooting. "

"God be with you, Ivan Nikiforovitch! When will you go shooting? At themillennium, perhaps? So far as I know, or any one can recollect, younever killed even a duck; yes, and you are not built to go shooting. Youhave a dignified bearing and figure; how are you to drag yourself aboutthe marshes, especially when your garment, which it is not polite tomention in conversation by name, is being aired at this very moment? No;you require rest, repose. " Ivan Ivanovitch as has been hinted at above, employed uncommonly picturesque language when it was necessary topersuade any one. How he talked! Heavens, how he could talk! "Yes, andyou require polite actions. See here, give it to me!"

"The idea! The gun is valuable; you can't find such guns anywherenowadays. I bought it of a Turk when I joined the militia; and now, to give it away all of a sudden! Impossible! It is an indispensablearticle. "

"Indispensable for what?"

"For what? What if robbers should attack the house?. .. Indispensableindeed! Glory to God! I know that a gun stands in my storehouse. "

"A fine gun that! Why, Ivan Nikiforovitch, the lock is ruined. "

"What do you mean by ruined? It can be set right; all that needs to bedone is to rub it with hemp-oil, so that it may not rust. "

"I see in your words, Ivan Nikiforovitch, anything but a friendlydisposition towards me. You will do nothing for me in token offriendship. "

"How can you say, Ivan Ivanovitch, that I show you no friendship? Youought to be ashamed of yourself. Your oxen pasture on my steppes and Ihave never interfered with them. When you go to Poltava, you always askfor my waggon, and what then? Have I ever refused? Your children climbover the fence into my yard and play with my dogs--I never say anything;let them play, so long as they touch nothing; let them play!"

"If you won't give it to me, then let us make some exchange. "

"What will you give me for it?" Thereupon Ivan Nikiforovitch raisedhimself on his elbow, and looked at Ivan Ivanovitch. 

"I will give you my dark-brown sow, the one I have fed in the sty. Amagnificent sow. You'll see, she'll bring you a litter of pigs nextyear. "

"I do not see, Ivan Ivanovitch, how you can talk so. What could I dowith your sow? Make a funeral dinner for the devil?"

"Again! You can't get along without the devil! It's a sin! by Heaven, it's a sin, Ivan Nikiforovitch!"

"What do you mean, Ivan Ivanovitch, by offering the deuce knows whatkind of a sow for my gun?"

"Why is she 'the deuce knows what, ' Ivan Nikiforovitch?"

"Why? You can judge for yourself perfectly well; here's the gun, a knownthing; but the deuce knows what that sow is like! If it had not been youwho said it, Ivan Ivanovitch, I might have put an insulting constructionon it. "

"What defect have you observed in the sow?"

"For what do you take me--for a sow?"

"Sit down, sit down! I won't--No matter about your gun; let it rot andrust where it stands in the corner of the storeroom. I don't want to sayanything more about it!"

After this a pause ensued. 

"They say, " began Ivan Ivanovitch, "that three kings have declared waragainst our Tzar. "

"Yes, Peter Feodorovitch told me so. What sort of war is this, and whyis it?"

"I cannot say exactly, Ivan Nikiforovitch, what the cause is. I supposethe kings want us to adopt the Turkish faith. "

"Fools! They would have it, " said Ivan Nikiforovitch, raising his head. 

"So, you see, our Tzar has declared war on them in consequence. 'No, 'says he, 'do you adopt the faith of Christ!'"

"Oh, our people will beat them, Ivan Ivanovitch!"

"They will. So you won't exchange the gun, Ivan Nikiforovitch?"

"It's a strange thing to me, Ivan Ivanovitch, that you, who seem to bea man distinguished for sense, should talk such nonsense. What a fool Ishould be!"

"Sit down, sit down. God be with it! let it burst! I won't mention itagain. "

At this moment lunch was brought in. 

Ivan Ivanovitch drank a glass and ate a pie with sour cream. "Listen, Ivan Nikiforovitch: I will give you, besides the sow, two sacks ofoats. You did not sow any oats. You'll have to buy some this year in anycase. "

"By Heaven, Ivan Ivanovitch, I must tell you you are very foolish! Whoever heard of swapping a gun for two sacks of oats? Never fear, youdon't offer your coat. "

"But you forget, Ivan Nikiforovitch, that I am to give you the sow too. "

"What! two sacks of oats and a sow for a gun?"

"Why, is it too little?"

"For a gun?"

"Of course, for a gun. "

"Two sacks for a gun?"

"Two sacks, not empty, but filled with oats; and you've forgotten thesow. "

"Kiss your sow; and if you don't like that, then go to the Evil One!"

"Oh, get angry now, do! See here; they'll stick your tongue full ofred-hot needles in the other world for such godless words. After aconversation with you, one has to wash one's face and hands and fumigateone's self. "

"Excuse me, Ivan Ivanovitch; my gun is a choice thing, a most curiousthing; and besides, it is a very agreeable decoration in a room. "

"You go on like a fool about that gun of yours, Ivan Nikiforovitch, "said Ivan Ivanovitch with vexation; for he was beginning to be reallyangry. 

"And you, Ivan Ivanovitch, are a regular goose!"

If Ivan Nikiforovitch had not uttered that word they would not havequarrelled, but would have parted friends as usual; but now things tookquite another turn. Ivan Ivanovitch flew into a rage. 

"What was that you said, Ivan Nikiforovitch?" he said, raising hisvoice. 

"I said you were like a goose, Ivan Ivanovitch!"

"How dare you, sir, forgetful of decency and the respect due to a man'srank and family, insult him with such a disgraceful name!"

"What is there disgraceful about it? And why are you flourishing yourhands so, Ivan Ivanovitch?"

"How dared you, I repeat, in disregard of all decency, call me a goose?"

"I spit on your head, Ivan Ivanovitch! What are you screeching about?"

Ivan Ivanovitch could no longer control himself. His lips quivered; hismouth lost its usual V shape, and became like the letter O; he glaredso that he was terrible to look at. This very rarely happened with IvanIvanovitch: it was necessary that he should be extremely angry at first. 

"Then, I declare to you, " exclaimed Ivan Ivanovitch, "that I will nolonger know you!"

"A great pity! By Heaven, I shall never weep on that account!" retortedIvan Nikiforovitch. He lied, by Heaven, he lied! for it was veryannoying to him. 

"I will never put my foot inside your house gain!"

"Oho, ho!" said Ivan Nikiforovitch, vexed, yet not knowing himself whatto do, and rising to his feet, contrary to his custom. "Hey, there, woman, boy!" Thereupon there appeared at the door the same fat womanand the small boy, now enveloped in a long and wide coat. "Take IvanIvanovitch by the arms and lead him to the door!"

"What! a nobleman?" shouted Ivan Ivanovitch with a feeling of vexationand dignity. "Just do it if you dare! Come on! I'll annihilate you andyour stupid master. The crows won't be able to find your bones. " IvanIvanovitch spoke with uncommon force when his spirit was up. 

The group presented a striking picture: Ivan Nikiforovitch standingin the middle of the room; the woman with her mouth wide open and asenseless, terrified look on her face, and Ivan Ivanovitch with upliftedhand, as the Roman tribunes are depicted. This was a magnificentspectacle: and yet there was but one spectator; the boy in the amplecoat, who stood quite quietly and picked his nose with his finger. 

Finally Ivan Ivanovitch took his hat. "You have behaved well, IvanNikiforovitch, extremely well! I shall remember it. "

"Go, Ivan Ivanovitch, go! and see that you don't come in my way: if youdo, I'll beat your ugly face to a jelly, Ivan Ivanovitch!"

"Take that, Ivan Nikiforovitch!" retorted Ivan Ivanovitch, making aninsulting gesture and banged the door, which squeaked and flew openagain behind him. 

Ivan Nikiforovitch appeared at it and wanted to add something more; butIvan Ivanovitch did not glance back and hastened from the yard. 

CHAPTER III

WHAT TOOK PLACE AFTER IVAN IVANOVITCH'S QUARREL WITH IVAN NIKIFOROVITCH

And thus two respectable men, the pride and honour of Mirgorod, hadquarrelled, and about what? About a bit of nonsense--a goose. They wouldnot see each other, broke off all connection, though hitherto they hadbeen known as the most inseparable friends. Every day Ivan Ivanovitchand Ivan Nikiforovitch had sent to inquire about each other's health, and often conversed together from their balconies and said such charmingthings as did the heart good to listen to. On Sundays, IvanIvanovitch, in his lambskin pelisse, and Ivan Nikiforovitch, in hiscinnamon-coloured nankeen spencer, used to set out for church almost armin arm; and if Ivan Ivanovitch, who had remarkably sharp eyes, wasthe first to catch sight of a puddle or any dirt in the street, whichsometimes happened in Mirgorod, he always said to Ivan Nikiforovitch, "Look out! don't put your foot there, it's dirty. " Ivan Nikiforovitch, on his side, exhibited the same touching tokens of friendship; andwhenever he chanced to be standing, always held out his hand to IvanIvanovitch with his snuff-box, saying: "Do me the favour!" And whatfine managers both were!--And these two friends!--When I heard of it, itstruck me like a flash of lightning. For a long time I would not believeit. Ivan Ivanovitch quarrelling with Ivan Nikiforovitch! Such worthypeople! What is to be depended upon, then, in this world?

When Ivan Ivanovitch reached home, he remained for some time in a stateof strong excitement. He usually went, first of all, to the stable tosee whether his mare was eating her hay; for he had a bay mare with awhite star on her forehead, and a very pretty little mare she was too;then to feed the turkeys and the little pigs with his own hand, andthen to his room, where he either made wooden dishes, for he could makevarious vessels of wood very tastefully, quite as well as any turner, orread a book printed by Liubia, Garia, and Popoff (Ivan Ivanovitch couldnever remember the name, because the serving-maid had long before tornoff the top part of the title-page while amusing the children), orrested on the balcony. But now he did not betake himself to any of hisordinary occupations. Instead, on encountering Gapka, he at once beganto scold her for loitering about without any occupation, though she wascarrying groats to the kitchen; flung a stick at a cock which came uponthe balcony for his customary treat; and when the dirty little boy, inhis little torn blouse, ran up to him and shouted: "Papa, papa! give mea honey-cake, " he threatened him and stamped at him so fiercely that thefrightened child fled, God knows whither. 

But at last he bethought himself, and began to busy himself about hisevery-day duties. He dined late, and it was almost night when he laydown to rest on the balcony. A good beet-soup with pigeons, which Gapkahad cooked for him, quite drove from his mind the occurrences of themorning. Again Ivan Ivanovitch began to gaze at his belongings withsatisfaction. At length his eye rested on the neighbouring yard; and hesaid to himself, "I have not been to Ivan Nikiforovitch's to-day: I'llgo there now. " So saying, Ivan Ivanovitch took his stick and his hat, and directed his steps to the street; but scarcely had he passed throughthe gate than he recollected the quarrel, spit, and turned back. Almostthe same thing happened at Ivan Nikiforovitch's house. Ivan Ivanovitchsaw the woman put her foot on the fence, with the intention of climbingover into his yard, when suddenly Ivan Nikiforovitch's voice was heardcrying: "Come back! it won't do!" But Ivan Ivanovitch found it verytiresome. It is quite possible that these worthy men would have madetheir peace next day if a certain occurrence in Ivan Nikiforovitch'shouse had not destroyed all hopes and poured oil upon the fire of enmitywhich was ready to die out. 

*****

On the evening of that very day, Agafya Fedosyevna arrived at IvanNikiforovitch's. Agafya Fedosyevna was not Ivan Nikiforovitch'srelative, nor his sister-in-law, nor even his fellow-godparent. Thereseemed to be no reason why she should come to him, and he was notparticularly glad of her company; still, she came, and lived on him forweeks at a time, and even longer. Then she took possession of the keysand took the management of the whole house into her own hands. This wasextremely displeasing to Ivan Nikiforovitch; but he, to his amazement, obeyed her like a child; and although he occasionally attempted todispute, yet Agafya Fedosyevna always got the better of him. 

I must confess that I do not understand why things are so arranged, thatwomen should seize us by the nose as deftly as they do the handle of ateapot. Either their hands are so constructed or else our noses are goodfor nothing else. And notwithstanding the fact that Ivan Nikiforovitch'snose somewhat resembled a plum, she grasped that nose and led him aboutafter her like a dog. He even, in her presence, involuntarily alteredhis ordinary manner of life. 

Agafya Fedosyevna wore a cap on her head, and a coffee-coloured cloakwith yellow flowers and had three warts on her nose. Her figure was likea cask, and it would have been as hard to tell where to look for herwaist as for her to see her nose without a mirror. Her feet were smalland shaped like two cushions. She talked scandal, ate boiled beet-soupin the morning, and swore extremely; and amidst all these variousoccupations her countenance never for one instant changed itsexpression, which phenomenon, as a rule, women alone are capable ofdisplaying. 

As soon as she arrived, everything went wrong. 

"Ivan Nikiforovitch, don't you make peace with him, nor ask hisforgiveness; he wants to ruin you; that's the kind of man he is! youdon't know him yet!" That cursed woman whispered and whispered, andmanaged so that Ivan Nikiforovitch would not even hear Ivan Ivanovitchmentioned. 

Everything assumed another aspect. If his neighbour's dog ran intothe yard, it was beaten within an inch of its life; the children, whoclimbed over the fence, were sent back with howls, their little shirtsstripped up, and marks of a switch behind. Even the old woman, whenIvan Ivanovitch ventured to ask her about something, did something soinsulting that Ivan Ivanovitch, being an extremely delicate man, onlyspit, and muttered, "What a nasty woman! even worse than her master!"

Finally, as a climax to all the insults, his hated neighbour builta goose-shed right against his fence at the spot where they usuallyclimbed over, as if with the express intention of redoubling theinsult. This shed, so hateful to Ivan Ivanovitch, was constructed withdiabolical swiftness--in one day. 

This aroused wrath and a desire for revenge in Ivan Ivanovitch. Heshowed no signs of bitterness, in spite of the fact that the shedencroached on his land; but his heart beat so violently that it wasextremely difficult for him to preserve his calm appearance. 

He passed the day in this manner. Night came--Oh, if I were a painter, how magnificently I would depict the night's charms! I would describehow all Mirgorod sleeps; how steadily the myriads of stars gaze downupon it; how the apparent quiet is filled far and near with the barkingof dogs; how the love-sick sacristan steals past them, and scales thefence with knightly fearlessness; how the white walls of the houses, bathed in the moonlight, grow whiter still, the overhanging treesdarker; how the shadows of the trees fall blacker, the flowers andthe silent grass become more fragrant, and the crickets, unharmoniouscavaliers of the night, strike up their rattling song in friendlyfashion on all sides. I would describe how, in one of the little, low-roofed, clay houses, the black-browed village maid, tossing onher lonely couch, dreams with heaving bosom of some hussar's spursand moustache, and how the moonlight smiles upon her cheeks. I woulddescribe how the black shadows of the bats flit along the white roadbefore they alight upon the white chimneys of the cottages. 

But it would hardly be within my power to depict Ivan Ivanovitch as hecrept out that night, saw in hand; or the various emotions written onhis countenance! Quietly, most quietly, he crawled along and climbedupon the goose-shed. Ivan Nikiforovitch's dogs knew nothing, as yet, ofthe quarrel between them; and so they permitted him, as an old friend, to enter the shed, which rested upon four oaken posts. Creeping up tothe nearest post he applied his saw and began to cut. The noiseproduced by the saw caused him to glance about him every moment, butthe recollection of the insult restored his courage. The first post wassawed through. Ivan Ivanovitch began upon the next. His eyes burned andhe saw nothing for terror. 

All at once he uttered an exclamation and became petrified with fear. Aghost appeared to him; but he speedily recovered himself on perceivingthat it was a goose, thrusting its neck out at him. Ivan Ivanovitch spitwith vexation and proceeded with his work. The second post was sawedthrough; the building trembled. His heart beat so violently when hebegan on the third, that he had to stop several times. The post was morethan half sawed through when the frail building quivered violently. 

Ivan Ivanovitch had barely time to spring back when it came down witha crash. Seizing his saw, he ran home in the greatest terror and flunghimself upon his bed, without having sufficient courage to peep fromthe window at the consequences of his terrible deed. It seemed to himas though Ivan Nikiforovitch's entire household--the old woman, IvanNikiforovitch, the boy in the endless coat, all with sticks, and led byAgafya Fedosyevna--were coming to tear down and destroy his house. 

Ivan Ivanovitch passed the whole of the following day in a perfectfever. It seemed to him that his detested neighbour would set fire tohis house at least in revenge for this; and so he gave orders to Gapkato keep a constant lookout, everywhere, and see whether dry strawwere laid against it anywhere. Finally, in order to forestall IvanNikiforovitch, he determined to enter a complaint against him before thedistrict judge of Mirgorod. In what it consisted can be learned from thefollowing chapter. 

CHAPTER IV

WHAT TOOK PLACE BEFORE THE DISTRICT JUDGE OF MIRGOROD

A wonderful town is Mirgorod! How many buildings are there with straw, rush, and even wooden roofs! On the right is a street, on the left astreet, and fine fences everywhere. Over them twine hop-vines, upon themhang pots; from behind them the sunflowers show their sun-like heads, poppies blush, fat pumpkins peep; all is luxury itself! The fenceis invariably garnished with articles which render it still morepicturesque: woman's widespread undergarments of checked woollen stuff, shirts, or trousers. There is no such thing as theft or rascality inMirgorod, so everybody hangs upon his fence whatever strikes his fancy. If you go on to the square, you will surely stop and admire the view:such a wonderful pool is there! The finest you ever saw. It occupiesnearly the whole of the square. A truly magnificent pool! The housesand cottages, which at a distance might be mistaken for hayricks, standaround it, lost in admiration of its beauty. 

But I agree with those who think that there is no better house than thatof the district judge. Whether it is of oak or birch is nothing to thepoint; but it has, my dear sirs, eight windows! eight windows in a row, looking directly on the square and upon that watery expanse which I havejust mentioned, and which the chief of police calls a lake. It aloneis painted the colour of granite. All the other houses in Mirgorodare merely whitewashed. Its roof is of wood, and would have been evenpainted red, had not the government clerks eaten the oil which had beenprepared for that purpose, as it happened during a fast; and so theroof remained unpainted. Towards the square projects a porch, which thechickens frequently visit, because that porch is nearly always strewnwith grain or something edible, not intentionally, but through thecarelessness of visitors. 

The house is divided into two parts: one of which is the court-room; theother the jail. In the half which contains the court-room are two neat, whitewashed rooms, the front one for clients, the other having a tableadorned with ink-spots, and with a looking-glass upon it, and four oakchairs with tall backs; whilst along the wall stand iron-bound chests, in which are preserved bundles of papers relating to district law-suits. Upon one of the chests stood at that time a pair of boots, polished withwax. 

The court had been open since morning. The judge, a rather stout man, though thinner than Ivan Nikiforovitch, with a good-natured face, agreasy dressing-gown, a pipe, and a cup of tea, was conversing with theclerk of the court. 

The judge's lips were directly under his nose, so that he could snuffhis upper lip as much as he liked. It served him instead of a snuff-box, for the snuff intended for his nose almost always lodged upon it. So thejudge was talking with the assistant. A barefooted girl stood holdinga tray with cups at once side of them. At the end of the table, thesecretary was reading the decision in some case, but in such a mournfuland monotonous voice that the condemned man himself would have fallenasleep while listening to it. The judge, no doubt, would have been thefirst to do so had he not entered into an engrossing conversation whileit was going on. 

"I expressly tried to find out, " said the judge, sipping his alreadycold tea from the cup, "how they manage to sing so well. I had asplendid thrush two years ago. Well, all of a sudden he was completelydone for, and began to sing, God knows what! He got worse and worse andworse and worse as time went on; he began to rattle and get hoarse--justgood for nothing! And this is how it happened: a little lump, not so bigas a pea, had come under his throat. It was only necessary to prick thatlittle swelling with a needle--Zachar Prokofievitch taught me that; and, if you like, I'll just tell you how it was. I went to him--"

"Shall I read another, Demyan Demyanovitch?" broke in the secretary, whohad not been reading for several minutes. 

"Have you finished already? Only think how quickly! And I did not hear aword of it! Where is it? Give it me and I'll sign it. What else have youthere?"

"The case of Cossack Bokitok for stealing a cow. "

"Very good; read it!--Yes, so I went to him--I can even tell you indetail how he entertained me. There was vodka, and dried sturgeon, excellent! Yes, not our sturgeon, " there the judge smacked his tongueand smiled, upon which his nose took a sniff at its usual snuff-box, "such as our Mirgorod shops sell us. I ate no herrings, for, as youknow, they give me heart-burn; but I tasted the caviare--very finecaviare, too! There's no doubt it, excellent! Then I drank somepeach-brandy, real gentian. There was saffron-brandy also; but, as youknow, I never take that. You see, it was all very good. In the firstplace, to whet your appetite, as they say, and then to satisfy it--Ah!speak of an angel, " exclaimed the judge, all at once, catching sight ofIvan Ivanovitch as he entered. 

"God be with us! I wish you a good-morning, " said Ivan Ivanovitch, bowing all round with his usual politeness. How well he understoodthe art of fascinating everybody in his manner! I never beheld suchrefinement. He knew his own worth quite well, and therefore looked foruniversal respect as his due. The judge himself handed Ivan Ivanovitcha chair; and his nose inhaled all the snuff resting on his upper lip, which, with him, was always a sign of great pleasure. 

"What will you take, Ivan Ivanovitch?" he inquired: "will you have a cupof tea?"

"No, much obliged, " replied Ivan Ivanovitch, as he bowed and seatedhimself. 

"Do me the favour--one little cup, " repeated the judge. 

"No, thank you; much obliged for your hospitality, " replied IvanIvanovitch, and rose, bowed, and sat down again. 

"Just one little cup, " repeated the judge. 

"No, do not trouble yourself, Demyan Demyanovitch. " Whereupon IvanIvanovitch again rose, bowed, and sat down. 

"A little cup!"

"Very well, then, just a little cup, " said Ivan Ivanovitch, and reachedout his hand to the tray. Heavens! What a height of refinement therewas in that man! It is impossible to describe what a pleasant impressionsuch manners produce!

"Will you not have another cup?"

"I thank you sincerely, " answered Ivan Ivanovitch, turning his cupupside down upon the tray and bowing. 

"Do me the favour, Ivan Ivanovitch. "

"I cannot; much obliged. " Thereupon Ivan Ivanovitch bowed and sat down. 

"Ivan Ivanovitch, for the sake of our friendship, just one little cup!"

"No: I am extremely indebted for your hospitality. " So saying, IvanIvanovitch bowed and seated himself. 

"Only a cup, one little cup!"

Ivan Ivanovitch put his hand out to the tray and took a cup. Oh, thedeuce! How can a man contrive to support his dignity!

"Demyan Demyanovitch, " said Ivan Ivanovitch, swallowing the last drain, "I have pressing business with you; I want to enter a complaint. "

Then Ivan Ivanovitch set down his cup, and drew from his pocket asheet of stamped paper, written over. "A complaint against my enemy, mydeclared enemy. "

"And who is that?"

"Ivan Nikiforovitch Dovgotchkun. "

At these words, the judge nearly fell off his chair. "What do you say?"he exclaimed, clasping his hands; "Ivan Ivanovitch, is this you?"

"You see yourself that it is I. "

"The Lord and all the saints be with you! What! You! Ivan Ivanovitch!you have fallen out with Ivan Nikiforovitch! Is it your mouth which saysthat? Repeat it! Is not some one hid behind you who is speaking insteadof you?"

"What is there incredible about it? I can't endure the sight of him: hehas done me a deadly injury--he has insulted my honour. "

"Holy Trinity! How am I to believe my mother now? Why, every day, when Iquarrel with my sister, the old woman says, 'Children, you live togetherlike dogs. If you would only take pattern by Ivan Ivanovitch and IvanNikiforovitch, they are friends indeed! such friends! such worthypeople!' There you are with your friend! Tell me what this is about. Howis it?"

"It is a delicate business, Demyan Demyanovitch; it is impossible torelate it in words: be pleased rather to read my plaint. Here, take itby this side; it is more convenient. "

"Read it, Taras Tikhonovitch, " said the judge, turning to the secretary. 

Taras Tikhonovitch took the plaint; and blowing his nose, as alldistrict judges' secretaries blow their noses, with the assistance oftwo fingers, he began to read:--

"From the nobleman and landed proprietor of the Mirgorod District, Ivan Pererepenko, son of Ivan, a plaint: concerning which the followingpoints are to be noted:--

"1. Ivan Dovgotchkun, son of Nikifor, nobleman, known to all the worldfor his godless acts, which inspire disgust, and in lawlessness exceedall bounds, on the seventh day of July of this year 1810, inflicted uponme a deadly insult, touching my personal honour, and likewise tending tothe humiliation and confusion of my rank and family. The said nobleman, of repulsive aspect, has also a pugnacious disposition, and is full tooverflowing with blasphemy and quarrelsome words. "

Here the reader paused for an instant to blow his nose again; but thejudge folded his hands in approbation and murmured to himself, "What aready pen! Lord! how this man does write!"

Ivan Ivanovitch requested that the reading might proceed, and TarasTikhonovitch went on:--

"The said Ivan Dovgotchkun, son of Nikifor, when I went to him with afriendly proposition, called me publicly by an epithet insulting andinjurious to my honour, namely, a goose, whereas it is known to thewhole district of Mirgorod, that I never was named after that disgustingcreature, and have no intention of ever being named after it. The proofof my noble extraction is that, in the baptismal register to be found inthe Church of the Three Bishops, the day of my birth, and likewise thefact of my baptism, are inscribed. But a goose, as is well known toevery one who has any knowledge of science, cannot be inscribed inthe baptismal register; for a goose is not a man but a fowl; which, likewise, is sufficiently well known even to persons who have not beento college. But the said evil-minded nobleman, being privy to all thesefacts, affronted me with the aforesaid foul word, for no other purposethan to offer a deadly insult to my rank and station. 

"2. And the same impolite and indecent nobleman, moreover, attemptedinjury to my property, inherited by me from my father, a member ofthe clerical profession, Ivan Pererepenko, son of Onisieff, of blessedmemory, inasmuch that he, contrary to all law, transported directlyopposite my porch a goose-shed, which was done with no other intentionthat to emphasise the insult offered me; for the said shed had, upto that time, stood in a very suitable situation, and was stillsufficiently strong. But the loathsome intention of the aforesaidnobleman consisted simply in this: viz. , in making me a witness ofunpleasant occurrences; for it is well known that no man goes into ashed, much less into a goose-shed, for polite purposes. In the executionof his lawless deed, the two front posts trespassed on my land, receivedby me during the lifetime of my father, Ivan Pererepenko, son ofOnisieff, of blessed memory, beginning at the granary, thence in astraight line to the spot where the women wash the pots. 

"3. The above-described nobleman, whose very name and surname inspirethorough disgust, cherishes in his mind a malicious design to burn me inmy own house. Which the infallible signs, hereinafter mentioned, fullydemonstrate; in the first place, the said wicked nobleman has begun toemerge frequently from his apartments, which he never did formerly onaccount of his laziness and the disgusting corpulence of his body; inthe second place, in his servants' apartments, adjoining the fence, surrounding my own land, received by me from my father of blessedmemory, Ivan Pererepenko, son of Onisieff, a light burns every day, andfor a remarkably long period of time, which is also a clear proof of thefact. For hitherto, owing to his repulsive niggardliness, not only thetallow-candle but also the grease-lamp has been extinguished. 

"And therefore I pray that the said nobleman, Ivan Dovgotchkun, son ofNikifor, being plainly guilty of incendiarism, of insult to my rank, name, and family, and of illegal appropriation of my property, and, worse than all else, of malicious and deliberate addition to mysurname, of the nickname of goose, be condemned by the court, to fine, satisfaction, costs, and damages, and, being chained, be removed tothe town jail, and that judgment be rendered upon this, my plaint, immediately and without delay. 

"Written and composed by Ivan Pererepenko, son of Ivan, nobleman, andlanded proprietor of Mirgorod. "

After the reading of the plaint was concluded, the judge approachedIvanovitch, took him by the button, and began to talk to him after thisfashion: "What are you doing, Ivan Ivanovitch? Fear God! throw awaythat plaint, let it go! may Satan carry it off! Better take IvanNikiforovitch by the hand and kiss him, buy some Santurinski orNikopolski liquor, make a punch, and call me in. We will drink it uptogether and forget all unpleasantness. "

"No, Demyan Demyanovitch! it's not that sort of an affair, " said IvanIvanovitch, with the dignity which always became him so well; "it isnot an affair which can be arranged by a friendly agreement. Farewell!Good-day to you, too, gentlemen, " he continued with the same dignity, turning to them all. "I hope that my plaint will lead to proper actionbeing taken;" and out he went, leaving all present in a state ofstupefaction. 

The judge sat down without uttering a word; the secretary took a pinchof snuff; the clerks upset some broken fragments of bottles which servedfor inkstands; and the judge himself, in absence of mind, spread out apuddle of ink upon the table with his finger. 

"What do you say to this, Dorofei Trofimovitch?" said the judge, turningto the assistant after a pause. 

"I've nothing to say, " replied the clerk. 

"What things do happen!" continued the judge. He had not finished sayingthis before the door creaked and the front half of Ivan Nikiforovitchpresented itself in the court-room; the rest of him remaining in theante-room. The appearance of Ivan Nikiforovitch, and in court too, seemed so extraordinary that the judge screamed; the secretary stoppedreading; one clerk, in his frieze imitation of a dress-coat, took hispen in his lips; and the other swallowed a fly. Even the constable onduty and the watchman, a discharged soldier who up to that moment hadstood by the door scratching about his dirty tunic, with chevrons on itsarm, dropped his jaw and trod on some one's foot. 

"What chance brings you here? How is your health, Ivan Nikiforovitch?"

But Ivan Nikiforovitch was neither dead nor alive; for he was stuck fastin the door, and could not take a step either forwards or backwards. Invain did the judge shout into the ante-room that some one there shouldpush Ivan Nikiforovitch forward into the court-room. In the ante-roomthere was only one old woman with a petition, who, in spite of all theefforts of her bony hands, could accomplish nothing. Then one of theclerks, with thick lips, a thick nose, eyes which looked askance andintoxicated, broad shoulders, and ragged elbows, approached the fronthalf of Ivan Nikiforovitch, crossed his hands for him as though he hadbeen a child, and winked at the old soldier, who braced his knee againstIvan Nikiforovitch's belly, so, in spite of the latter's piteous moans, he was squeezed out into the ante-room. Then they pulled the bolts, and opened the other half of the door. Meanwhile the clerk and hisassistant, breathing hard with their friendly exertions, exhaled sucha strong odour that the court-room seemed temporarily turned into adrinking-room. 

"Are you hurt, Ivan Nikiforovitch? I will tell my mother to send youa decoction of brandy, with which you need but to rub your back andstomach and all your pains will disappear. "

But Ivan Nikiforovitch dropped into a chair, and could utter no wordbeyond prolonged oh's. Finally, in a faint and barely audible voicefrom fatigue, he exclaimed, "Wouldn't you like some?" and drawing hissnuff-box from his pocket, added, "Help yourself, if you please. "

"Very glad to see you, " replied the judge; "but I cannot conceivewhat made you put yourself to so much trouble, and favour us with sounexpected an honour. "

"A plaint!" Ivan Nikiforovitch managed to ejaculate. 

"A plaint? What plaint?"

"A complaint. .. " here his asthma entailed a prolonged pause--"Oh! acomplaint against that rascal--Ivan Ivanovitch Pererepenko!"

"And you too! Such particular friends! A complaint against such abenevolent man?"

"He's Satan himself!" ejaculated Ivan Nikiforovitch abruptly. 

The judge crossed himself. 

"Take my plaint, and read it. "

"There is nothing to be done. Read it, Taras Tikhonovitch, " said thejudge, turning to the secretary with an expression of displeasure, whichcaused his nose to sniff at his upper lip, which generally occurred onlyas a sign of great enjoyment. This independence on the part of his nosecaused the judge still greater vexation. He pulled out his handkerchief, and rubbed off all the snuff from his upper lip in order to punish itfor its daring. 

The secretary, having gone through the usual performance, which healways indulged in before he began to read, that is to say, blowing hisnose without the aid of a pocket-handkerchief, began in his ordinaryvoice, in the following manner:--

"Ivan Dovgotchkun, son of Nikifor, nobleman of the Mirgorod District, presents a plaint, and begs to call attention to the following points:--

"1. Through his hateful malice and plainly manifested ill-will, theperson calling himself a nobleman, Ivan Pererepenko, son of Ivan, perpetrates against me every manner of injury, damage, and like spitefuldeeds, which inspire me with terror. Yesterday afternoon, like a brigandand thief, with axes, saws, chisels, and various locksmith's tools, hecame by night into my yard and into my own goose-shed located within it, and with his own hand, and in outrageous manner, destroyed it; for whichvery illegal and burglarious deed on my side I gave no manner of cause. 

"2. The same nobleman Pererepenko has designs upon my life; and on the7th of last month, cherishing this design in secret, he came to me, andbegan, in a friendly and insidious manner, to ask of me a gun which wasin my chamber, and offered me for it, with the miserliness peculiar tohim, many worthless objects, such as a brown sow and two sacks of oats. Divining at that time his criminal intentions, I endeavoured in everyway to dissuade him from it: but the said rascal and scoundrel, IvanPererepenko, son of Ivan, abused me like a muzhik, and since that timehas cherished against me an irreconcilable enmity. His sister was wellknown to every one as a loose character, and went off with a regimentof chasseurs which was stationed at Mirgorod five years ago; but sheinscribed her husband as a peasant. His father and mother too werenot law-abiding people, and both were inconceivable drunkards. Theafore-mentioned nobleman and robber, Pererepenko, in his beastly andblameworthy actions, goes beyond all his family, and under the guise ofpiety does the most immoral things. He does not observe the fasts; foron the eve of St. Philip's this atheist bought a sheep, and next dayordered his mistress, Gapka, to kill it, alleging that he needed tallowfor lamps and candles at once. 

"Therefore I pray that the said nobleman, a manifest robber, church-thief, and rascal, convicted of plundering and stealing, may beput in irons, and confined in the jail or the government prison, andthere, under supervision, deprived of his rank and nobility, wellflogged, and banished to forced labour in Siberia, and that he may becommanded to pay damages and costs, and that judgment may be rendered onthis my petition. 

"To this plaint, Ivan Dovgotchkun, son of Nikifor, noble of the Mirgoroddistrict, has set his hand. "

As soon as the secretary had finished reading, Ivan Nikiforovitch seizedhis hat and bowed, with the intention of departing. 

"Where are you going, Ivan Nikiforovitch?" the judge called after him. "Sit down a little while. Have some tea. Orishko, why are you standingthere, you stupid girl, winking at the clerks? Go, bring tea. "

But Ivan Nikiforovitch, in terror at having got so far from home, and athaving undergone such a fearful quarantine, made haste to crawl throughthe door, saying, "Don't trouble yourself. It is with pleasure that I--"and closed it after him, leaving all present stupefied. 

There was nothing to be done. Both plaints were entered; and the affairpromised to assume a sufficiently serious aspect when an unforeseenoccurrence lent an added interest to it. As the judge was leaving thecourt in company with the clerk and secretary, and the employees werethrusting into sacks the fowls, eggs, loaves, pies, cracknels, and otherodds and ends brought by the plaintiffs--just at that moment a brown sowrushed into the room and snatched, to the amazement of the spectators, neither a pie nor a crust of bread but Ivan Nikiforovitch's plaint, which lay at the end of the table with its leaves hanging over. Havingseized the document, mistress sow ran off so briskly that not one ofthe clerks or officials could catch her, in spite of the rulers andink-bottles they hurled after her. 

This extraordinary occurrence produced a terrible muddle, for there hadnot even been a copy taken of the plaint. The judge, that is to say, his secretary and the assistant debated for a long time upon such anunheard-of affair. Finally it was decided to write a report of thematter to the governor, as the investigation of the matter pertainedmore to the department of the city police. Report No. 389 was despatchedto him that same day; and also upon that day there came to light asufficiently curious explanation, which the reader may learn from thefollowing chapter. 

CHAPTER V

IN WHICH ARE DETAILED THE DELIBERATIONS OF TWO IMPORTANT PERSONAGES OFMIRGOROD

As soon as Ivan Ivanovitch had arranged his domestic affairs and steppedout upon the balcony, according to his custom, to lie down, he saw, tohis indescribable amazement, something red at the gate. This was the redfacings of the chief of police's coat, which were polished equally withhis collar, and resembled varnished leather on the edges. 

Ivan Ivanovitch thought to himself, "It's not bad that PeterFeodorovitch has come to talk it over with me. " But he was verymuch surprised to see that the chief was walking remarkably fast andflourishing his hands, which was very rarely the case with him. Therewere eight buttons on the chief of police's uniform: the ninth, torn offin some manner during the procession at the consecration of the churchtwo years before, the police had not been able to find up to this time:although the chief, on the occasion of the daily reports made to him bythe sergeants, always asked, "Has that button been found?" These eightbuttons were strewn about him as women sow beans--one to the right andone to the left. His left foot had been struck by a ball in the lastcampaign, and so he limped and threw it out so far to one side as toalmost counteract the efforts of the right foot. The more briskly thechief of police worked his walking apparatus the less progress he madein advance. So while he was getting to the balcony, Ivan Ivanovitchhad plenty of time to lose himself in surmises as to why the chief wasflourishing his hands so vigorously. This interested him the more, asthe matter seemed one of unusual importance; for the chief had on a newdagger. 

"Good morning, Peter Feodorovitch!" cried Ivan Ivanovitch, who was, ashas already been stated, exceedingly curious, and could not restrain hisimpatience as the chief of police began to ascend to the balcony, yetnever raised his eyes, and kept grumbling at his foot, which could notbe persuaded to mount the step at the first attempt. 

"I wish my good friend and benefactor, Ivan Ivanovitch, a good-day, "replied the chief. 

"Pray sit down. I see that you are weary, as your lame foot hinders--"

"My foot!" screamed the chief, bestowing upon Ivan Ivanovitch a glancesuch as a giant might cast upon a pigmy, a pedant upon a dancing-master:and he stretched out his foot and stamped upon the floor with it. Thisboldness cost him dear; for his whole body wavered and his nose struckthe railing; but the brave preserver of order, with the purpose ofmaking light of it, righted himself immediately, and began to feel inhis pocket as if to get his snuff-box. "I must report to you, my dearfriend and benefactor, Ivan Ivanovitch, that never in all my days have Imade such a march. Yes, seriously. For instance, during the campaign of1807--Ah! I will tell to you how I crawled through the enclosure to seea pretty little German. " Here the chief closed one eye and executed adiabolically sly smile. 

"Where have you been to-day?" asked Ivan Ivanovitch, wishing to cut thechief short and bring him more speedily to the object of his visit. Hewould have very much liked to inquire what the chief meant to tell him, but his extensive knowledge of the world showed him the impropriety ofsuch a question; and so he had to keep himself well in hand and await asolution, his heart, meanwhile, beating with unusual force. 

"Ah, excuse me! I was going to tell you--where was I?" answered thechief of police. "In the first place, I report that the weather is fineto-day. "

At these last words, Ivan Ivanovitch nearly died. 

"But permit me, " went on the chief. "I have come to you to-day about avery important affair. " Here the chief's face and bearing assumed thesame careworn aspect with which he had ascended to the balcony. 

Ivan Ivanovitch breathed again, and shook as if in a fever, omittingnot, as was his habit, to put a question. "What is the important matter?Is it important?"

"Pray judge for yourself; in the first place I venture to report toyou, dear friend and benefactor, Ivan Ivanovitch, that you--I beg youto observe that, for my own part, I should have nothing to say; but therules of government require it--that you have transgressed the rules ofpropriety. "

"What do you mean, Peter Feodorovitch? I don't understand at all. "

"Pardon me, Ivan Ivanovitch! how can it be that you do not understand?Your own beast has destroyed an important government document; and youcan still say, after that, that you do not understand!"

"What beast?"

"Your own brown sow, with your permission, be it said. "

"How can I be responsible? Why did the door-keeper of the court open thedoor?"

"But, Ivan Ivanovitch, your own brown sow. You must be responsible. "

"I am extremely obliged to you for comparing me to a sow. "

"But I did not say that, Ivan Ivanovitch! By Heaven! I did not say so!Pray judge from your own clear conscience. It is known to you withoutdoubt, that in accordance with the views of the government, uncleananimals are forbidden to roam about the town, particularly in theprincipal streets. Admit, now, that it is prohibited. "

"God knows what you are talking about! A mighty important business thata sow got into the street!"

"Permit me to inform you, Ivan Ivanovitch, permit me, permit me, that this is utterly inadvisable. What is to be done? The authoritiescommand, we must obey. I don't deny that sometimes chickens and geeserun about the street, and even about the square, pray observe, chickensand geese; but only last year, I gave orders that pigs and goats werenot to be admitted to the public squares, which regulations I directedto be read aloud at the time before all the people. "

"No, Peter Feodorovitch, I see nothing here except that you are doingyour best to insult me. "

"But you cannot say that, my dearest friend and benefactor, that I havetried to insult you. Bethink yourself: I never said a word to you lastyear when you built a roof a whole foot higher than is allowed by law. On the contrary, I pretended not to have observed it. Believe me, mydearest friend, even now, I would, so to speak--but my duty--in a word, my duty demands that I should have an eye to cleanliness. Just judge foryourself, when suddenly in the principal street--"

"Fine principal streets yours are! Every woman goes there and throwsdown any rubbish she chooses. "

"Permit me to inform you, Ivan Ivanovitch, that it is you who areinsulting me. That does sometimes happen, but, as a rule, only besidesfences, sheds, or storehouses; but that a filthy sow should intrudeherself in the main street, in the square, now is a matter--"

"What sort of a matter? Peter Feodorovitch! surely a sow is one of God'screatures!"

"Agreed. Everybody knows that you are a learned man, that you areacquainted with sciences and various other subjects. I never studied thesciences: I began to learn to write in my thirteenth year. Of course youknow that I was a soldier in the ranks. "

"Hm!" said Ivan Ivanovitch. 

"Yes, " continued the chief of police, "in 1801 I was in the Forty-secondRegiment of chasseurs, lieutenant in the fourth company. The commanderof our company was, if I may be permitted to mention it, CaptainEremeeff. " Thereupon the chief of police thrust his fingers into thesnuff-box which Ivan Ivanovitch was holding open, and stirred up thesnuff. 

Ivan Ivanovitch answered, "Hm!"

"But my duty, " went on the chief of police, "is to obey the commandsof the authorities. Do you know, Ivan Ivanovitch, that a personwho purloins a government document in the court-room incurs capitalpunishment equally with other criminals?"

"I know it; and, if you like, I can give you lessons. It is so decreedwith regard to people, as if you, for instance, were to steal adocument; but a sow is an animal, one of God's creatures. "

"Certainly; but the law reads, 'Those guilty of theft'--I beg of you tolisten most attentively--'Those guilty!' Here is indicated neither racenor sex nor rank: of course an animal can be guilty. You may say whatyou please; but the animal, until the sentence is pronounced by thecourt, should be committed to the charge of the police as a transgressorof the law. "

"No, Peter Feodorovitch, " retorted Ivan Ivanovitch coolly, "that shallnot be. "

"As you like: only I must carry out the orders of the authorities. "

"What are you threatening me with? Probably you want to send thatone-armed soldier after her. I shall order the woman who tends the doorto drive him off with the poker: he'll get his last arm broken. "

"I dare not dispute with you. In case you will not commit the sow tothe charge of the police, then do what you please with her: kill her forChristmas, if you like, and make hams of her, or eat her as she is. Only I should like to ask you, in case you make sausages, to send me acouple, such as your Gapka makes so well, of blood and lard. My AgrafenaTrofimovna is extremely fond of them. "

"I will send you a couple of sausages if you permit. "

"I shall be extremely obliged to you, dear friend and benefactor. Nowpermit me to say one word more. I am commissioned by the judge, as wellas by all our acquaintances, so to speak, to effect a reconciliationbetween you and your friend, Ivan Nikiforovitch. "

"What! with that brute! I to be reconciled to that clown! Never! Itshall not be, it shall not be!" Ivan Ivanovitch was in a remarkablydetermined frame of mind. 

"As you like, " replied the chief of police, treating both nostrils tosnuff. "I will not venture to advise you; but permit me to mention--hereyou live at enmity, and if you make peace. .. "

But Ivan Ivanovitch began to talk about catching quail, as he usuallydid when he wanted to put an end to a conversation. So the chiefof police was obliged to retire without having achieved any successwhatever. 

CHAPTER VI

FROM WHICH THE READER CAN EASILY DISCOVER WHAT IS CONTAINED IN IT

In spite of all the judge's efforts to keep the matter secret, allMirgorod knew by the next day that Ivan Ivanovitch's sow had stolen IvanNikiforovitch's petition. The chief of police himself, in a moment offorgetfulness, was the first to betray himself. When Ivan Nikiforovitchwas informed of it he said nothing: he merely inquired, "Was it thebrown one?"

But Agafya Fedosyevna, who was present, began again to urge on IvanNikiforovitch. "What's the matter with you, Ivan Nikiforovitch? Peoplewill laugh at you as at a fool if you let it pass. How can you remain anobleman after that? You will be worse than the old woman who sells thehoneycakes with hemp-seed oil you are so fond of. "

And the mischief-maker persuaded him. She hunted up somewhere amiddle-aged man with dark complexion, spots all over his face, and adark-blue surtout patched on the elbows, a regular official scribbler. He blacked his boots with tar, wore three pens behind his ear, anda glass vial tied to his buttonhole with a string instead of anink-bottle: ate as many as nine pies at once, and put the tenth in hispocket, and wrote so many slanders of all sorts on a single sheet ofstamped paper that no reader could get through all at one time withoutinterspersing coughs and sneezes. This man laboured, toiled, and wrote, and finally concocted the following document:--

"To the District Judge of Mirgorod, from the noble, Ivan Dovgotchkun, son of Nikifor. 

"In pursuance of my plaint which was presented by me, Ivan Dovgotchkun, son of Nikifor, against the nobleman, Ivan Pererepenko, son of Ivan, to which the judge of the Mirgorod district court has exhibitedindifference; and the shameless, high-handed deed of the brown sow beingkept secret, and coming to my ears from outside parties. 

"And the said neglect, plainly malicious, lies incontestably at thejudge's door; for the sow is a stupid animal, and therefore unfittedfor the theft of papers. From which it plainly appears that the saidfrequently mentioned sow was not otherwise than instigated to thesame by the opponent, Ivan Pererepenko, son of Ivan, calling himself anobleman, and already convicted of theft, conspiracy against life, and desecration of a church. But the said Mirgorod judge, withthe partisanship peculiar to him, gave his private consent to thisindividual; for without such consent the said sow could by no possiblemeans have been admitted to carry off the document; for the judge of thedistrict court of Mirgorod is well provided with servants: it wasonly necessary to summon a soldier, who is always on duty in thereception-room, and who, although he has but one eye and one somewhatdamaged arm, has powers quite adequate to driving out a sow, and tobeating it with a stick, from which is credibly evident the criminalneglect of the said Mirgorod judge and the incontestable sharing of theJew-like spoils therefrom resulting from these mutual conspirators. Andthe aforesaid robber and nobleman, Ivan Pererepenko, son of Ivan, havingdisgraced himself, finished his turning on his lathe. Wherefore, I, thenoble Ivan Dovgotchkun, son of Nikifor, declare to the said districtjudge in proper form that if the said brown sow, or the man Pererepenko, be not summoned to the court, and judgment in accordance with justiceand my advantage pronounced upon her, then I, Ivan Dovgotchkun, son ofNikifor, shall present a plaint, with observance of all due formalities, against the said district judge for his illegal partisanship to thesuperior courts. 

"Ivan Dovgotchkun, son of Nikifor, noble of the Mirgorod District. "

This petition produced its effect. The judge was a man of timiddisposition, as all good people generally are. He betook himself to thesecretary. But the secretary emitted from his lips a thick "Hm, " andexhibited on his countenance that indifferent and diabolically equivocalexpression which Satan alone assumes when he sees his victim hasteningto his feet. One resource remained to him, to reconcile the two friends. But how to set about it, when all attempts up to that time had been sounsuccessful? Nevertheless, it was decided to make another effort; butIvan Ivanovitch declared outright that he would not hear of it, and evenflew into a violent passion; whilst Ivan Nikiforovitch, in lieu of ananswer, turned his back and would not utter a word. 

Then the case went on with the unusual promptness upon which courtsusually pride themselves. Documents were dated, labelled, numbered, sewed together, registered all in one day, and the matter laid on theshelf, where it continued to lie, for one, two, or three years. Manybrides were married; a new street was laid out in Mirgorod; one of thejudge's double teeth fell out and two of his eye-teeth; more childrenthan ever ran about Ivan Ivanovitch's yard; Ivan Nikiforovitch, as areproof to Ivan Ivanovitch, constructed a new goose-shed, although alittle farther back than the first, and built himself completely offfrom his neighbour, so that these worthy people hardly ever beheld eachother's faces; but still the case lay in the cabinet, which had becomemarbled with ink-pots. 

In the meantime a very important event for all Mirgorod had taken place. The chief of police had given a reception. Whence shall I obtain thebrush and colours to depict this varied gathering and magnificent feast?Take your watch, open it, and look what is going on inside. A fearfulconfusion, is it not? Now, imagine almost the same, if not a greater, number of wheels standing in the chief of police's courtyard. How manycarriages and waggons were there! One was wide behind and narrow infront; another narrow behind and wide in front. One was a carriage and awaggon combined; another neither a carriage nor a waggon. One resembleda huge hayrick or a fat merchant's wife; another a dilapidated Jew or askeleton not quite freed from the skin. One was a perfect pipe with longstem in profile; another, resembling nothing whatever, suggested somestrange, shapeless, fantastic object. In the midst of this chaos ofwheels rose coaches with windows like those of a room. The drivers, ingrey Cossack coats, gaberdines, and white hare-skin coats, sheepskinhats and caps of various patterns, and with pipes in their hands, drovethe unharnessed horses through the yard. 

What a reception the chief of police gave! Permit me to run throughthe list of those who were there: Taras Tarasovitch, Evpl Akinfovitch, Evtikhiy Evtikhievitch, Ivan Ivanovitch--not that Ivan Ivanovitchbut another--Gabba Bavrilonovitch, our Ivan Ivanovitch, ElevferiyElevferievitch, Makar Nazarevitch, Thoma Grigorovitch--I can say nomore: my powers fail me, my hand stops writing. And how many ladies werethere! dark and fair, tall and short, some fat like Ivan Nikiforovitch, and some so thin that it seemed as though each one might hide herselfin the scabbard of the chief's sword. What head-dresses! what costumes!red, yellow, coffee-colour, green, blue, new, turned, re-made dresses, ribbons, reticules. Farewell, poor eyes! you will never be good foranything any more after such a spectacle. And how long the table wasdrawn out! and how all talked! and what a noise they made! What isa mill with its driving-wheel, stones, beams, hammers, wheels, incomparison with this? I cannot tell you exactly what they talked about, but presumably of many agreeable and useful things, such as the weather, dogs, wheat, caps, and dice. At length Ivan Ivanovitch--not our IvanIvanovitch, but the other, who had but one eye--said, "It strikes me asstrange that my right eye, " this one-eyed Ivan Ivanovitch always spokesarcastically about himself, "does not see Ivan Nikiforovitch, GospodinDovgotchkun. "

"He would not come, " said the chief of police. 

"Why not?"

"It's two years now, glory to God! since they quarrelled; that is, IvanIvanovitch and Ivan Nikiforovitch; and where one goes, the other willnot go. "

"You don't say so!" Thereupon one-eyed Ivan Ivanovitch raised his eyeand clasped his hands. "Well, if people with good eyes cannot live inpeace, how am I to live amicably, with my bad one?"

At these words they all laughed at the tops of their voices. Every oneliked one-eyed Ivan Ivanovitch, because he cracked jokes in that style. A tall, thin man in a frieze coat, with a plaster on his nose, who up tothis time had sat in the corner, and never once altered the expressionof his face, even when a fly lighted on his nose, rose from his seat, and approached nearer to the crowd which surrounded one-eyed IvanIvanovitch. "Listen, " said Ivan Ivanovitch, when he perceived that quitea throng had collected about him; "suppose we make peace between ourfriends. Ivan Ivanovitch is talking with the women and girls; let ussend quietly for Ivan Nikiforovitch and bring them together. "

Ivan Ivanovitch's proposal was unanimously agreed to; and it was decidedto send at once to Ivan Nikiforovitch's house, and beg him, at any rate, to come to the chief of police's for dinner. But the difficult questionas to who was to be intrusted with this weighty commission renderedall thoughtful. They debated long as to who was the most expert indiplomatic matters. At length it was unanimously agreed to depute AntonProkofievitch to do this business. 

But it is necessary, first of all, to make the reader somewhatacquainted with this noteworthy person. Anton Prokofievitch was a trulygood man, in the fullest meaning of the term. If any one in Mirgorodgave him a neckerchief or underclothes, he returned thanks; if any onegave him a fillip on the nose, he returned thanks too. If he was asked, "Why, Anton Prokofievitch, do you wear a light brown coat with bluesleeves?" he generally replied, "Ah, you haven't one like it! Wait abit, it will soon fade and will be alike all over. " And, in pointof fact, the blue cloth, from the effects of the sun, began to turncinnamon colour, and became of the same tint as the rest of the coat. But the strange part of it was that Anton Prokofievitch had a habit ofwearing woollen clothing in summer and nankeen in winter. 

Anton Prokofievitch had no house of his own. He used to have one onthe outskirts of the town; but he sold it, and with the purchase-moneybought a team of brown horses and a little carriage in which he droveabout to stay with the squires. But as the horses were a deal of troubleand money was required for oats, Anton Prokofievitch bartered them fora violin and a housemaid, with twenty-five paper rubles to boot. Afterwards Anton Prokofievitch sold the violin, and exchanged the girlfor a morocco and gold tobacco-pouch; now he has such a tobacco-pouch asno one else has. As a result of this luxury, he can no longer go aboutamong the country houses, but has to remain in the town and pass thenight at different houses, especially of those gentlemen who takepleasure in tapping him on the nose. Anton Prokofievitch is very fond ofgood eating, and plays a good game at cards. Obeying orders alwayswas his forte; so, taking his hat and cane, he set out at once on hiserrand. 

But, as he walked along, he began to ponder in what manner he shouldcontrive to induce Ivan Nikiforovitch to come to the assembly. Theunbending character of the latter, who was otherwise a worthy man, rendered the undertaking almost hopeless. How, indeed, was he topersuade him to come, when even rising from his bed cost him so greatan effort? But supposing that he did rise, how could he get him to come, where, as he doubtless knew, his irreconcilable enemy already was? Themore Anton Prokofievitch reflected, the more difficulties he perceived. The day was sultry, the sun beat down, the perspiration poured fromhim in streams. Anton Prokofievitch was a tolerably sharp man in manyrespects though they did tap him on the nose. In bartering, however, he was not fortunate. He knew very well when to play the fool, andsometimes contrived to turn things to his own profit amid circumstancesand surroundings from which a wise man could rarely escape without loss. 

His ingenious mind had contrived a means of persuading IvanNikiforovitch; and he was proceeding bravely to face everything whenan unexpected occurrence somewhat disturbed his equanimity. There isno harm, at this point, in admitting to the reader that, among otherthings, Anton Prokofievitch was the owner of a pair of trousers of suchsingular properties that whenever he put them on the dogs always bit hiscalves. Unfortunately, he had donned this particular pair of trousers;and he had hardly given himself up to meditation before a fearfulbarking on all sides saluted his ears. Anton Prokofievitch raised sucha yell, no one could scream louder than he, that not only did thewell-known woman and the occupant of the endless coat rush out to meethim, but even the small boys from Ivan Ivanovitch's yard. But althoughthe dogs succeeded in tasting only one of his calves, this sensibilitydiminished his courage, and he entered the porch with a certain amountof timidity. 

CHAPTER VII

HOW A RECONCILIATION WAS SOUGHT TO BE EFFECTED AND A LAW SUIT ENSUED

"Ah! how do you do? Why do you irritate the dogs?" said IvanNikiforovitch, on perceiving Anton Prokofievitch; for no one spokeotherwise than jestingly with Anton Prokofievitch. 

"Hang them! who's been irritating them?" retorted Anton Prokofievitch. 

"You have!"

"By Heavens, no! You are invited to dinner by Peter Feodorovitch. "

"Hm!"

"He invited you in a more pressing manner than I can tell you. 'Why, 'says he, 'does Ivan Nikiforovitch shun me like an enemy? He never comesround to have a chat, or make a call. '"

Ivan Nikiforovitch stroked his beard. 

"'If, ' says he, 'Ivan Nikiforovitch does not come now, I shall not knowwhat to think: surely, he must have some design against me. Pray, AntonProkofievitch, persuade Ivan Nikiforovitch!' Come, Ivan Nikiforovitch, let us go! a very choice company is already met there. "

Ivan Nikiforovitch began to look at a cock, which was perched on theroof, crowing with all its might. 

"If you only knew, Ivan Nikiforovitch, " pursued the zealous ambassador, "what fresh sturgeon and caviare Peter Feodorovitch has had sent tohim!" Whereupon Ivan Nikiforovitch turned his head and began to listenattentively. This encouraged the messenger. "Come quickly: ThomaGrigorovitch is there too. Why don't you come?" he added, seeing thatIvan Nikiforovitch still lay in the same position. "Shall we go, ornot?"

"I won't!"

This "I won't" startled Anton Prokofievitch. He had fancied that hisalluring representations had quite moved this very worthy man; butinstead, he heard that decisive "I won't. "

"Why won't you?" he asked, with a vexation which he very rarelyexhibited, even when they put burning paper on his head, a trick whichthe judge and the chief of police were particularly fond of indulgingin. 

Ivan Nikiforovitch took a pinch of snuff. 

"Just as you like, Ivan Nikiforovitch. I do not know what detains you. "

"Why don't I go?" said Ivan Nikiforovitch at length: "because thatbrigand will be there!" This was his ordinary way of alluding to IvanIvanovitch. "Just God! and is it long?"

"He will not be there, he will not be there! May the lightning kill meon the spot!" returned Anton Prokofievitch, who was ready to perjurehimself ten times in an hour. "Come along, Ivan Nikiforovitch!"

"You lie, Anton Prokofievitch! he is there!"

"By Heaven, by Heaven, he's not! May I never stir from this place ifhe's there! Now, just think for yourself, what object have I in lying?May my hands and feet wither!--What, don't you believe me now? May Iperish right here in your presence! Don't you believe me yet?"

Ivan Nikiforovitch was entirely reassured by these asseverations, andordered his valet, in the boundless coat, to fetch his trousers andnankeen spencer. 

To describe how Ivan Nikiforovitch put on his trousers, how they woundhis neckerchief about his neck, and finally dragged on his spencer, which burst under the left sleeve, would be quite superfluous. Sufficeit to say, that during the whole of the time he preserved a becomingcalmness of demeanour, and answered not a word to Anton Prokofievitch'sproposition to exchange something for his Turkish tobacco-pouch. 

Meanwhile, the assembly awaited with impatience the decisive moment whenIvan Nikiforovitch should make his appearance and at length comply withthe general desire that these worthy people should be reconciled toeach other. Many were almost convinced that Ivan Nikiforovitch wouldnot come. Even the chief of police offered to bet with one-eyed IvanIvanovitch that he would not come; and only desisted when one-eyed IvanIvanovitch demanded that he should wager his lame foot against his ownbad eye, at which the chief of police was greatly offended, and thecompany enjoyed a quiet laugh. No one had yet sat down to the table, although it was long past two o'clock, an hour before which in Mirgorod, even on ceremonial occasions, every one had already dined. 

No sooner did Anton Prokofievitch show himself in the doorway, thenhe was instantly surrounded. Anton Prokofievitch, in answer to allinquiries, shouted the all-decisive words, "He will not come!" No soonerhad he uttered them than a hailstorm of reproaches, scoldings, and, possibly, even fillips were about to descend upon his head for the illsuccess of his mission, when all at once the door opened, and--IvanNikiforovitch entered. 

If Satan himself or a corpse had appeared, it would not have caused suchconsternation amongst the company as Ivan Nikiforovitch's unexpectedarrival created. But Anton Prokofievitch only went off into a fit oflaughter, and held his sides with delight at having played such a jokeupon the company. 

At all events, it was almost past the belief of all that IvanNikiforovitch could, in so brief a space of time, have attired himselflike a respectable gentleman. Ivan Ivanovitch was not there at themoment: he had stepped out somewhere. Recovering from their amazement, the guests expressed an interest in Ivan Nikiforovitch's health, andtheir pleasure at his increase in breadth. Ivan Nikiforovitch kissedevery one, and said, "Very much obliged!"

Meantime, the fragrance of the beet-soup was wafted through theapartment, and tickled the nostrils of the hungry guests very agreeably. All rushed headlong to table. The line of ladies, loquacious and silent, thin and stout, swept on, and the long table soon glittered with allthe hues of the rainbow. I will not describe the courses: I will make nomention of the curd dumplings with sour cream, nor of the dish of pig'sfry that was served with the soup, nor of the turkey with plums andraisins, nor of the dish which greatly resembled in appearance a bootsoaked in kvas, nor of the sauce, which is the swan's song of theold-fashioned cook, nor of that other dish which was brought in allenveloped in the flames of spirit, and amused as well as frightened theladies extremely. I will say nothing of these dishes, because I like toeat them better than to spend many words in discussing them. 

Ivan Ivanovitch was exceedingly pleased with the fish dressed withhorse-radish. He devoted himself especially to this useful andnourishing preparation. Picking out all the fine bones from the fish, he laid them on his plate; and happening to glance across thetable--Heavenly Creator; but this was strange! Opposite him sat IvanNikiforovitch. 

At the very same instant Ivan Nikiforovitch glanced up also--No, I cando no more--Give me a fresh pen with a fine point for this picture! mineis flabby. Their faces seemed to turn to stone whilst still retainingtheir defiant expression. Each beheld a long familiar face, to which itshould have seemed the most natural of things to step up, involuntarily, as to an unexpected friend, and offer a snuff-box, with the words, "Dome the favour, " or "Dare I beg you to do me the favour?" Instead ofthis, that face was terrible as a forerunner of evil. The perspirationpoured in streams from Ivan Ivanovitch and Ivan Nikiforovitch. 

All the guests at the table grew dumb with attention, and never oncetook their eyes off the former friends. The ladies, who had been busyup to that time on a sufficiently interesting discussion as to thepreparation of capons, suddenly cut their conversation short. All wassilence. It was a picture worthy of the brush of a great artist. 

At length Ivan Ivanovitch pulled out his handkerchief and began to blowhis nose; whilst Ivan Nikiforovitch glanced about and his eye rested onthe open door. The chief of police at once perceived this movement, andordered the door to be fastened. Then both of the friends began to eat, and never once glanced at each other again. 

As soon as dinner was over, the two former friends both rose from theirseats, and began to look for their hats, with a view to departure. Thenthe chief beckoned; and Ivan Ivanovitch--not our Ivan Ivanovitch, butthe other with the one eye--got behind Ivan Nikiforovitch, and thechief stepped behind Ivan Ivanovitch, and the two began to drag thembackwards, in order to bring them together, and not release them tillthey had shaken hands with each other. Ivan Ivanovitch, the one-eyed, pushed Ivan Nikiforovitch, with tolerable success, towards the spotwhere stood Ivan Ivanovitch. But the chief of police directed hiscourse too much to one side, because he could not steer himself with hisrefractory leg, which obeyed no orders whatever on this occasion, and, as if with malice and aforethought, swung itself uncommonly far, and inquite the contrary direction, possibly from the fact that there had beenan unusual amount of fruit wine after dinner, so that Ivan Ivanovitchfell over a lady in a red gown, who had thrust herself into the verymidst, out of curiosity. 

Such an omen forboded no good. Nevertheless, the judge, in order to setthings to rights, took the chief of police's place, and, sweeping allthe snuff from his upper lip with his nose, pushed Ivan Ivanovitchin the opposite direction. In Mirgorod this is the usual manner ofeffecting a reconciliation: it somewhat resembles a game of ball. Assoon as the judge pushed Ivan Ivanovitch, Ivan Ivanovitch with the oneeye exerted all his strength, and pushed Ivan Nikiforovitch, from whomthe perspiration streamed like rain-water from a roof. In spite of thefact that the friends resisted to the best of their ability, theywere nevertheless brought together, for the two chief movers receivedreinforcements from the ranks of their guests. 

Then they were closely surrounded on all sides, not to be released untilthey had decided to give one another their hands. "God be with you, IvanNikiforovitch and Ivan Ivanovitch! declare upon your honour now, thatwhat you quarrelled about were mere trifles, were they not? Are you notashamed of yourselves before people and before God?"

"I do not know, " said Ivan Nikiforovitch, panting with fatigue, though it is to be observed that he was not at all disinclined to areconciliation, "I do not know what I did to Ivan Ivanovitch; but whydid he destroy my coop and plot against my life?"

"I am innocent of any evil designs!" said Ivan Ivanovitch, never lookingat Ivan Nikiforovitch. "I swear before God and before you, honourablenoblemen, I did nothing to my enemy! Why does he calumniate me andinsult my rank and family?"

"How have I insulted you, Ivan Ivanovitch?" said Ivan Nikiforovitch. One moment more of explanation, and the long enmity would have beenextinguished. Ivan Nikiforovitch was already feeling in his pocket forhis snuff-box, and was about to say, "Do me the favour. "

"Is it not an insult, " answered Ivan Ivanovitch, without raising hiseyes, "when you, my dear sir, insulted my honour and my family with aword which it is improper to repeat here?"

"Permit me to observe, in a friendly manner, Ivan Ivanovitch, " here IvanNikiforovitch touched Ivan Ivanovitch's button with his finger, whichclearly indicated the disposition of his mind, "that you took offence, the deuce only knows at what, because I called you a 'goose'--"

It occurred to Ivan Nikiforovitch that he had made a mistake in utteringthat word; but it was too late: the word was said. Everything went tothe winds. It, on the utterance of this word without witnesses, IvanIvanovitch lost control of himself and flew into such a passion as Godpreserve us from beholding any man in, what was to be expected now? Iput it to you, dear readers, what was to be expected now, when the fatalword was uttered in an assemblage of persons among whom were ladies, inwhose presence Ivan Ivanovitch liked to be particularly polite? If IvanNikiforovitch had set to work in any other manner, if he had only saidbird and not goose, it might still have been arranged, but all was at anend. 

He gave one look at Ivan Nikiforovitch, but such a look! If that lookhad possessed active power, then it would have turned Ivan Nikiforovitchinto dust. The guests understood the look and hastened to separate them. And this man, the very model of gentleness, who never let a single poorwoman go by without interrogating her, rushed out in a fearful rage. Such violent storms do passions produce!

For a whole month nothing was heard of Ivan Ivanovitch. He shut himselfup at home. His ancestral chest was opened, and from it were takensilver rubles, his grandfather's old silver rubles! And these rublespassed into the ink-stained hands of legal advisers. The case was sentup to the higher court; and when Ivan Ivanovitch received the joyfulnews that it would be decided on the morrow, then only did he look outupon the world and resolve to emerge from his house. Alas! from thattime forth the council gave notice day by day that the case would befinished on the morrow, for the space of ten years. 

Five years ago, I passed through the town of Mirgorod. I came at a badtime. It was autumn, with its damp, melancholy weather, mud and mists. An unnatural verdure, the result of incessant rains, covered with awatery network the fields and meadows, to which it is as well suitedas youthful pranks to an old man, or roses to an old woman. The weathermade a deep impression on me at the time: when it was dull, I was dull;but in spite of this, when I came to pass through Mirgorod, my heartbeat violently. God, what reminiscences! I had not seen Mirgorod fortwenty years. Here had lived, in touching friendship, two inseparablefriends. And how many prominent people had died! Judge DemyanDemyanovitch was already gone: Ivan Ivanovitch, with the one eye, hadlong ceased to live. 

I entered the main street. All about stood poles with bundles of strawon top: some alterations were in progress. Several dwellings had beenremoved. The remnants of board and wattled fences projected sadly hereand there. It was a festival day. I ordered my basket chaise to stop infront of the church, and entered softly that no one might turn round. Totell the truth, there was no need of this: the church was almost empty;there were very few people; it was evident that even the most piousfeared the mud. The candles seemed strangely unpleasant in that gloomy, or rather sickly, light. The dim vestibule was melancholy; the longwindows, with their circular panes, were bedewed with tears of rain. Iretired into the vestibule, and addressing a respectable old man, with greyish hair, said, "May I inquire if Ivan Nikiforovitch is stillliving?"

At that moment the lamp before the holy picture burned up more brightlyand the light fell directly upon the face of my companion. What was mysurprise, on looking more closely, to behold features with which I wasacquainted! It was Ivan Nikiforovitch himself! But how he had changed!

"Are you well, Ivan Nikiforovitch? How old you have grown!"

"Yes, I have grown old. I have just come from Poltava to-day, " answeredIvan Nikiforovitch. 

"You don't say so! you have been to Poltava in such bad weather?"

"What was to be done? that lawsuit--"

At this I sighed involuntarily. 

Ivan Nikiforovitch observed my sigh, and said, "Do not be troubled: Ihave reliable information that the case will be decided next week, andin my favour. "

I shrugged my shoulders, and went to seek news of Ivan Ivanovitch. 

"Ivan Ivanovitch is here, " some one said to me, "in the choir. "

I saw a gaunt form. Was that Ivan Ivanovitch? His face was covered withwrinkles, his hair was perfectly white; but the pelisse was the same asever. After the first greetings were over, Ivan Ivanovitch, turning tome with a joyful smile which always became his funnel-shaped face, said, "Have you been told the good news?"

"What news?" I inquired. 

"My case is to be decided to-morrow without fail: the court hasannounced it decisively. "

I sighed more deeply than before, made haste to take my leave, for I wasbound on very important business, and seated myself in my kibitka. 

The lean nags known in Mirgorod as post-horses started, producing withtheir hoofs, which were buried in a grey mass of mud, a sound verydispleasing to the ear. The rain poured in torrents upon the Jew seatedon the box, covered with a rug. The dampness penetrated through andthrough me. The gloomy barrier with a sentry-box, in which an oldsoldier was repairing his weapons, was passed slowly. Again the samefields, in some places black where they had been dug up, in others ofa greenish hue; wet daws and crows; monotonous rain; a tearful sky, without one gleam of light!. .. It is gloomy in this world, gentlemen!

THE MYSTERIOUS PORTRAIT

PART I

Nowhere did so many people pause as before the little picture-shopin the Shtchukinui Dvor. This little shop contained, indeed, themost varied collection of curiosities. The pictures were chieflyoil-paintings covered with dark varnish, in frames of dingy yellow. Winter scenes with white trees; very red sunsets, like ragingconflagrations, a Flemish boor, more like a turkey-cock in cuffs than ahuman being, were the prevailing subjects. To these must be added a fewengravings, such as a portrait of Khozreff-Mirza in a sheepskin cap, andsome generals with three-cornered hats and hooked noses. Moreover, the doors of such shops are usually festooned with bundles of thosepublications, printed on large sheets of bark, and then coloured byhand, which bear witness to the native talent of the Russian. 

On one was the Tzarevna Miliktrisa Kirbitievna; on another the city ofJerusalem. There are usually but few purchasers of these productions, but gazers are many. Some truant lackey probably yawns in front of them, holding in his hand the dishes containing dinner from the cook-shop forhis master, who will not get his soup very hot. Before them, too, willmost likely be standing a soldier wrapped in his cloak, a dealerfrom the old-clothes mart, with a couple of penknives for sale, and ahuckstress, with a basketful of shoes. Each expresses admiration inhis own way. The muzhiks generally touch them with their fingers; thedealers gaze seriously at them; serving boys and apprentices laugh, andtease each other with the coloured caricatures; old lackeys in friezecloaks look at them merely for the sake of yawning away their timesomewhere; and the hucksters, young Russian women, halt by instinct tohear what people are gossiping about, and to see what they are lookingat. 

At the time our story opens, the young painter, Tchartkoff, pausedinvoluntarily as he passed the shop. His old cloak and plain attireshowed him to be a man who was devoted to his art with self-denyingzeal, and who had no time to trouble himself about his clothes. Hehalted in front of the little shop, and at first enjoyed an inward laughover the monstrosities in the shape of pictures. 

At length he sank unconsciously into a reverie, and began to ponderas to what sort of people wanted these productions? It did not seemremarkable to him that the Russian populace should gaze with raptureupon "Eruslanoff Lazarevitch, " on "The Glutton" and "The Carouser, "on "Thoma and Erema. " The delineations of these subjects were easilyintelligible to the masses. But where were there purchases for thosestreaky, dirty oil-paintings? Who needed those Flemish boors, those redand blue landscapes, which put forth some claims to a higher stage ofart, but which really expressed the depths of its degradation? They didnot appear the works of a self-taught child. In that case, in spite ofthe caricature of drawing, a sharp distinction would have manifesteditself. But here were visible only simple dullness, steady-goingincapacity, which stood, through self-will, in the ranks of art, whileits true place was among the lowest trades. The same colours, the samemanner, the same practised hand, belonging rather to a manufacturingautomaton than to a man!

He stood before the dirty pictures for some time, his thoughts at lengthwandering to other matters. Meanwhile the proprietor of the shop, alittle grey man, in a frieze cloak, with a beard which had not beenshaved since Sunday, had been urging him to buy for some time, namingprices, without even knowing what pleased him or what he wanted. "Here, I'll take a silver piece for these peasants and this little landscape. What painting! it fairly dazzles one; only just received from thefactory; the varnish isn't dry yet. Or here is a winter scene--take thewinter scene; fifteen rubles; the frame alone is worth it. What a winterscene!" Here the merchant gave a slight fillip to the canvas, as if todemonstrate all the merits of the winter scene. "Pray have them putup and sent to your house. Where do you live? Here, boy, give me somestring!"

"Hold, not so fast!" said the painter, coming to himself, and perceivingthat the brisk dealer was beginning in earnest to pack some picturesup. He was rather ashamed not to take anything after standing so longin front of the shop; so saying, "Here, stop! I will see if there isanything I want here!" he stooped and began to pick up from the floor, where they were thrown in a heap, some worn, dusty old paintings. Therewere old family portraits, whose descendants, probably could not befound on earth; with torn canvas and frames minus their gilding; inshort, trash. But the painter began his search, thinking to himself, "Perhaps I may come across something. " He had heard stories aboutpictures of the great masters having been found among the rubbish incheap print-sellers' shops. 

The dealer, perceiving what he was about, ceased his importunities, and took up his post again at the door, hailing the passers-by with, "Hither, friends, here are pictures; step in, step in; just receivedfrom the makers!" He shouted his fill, and generally in vain, had a longtalk with a rag-merchant, standing opposite, at the door of his shop;and finally, recollecting that he had a customer in his shop, turnedhis back on the public and went inside. "Well, friend, have you chosenanything?" said he. But the painter had already been standing motionlessfor some time before a portrait in a large and originally magnificentframe, upon which, however, hardly a trace of gilding now remained. 

It represented an old man, with a thin, bronzed face and highcheek-bones; the features seemingly depicted in a moment of convulsiveagitation. He wore a flowing Asiatic costume. Dusty and defaced as theportrait was, Tchartkoff saw, when he had succeeded in removing thedirt from the face, traces of the work of a great artist. The portraitappeared to be unfinished, but the power of the handling was striking. The eyes were the most remarkable picture of all: it seemed as thoughthe full power of the artist's brush had been lavished upon them. Theyfairly gazed out of the portrait, destroying its harmony with theirstrange liveliness. When he carried the portrait to the door, theeyes gleamed even more penetratingly. They produced nearly the sameimpression on the public. A woman standing behind him exclaimed, "Heis looking, he is looking!" and jumped back. Tchartkoff experiencedan unpleasant feeling, inexplicable even to himself, and placed theportrait on the floor. 

"Well, will you take the portrait?" said the dealer. 

"How much is it?" said the painter. 

"Why chaffer over it? give me seventy-five kopeks. "

"No. "

"Well, how much will you give?"

"Twenty kopeks, " said the painter, preparing to go. 

"What a price! Why, you couldn't buy the frame for that! Perhaps youwill decide to purchase to-morrow. Sir, sir, turn back! Add ten kopeks. Take it, take it! give me twenty kopeks. To tell the truth, you are myonly customer to-day, and that's the only reason. "

Thus Tchartkoff quite unexpectedly became the purchaser of the oldportrait, and at the same time reflected, "Why have I bought it? Whatis it to me?" But there was nothing to be done. He pulled a twenty-kopekpiece from his pocket, gave it to the merchant, took the portrait underhis arm, and carried it home. On the way thither, he remembered thatthe twenty-kopek piece he had given for it was his last. His thoughts atonce became gloomy. Vexation and careless indifference took possessionof him at one and the same moment. The red light of sunset stilllingered in one half the sky; the houses facing that way still gleamedwith its warm light; and meanwhile the cold blue light of the moon grewbrighter. Light, half-transparent shadows fell in bands upon the ground. The painter began by degrees to glance up at the sky, flushed with atransparent light; and at the same moment from his mouth fell the words, "What a delicate tone! What a nuisance! Deuce take it!" Re-adjusting theportrait, which kept slipping from under his arm, he quickened his pace. 

Weary and bathed in perspiration, he dragged himself to VasilievskyOstroff. With difficulty and much panting he made his way up the stairsflooded with soap-suds, and adorned with the tracks of dogs and cats. To his knock there was no answer: there was no one at home. He leanedagainst the window, and disposed himself to wait patiently, until atlast there resounded behind him the footsteps of a boy in a blue blouse, his servant, model, and colour-grinder. This boy was called Nikita, and spent all his time in the streets when his master was not at home. Nikita tried for a long time to get the key into the lock, which wasquite invisible, by reason of the darkness. 

Finally the door was opened. Tchartkoff entered his ante-room, which wasintolerably cold, as painters' rooms always are, which fact, however, they do not notice. Without giving Nikita his coat, he went on intohis studio, a large room, but low, fitted up with all sorts of artisticrubbish--plaster hands, canvases, sketches begun and discarded, anddraperies thrown over chairs. Feeling very tired, he took off his cloak, placed the portrait abstractedly between two small canvasses, and threwhimself on the narrow divan. Having stretched himself out, he finallycalled for a light. 

"There are no candles, " said Nikita. 

"What, none?"

"And there were none last night, " said Nikita. The artist recollectedthat, in fact, there had been no candles the previous evening, andbecame silent. He let Nikita take his coat off, and put on his old worndressing-gown. 

"There has been a gentleman here, " said Nikita. 

"Yes, he came for money, I know, " said the painter, waving his hand. 

"He was not alone, " said Nikita. 

"Who else was with him?"

"I don't know, some police officer or other. "

"But why a police officer?"

"I don't know why, but he says because your rent is not paid. "

"Well, what will come of it?"

"I don't know what will come of it: he said, 'If he won't pay, why, lethim leave the rooms. ' They are both coming again to-morrow. "

"Let them come, " said Tchartkoff, with indifference; and a gloomy moodtook full possession of him. 

Young Tchartkoff was an artist of talent, which promised great things:his work gave evidence of observation, thought, and a strong inclinationto approach nearer to nature. 

"Look here, my friend, " his professor said to him more than once, "youhave talent; it will be a shame if you waste it: but you are impatient;you have but to be attracted by anything, to fall in love with it, youbecome engrossed with it, and all else goes for nothing, and you won'teven look at it. See to it that you do not become a fashionable artist. At present your colouring begins to assert itself too loudly; and yourdrawing is at times quite weak; you are already striving after thefashionable style, because it strikes the eye at once. Have a care!society already begins to have its attraction for you: I have seen youwith a shiny hat, a foppish neckerchief. .. . It is seductive to paintfashionable little pictures and portraits for money; but talent isruined, not developed, by that means. Be patient; think out every pieceof work, discard your foppishness; let others amass money, your own willnot fail you. "

The professor was partly right. Our artist sometimes wanted to enjoyhimself, to play the fop, in short, to give vent to his youthfulimpulses in some way or other; but he could control himself withal. Attimes he would forget everything, when he had once taken his brush inhis hand, and could not tear himself from it except as from a delightfuldream. His taste perceptibly developed. He did not as yet understand allthe depths of Raphael, but he was attracted by Guido's broad and rapidhandling, he paused before Titian's portraits, he delighted in theFlemish masters. The dark veil enshrouding the ancient pictures had notyet wholly passed away from before them; but he already saw somethingin them, though in private he did not agree with the professor that thesecrets of the old masters are irremediably lost to us. It seemed to himthat the nineteenth century had improved upon them considerably, thatthe delineation of nature was more clear, more vivid, more close. Itsometimes vexed him when he saw how a strange artist, French or German, sometimes not even a painter by profession, but only a skilful dauber, produced, by the celerity of his brush and the vividness of hiscolouring, a universal commotion, and amassed in a twinkling a fundedcapital. This did not occur to him when fully occupied with his ownwork, for then he forgot food and drink and all the world. But when direwant arrived, when he had no money wherewith to buy brushes and colours, when his implacable landlord came ten times a day to demand the rent forhis rooms, then did the luck of the wealthy artists recur to his hungryimagination; then did the thought which so often traverses Russianminds, to give up altogether, and go down hill, utterly to the bad, traverse his. And now he was almost in this frame of mind. 

"Yes, it is all very well, to be patient, be patient!" he exclaimed, with vexation; "but there is an end to patience at last. Be patient! butwhat money have I to buy a dinner with to-morrow? No one will lend meany. If I did bring myself to sell all my pictures and sketches, theywould not give me twenty kopeks for the whole of them. They are useful;I feel that not one of them has been undertaken in vain; I have learnedsomething from each one. Yes, but of what use is it? Studies, sketches, all will be studies, trial-sketches to the end. And who will buy, noteven knowing me by name? Who wants drawings from the antique, or thelife class, or my unfinished love of a Psyche, or the interior of myroom, or the portrait of Nikita, though it is better, to tell the truth, than the portraits by any of the fashionable artists? Why do I worry, and toil like a learner over the alphabet, when I might shine asbrightly as the rest, and have money, too, like them?"

Thus speaking, the artist suddenly shuddered, and turned pale. Aconvulsively distorted face gazed at him, peeping forth from thesurrounding canvas; two terrible eyes were fixed straight upon him; onthe mouth was written a menacing command of silence. Alarmed, he triedto scream and summon Nikita, who already was snoring in the ante-room;but he suddenly paused and laughed. The sensation of fear died away ina moment; it was the portrait he had bought, and which he had quiteforgotten. The light of the moon illuminating the chamber had fallenupon it, and lent it a strange likeness to life. 

He began to examine it. He moistened a sponge with water, passed it overthe picture several times, washed off nearly all the accumulated andincrusted dust and dirt, hung it on the wall before him, wondering yetmore at the remarkable workmanship. The whole face had gained new life, and the eyes gazed at him so that he shuddered; and, springing back, he exclaimed in a voice of surprise: "It looks with human eyes!" Thensuddenly there occurred to him a story he had heard long before from hisprofessor, of a certain portrait by the renowned Leonardo da Vinci, uponwhich the great master laboured several years, and still regarded asincomplete, but which, according to Vasari, was nevertheless deemed byall the most complete and finished product of his art. The most finishedthing about it was the eyes, which amazed his contemporaries; the verysmallest, barely visible veins in them being reproduced on the canvas. 

But in the portrait now before him there was something singular. It wasno longer art; it even destroyed the harmony of the portrait; they wereliving, human eyes! It seemed as though they had been cut from a livingman and inserted. Here was none of that high enjoyment which takespossession of the soul at the sight of an artist's production, no matterhow terrible the subject he may have chosen. 

Again he approached the portrait, in order to observe those wondrouseyes, and perceived, with terror, that they were gazing at him. Thiswas no copy from Nature; it was life, the strange life which might havelighted up the face of a dead man, risen from the grave. Whether it wasthe effect of the moonlight, which brought with it fantastic thoughts, and transformed things into strange likenesses, opposed to those ofmatter-of-fact day, or from some other cause, but it suddenly becameterrible to him, he knew not why, to sit alone in the room. He draw backfrom the portrait, turned aside, and tried not to look at it; but hiseye involuntarily, of its own accord, kept glancing sideways towards it. Finally, he became afraid to walk about the room. It seemed as thoughsome one were on the point of stepping up behind him; and every timehe turned, he glanced timidly back. He had never been a coward; but hisimagination and nerves were sensitive, and that evening he could notexplain his involuntary fear. He seated himself in one corner, but eventhen it seemed to him that some one was peeping over his shoulder intohis face. Even Nikita's snores, resounding from the ante-room, did notchase away his fear. At length he rose from the seat, without raisinghis eyes, went behind a screen, and lay down on his bed. Throughthe cracks of the screen he saw his room lit up by the moon, and theportrait hanging stiffly on the wall. The eyes were fixed upon him in ayet more terrible and significant manner, and it seemed as if theywould not look at anything but himself. Overpowered with a feelingof oppression, he decided to rise from his bed, seized a sheet, and, approaching the portrait, covered it up completely. 

Having done this, he lay done more at ease on his bed, and began tomeditate upon the poverty and pitiful lot of the artist, and the thornypath lying before him in the world. But meanwhile his eye glancedinvoluntarily through the joint of the screen at the portrait muffled inthe sheet. The light of the moon heightened the whiteness of the sheet, and it seemed to him as though those terrible eyes shone through thecloth. With terror he fixed his eyes more steadfastly on the spot, as ifwishing to convince himself that it was all nonsense. But at length hesaw--saw clearly; there was no longer a sheet--the portrait was quiteuncovered, and was gazing beyond everything around it, straight athim; gazing as it seemed fairly into his heart. His heart grew cold. Hewatched anxiously; the old man moved, and suddenly, supporting himselfon the frame with both arms, raised himself by his hands, and, puttingforth both feet, leapt out of the frame. Through the crack of thescreen, the empty frame alone was now visible. Footsteps resoundedthrough the room, and approached nearer and nearer to the screen. Thepoor artist's heart began beating fast. He expected every moment, hisbreath failing for fear, that the old man would look round the screenat him. And lo! he did look from behind the screen, with the very samebronzed face, and with his big eyes roving about. 

Tchartkoff tried to scream, and felt that his voice was gone; he triedto move; his limbs refused their office. With open mouth, and failingbreath, he gazed at the tall phantom, draped in some kind of a flowingAsiatic robe, and waited for what it would do. The old man sat downalmost on his very feet, and then pulled out something from among thefolds of his wide garment. It was a purse. The old man untied it, tookit by the end, and shook it. Heavy rolls of coin fell out with a dullthud upon the floor. Each was wrapped in blue paper, and on each wasmarked, "1000 ducats. " The old man protruded his long, bony hand fromhis wide sleeves, and began to undo the rolls. The gold glittered. Greatas was the artist's unreasoning fear, he concentrated all his attentionupon the gold, gazing motionless, as it made its appearance in the bonyhands, gleamed, rang lightly or dully, and was wrapped up again. Then heperceived one packet which had rolled farther than the rest, to the veryleg of his bedstead, near his pillow. He grasped it almost convulsively, and glanced in fear at the old man to see whether he noticed it. 

But the old man appeared very much occupied: he collected all his rolls, replaced them in the purse, and went outside the screen without lookingat him. Tchartkoff's heart beat wildly as he heard the rustle of theretreating footsteps sounding through the room. He clasped the rollof coin more closely in his hand, quivering in every limb. Suddenly heheard the footsteps approaching the screen again. Apparently the old manhad recollected that one roll was missing. Lo! again he looked roundthe screen at him. The artist in despair grasped the roll with all hisstrength, tried with all his power to make a movement, shrieked--andawoke. 

He was bathed in a cold perspiration; his heart beat as hard as it waspossible for it to beat; his chest was oppressed, as though his lastbreath was about to issue from it. "Was it a dream?" he said, seizinghis head with both hands. But the terrible reality of the apparitiondid not resemble a dream. As he woke, he saw the old man step into theframe: the skirts of the flowing garment even fluttered, and his handfelt plainly that a moment before it had held something heavy. Themoonlight lit up the room, bringing out from the dark corners herea canvas, there the model of a hand: a drapery thrown over a chair;trousers and dirty boots. Then he perceived that he was not lying inhis bed, but standing upright in front of the portrait. How he had comethere, he could not in the least comprehend. Still more surprised washe to find the portrait uncovered, and with actually no sheet over it. Motionless with terror, he gazed at it, and perceived that the living, human eyes were fastened upon him. A cold perspiration broke out uponhis forehead. He wanted to move away, but felt that his feet had in someway become rooted to the earth. And he felt that this was not a dream. The old man's features moved, and his lips began to project towards him, as though he wanted to suck him in. With a yell of despair he jumpedback--and awoke. 

"Was it a dream?" With his heart throbbing to bursting, he felt abouthim with both hands. Yes, he was lying in bed, and in precisely theposition in which he had fallen asleep. Before him stood the screen. The moonlight flooded the room. Through the crack of the screen, theportrait was visible, covered with the sheet, as it should be, just ashe had covered it. And so that, too, was a dream? But his clenched fiststill felt as though something had been held in it. The throbbing ofhis heart was violent, almost terrible; the weight upon his breastintolerable. He fixed his eyes upon the crack, and stared steadfastlyat the sheet. And lo! he saw plainly the sheet begin to open, as thoughhands were pushing from underneath, and trying to throw it off. "LordGod, what is it!" he shrieked, crossing himself in despair--and awoke. 

And was this, too, a dream? He sprang from his bed, half-mad, and couldnot comprehend what had happened to him. Was it the oppression of anightmare, the raving of fever, or an actual apparition? Striving tocalm, as far as possible, his mental tumult, and stay the wildly rushingblood, which beat with straining pulses in every vein, he went to thewindow and opened it. The cool breeze revived him. The moonlight lay onthe roofs and the white walls of the houses, though small clouds passedfrequently across the sky. All was still: from time to time there struckthe ear the distant rumble of a carriage. He put his head out of thewindow, and gazed for some time. Already the signs of approaching dawnwere spreading over the sky. At last he felt drowsy, shut to the window, stepped back, lay down in bed, and quickly fell, like one exhausted, into a deep sleep. 

He awoke late, and with the disagreeable feeling of a man who has beenhalf-suffocated with coal-gas: his head ached painfully. The room wasdim: an unpleasant moisture pervaded the air, and penetrated the cracksof his windows. Dissatisfied and depressed as a wet cock, he seatedhimself on his dilapidated divan, not knowing what to do, what to setabout, and at length remembered the whole of his dream. As he recalledit, the dream presented itself to his mind as so oppressively real thathe even began to wonder whether it were a dream, whether there were notsomething more here, whether it were not really an apparition. Removingthe sheet, he looked at the terrible portrait by the light of day. Theeyes were really striking in their liveliness, but he found nothingparticularly terrible about them, though an indescribably unpleasantfeeling lingered in his mind. Nevertheless, he could not quite convincehimself that it was a dream. It struck him that there must have beensome terrible fragment of reality in the vision. It seemed as thoughthere were something in the old man's very glance and expression whichsaid that he had been with him that night: his hand still felt theweight which had so recently lain in it as if some one had but justsnatched it from him. It seemed to him that, if he had only grasped theroll more firmly, it would have remained in his hand, even after hisawakening. 

"My God, if I only had a portion of that money!" he said, breathingheavily; and in his fancy, all the rolls of coin, with their fascinatinginscription, "1000 ducats, " began to pour out of the purse. The rollsopened, the gold glittered, and was wrapped up again; and he satmotionless, with his eyes fixed on the empty air, as if he wereincapable of tearing himself from such a sight, like a child who sitsbefore a plate of sweets, and beholds, with watering mouth, other peopledevouring them. 

At last there came a knock on the door, which recalled him unpleasantlyto himself. The landlord entered with the constable of the district, whose presence is even more disagreeable to poor people than is thepresence of a beggar to the rich. The landlord of the little house inwhich Tchartkoff lived resembled the other individuals who own housesanywhere in the Vasilievsky Ostroff, on the St. Petersburg side, orin the distant regions of Kolomna--individuals whose character is asdifficult to define as the colour of a threadbare surtout. In his youthhe had been a captain and a braggart, a master in the art of flogging, skilful, foppish, and stupid; but in his old age he combined all thesevarious qualities into a kind of dim indefiniteness. He was a widower, already on the retired list, no longer boasted, nor was dandified, norquarrelled, but only cared to drink tea and talk all sorts of nonsenseover it. He walked about his room, and arranged the ends of the tallowcandles; called punctually at the end of each month upon his lodgers formoney; went out into the street, with the key in his hand, to look atthe roof of his house, and sometimes chased the porter out of his den, where he had hidden himself to sleep. In short, he was a man on theretired list, who, after the turmoils and wildness of his life, had onlyhis old-fashioned habits left. 

"Please to see for yourself, Varukh Kusmitch, " said the landlord, turning to the officer, and throwing out his hands, "this man does notpay his rent, he does not pay. "

"How can I when I have no money? Wait, and I will pay. "

"I can't wait, my good fellow, " said the landlord angrily, making agesture with the key which he held in his hand. "Lieutenant-ColonelPotogonkin has lived with me seven years, seven years already; AnnaPetrovna Buchmisteroff rents the coach-house and stable, with theexception of two stalls, and has three household servants: that isthe kind of lodgers I have. I say to you frankly, that this is not anestablishment where people do not pay their rent. Pay your money atonce, please, or else clear out. "

"Yes, if you rented the rooms, please to pay, " said the constable, witha slight shake of the head, as he laid his finger on one of the buttonsof his uniform. 

"Well, what am I to pay with? that's the question. I haven't a groschenjust at present. "

"In that case, satisfy the claims of Ivan Ivanovitch with the fruitsof your profession, " said the officer: "perhaps he will consent to takepictures. "

"No, thank you, my good fellow, no pictures. Pictures of holy subjects, such as one could hang upon the walls, would be well enough; or somegeneral with a star, or Prince Kutusoff's portrait. But this fellow haspainted that muzhik, that muzhik in his blouse, his servant who grindshis colours! The idea of painting his portrait, the hog! I'll thrashhim well: he took all the nails out of my bolts, the scoundrel! Justsee what subjects! Here he has drawn his room. It would have been wellenough had he taken a clean, well-furnished room; but he has gone anddrawn this one, with all the dirt and rubbish he has collected. Just seehow he has defaced my room! Look for yourself. Yes, and my lodgershave been with me seven years, the lieutenant-colonel, Anna PetrovnaBuchmisteroff. No, I tell you, there is no worse lodger than a painter:he lives like a pig--God have mercy!"

The poor artist had to listen patiently to all this. Meanwhile theofficer had occupied himself with examining the pictures and studies, and showed that his mind was more advanced than the landlord's, and thathe was not insensible to artistic impressions. 

"Heh!" said he, tapping one canvas, on which was depicted a naked woman, "this subject is--lively. But why so much black under her nose? did shetake snuff?"

"Shadow, " answered Tchartkoff gruffly, without looking at him. 

"But it might have been put in some other place: it is too conspicuousunder the nose, " observed the officer. "And whose likeness is this?" hecontinued, approaching the old man's portrait. "It is too terrible. Was he really so dreadful? Ah! why, he actually looks at one! What athunder-cloud! From whom did you paint it?"

"Ah! it is from a--" said Tchartkoff, but did not finish his sentence:he heard a crack. It seems that the officer had pressed too hard on theframe of the portrait, thanks to the weight of his constable's hands. The small boards at the side caved in, one fell on the floor, and withit fell, with a heavy crash, a roll of blue paper. The inscriptioncaught Tchartkoff's eye--"1000 ducats. " Like a madman, he sprang to pickit up, grasped the roll, and gripped it convulsively in his hand, whichsank with the weight. 

"Wasn't there a sound of money?" inquired the officer, hearing the noiseof something falling on the floor, and not catching sight of it, owingto the rapidity with which Tchartkoff had hastened to pick it up. 

"What business is it of yours what is in my room?"

"It's my business because you ought to pay your rent to the landlordat once; because you have money, and won't pay, that's why it's mybusiness. "

"Well, I will pay him to-day. "

"Well, and why wouldn't you pay before, instead of giving trouble toyour landlord, and bothering the police to boot?"

"Because I did not want to touch this money. I will pay him in fullthis evening, and leave the rooms to-morrow. I will not stay with such alandlord. "

"Well, Ivan Ivanovitch, he will pay you, " said the constable, turning tothe landlord. "But in case you are not satisfied in every respect thisevening, then you must excuse me, Mr. Painter. " So saying, he put onhis three-cornered hat, and went into the ante-room, followed by thelandlord hanging his head, and apparently engaged in meditation. 

"Thank God, Satan has carried them off!" said Tchartkoff, as he heardthe outer door of the ante-room close. He looked out into the ante-room, sent Nikita off on some errand, in order to be quite alone, fastened thedoor behind him, and, returning to his room, began with wildly beatingheart to undo the roll. 

In it were ducats, all new, and bright as fire. Almost beside himself, he sat down beside the pile of gold, still asking himself, "Is not thisall a dream?" There were just a thousand in the roll, the exterior ofwhich was precisely like what he had seen in his dream. He turned themover, and looked at them for some minutes. His imagination recalledup all the tales he had heard of hidden hoards, cabinets with secretdrawers, left by ancestors for their spendthrift descendants, with firmbelief in the extravagance of their life. He pondered this: "Didnot some grandfather, in the present instance, leave a gift for hisgrandchild, shut up in the frame of a family portrait?" Filled withromantic fancies, he began to think whether this had not some secretconnection with his fate? whether the existence of the portrait was notbound up with his own, and whether his acquisition of it was not due toa kind of predestination?

He began to examine the frame with curiosity. On one side a cavity washollowed out, but concealed so skilfully and neatly by a little board, that, if the massive hand of the constable had not effected a breach, the ducats might have remained hidden to the end of time. On examiningthe portrait, he marvelled again at the exquisite workmanship, theextraordinary treatment of the eyes. They no longer appeared terribleto him; but, nevertheless, each time he looked at them a disagreeablefeeling involuntarily lingered in his mind. 

"No, " he said to himself, "no matter whose grandfather you were, I'llput a glass over you, and get you a gilt frame. " Then he laid his handon the golden pile before him, and his heart beat faster at the touch. "What shall I do with them?" he said, fixing his eyes on them. "Now Iam independent for at least three years: I can shut myself up in my roomand work. I have money for colours now; for food and lodging--no onewill annoy and disturb me now. I will buy myself a first-class layfigure, I will order a plaster torso, and some model feet, I will havea Venus. I will buy engravings of the best pictures. And if I work threeyears to satisfy myself, without haste or with the idea of selling, Ishall surpass all, and may become a distinguished artist. "

Thus he spoke in solitude, with his good judgment prompting him; butlouder and more distinct sounded another voice within him. As he glancedonce more at the gold, it was not thus that his twenty-two years andfiery youth reasoned. Now everything was within his power on which hehad hitherto gazed with envious eyes, had viewed from afar with longing. How his heart beat when he thought of it! To wear a fashionable coat, tofeast after long abstinence, to hire handsome apartments, to go at onceto the theatre, to the confectioner's, to. .. Other places; and seizinghis money, he was in the street in a moment. 

First of all he went to the tailor, was clothed anew from head to foot, and began to look at himself like a child. He purchased perfumes andpomades; hired the first elegant suite of apartments with mirrors andplateglass windows which he came across in the Nevsky Prospect, withouthaggling about the price; bought, on the impulse of the moment, a costlyeye-glass; bought, also on the impulse, a number of neckties of everydescription, many more than he needed; had his hair curled at thehairdresser's; rode through the city twice without any object whatever;ate an immense quantity of sweetmeats at the confectioner's; and wentto the French Restaurant, of which he had heard rumours as indistinct asthough they had concerned the Empire of China. There he dined, castingproud glances at the other visitors, and continually arranging his curlsin the glass. There he drank a bottle of champagne, which had been knownto him hitherto only by hearsay. The wine rather affected his head; andhe emerged into the street, lively, pugnacious, and ready to raisethe Devil, according to the Russian expression. He strutted along thepavement, levelling his eye-glass at everybody. On the bridge he caughtsight of his former professor, and slipped past him neatly, as if he didnot see him, so that the astounded professor stood stock-still onthe bridge for a long time, with a face suggestive of a note ofinterrogation. 

All his goods and chattels, everything he owned, easels, canvas, pictures, were transported that same evening to his elegant quarters. Hearranged the best of them in conspicuous places, threw the worst intoa corner, and promenaded up and down the handsome rooms, glancingconstantly in the mirrors. An unconquerable desire to take the bullby the horns, and show himself to the world at once, had arisen in hismind. He already heard the shouts, "Tchartkoff! Tchartkoff! Tchartkoffpaints! What talent Tchartkoff has!" He paced the room in a state ofrapture. 

The next day he took ten ducats, and went to the editor of a popularjournal asking his charitable assistance. He was joyfully receivedby the journalist, who called him on the spot, "Most respected sir, "squeezed both his hands, and made minute inquiries as to his name, birthplace, residence. The next day there appeared in the journal, belowa notice of some newly invented tallow candles, an article with thefollowing heading:--

"TCHARTKOFF'S IMMENSE TALENT

"We hasten to delight the cultivated inhabitants of the capital with adiscovery which we may call splendid in every respect. All are agreedthat there are among us many very handsome faces, but hitherto therehas been no means of committing them to canvas for transmission toposterity. This want has now been supplied: an artist has been foundwho unites in himself all desirable qualities. The beauty can now feelassured that she will be depicted with all the grace of her charms, airy, fascinating, butterfly-like, flitting among the flowers of spring. The stately father of a family can see himself surrounded by his family. Merchant, warrior, citizen, statesman--hasten one and all, wherever youmay be. The artist's magnificent establishment (Nevsky Prospect, suchand such a number) is hung with portraits from his brush, worthy of VanDyck or Titian. We do not know which to admire most, their truth andlikeness to the originals, or the wonderful brilliancy and freshness ofthe colouring. Hail to you, artist! you have drawn a lucky number in thelottery. Long live Andrei Petrovitch!" (The journalist evidently likedfamiliarity. ) "Glorify yourself and us. We know how to prize you. Universal popularity, and with it wealth, will be your meed, though someof our brother journalists may rise against you. "

The artist read this article with secret satisfaction; his face beamed. He was mentioned in print; it was a novelty to him: he read the linesover several times. The comparison with Van Dyck and Titian flatteredhim extremely. The praise, "Long live Andrei Petrovitch, " also pleasedhim greatly: to be spoken of by his Christian name and patronymic inprint was an honour hitherto totally unknown to him. He began to pacethe chamber briskly, now he sat down in an armchair, now he sprangup, and seated himself on the sofa, planning each moment how he wouldreceive visitors, male and female; he went to his canvas and made arapid sweep of the brush, endeavouring to impart a graceful movement tohis hand. 

The next day, the bell at his door rang. He hastened to open it. A ladyentered, accompanied by a girl of eighteen, her daughter, and followedby a lackey in a furred livery-coat. 

"You are the painter Tchartkoff?"

The artist bowed. 

"A great deal is written about you: your portraits, it is said, are theheight of perfection. " So saying, the lady raised her glass to her eyesand glanced rapidly over the walls, upon which nothing was hanging. "Butwhere are your portraits?"

"They have been taken away" replied the artist, somewhat confusedly:"I have but just moved into these apartments; so they are still on theroad, they have not arrived. "

"You have been in Italy?" asked the lady, levelling her glass at him, asshe found nothing else to point it at. 

"No, I have not been there; but I wish to go, and I have deferred it fora while. Here is an arm-chair, madame: you are fatigued?"

"Thank you: I have been sitting a long time in the carriage. Ah, at lastI behold your work!" said the lady, running to the opposite wall, and bringing her glass to bear upon his studies, sketches, views andportraits which were standing there on the floor. "It is charming. Lise!Lise, come here. Rooms in the style of Teniers. Do you see? Disorder, disorder, a table with a bust upon it, a hand, a palette; dust, see howthe dust is painted! It is charming. And here on this canvas is a womanwashing her face. What a pretty face! Ah! a little muzhik! So you do notdevote yourself exclusively to portraits?"

"Oh! that is mere rubbish. I was trying experiments, studies. "

"Tell me your opinion of the portrait painters of the present day. Is itnot true that there are none now like Titian? There is not that strengthof colour, that--that--What a pity that I cannot express myself inRussian. " The lady was fond of paintings, and had gone through all thegalleries in Italy with her eye-glass. "But Monsieur Nohl--ah, howwell he paints! what remarkable work! I think his faces have been moreexpression than Titian's. You do not know Monsieur Nohl?"

"Who is Nohl?" inquired the artist. 

"Monsieur Nohl. Ah, what talent! He painted her portrait when she wasonly twelve years old. You must certainly come to see us. Lise, youshall show him your album. You know, we came expressly that you mightbegin her portrait immediately. "

"What? I am ready this very moment. " And in a trice he pulled forward aneasel with a canvas already prepared, grasped his palette, and fixedhis eyes on the daughter's pretty little face. If he had been acquaintedwith human nature, he might have read in it the dawning of a childishpassion for balls, the dawning of sorrow and misery at the length oftime before dinner and after dinner, the heavy traces of uninterestedapplication to various arts, insisted upon by her mother for theelevation of her mind. But the artist saw only the tender little face, a seductive subject for his brush, the body almost as transparent asporcelain, the delicate white neck, and the aristocratically slenderform. And he prepared beforehand to triumph, to display the delicacy ofhis brush, which had hitherto had to deal only with the harsh featuresof coarse models, and severe antiques and copies of classic masters. Healready saw in fancy how this delicate little face would turn out. 

"Do you know, " said the lady with a positively touching expression ofcountenance, "I should like her to be painted simply attired, andseated among green shadows, like meadows, with a flock or a grove inthe distance, so that it could not be seen that she goes to ballsor fashionable entertainments. Our balls, I must confess, murder theintellect, deaden all remnants of feeling. Simplicity! would therewere more simplicity!" Alas, it was stamped on the faces of mother anddaughter that they had so overdanced themselves at balls that they hadbecome almost wax figures. 

Tchartkoff set to work, posed his model, reflected a bit, fixed upon theidea, waved his brush in the air, settling the points mentally, and thenbegan and finished the sketching in within an hour. Satisfied with it, he began to paint. The task fascinated him; he forgot everything, forgotthe very existence of the aristocratic ladies, began even to displaysome artistic tricks, uttering various odd sounds and humming to himselfnow and then as artists do when immersed heart and soul in their work. Without the slightest ceremony, he made the sitter lift her head, whichfinally began to express utter weariness. 

"Enough for the first time, " said the lady. 

"A little more, " said the artist, forgetting himself. 

"No, it is time to stop. Lise, three o'clock!" said the lady, taking outa tiny watch which hung by a gold chain from her girdle. "How late itis!"

"Only a minute, " said Tchartkoff innocently, with the pleading voice ofa child. 

But the lady appeared to be not at all inclined to yield to his artisticdemands on this occasion; she promised, however, to sit longer the nexttime. 

"It is vexatious, all the same, " thought Tchartkoff to himself: "I hadjust got my hand in;" and he remembered no one had interrupted him orstopped him when he was at work in his studio on Vasilievsky Ostroff. Nikita sat motionless in one place. You might even paint him as longas you pleased; he even went to sleep in the attitude prescribed him. Feeling dissatisfied, he laid his brush and palette on a chair, andpaused in irritation before the picture. 

The woman of the world's compliments awoke him from his reverie. He flewto the door to show them out: on the stairs he received an invitation todine with them the following week, and returned with a cheerful face tohis apartments. The aristocratic lady had completely charmed him. Up tothat time he had looked upon such beings as unapproachable, born solelyto ride in magnificent carriages, with liveried footmen and stylishcoachmen, and to cast indifferent glances on the poor man travellingon foot in a cheap cloak. And now, all of a sudden, one of these verybeings had entered his room; he was painting her portrait, was invitedto dinner at an aristocratic house. An unusual feeling of pleasure tookpossession of him: he was completely intoxicated, and rewarded himselfwith a splendid dinner, an evening at the theatre, and a drive throughthe city in a carriage, without any necessity whatever. 

But meanwhile his ordinary work did not fall in with his mood at all. Hedid nothing but wait for the moment when the bell should ring. At lastthe aristocratic lady arrived with her pale daughter. He seated them, drew forward the canvas with skill, and some efforts of fashionableairs, and began to paint. The sunny day and bright light aided him not alittle: he saw in his dainty sitter much which, caught and committedto canvas, would give great value to the portrait. He perceived that hemight accomplish something good if he could reproduce, with accuracy, all that nature then offered to his eyes. His heart began to beat fasteras he felt that he was expressing something which others had not evenseen as yet. His work engrossed him completely: he was wholly taken upwith it, and again forgot the aristocratic origin of the sitter. Withheaving breast he saw the delicate features and the almost transparentbody of the fair maiden grow beneath his hand. He had caught everyshade, the slight sallowness, the almost imperceptible blue tinge underthe eyes--and was already preparing to put in the tiny mole on the brow, when he suddenly heard the mother's voice behind him. 

"Ah! why do you paint that? it is not necessary: and you have made ithere, in several places, rather yellow; and here, quite so, like darkspots. "

The artist undertook to explain that the spots and yellow tinge wouldturn out well, that they brought out the delicate and pleasing tones ofthe face. He was informed that they did not bring out tones, and wouldnot turn out well at all. It was explained to him that just to-day Lisedid not feel quite well; that she never was sallow, and that her facewas distinguished for its fresh colouring. 

Sadly he began to erase what his brush had put upon the canvas. Manya nearly imperceptible feature disappeared, and with it vanished tooa portion of the resemblance. He began indifferently to impart to thepicture that commonplace colouring which can be painted mechanically, and which lends to a face, even when taken from nature, the sort of coldideality observable on school programmes. But the lady was satisfiedwhen the objectionable tone was quite banished. She merely expressedsurprise that the work lasted so long, and added that she had heard thathe finished a portrait completely in two sittings. The artist could notthink of any answer to this. The ladies rose, and prepared to depart. He laid aside his brush, escorted them to the door, and then stooddisconsolate for a long while in one spot before the portrait. 

He gazed stupidly at it; and meanwhile there floated before his mind'seye those delicate features, those shades, and airy tints which he hadcopied, and which his brush had annihilated. Engrossed with them, heput the portrait on one side and hunted up a head of Psyche which he hadsome time before thrown on canvas in a sketchy manner. It was a prettylittle face, well painted, but entirely ideal, and having cold, regularfeatures not lit up by life. For lack of occupation, he now began totone it up, imparting to it all he had taken note of in his aristocraticsitter. Those features, shadows, tints, which he had noted, made theirappearance here in the purified form in which they appear when thepainter, after closely observing nature, subordinates himself to her, and produces a creation equal to her own. 

Psyche began to live: and the scarcely dawning thought began, littleby little, to clothe itself in a visible form. The type of face of thefashionable young lady was unconsciously transferred to Psyche, yetnevertheless she had an expression of her own which gave the pictureclaims to be considered in truth an original creation. Tchartkoff gavehimself up entirely to his work. For several days he was engrossed by italone, and the ladies surprised him at it on their arrival. He had nottime to remove the picture from the easel. Both ladies uttered a cry ofamazement, and clasped their hands. 

"Lise, Lise! Ah, how like! Superb, superb! What a happy thought, too, todrape her in a Greek costume! Ah, what a surprise!"

The artist could not see his way to disabuse the ladies of their error. Shamefacedly, with drooping head, he murmured, "This is Psyche. "

"In the character of Psyche? Charming!" said the mother, smiling, uponwhich the daughter smiled too. "Confess, Lise, it pleases you to bepainted in the character of Psyche better than any other way? What asweet idea! But what treatment! It is Correggio himself. I must saythat, although I had read and heard about you, I did not know you hadso much talent. You positively must paint me too. " Evidently the ladywanted to be portrayed as some kind of Psyche too. 

"What am I to do with them?" thought the artist. "If they will have itso, why, let Psyche pass for what they choose:" and added aloud, "Praysit a little: I will touch it up here and there. "

"Ah! I am afraid you will. .. It is such a capital likeness now!"

But the artist understood that the difficulty was with respect to thesallowness, and so he reassured them by saying that he only wishedto give more brilliancy and expression to the eyes. In truth, he wasashamed, and wanted to impart a little more likeness to the original, lest any one should accuse him of actual barefaced flattery. And thefeatures of the pale young girl at length appeared more closely inPsyche's countenance. 

"Enough, " said the mother, beginning to fear that the likeness mightbecome too decided. The artist was remunerated in every way, withsmiles, money, compliments, cordial pressures of the hand, invitationsto dinner: in short, he received a thousand flattering rewards. 

The portrait created a furore in the city. The lady exhibited it to herfriends, and all admired the skill with which the artist had preservedthe likeness, and at the same time conferred more beauty on theoriginal. The last remark, of course, was prompted by a slight tinge ofenvy. The artist was suddenly overwhelmed with work. It seemed as if thewhole city wanted to be painted by him. The door-bell rang incessantly. From one point of view, this might be considered advantageous, aspresenting to him endless practice in variety and number of faces. But, unfortunately, they were all people who were hard to get along with, either busy, hurried people, or else belonging to the fashionableworld, and consequently more occupied than any one else, and thereforeimpatient to the last degree. In all quarters, the demand was merelythat the likeness should be good and quickly executed. The artistperceived that it was a simple impossibility to finish his work; that itwas necessary to exchange power of treatment for lightness and rapidity, to catch only the general expression, and not waste labour on delicatedetails. 

Moreover, nearly all of his sitters made stipulations on various points. The ladies required that mind and character should be represented intheir portraits; that all angles should be rounded, all unevennesssmoothed away, and even removed entirely if possible; in short, thattheir faces should be such as to cause every one to stare at them withadmiration, if not fall in love with them outright. When they sat tohim, they sometimes assumed expressions which greatly amazed the artist;one tried to express melancholy; another, meditation; a third wanted tomake her mouth appear small on any terms, and puckered it up to such anextent that it finally looked like a spot about as big as a pinhead. And in spite of all this, they demanded of him good likenesses andunconstrained naturalness. The men were no better: one insisted on beingpainted with an energetic, muscular turn to his head; another, withupturned, inspired eyes; a lieutenant of the guard demanded that Marsshould be visible in his eyes; an official in the civil service drewhimself up to his full height in order to have his uprightness expressedin his face, and that his hand might rest on a book bearing the words inplain characters, "He always stood up for the right. "

At first such demands threw the artist into a cold perspiration. Finallyhe acquired the knack of it, and never troubled himself at all aboutit. He understood at a word how each wanted himself portrayed. If aman wanted Mars in his face, he put in Mars: he gave a Byronic turnand attitude to those who aimed at Byron. If the ladies wanted to beCorinne, Undine, or Aspasia, he agreed with great readiness, and threwin a sufficient measure of good looks from his own imagination, whichdoes no harm, and for the sake of which an artist is even forgiven alack of resemblance. He soon began to wonder himself at the rapidity anddash of his brush. And of course those who sat to him were in ecstasies, and proclaimed him a genius. 

Tchartkoff became a fashionable artist in every sense of the word. He began to dine out, to escort ladies to picture galleries, to dressfoppishly, and to assert audibly that an artist should belong tosociety, that he must uphold his profession, that artists mostly dresslike showmakers, do not know how to behave themselves, do not maintainthe highest tone, and are lacking in all polish. At home, in his studio, he carried cleanliness and spotlessness to the last extreme, set up twosuperb footmen, took fashionable pupils, dressed several times a day, curled his hair, practised various manners of receiving his callers, andbusied himself in adorning his person in every conceivable way, in orderto produce a pleasing impression on the ladies. In short, it would soonhave been impossible for any one to have recognised in him the modestartist who had formerly toiled unknown in his miserable quarters in theVasilievsky Ostroff. 

He now expressed himself decidedly concerning artists and art; declaredthat too much credit had been given to the old masters; that evenRaphael did not always paint well, and that fame attached to many of hisworks simply by force of tradition: that Michael Angelo was a braggartbecause he could boast only a knowledge of anatomy; that there was nograce about him, and that real brilliancy and power of treatment andcolouring were to be looked for in the present century. And there, naturally, the question touched him personally. "I do not understand, "said he, "how others toil and work with difficulty: a man who laboursfor months over a picture is a dauber, and no artist in my opinion; Idon't believe he has any talent: genius works boldly, rapidly. Here isthis portrait which I painted in two days, this head in one day, thisin a few hours, this in little more than an hour. No, I confess I do notrecognise as art that which adds line to line; that is a handicraft, not art. " In this manner did he lecture his visitors; and the visitorsadmired the strength and boldness of his works, uttered exclamations onhearing how fast they had been produced, and said to each other, "Thisis talent, real talent! see how he speaks, how his eyes gleam! There issomething really extraordinary in his face!"

It flattered the artist to hear such reports about himself. When printedpraise appeared in the papers, he rejoiced like a child, although thispraise was purchased with his money. He carried the printed slips aboutwith him everywhere, and showed them to friends and acquaintances asif by accident. His fame increased, his works and orders multiplied. Already the same portraits over and over again wearied him, by the sameattitudes and turns, which he had learned by heart. He painted them nowwithout any great interest in his work, brushing in some sort of a head, and giving them to his pupil's to finish. At first he had sought todevise a new attitude each time. Now this had grown wearisome to him. His brain was tired with planning and thinking. It was out of his power;his fashionable life bore him far away from labour and thought. His workgrew cold and colourless; and he betook himself with indifference tothe reproduction of monotonous, well-worn forms. The eternallyspick-and-span uniforms, and the so-to-speak buttoned-up faces of thegovernment officials, soldiers, and statesmen, did not offer a widefield for his brush: it forgot how to render superb draperies andpowerful emotion and passion. Of grouping, dramatic effect and its loftyconnections, there was nothing. In face of him was only a uniform, acorsage, a dress-coat, and before which the artist feels cold andall imagination vanishes. Even his own peculiar merits were no longervisible in his works, yet they continued to enjoy renown; althoughgenuine connoisseurs and artists merely shrugged their shoulders whenthey saw his latest productions. But some who had known Tchartkoff inhis earlier days could not understand how the talent of which he hadgiven such clear indications in the outset could so have vanished; andstrove in vain to divine by what means genius could be extinguished in aman just when he had attained to the full development of his powers. 

But the intoxicated artist did not hear these criticisms. He began toattain to the age of dignity, both in mind and years: to grow stout, andincrease visibly in flesh. He often read in the papers such phrases as, "Our most respected Andrei Petrovitch; our worthy Andrei Petrovitch. "He began to receive offers of distinguished posts in the service, invitations to examinations and committees. He began, as is usuallythe case in maturer years, to advocate Raphael and the old masters, notbecause he had become thoroughly convinced of their transcendentmerits, but in order to snub the younger artists. His life was alreadyapproaching the period when everything which suggests impulse contractswithin a man; when a powerful chord appeals more feebly to the spirit;when the touch of beauty no longer converts virgin strength into fireand flame, but when all the burnt-out sentiments become more vulnerableto the sound of gold, hearken more attentively to its seductive music, and little by little permit themselves to be completely lulled to sleepby it. Fame can give no pleasure to him who has stolen it, not won it;so all his feelings and impulses turned towards wealth. Gold was hispassion, his ideal, his fear, his delight, his aim. The bundles ofbank-notes increased in his coffers; and, like all to whose lot fallsthis fearful gift, he began to grow inaccessible to every sentimentexcept the love of gold. But something occurred which gave him apowerful shock, and disturbed the whole tenor of his life. 

One day he found upon his table a note, in which the Academy of Paintingbegged him, as a worthy member of its body, to come and give his opinionupon a new work which had been sent from Italy by a Russian artistwho was perfecting himself there. The painter was one of his formercomrades, who had been possessed with a passion for art from hisearliest years, had given himself up to it with his whole soul, estranged himself from his friends and relatives, and had hastened tothat wonderful Rome, at whose very name the artist's heart beats wildlyand hotly. There he buried himself in his work from which he permittednothing to entice him. He visited the galleries unweariedly, he stoodfor hours at a time before the works of the great masters, seizing andstudying their marvellous methods. He never finished anything withoutrevising his impressions several times before these great teachers, and reading in their works silent but eloquent counsels. He gave eachimpartially his due, appropriating from all only that which was mostbeautiful, and finally became the pupil of the divine Raphael alone, asa great poet, after reading many works, at last made Homer's "Iliad"his only breviary, having discovered that it contains all one wants, andthat there is nothing which is not expressed in it in perfection. Andso he brought away from his school the grand conception of creation, themighty beauty of thought, the high charm of that heavenly brush. 

When Tchartkoff entered the room, he found a crowd of visitors alreadycollected before the picture. The most profound silence, such as rarelysettles upon a throng of critics, reigned over all. He hastened toassume the significant expression of a connoisseur, and approached thepicture; but, O God! what did he behold!

Pure, faultless, beautiful as a bride, stood the picture before him. The critics regarded this new hitherto unknown work with a feelingof involuntary wonder. All seemed united in it: the art of Raphael, reflected in the lofty grace of the grouping; the art of Correggio, breathing from the finished perfection of the workmanship. But morestriking than all else was the evident creative power in the artist'smind. The very minutest object in the picture revealed it; he had caughtthat melting roundness of outline which is visible in nature only tothe artist creator, and which comes out as angles with a copyist. It wasplainly visible how the artist, having imbibed it all from the externalworld, had first stored it in his mind, and then drawn it thence, asfrom a spiritual source, into one harmonious, triumphant song. And itwas evident, even to the uninitiated, how vast a gulf there was fixedbetween creation and a mere copy from nature. Involuntary tears stoodready to fall in the eyes of those who surrounded the picture. It seemedas though all joined in a silent hymn to the divine work. 

Motionless, with open mouth, Tchartkoff stood before the picture. Atlength, when by degrees the visitors and critics began to murmur andcomment upon the merits of the work, and turning to him, begged him toexpress an opinion, he came to himself once more. He tried to assume anindifferent, everyday expression; strove to utter some such commonplaceremark as; "Yes, to tell the truth, it is impossible to deny theartist's talent; there is something in it;" but the speech died upon hislips, tears and sobs burst forth uncontrollably, and he rushed from theroom like one beside himself. 

In a moment he stood in his magnificent studio. All his being, all hislife, had been aroused in one instant, as if youth had returned tohim, as if the dying sparks of his talent had blazed forth afresh. The bandage suddenly fell from his eyes. Heavens! to think of havingmercilessly wasted the best years of his youth, of having extinguished, trodden out perhaps, that spark of fire which, cherished in his breast, might perhaps have been developed into magnificence and beauty, andhave extorted too, its meed of tears and admiration! It seemed as thoughthose impulses which he had known in other days re-awoke suddenly in hissoul. 

He seized a brush and approached his canvas. One thought possessed himwholly, one desire consumed him; he strove to depict a fallen angel. This idea was most in harmony with his frame of mind. The perspirationstarted out upon his face with his efforts; but, alas! hisfigures, attitudes, groups, thoughts, arranged themselves stiffly, disconnectedly. His hand and his imagination had been too long confinedto one groove; and the fruitless effort to escape from the bondsand fetters which he had imposed upon himself, showed itself inirregularities and errors. He had despised the long, wearisome ladder toknowledge, and the first fundamental law of the future great man, hardwork. He gave vent to his vexation. He ordered all his later productionsto be taken out of his studio, all the fashionable, lifeless pictures, all the portraits of hussars, ladies, and councillors of state. 

He shut himself up alone in his room, would order no food, and devotedhimself entirely to his work. He sat toiling like a scholar. But howpitifully wretched was all which proceeded from his hand! He was stoppedat every step by his ignorance of the very first principles: simpleignorance of the mechanical part of his art chilled all inspirationand formed an impassable barrier to his imagination. His brush returnedinvoluntarily to hackneyed forms: hands folded themselves in a setattitude; heads dared not make any unusual turn; the very garmentsturned out commonplace, and would not drape themselves to anyunaccustomed posture of the body. And he felt and saw this all himself. 

"But had I really any talent?" he said at length: "did not I deceivemyself?" Uttering these words, he turned to the early works which he hadpainted so purely, so unselfishly, in former days, in his wretched cabinyonder in lonely Vasilievsky Ostroff. He began attentively to examinethem all; and all the misery of his former life came back to him. "Yes, "he cried despairingly, "I had talent: the signs and traces of it areeverywhere visible--"

He paused suddenly, and shivered all over. His eyes encountered othereyes fixed immovably upon him. It was that remarkable portrait which hehad bought in the Shtchukinui Dvor. All this time it had been coveredup, concealed by other pictures, and had utterly gone out of his mind. Now, as if by design, when all the fashionable portraits and paintingshad been removed from the studio, it looked forth, together with theproductions of his early youth. As he recalled all the strange eventsconnected with it; as he remembered that this singular portrait hadbeen, in a manner, the cause of his errors; that the hoard of moneywhich he had obtained in such peculiar fashion had given birth in hismind to all the wild caprices which had destroyed his talent--madnesswas on the point of taking possession of him. At once he ordered thehateful portrait to be removed. 

But his mental excitement was not thereby diminished. His whole beingwas shaken to its foundation; and he suffered that fearful torture whichis sometimes exhibited when a feeble talent strives to display itselfon a scale too great for it and cannot do so. A horrible envy tookpossession of him--an envy which bordered on madness. The gall flewto his heart when he beheld a work which bore the stamp of talent. Hegnashed his teeth, and devoured it with the glare of a basilisk. Heconceived the most devilish plan which ever entered into the mind ofman, and he hastened with the strength of madness to carry it intoexecution. He began to purchase the best that art produced of everykind. Having bought a picture at a great price, he transported it to hisroom, flung himself upon it with the ferocity of a tiger, cut it, toreit, chopped it into bits, and stamped upon it with a grin of delight. 

The vast wealth he had amassed enabled him to gratify this devilishdesire. He opened his bags of gold and unlocked his coffers. No monsterof ignorance ever destroyed so many superb productions of art as didthis raging avenger. At any auction where he made his appearance, everyone despaired at once of obtaining any work of art. It seemed as if anangry heaven had sent this fearful scourge into the world expresslyto destroy all harmony. Scorn of the world was expressed in hiscountenance. His tongue uttered nothing save biting and censoriouswords. He swooped down like a harpy into the street: and hisacquaintances, catching sight of him in the distance, sought to turnaside and avoid a meeting with him, saying that it poisoned all the restof the day. 

Fortunately for the world and art, such a life could not last long:his passions were too overpowering for his feeble strength. Attacks ofmadness began to recur more frequently, and ended at last in the mostfrightful illness. A violent fever, combined with galloping consumption, seized upon him with such violence, that in three days there remainedonly a shadow of his former self. To this was added indications ofhopeless insanity. Sometimes several men were unable to hold him. Thelong-forgotten, living eyes of the portrait began to torment him, andthen his madness became dreadful. All the people who surrounded his bedseemed to him horrible portraits. The portrait doubled and quadrupleditself; all the walls seemed hung with portraits, which fastened theirliving eyes upon him; portraits glared at him from the ceiling, from thefloor; the room widened and lengthened endlessly, in order to make roomfor more of the motionless eyes. The doctor who had undertaken to attendhim, having learned something of his strange history, strove with allhis might to fathom the secret connection between the visions ofhis fancy and the occurrences of his life, but without the slightestsuccess. The sick man understood nothing, felt nothing, save his owntortures, and gave utterance only to frightful yells and unintelligiblegibberish. At last his life ended in a final attack of unutterablesuffering. Nothing could be found of all his great wealth; but when theybeheld the mutilated fragments of grand works of art, the value of whichexceeded a million, they understood the terrible use which had been madeof it. 

PART II

A THRONG of carriages and other vehicles stood at the entrance of ahouse in which an auction was going on of the effects of one of thosewealthy art-lovers who have innocently passed for Maecenases, and ina simple-minded fashion expended, to that end, the millions amassed bytheir thrifty fathers, and frequently even by their own early labours. The long saloon was filled with the most motley throng of visitors, collected like birds of prey swooping down upon an unburied corpse. There was a whole squadron of Russian shop-keepers from the GostinnuiDvor, and from the old-clothes mart, in blue coats of foreign make. Their faces and expressions were a little more natural here, and did notdisplay that fictitious desire to be subservient which is so marked inthe Russian shop-keeper when he stands before a customer in his shop. Here they stood upon no ceremony, although the saloons were full ofthose very aristocrats before whom, in any other place, they would havebeen ready to sweep, with reverence, the dust brought in by their feet. They were quite at their ease, handling pictures and books withoutceremony, when desirous of ascertaining the value of the goods, and boldly upsetting bargains mentally secured in advance by nobleconnoisseurs. There were many of those infallible attendants of auctionswho make it a point to go to one every day as regularly as to take theirbreakfast; aristocratic connoisseurs who look upon it as their duty notto miss any opportunity of adding to their collections, and who have noother occupation between twelve o'clock and one; and noble gentlemen, with garments very threadbare, who make their daily appearance withoutany selfish object in view, but merely to see how it all goes off. 

A quantity of pictures were lying about in disorder: with them weremingled furniture, and books with the cipher of the former owner, whonever was moved by any laudable desire to glance into them. Chinesevases, marble slabs for tables, old and new furniture with curvinglines, with griffins, sphinxes, and lions' paws, gilded and ungilded, chandeliers, sconces, all were heaped together in a perfect chaos ofart. 

The auction appeared to be at its height. 

The surging throng was competing for a portrait which could not butarrest the attention of all who possessed any knowledge of art. Theskilled hand of an artist was plainly visible in it. The portrait, whichhad apparently been several times restored and renovated, representedthe dark features of an Asiatic in flowing garments, and with a strangeand remarkable expression of countenance; but what struck the buyersmore than anything else was the peculiar liveliness of the eyes. Themore they were looked at, the more did they seem to penetrate into thegazer's heart. This peculiarity, this strange illusion achieved by theartist, attracted the attention of nearly all. Many who had been biddinggradually withdrew, for the price offered had risen to an incrediblesum. There remained only two well-known aristocrats, amateurs ofpainting, who were unwilling to forego such an acquisition. They grewwarm, and would probably have run the bidding up to an impossible sum, had not one of the onlookers suddenly exclaimed, "Permit me to interruptyour competition for a while: I, perhaps, more than any other, have aright to this portrait. "

These words at once drew the attention of all to him. He was a tallman of thirty-five, with long black curls. His pleasant face, full ofa certain bright nonchalance, indicated a mind free from all wearisome, worldly excitement; his garments had no pretence to fashion: allabout him indicated the artist. He was, in fact, B. The painter, a manpersonally well known to many of those present. 

"However strange my words may seem to you, " he continued, perceivingthat the general attention was directed to him, "if you will listen toa short story, you may possibly see that I was right in uttering them. Everything assures me that this is the portrait which I am looking for. "

A natural curiosity illuminated the faces of nearly all present; andeven the auctioneer paused as he was opening his mouth, and with hammeruplifted in the air, prepared to listen. At the beginning of the story, many glanced involuntarily towards the portrait; but later on, all benttheir attention solely on the narrator, as his tale grew gradually moreabsorbing. 

"You know that portion of the city which is called Kolomna, " he began. "There everything is unlike anything else in St. Petersburg. Retiredofficials remove thither to live; widows; people not very well off, whohave acquaintances in the senate, and therefore condemn themselves tothis for nearly the whole of their lives; and, in short, that whole listof people who can be described by the words ash-coloured--people whosegarments, faces, hair, eyes, have a sort of ashy surface, like a daywhen there is in the sky neither cloud nor sun. Among them may beretired actors, retired titular councillors, retired sons of Mars, withruined eyes and swollen lips. 

"Life in Kolomna is terribly dull: rarely does a carriage appear, except, perhaps, one containing an actor, which disturbs the universalstillness by its rumble, noise, and jingling. You can get lodgingsfor five rubles a month, coffee in the morning included. Widowswith pensions are the most aristocratic families there; they conductthemselves well, sweep their rooms often, chatter with their friendsabout the dearness of beef and cabbage, and frequently have a youngdaughter, a taciturn, quiet, sometimes pretty creature; an ugly dog, andwall-clocks which strike in a melancholy fashion. Then come the actorswhose salaries do not permit them to desert Kolomna, an independentfolk, living, like all artists, for pleasure. They sit in theirdressing-gowns, cleaning their pistols, gluing together all sorts ofthings out of cardboard, playing draughts and cards with any friend whochances to drop in, and so pass away the morning, doing pretty nearlythe same in the evening, with the addition of punch now and then. Afterthese great people and aristocracy of Kolomna, come the rank and file. It is as difficult to put a name to them as to remember the multitude ofinsects which breed in stale vinegar. There are old women who get drunk, who make a living by incomprehensible means, like ants, dragging oldclothes and rags from the Kalinkin Bridge to the old clothes-mart, in order to sell them for fifteen kopeks--in short, the very dregs ofmankind, whose conditions no beneficent, political economist has devisedany means of ameliorating. 

"I have mentioned them in order to point out how often such people findthemselves under the necessity of seeking immediate temporary assistanceand having recourse to borrowing. Hence there settles among them apeculiar race of money-lenders who lend small sums on security at anenormous percentage. Among these usurers was a certain. .. But I must notomit to mention that the occurrence which I have undertaken to relateoccurred the last century, in the reign of our late Empress Catherinethe Second. So, among the usurers, at that epoch, was a certainperson--an extraordinary being in every respect, who had settled in thatquarter of the city long before. He went about in flowing Asiatic garb;his dark complexion indicated a Southern origin, but to what particularnation he belonged, India, Greece, or Persia, no one could say withcertainty. Of tall, almost colossal stature, with dark, thin, ardentface, heavy overhanging brows, and an indescribably strange colour inhis large eyes of unwonted fire, he differed sharply and strongly fromall the ash-coloured denizens of the capital. 

"His very dwelling was unlike the other little wooden houses. It wasof stone, in the style of those formerly much affected by Genoesemerchants, with irregular windows of various sizes, secured with ironshutters and bars. This usurer differed from other usurers also in thathe could furnish any required sum, from that desired by the poor oldbeggar-woman to that demanded by the extravagant grandee of the court. The most gorgeous equipages often halted in front of his house, and fromtheir windows sometimes peeped forth the head of an elegant high-bornlady. Rumour, as usual, reported that his iron coffers were full ofuntold gold, treasures, diamonds, and all sorts of pledges, butthat, nevertheless, he was not the slave of that avarice which ischaracteristic of other usurers. He lent money willingly, and on veryfavourable terms of payment apparently, but, by some curious method ofreckoning, made them mount to an incredible percentage. So said rumour, at any rate. But what was strangest of all was the peculiar fate ofthose who received money from him: they all ended their lives in someunhappy way. Whether this was simply the popular superstition, or theresult of reports circulated with an object, is not known. But severalinstances which happened within a brief space of time before the eyes ofevery one were vivid and striking. 

"Among the aristocracy of that day, one who speedily drew attentionto himself was a young man of one of the best families who had made afigure in his early years in court circles, a warm admirer of everythingtrue and noble, zealous in his love for art, and giving promise ofbecoming a Maecenas. He was soon deservedly distinguished by theEmpress, who conferred upon him an important post, fully proportionedto his deserts--a post in which he could accomplish much for scienceand the general welfare. The youthful dignitary surrounded himselfwith artists, poets, and learned men. He wished to give work to all, to encourage all. He undertook, at his own expense, a number of usefulpublications; gave numerous orders to artists; offered prizes forthe encouragement of different arts; spent a great deal of money, andfinally ruined himself. But, full of noble impulses, he did not wish torelinquish his work, sought to raise a loan, and finally betook himselfto the well-known usurer. Having borrowed a considerable sum from him, the man in a short time changed completely. He became a persecutorand oppressor of budding talent and intellect. He saw the bad side ineverything produced, and every word he uttered was false. 

"Then, unfortunately, came the French Revolution. This furnished himwith an excuse for every kind of suspicion. He began to discover arevolutionary tendency in everything; to concoct terrible and unjustaccusations, which made scores of people unhappy. Of course, suchconduct could not fail in time to reach the throne. The kind-heartedEmpress was shocked; and, full of the noble spirit which adorns crownedheads, she uttered words still engraven on many hearts. The Empressremarked that not under a monarchical government were high and nobleimpulses persecuted; not there were the creations of intellect, poetry, and art contemned and oppressed. On the other hand, monarchs alonewere their protectors. Shakespeare and Moliere flourished under theirmagnanimous protection, while Dante could not find a corner in hisrepublican birthplace. She said that true geniuses arise at the epochof brilliancy and power in emperors and empires, but not in the time ofmonstrous political apparitions and republican terrorism, which, up tothat time, had never given to the world a single poet; that poet-artistsshould be marked out for favour, since peace and divine quiet alonecompose their minds, not excitement and tumult; that learned men, poets, and all producers of art are the pearls and diamonds in the imperialcrown: by them is the epoch of the great ruler adorned, and from them itreceives yet greater brilliancy. 

"As the Empress uttered these words she was divinely beautiful for themoment, and I remember old men who could not speak of the occurrencewithout tears. All were interested in the affair. It must be remarked, to the honour of our national pride, that in the Russian's heartthere always beats a fine feeling that he must adopt the part of thepersecuted. The dignitary who had betrayed his trust was punished in anexemplary manner and degraded from his post. But he read a more dreadfulpunishment in the faces of his fellow-countrymen: universal scorn. Itis impossible to describe what he suffered, and he died in a terribleattack of raving madness. 

"Another striking example also occurred. Among the beautiful womenin which our northern capital assuredly is not poor, one decidedlysurpassed the rest. Her loveliness was a combination of our Northerncharms with those of the South, a gem such as rarely makes itsappearance on earth. My father said that he had never beheld anythinglike it in the whole course of his life. Everything seemed to be unitedin her, wealth, intellect, and wit. She had throngs of admirers, themost distinguished of them being Prince R. , the most noble-minded ofall young men, the finest in face, and an ideal of romance in hismagnanimous and knightly sentiments. Prince R. Was passionately in love, and was requited by a like ardent passion. 

"But the match seemed unequal to the parents. The prince's familyestates had not been in his possession for a long time, his family wasout of favour, and the sad state of his affairs was well known to all. Of a sudden the prince quitted the capital, as if for the purpose ofarranging his affairs, and after a short interval reappeared, surroundedwith luxury and splendour. Brilliant balls and parties made him knownat court. The lady's father began to relent, and the wedding took place. Whence this change in circumstances, this unheard-of-wealth, came, noone could fully explain; but it was whispered that he had entered intoa compact with the mysterious usurer, and had borrowed money of him. However that may have been, the wedding was a source of interest to thewhole city, and the bride and bridegroom were objects of general envy. Every one knew of their warm and faithful love, the long persecutionthey had had to endure from every quarter, the great personal worth ofboth. Ardent women at once sketched out the heavenly bliss which theyoung couple would enjoy. But it turned out very differently. 

"In the course of a year a frightful change came over the husband. His character, up to that time so noble, became poisoned with jealoussuspicions, irritability, and inexhaustible caprices. He became a tyrantto his wife, a thing which no one could have foreseen, and indulged inthe most inhuman deeds, and even in blows. In a year's time no one wouldhave recognised the woman who, such a little while before, had dazzledand drawn about her throngs of submissive adorers. Finally, no longerable to endure her lot, she proposed a divorce. Her husband flew into arage at the very suggestion. In the first outburst of passion, he chasedher about the room with a knife, and would doubtless have murdered herthen and there, if they had not seized him and prevented him. In a fitof madness and despair he turned the knife against himself, and endedhis life amid the most horrible sufferings. 

"Besides these two instances which occurred before the eyes of all theworld, stories circulated of many more among the lower classes, nearlyall of which had tragic endings. Here an honest sober man became adrunkard; there a shopkeeper's clerk robbed his master; again, adriver who had conducted himself properly for a number of years cuthis passenger's throat for a groschen. It was impossible that suchoccurrences, related, not without embellishments, should not inspire asort of involuntary horror amongst the sedate inhabitants of Kolomna. No one entertained any doubt as to the presence of an evil power in theusurer. They said that he imposed conditions which made the hair rise onone's head, and which the miserable wretch never afterward daredreveal to any other being; that his money possessed a strange power ofattraction; that it grew hot of itself, and that it bore strange marks. And it is worthy of remark, that all the colony of Kolomna, all thesepoor old women, small officials, petty artists, and insignificant peoplewhom we have just recapitulated, agreed that it was better to endureanything, and to suffer the extreme of misery, rather than to haverecourse to the terrible usurer. Old women were even found dying ofhunger, who preferred to kill their bodies rather than lose their soul. Those who met him in the street experienced an involuntary sense offear. Pedestrians took care to turn aside from his path, and gazed longafter his tall, receding figure. In his face alone there was sufficientthat was uncommon to cause any one to ascribe to him a supernaturalnature. The strong features, so deeply chiselled; the glowing bronze ofhis complexion; the incredible thickness of his brows; the intolerable, terrible eyes--everything seemed to indicate that the passions of othermen were pale compared to those raging within him. My father stoppedshort every time he met him, and could not refrain each time fromsaying, 'A devil, a perfect devil!' But I must introduce you as speedilyas possible to my father, the chief character of this story. 

"My father was a remarkable man in many respects. He was an artistof rare ability, a self-taught artist, without teachers or schools, principles and rules, carried away only by the thirst for perfection, and treading a path indicated by his own instincts, for reasons unknown, perchance, even to himself. Through some lofty and secret instincthe perceived the presence of a soul in every object. And this secretinstinct and personal conviction turned his brush to Christian subjects, grand and lofty to the last degree. His was a strong character: he wasan honourable, upright, even rough man, covered with a sort of hard rindwithout, not entirely lacking in pride, and given to expressing himselfboth sharply and scornfully about people. He worked for very smallresults; that is to say, for just enough to support his family andobtain the materials he needed; he never, under any circumstances, refused to aid any one, or to lend a helping hand to a poor artist; andhe believed with the simple, reverent faith of his ancestors. At length, by his unintermitting labour and perseverance in the path he had markedout for himself, he began to win the approbation of those who honouredhis self-taught talent. They gave him constant orders for churches, andhe never lacked employment. 

"One of his paintings possessed a strong interest for him. I no longerrecollect the exact subject: I only know that he needed to representthe Spirit of Darkness in it. He pondered long what form to give him: hewished to concentrate in his face all that weighs down and oppresses aman. In the midst of his meditations there suddenly occurred to hismind the image of the mysterious usurer; and he thought involuntarily, 'That's how I ought to paint the Devil!' Imagine his amazement when oneday, as he was at work in his studio, he heard a knock at the door, anddirectly after there entered that same terrible usurer. 

"'You are an artist?' he said to my father abruptly. 

"'I am, ' answered my father in surprise, waiting for what should comenext. 

"'Good! Paint my portrait. I may possibly die soon. I have no children;but I do not wish to die completely, I wish to live. Can you paint aportrait that shall appear as though it were alive?'

"My father reflected, 'What could be better! he offers himself for theDevil in my picture. ' He promised. They agreed upon a time and price;and the next day my father took palette and brushes and went to theusurer's house. The lofty court-yard, dogs, iron doors and locks, archedwindows, coffers, draped with strange covers, and, last of all, theremarkable owner himself, seated motionless before him, all produceda strange impression on him. The windows seemed intentionally soencumbered below that they admitted the light only from the top. 'Deviltake him, how well his face is lighted!' he said to himself, and beganto paint assiduously, as though afraid that the favourable light woulddisappear. 'What power!' he repeated to himself. 'If I only accomplishhalf a likeness of him, as he is now, it will surpass all my otherworks: he will simply start from the canvas if I am only partly true tonature. What remarkable features!' He redoubled his energy; and beganhimself to notice how some of his sitter's traits were making theirappearance on the canvas. 

"But the more closely he approached resemblance, the more conscious hebecame of an aggressive, uneasy feeling which he could not explainto himself. Notwithstanding this, he set himself to copy with literalaccuracy every trait and expression. First of all, however, he busiedhimself with the eyes. There was so much force in those eyes, that itseemed impossible to reproduce them exactly as they were in nature. But he resolved, at any price, to seek in them the most minutecharacteristics and shades, to penetrate their secret. As soon, however, as he approached them in resemblance, and began to redoublehis exertions, there sprang up in his mind such a terrible feeling ofrepulsion, of inexplicable expression, that he was forced to lay asidehis brush for a while and begin anew. At last he could bear it nolonger: he felt as if these eyes were piercing into his soul, andcausing intolerable emotion. On the second and third days this grewstill stronger. It became horrible to him. He threw down his brush, anddeclared abruptly that he could paint the stranger no longer. You shouldhave seen how the terrible usurer changed countenance at these words. He threw himself at his feet, and besought him to finish the portrait, saying that his fate and his existence depended on it; that he hadalready caught his prominent features; that if he could reproducethem accurately, his life would be preserved in his portrait in asupernatural manner; that by that means he would not die completely;that it was necessary for him to continue to exist in the world. 

"My father was frightened by these words: they seemed to him strange andterrible to such a degree, that he threw down his brushes and paletteand rushed headlong from the room. 

"The thought of it troubled him all day and all night; but the nextmorning he received the portrait from the usurer, by a woman who was theonly creature in his service, and who announced that her master did notwant the portrait, and would pay nothing for it, and had sent it back. On the evening of the same day he learned that the usurer was dead, andthat preparations were in progress to bury him according to the rites ofhis religion. All this seemed to him inexplicably strange. But from thatday a marked change showed itself in his character. He was possessed bya troubled, uneasy feeling, of which he was unable to explain the cause;and he soon committed a deed which no one could have expected of him. For some time the works of one of his pupils had been attracting theattention of a small circle of connoisseurs and amateurs. My fatherhad perceived his talent, and manifested a particular liking for himin consequence. Suddenly the general interest in him and talk about himbecame unendurable to my father who grew envious of him. Finally, tocomplete his vexation, he learned that his pupil had been asked to painta picture for a recently built and wealthy church. This enraged him. 'No, I will not permit that fledgling to triumph!' said he: 'it isearly, friend, to think of consigning old men to the gutters. I stillhave powers, God be praised! We'll soon see which will put down theother. '

"And this straightforward, honourable man employed intrigues whichhe had hitherto abhorred. He finally contrived that there should be acompetition for the picture which other artists were permitted to enterinto. Then he shut himself up in his room, and grasped his brush withzeal. It seemed as if he were striving to summon all his strength up forthis occasion. And, in fact, the result turned out to be one of his bestworks. No one doubted that he would bear off the palm. The pictures wereplaced on exhibition, and all the others seemed to his as night to day. But of a sudden, one of the members present, an ecclesiastical personageif I mistake not, made a remark which surprised every one. 'Thereis certainly much talent in this artist's picture, ' said he, 'but noholiness in the faces: there is even, on the contrary, a demoniacal lookin the eyes, as though some evil feeling had guided the artist's hand. 'All looked, and could not but acknowledge the truth of these words. Myfather rushed forward to his picture, as though to verify for himselfthis offensive remark, and perceived with horror that he had bestowedthe usurer's eyes upon nearly all the figures. They had such adiabolical gaze that he involuntarily shuddered. The picture wasrejected; and he was forced to hear, to his indescribable vexation, thatthe palm was awarded to his pupil. 

"It is impossible to describe the state of rage in which he returnedhome. He almost killed my mother, he drove the children away, brokehis brushes and easels, tore down the usurer's portrait from thewall, demanded a knife, and ordered a fire to be built in the chimney, intending to cut it in pieces and burn it. A friend, an artist, caughthim in the act as he entered the room--a jolly fellow, always satisfiedwith himself, inflated by unattainable wishes, doing daily anythingthat came to hand, and taking still more gaily to his dinner and littlecarouses. 

"'What are you doing? What are you preparing to burn?' he asked, andstepped up to the portrait. 'Why, this is one of your very best works. It is the usurer who died a short time ago: yes, it is a most perfectlikeness. You did not stop until you had got into his very eyes. Neverdid eyes look as these do now. '

"'Well, I'll see how they look in the fire!' said my father, making amovement to fling the portrait into the grate. 

"'Stop, for Heaven's sake!' exclaimed his friend, restraining him: 'giveit to me, rather, if it offends your eyes to such a degree. ' My fatherresisted, but yielded at length; and the jolly fellow, well pleased withhis acquisition, carried the portrait home with him. 

"When he was gone, my father felt more calm. The burden seemed to havedisappeared from his soul in company with the portrait. He was surprisedhimself at his evil feelings, his envy, and the evident change in hischaracter. Reviewing his acts, he became sad at heart; and not withoutinward sorrow did he exclaim, 'No, it was God who punished me! mypicture, in fact, was meant to ruin my brother-man. A devilish feelingof envy guided my brush, and that devilish feeling must have made itselfvisible in it. '

"He set out at once to seek his former pupil, embraced him warmly, begged his forgiveness, and endeavoured as far as possible to excusehis own fault. His labours continued as before; but his face was morefrequently thoughtful. He prayed more, grew more taciturn, and expressedhimself less sharply about people: even the rough exterior of hischaracter was modified to some extent. But a certain occurrence soondisturbed him more than ever. He had seen nothing for a long time of thecomrade who had begged the portrait of him. He had already decided tohunt him up, when the latter suddenly made his appearance in his room. After a few words and questions on both sides, he said, 'Well, brother, it was not without cause that you wished to burn that portrait. Deviltake it, there's something horrible about it! I don't believe insorcerers; but, begging your pardon, there's an unclean spirit in it. '

"'How so?' asked my father. 

"'Well, from the very moment I hung it up in my room I felt suchdepression--just as if I wanted to murder some one. I never knew inmy life what sleeplessness was; but I suffered not from sleeplessnessalone, but from such dreams!--I cannot tell whether they were dreams, orwhat; it was as if a demon were strangling one: and the old man appearedto me in my sleep. In short, I can't describe my state of mind. I had asensation of fear, as if expecting something unpleasant. I felt as if Icould not speak a cheerful or sincere word to any one: it was just asif a spy were sitting over me. But from the very hour that I gave thatportrait to my nephew, who asked for it, I felt as if a stone had beenrolled from my shoulders, and became cheerful, as you see me now. Well, brother, you painted the very Devil!'

"During this recital my father listened with unswerving attention, andfinally inquired, 'And your nephew now has the portrait?'

"'My nephew, indeed! he could not stand it!' said the jolly fellow: 'doyou know, the soul of that usurer has migrated into it; he jumps outof the frame, walks about the room; and what my nephew tells of him issimply incomprehensible. I should take him for a lunatic, if I had notundergone a part of it myself. He sold it to some collector of pictures;and he could not stand it either, and got rid of it to some one else. '

"This story produced a deep impression on my father. He grew seriouslypensive, fell into hypochondria, and finally became fully convinced thathis brush had served as a tool of the Devil; and that a portion of theusurer's vitality had actually passed into the portrait, and was nowtroubling people, inspiring diabolical excitement, beguiling paintersfrom the true path, producing the fearful torments of envy, and soforth. Three catastrophes which occurred afterwards, three sudden deathsof wife, daughter, and infant son, he regarded as a divine punishment onhim, and firmly resolved to withdraw from the world. 

"As soon as I was nine years old, he placed me in an academy ofpainting, and, paying all his debts, retired to a lonely cloister, where he soon afterwards took the vows. There he amazed every one by thestrictness of his life, and his untiring observance of all the monasticrules. The prior of the monastery, hearing of his skill in painting, ordered him to paint the principal picture in the church. But the humblebrother said plainly that he was unworthy to touch a brush, that his wascontaminated, that with toil and great sacrifice must he first purifyhis spirit in order to render himself fit to undertake such a task. Heincreased the rigours of monastic life for himself as much as possible. At last, even they became insufficient, and he retired, with theapproval of the prior, into the desert, in order to be quite alone. There he constructed himself a cell from branches of trees, ate onlyuncooked roots, dragged about a stone from place to place, stood in onespot with his hands lifted to heaven, from the rising until the goingdown of the sun, reciting prayers without cessation. In this mannerdid he for several years exhaust his body, invigorating it, at the sametime, with the strength of fervent prayer. 

"At length, one day he returned to the cloister, and said firmly tothe prior, 'Now I am ready. If God wills, I will finish my task. ' Thesubject he selected was the Birth of Christ. A whole year he sat overit, without leaving his cell, barely sustaining himself with coarsefood, and praying incessantly. At the end of the year the picture wasready. It was a really wonderful work. Neither prior nor brethren knewmuch about painting; but all were struck with the marvellous holiness ofthe figures. The expression of reverent humility and gentleness inthe face of the Holy Mother, as she bent over the Child; the deepintelligence in the eyes of the Holy Child, as though he saw somethingafar; the triumphant silence of the Magi, amazed by the Divine Miracle, as they bowed at his feet: and finally, the indescribable peace whichemanated from the whole picture--all this was presented with suchstrength and beauty, that the impression it made was magical. All thebrethren threw themselves on their knees before it; and the prior, deeply affected, exclaimed, 'No, it is impossible for any artist, withthe assistance only of earthly art, to produce such a picture: a holy, divine power has guided thy brush, and the blessing of Heaven restedupon thy labour!'

"By that time I had completed my education at the academy, receivedthe gold medal, and with it the joyful hope of a journey to Italy--thefairest dream of a twenty-year-old artist. It only remained for meto take leave of my father, from whom I had been separated for twelveyears. I confess that even his image had long faded from my memory. Ihad heard somewhat of his grim saintliness, and rather expected tomeet a hermit of rough exterior, a stranger to everything in the world, except his cell and his prayers, worn out, tried up, by eternal fastingand penance. But how great was my surprise when a handsome old man stoodbefore me! No traces of exhaustion were visible on his countenance: itbeamed with the light of a heavenly joy. His beard, white as snow, and his thin, almost transparent hair of the same silvery hue, fellpicturesquely upon his breast, and upon the folds of his black gown, even to the rope with which his poor monastic garb was girded. Butmost surprising to me of all was to hear from his mouth such wordsand thoughts about art as, I confess, I long shall bear in mind, and Isincerely wish that all my comrades would do the same. 

"'I expected you, my son, ' he said, when I approached for his blessing. 'The path awaits you in which your life is henceforth to flow. Your pathis pure--desert it not. You have talent: talent is the most pricelessof God's gifts--destroy it not. Search out, subject all things to yourbrush; but in all see that you find the hidden soul, and most of all, strive to attain to the grand secret of creation. Blessed is the electone who masters that! There is for him no mean object in nature. Inlowly themes the artist creator is as great as in great ones: in thedespicable there is nothing for him to despise, for it passes throughthe purifying fire of his mind. An intimation of God's heavenly paradiseis contained for the artist in art, and by that alone is it higherthan all else. But by as much as triumphant rest is grander than everyearthly emotion, by so much is the lofty creation of art higher thaneverything else on earth. Sacrifice everything to it, and love it withpassion--not with the passion breathing with earthly desire, but apeaceful, heavenly passion. It cannot plant discord in the spirit, but ascends, like a resounding prayer, eternally to God. But there aremoments, dark moments--' He paused, and I observed that his bright facedarkened, as though some cloud crossed it for a moment. 'There is oneincident of my life, ' he said. 'Up to this moment, I cannot understandwhat that terrible being was of whom I painted a likeness. It wascertainly some diabolical apparition. I know that the world denies theexistence of the Devil, and therefore I will not speak of him. I willonly say that I painted him with repugnance: I felt no liking for mywork, even at the time. I tried to force myself, and, stifling everyemotion in a hard-hearted way, to be true to nature. I have beeninformed that this portrait is passing from hand to hand, and sowingunpleasant impressions, inspiring artists with feelings of envy, of darkhatred towards their brethren, with malicious thirst for persecution andoppression. May the Almighty preserve you from such passions! There isnothing more terrible. '

"He blessed and embraced me. Never in my life was I so grandly moved. Reverently, rather than with the feeling of a son, I leaned upon hisbreast, and kissed his scattered silver locks. 

"Tears shone in his eyes. 'Fulfil my one request, my son, ' said he, at the moment of parting. 'You may chance to see the portrait I havementioned somewhere. You will know it at once by the strange eyes, andtheir peculiar expression. Destroy it at any cost. '

"Judge for yourselves whether I could refuse to promise, with an oath, to fulfil this request. In the space of fifteen years I had neversucceeded in meeting with anything which in any way corresponded to thedescription given me by my father, until now, all of a sudden, at anauction--"

The artist did not finish his sentence, but turned his eyes to thewall in order to glance once more at the portrait. The entire throngof auditors made the same movement, seeking the wonderful portrait withtheir eyes. But, to their extreme amazement, it was no longer on thewall. An indistinct murmur and exclamation ran through the crowd, andthen was heard distinctly the word, "stolen. " Some one had succeeded incarrying it off, taking advantage of the fact that the attention of thespectators was distracted by the story. And those present long remainedin a state of surprise, not knowing whether they had really seen thoseremarkable eyes, or whether it was simply a dream which had floatedfor an instant before their eyesight, strained with long gazing at oldpictures. 

THE CALASH

The town of B---- had become very lively since a cavalry regimenthad taken up its quarters in it. Up to that date it had been mortallywearisome there. When you happened to pass through the town and glancedat its little mud houses with their incredibly gloomy aspect, the penrefuses to express what you felt. You suffered a terrible uneasinessas if you had just lost all your money at play, or had committed someterrible blunder in company. The plaster covering the houses, soaked bythe rain, had fallen away in many places from their walls, which fromwhite had become streaked and spotted, whilst old reeds served to thatchthem. 

Following a custom very common in the towns of South Russia, the chiefof police has long since had all the trees in the gardens cut down toimprove the view. One never meets anything in the town, unless it isa cock crossing the road, full of dust and soft as a pillow. At theslightest rain this dust is turned into mud, and then all the streetsare filled with pigs. Displaying to all their grave faces, they uttersuch grunts that travellers only think of pressing their horses to getaway from them as soon as possible. Sometimes some country gentleman ofthe neighbourhood, the owner of a dozen serfs, passes in a vehicle whichis a kind of compromise between a carriage and a cart, surrounded bysacks of flour, and whipping up his bay mare with her colt trotting byher side. The aspect of the marketplace is mournful enough. The tailor'shouse sticks out very stupidly, not squarely to the front but sideways. Facing it is a brick house with two windows, unfinished for fifteenyears past, and further on a large wooden market-stall standing byitself and painted mud-colour. This stall, which was to serve as amodel, was built by the chief of police in the time of his youth, beforehe got into the habit of falling asleep directly after dinner, and ofdrinking a kind of decoction of dried goose-berries every evening. Allaround the rest of the market-place are nothing but palings. But inthe centre are some little sheds where a packet of round cakes, a stoutwoman in a red dress, a bar of soap, some pounds of bitter almonds, some lead, some cotton, and two shopmen playing at "svaika, " a gameresembling quoits, are always to be seen. 

But on the arrival of the cavalry regiment everything changed. Thestreets became more lively and wore quite another aspect. Often fromtheir little houses the inhabitants would see a tall and well-madeofficer with a plumed hat pass by, on his way to the quarters of one ofhis comrades to discuss the chances of promotion or the qualities of anew tobacco, or perhaps to risk at play his carriage, which might indeedbe called the carriage of all the regiment, since it belonged in turnto every one of them. To-day it was the major who drove out in it, to-morrow it was seen in the lieutenant's coach-house, and a week laterthe major's servant was again greasing its wheels. The long hedgesseparating the houses were suddenly covered with soldiers' caps exposedto the sun, grey frieze cloaks hung in the doorways, and moustachesharsh and bristling as clothes brushes were to be met with in all thestreets. These moustaches showed themselves everywhere, but above allat the market, over the shoulders of the women of the place who flockedthere from all sides to make their purchases. The officers lent greatanimation to society at B--. 

Society consisted up till then of the judge who was living with adeacon's wife, and of the chief of police, a very sensible man, but onewho slept all day long from dinner till evening, and from evening tilldinner-time. 

This general liveliness was still further increased when the town ofB---- became the residence of the general commanding the brigade towhich the regiment belonged. Many gentlemen of the neighbourhood, whosevery existence no one had even suspected, began to come into the townwith the intention of calling on the officers, or, perhaps, of playingbank, a game concerning which they had up till then only a very confusednotion, occupied as they were with their crops and the commissionsof their wives and their hare-hunting. I am very sorry that I cannotrecollect for what reason the general made up his mind one fine day togive a grand dinner. The preparations were overwhelming. The clatter ofknives in the kitchen was heard as far as the town gates. The whole ofthe market was laid under contributions, so much so that the judge andthe deacon's wife found themselves obliged that day to be satisfied withhasty puddings and cakes of flour. The little courtyard of the houseoccupied by the general was crowded with vehicles. The company onlyconsisted of men, officers and gentlemen of the neighbourhood. 

Amongst these latter was above all conspicuous Pythagoras PythagoravitchTchertokoutski, one of the leading aristocrats of the district of B--, the most fiery orator at the nobiliary elections and the owner of avery elegant turn-out. He had served in a cavalry regiment and had evenpassed for one of its most accomplished officers, having constantlyshown himself at all the balls and parties wherever his regiment wasquartered. Information respecting him may be asked of all the youngladies in the districts of Tamboff and Simbirsk. He would very probablyhave further extended his reputation in other districts if he had notbeen obliged to leave the service in consequence of one of those affairswhich are spoken of as "a very unpleasant business. " Had he given orreceived a blow? I cannot say with certainty, but what is indisputableis that he was asked to send in his resignation. However, this accidenthad no unpleasant effect upon the esteem in which he had been held uptill then. 

Tchertokoutski always wore a coat of a military cut, spurs andmoustache, in order not to have it supposed that he had served inthe infantry, a branch of the service upon which he lavished the mostcontemptuous expressions. He frequented the numerous fairs to whichflock the whole of the population of Southern Russia, consisting ofnursemaids, tall girls, and burly gentlemen who go there in vehiclesof such strange aspect that no one has ever seen their match even in adream. He instinctively guessed the spot in which a regiment of cavalrywas to be found and never failed to introduce himself to the officers. On perceiving them he bounded gracefully from his light phaeton and soonmade acquaintance with them. At the last election he had given to thewhole of the nobility a grand dinner during which he declared that ifhe were elected marshal he would put all gentlemen on the best possiblefooting. He usually behaved after the fashion of a great noble. He hadmarried a rather pretty lady with a dowry of two hundred serfs and somethousands of rubles. This money was at once employed in the purchase ofsix fine horses, some gilt bronze locks, and a tame monkey. He furtherengaged a French cook. The two hundred peasants of the lady, as well astwo hundred more belonging to the gentleman, were mortgaged to the bank. In a word, he was a regular nobleman. Besides himself, several othergentlemen were amongst the general's guests, but it is not worth whilespeaking of them. The officers of the regiment, amongst whom were thecolonel and the fat major, formed the majority of those present. The general himself was rather stout; a good officer, nevertheless, according to his subordinates. He had a rather deep bass voice. 

The dinner was magnificent; there were sturgeons, sterlets, bustards, asparagus, quail, partridges, mushrooms. The flavour of all these dishessupplied an irrefutable proof of the sobriety of the cook during thetwenty-four hours preceding the dinner. Four soldiers, who had beengiven him as assistants, had not ceased working all night, knife inhand, at the composition of ragouts and jellies. The immense quantityof long-necked bottles, mingled with shorter ones, holding claret andmadeira; the fine summer day, the wide-open windows, the plates piledup with ice on the table, the crumpled shirt-fronts of the gentlemen inplain clothes, and a brisk and noisy conversation, now dominated by thegeneral's voice, and now besprinkled with champagne, were all in perfectharmony. The guests rose from the table with a pleasant feelingof repletion, and, after having lit their pipes, all stepped out, coffee-cups in hand, on to the verandah. 

"We can see her now, " said the general. "Here, my dear fellow, " addedhe, addressing his aide-de-camp, an active well-made young officer, "have the bay mare brought here. You shall see for yourselves, gentlemen. "

At these words the general took a long pull at his pipe. 

"She is not quite recovered yet; there is not a decent stable in thiscursed little place. But she is not bad looking--" puff--puff, thegeneral here let out the smoke which he had kept in his mouth tillthen--"the little mare. "

"It is long since your excellency--" puff--puff--puff--"condescended tobuy her?" asked Tchertokoutski. 

Puff--puff--puff--puff. "Not very long, I had her from the breedingestablishment two years ago. "

"And did your excellency condescend to take her ready broken, or to haveher broken in here yourself?"

Puff--puff--puff--puff. "Here. "

As he spoke the general disappeared behind a cloud of smoke. 

At that moment a soldier jumped out of the stable. The trampling of ahorse's hoofs was heard, and another soldier with immense moustaches, and wearing a long white tunic, appeared, leading by the bridle theterrified and quivering mare, which, suddenly rearing, lifted him offhis feet. 

"Come, come, Agrafena Ivanovna, " said he, leading her towards theverandah. 

The mare's name was Agrafena Ivanovna. Strong and bold as a Southernbeauty, she suddenly became motionless. 

The general began to look at her with evident satisfaction, and left offsmoking. The colonel himself went down the steps and patted her neck. The major ran his hand down her legs, and all the other officers clickedtheir tongues at her. 

Tchertokoutski left the verandah to take up a position beside the mare. The soldier who held her bridle drew himself up and stared fixedly atthe guests. 

"She is very fine, very fine, " said Tchertokoutski, "a very well-shapedbeast. Will your excellency allow me to ask whether she is a good goer?"

"She goes well, but that idiot of a doctor, deuce take him, has givenher some balls which have made her sneeze for the last two days. "

"She is a fine beast, a very fine beast. Has your excellency a turn-outto match the horse?"

"Turn-out! but she's a saddle horse. "

"I know. I put the question, your excellency, to know if you have anequipage worthy of your other horses?"

"No, I have not much in the way of equipages; I must admit that, forsome time past, I have been wanting to buy a calash, such as they buildnow-a-days. I have written about it to my brother who is now at St. Petersburg, but I do not know whether he will be able to send me one. "

"It seems to me, your excellency, " remarked the colonel, "that there areno better calashes than those of Vienna. "

"You are right. " Puff--puff--puff. 

"I have an excellent calash, your excellency, a real Viennese calash, "said Tchertokoutski. 

"That in which you came?"

"Oh no, I make use of that for ordinary service, but the other issomething extraordinary. It is as light as a feather, and if you sit init, it seems as if your nurse was rocking you in a cradle. "

"It is very comfortable then?"

"Extremely comfortable; the cushions, the springs, and everything elseare perfect. "

"Ah! that is good. "

"And what a quantity of things can be packed away in it. I have neverseen anything like it, your excellency. When I was still in the servicethere was room enough in the body to stow away ten bottles of rum, twenty pounds of tobacco, six uniforms, and two pipes, the longest pipesimaginable, your excellency; and in the pockets inside you could stowaway a whole bullock. "

"That is very good. "

"It cost four thousand rubles, your excellency. "

"It ought to be good at that price. Did you buy it yourself?"

"No, your excellency, I had it by chance. It was bought by one of myoldest friends, a fine fellow with whom you would be very well pleased. We are very intimate. What is mine is his, and what is his is mine. I won it of him at cards. Would your excellency have the kindness tohonour me at dinner to-morrow? You could see my calash. "

"I don't know what to say. Alone I could not--but if you would allow meto come with these officers--"

"I beg of them to come too. I shall esteem it a great honour, gentlemen, to have the pleasure of seeing you at my house. "

The colonel, the major, and the other officers thanked Tchertokoutski. 

"I am of opinion myself, your excellency, that if one buys anything itshould be good; it is not worth the trouble of getting, if it turns outbad. If you do me the honour of calling on me to-morrow, I will show yousome improvements I have introduced on my estate. "

The general looked at him, and puffed out a fresh cloud of smoke. 

Tchertokoutski was charmed with his notion of inviting the officers, and mentally ordered in advance all manner of dishes for theirentertainment. He smiled at these gentlemen, who on their part appearedto increase their show of attention towards him, as was noticeable fromthe expression of their eyes and the little half-nods they bestowed uponhim. His bearing assumed a certain ease, and his voice expressed hisgreat satisfaction. 

"Your excellency will make the acquaintance of the mistress of thehouse. "

"That will be most agreeable to me, " said the general, twirling hismoustache. 

Tchertokoutski was firmly resolved to return home at once in order tomake all necessary preparations in good time. He had already taken hishat, but a strange fatality caused him to remain for some time atthe general's. The card tables had been set out, and all the company, separating into groups of four, scattered itself about the room. Lightswere brought in. Tchertokoutski did not know whether he ought to sitdown to whist. But as the officers invited him, he thought that therules of good breeding obliged him to accept. He sat down. I do notknow how a glass of punch found itself at his elbow, but he drank itoff without thinking. After playing two rubbers, he found another glassclose to his hand which he drank off in the same way, though not withoutremarking:

"It is really time for me to go, gentlemen. "

He began to play a fresh rubber. However, the conversation which wasgoing on in every corner of the room took an especial turn. Those whowere playing whist were quiet enough, but the others talked a greatdeal. A captain had taken up his position on a sofa, and leaning againsta cushion, pipe in mouth, he captivated the attention of a circleof guests gathered about him by his eloquent narrative of amorousadventures. A very stout gentleman whose arms were so short that theylooked like two potatoes hanging by his sides, listened to him with avery satisfied expression, and from time to time exerted himself topull his tobacco-pouch out of his coat-tail pocket. A somewhatbrisk discussion on cavalry drill had arisen in another corner, andTchertokoutski, who had twice already played a knave for a king, mingledin the conversation by calling out from his place: "In what year?" or"What regiment?" without noticing that very often his question had noapplication whatever. At length, a few minutes before supper, play cameto an end. Tchertokoutski could remember that he had won a great deal, but he did not take up his winnings, and after rising stood for sometime in the position of a man who has no handkerchief in his pocket. 

They sat down to supper. As might be expected, wine was not lacking, andTchertokoutski kept involuntarily filling his glass with it, for he wassurrounded with bottles. A lengthy conversation took place at table, but the guests carried it on after a strange fashion. A colonel, whohad served in 1812, described a battle which had never taken place; andbesides, no one ever could make out why he took a cork and stuck it intoa pie. They began to break-up at three in the morning. The coachmenwere obliged to take several of them in their arms like bundles; andTchertokoutski himself, despite his aristocratic pride, bowed so low tothe company, that he took home two thistles in his moustache. 

The coachman who drove him home found every one asleep. He routed out, after some trouble, the valet, who, after having ushered his masterthrough the hall, handed him over to a maid-servant. Tchertokoutskifollowed her as well as he could to the best room, and stretched himselfbeside his pretty young wife, who was sleeping in a night-gown as whiteas snow. The shock of her husband falling on the bed awoke her--shestretched out her arms, opened her eyes, closed them quickly, and thenopened them again quite wide, with a half-vexed air. Seeing that herhusband did not pay the slightest attention to her, she turned over onthe other side, rested her fresh and rosy cheek on her hand, and went tosleep again. 

It was late--that is, according to country customs--when the lady awokeagain. Her husband was snoring more loudly than ever. She recollectedthat he had come home at four o'clock, and not wishing to awaken him, got up alone, and put on her slippers, which her husband had had sentfor her from St. Petersburg, and a white dressing-gown which fellabout her like the waters of a fountain. Then she passed into herdressing-room, and after washing in water as fresh as herself, went toher toilet table. She looked at herself twice in the glass, andthought she looked very pretty that morning. This circumstance, a veryinsignificant one apparently, caused her to stay two hours longer thanusual before her glass. She dressed herself very tastefully and wentinto the garden. 

The weather was splendid: it was one of the finest days of the summer. The sun, which had almost reached the meridian, shed its most ardentrays; but a pleasant coolness reigned under the leafy arcades; and theflowers, warmed by the sun, exhaled their sweetest perfume. The prettymistress of the house had quite forgotten that it was noon at least, andthat her husband was still asleep. Already she heard the snores of twocoachmen and a groom, who were taking their siesta in the stable, afterhaving dined copiously. But she was still sitting in a bower from whichthe deserted high road could be seen, when all at once her attention wascaught by a light cloud of dust rising in the distance. After looking atit for some moments, she ended by making out several vehicles, closelyfollowing one another. First came a light calash, with two places, inwhich was the general, wearing his large and glittering epaulettes, withthe colonel. This was followed by another with four places, containingthe captain, the aide-de-camp and two lieutenants. Further on, came thecelebrated regimental vehicle, the present owner of which was the major, and behind that another in which were packed five officers, one on hiscomrade's knees, the procession being closed by three more on three finebays. 

"Are they coming here?" thought the mistress of the house. "Goodheavens, yes! they are leaving the main road. "

She gave a cry, clasped her hands, and ran straight across theflower-beds to her bedroom, where her husband was still sleepingsoundly. 

"Get up! get up! get up at once, " she cried, pulling him by the arm. 

"What--what's the matter?" murmured Tchertokoutski, stretching his limbswithout opening his eyes. 

"Get up, get up. Visitors have come, do you hear? visitors. "

"Visitors, what visitors?" After saying these words he uttered a littleplaintive grunt like that of a sucking calf: "M-m-m. Let me kiss you. "

"My dear, get up at once, for heaven's sake. The general has comewith all his officers. Ah! goodness, you have got a thistle in yourmoustache. "

"The general! Has he come already? But why the deuce did not they wakeme? And the dinner, is the dinner ready?"

"What dinner?"

"But haven't I ordered a dinner?"

"A dinner! You got home at four o'clock in the morning and you did notanswer a single word to all my questions. I did not wake you, since youhad so little sleep. "

Tchertokoutski, his eyes staring out of his head, remained motionlessfor some moments as though a thunderbolt had struck him. All at once hejumped out of bed in his shirt. 

"Idiot that I am, " he exclaimed, clasping his hand to his forehead; "Ihad invited them to dinner. What is to be done? are they far off?"

"They will be here in a moment. "

"My dear, hide yourself. Ho there, somebody. Hi there, you girl. Comehere, you fool; what are you afraid of? The officers are coming here;tell them I am not at home, that I went out early this morning, thatI am not coming back. Do you understand? Go and repeat it to all theservants. Be off, quick. "

Having uttered these words, he hurriedly slipped on his dressing-gown, and ran off to shut himself up in the coach-house, which he thoughtthe safest hiding-place. But he fancied that he might be noticed in thecorner in which he had taken refuge. 

"This will be better, " said he to himself, letting down the steps ofthe nearest vehicle, which happened to be the calash. He jumped inside, closed the door, and, as a further precaution, covered himself with theleather apron. There he remained, wrapped in his dressing-gown, in adoubled-up position. 

During this time the equipages had drawn up before the porch. Thegeneral got out of his carriage and shook himself, followed by thecolonel, arranging the feathers in his hat. After him came the stoutmajor, his sabre under his arm, and the slim lieutenants, whilst themounted officers also alighted. 

"The master is not at home, " said a servant appearing at the top of aflight of steps. 

"What! not at home; but he is coming home for dinner, is he not?"

"No, he is not; he has gone out for the day and will not be back tillthis time to-morrow. "

"Bless me, " said the general; "but what the deuce--"

"What a joke, " said the colonel laughing. 

"No, no, such things are inconceivable, " said the general angrily. "Ifhe could not receive us, why did he invite us?"

"I cannot understand, your excellency, how it is possible to act in sucha manner, " observed a young officer. 

"What?" said the general, who always made an officer under the rank ofcaptain repeat his remarks twice over. 

"I wondered, your excellency, how any one could do such a thing. "

"Quite so; if anything has happened he ought to have let us know. "

"There is nothing to be done, your excellency, we had better go backhome, " said the colonel. 

"Certainly, there is nothing to be done. However, we can see the calashwithout him; probably he has not taken it with him. Come here, my man. "

"What does your excellency want?"

"Show us your master's new calash. "

"Have the kindness to step this way to the coach-house. "

The general entered the coach-house followed by his officers. 

"Let me pull it a little forward, your excellency, " said the servant, "it is rather dark here. "

"That will do. "

The general and his officers walked around the calash, carefullyinspecting the wheels and springs. 

"There is nothing remarkable about it, " said the general; "it is a veryordinary calash. "

"Nothing to look at, " added the colonel; "there is absolutely nothinggood about it. "

"It seems to me, your excellency, that it is not worth four thousandrubles, " remarked a young officer. 

"What?"

"I said, your excellency, that I do not think that it is worth fourthousand rubles. "

"Four thousand! It is not worth two. Perhaps, however, the inside iswell fitted. Unbutton the apron. "

And Tchertokoutski appeared before the officers' eyes, clad in hisdressing-gown and doubled up in a singular fashion. 

"Hullo, there you are, " said the astonished general. 

Then he covered Tchertokoutski up again and went off with his officers.