Scattered over the plain were picturesque groups.From their weatherbeaten faces, it was plain that all were steeled in battle, and had faced every sort of bad weather.And there it was, the Setch!
There was the lair from whence all those men, proud and strong as lions, issued forth! There was the spot whence poured 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 was holding it in his hands, and slowly sewing up the holes in it.
Again their way was stopped by a whole crowd of musicians, in the midst of whom a young Zaporozhetz was dancing, with head thrown back and arms outstretched.He kept shouting, "Play faster, musicians!
Begrudge not, Thoma, brandy to these orthodox Christians!" And Thoma, with his blackened eye, went on measuring out without stint, to every one who presented himself, a huge jugful.
About the youthful Zaporozhetz four old men, moving their feet quite briskly, leaped like a whirlwind to one side, almost upon the musicians' heads, and, suddenly, retreating, squatted down and drummed the hard earth vigorously with their silver heels.The earth hummed dully all about, and afar the air resounded with national dance tunes beaten by the clanging heels of their boots.
But one shouted more loudly than all the rest, and flew after the others in the dance.His scalp-lock streamed in the wind, his muscular chest was bare, his warm, winter fur jacket was hanging by the sleeves, and the perspiration poured from him as from a pig."Take off your jacket!" said Taras at length: "see how he steams!"--"I can't,"shouted the Cossack."Why?"--"I can't: I have such a disposition that whatever I take off, I drink up." And indeed, the young fellow had not had a cap for a long time, nor a belt to his caftan, nor an embroidered neckerchief: all had gone the proper road.The throng increased; more folk joined the dancer: and it was impossible to observe without emotion how all yielded to the impulse of the dance, the freest, the wildest, the world has ever seen, still called from its mighty originators, the Kosachka.
"Oh, if I had no horse to hold," exclaimed Taras, "I would join the dance myself."Meanwhile there began to appear among the throng men who were respected for their prowess throughout all the Setch--old greyheads who had been leaders more than once.Taras soon found a number of familiar faces.Ostap and Andrii heard nothing but greetings."Ah, it is you, 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 these heroes, gathered from all the roving population of Eastern Russia, kissed each other and began to ask questions."But what has become of Kasyan? Where is Borodavka? and Koloper? and Pidsuitok?" And in reply, Taras Bulba learned that Borodavka had been hung at Tolopan, that Koloper had been flayed alive at Kizikirmen, that Pidsuitok's head had been salted and sent in a cask to Constantinople.Old Bulba hung his head and said thoughtfully, "They were good Cossacks."
