Chapter 11 Taras Bulba - Section 2

All three riders rode forward in silence.Old Taras thought of the past: his youth, his years flashed before his eyes--a Cossack who wished to live forever young would weep when he remembered these lost days.He wondered who among his old companions he would meet when he got to the Setch.He counted who were dead and who were still alive.Tears slowly condensed in his eye sockets, and his gray head drooped sadly. His sons were thinking of something else.However, a few more words must be said about his sons.They were sent to the seminary in Kyiv at the age of twelve, because the dignitaries of the time considered it necessary to educate their children, although this enthusiasm did not last long, and the result was that education was even more completely forgotten.At that time, like all the children entering the seminary, they were naturally wild, and they had been brought up in a free environment. After entering, they usually went through some training and acquired a common thing that made them similar to each other.This is how the elder brother Ostap started his school career: In the first year, he played truant.They caught him back, beat him severely, and forced him to sit down in front of the book.He buried his literacy textbooks in the ground four times, and four times he was beaten to pieces and bought new ones for him.But, no doubt, he would have repeated it a fifth time, if his father had not solemnly declared to him that he would be imprisoned in the monastery for a full twenty years of former work, and had sworn in advance that if he did not study in the seminary If he completes all the lessons, let him never see Zaporos again.It is interesting that this was said by the very same Taras Bulba, who condemned learning as worthless and, as we have seen, advised children not to study it at all.From then on, Ostap worked hard, sat in front of a dull book, and soon became a top student.The nature of learning at that time was very far from real life: these cumbersome philosophical, grammatical, rhetorical, and logical mysteries never touched the times, and could never be applied and repeated in life.People who have learned these things cannot connect their knowledge, even less tedious philosophical knowledge, with reality.The most learned men of the time were more ignorant than the rest, because they were completely detached from practical experience.Moreover, seminaries have a republican organization, filled with many young, healthy, healthy people, all of which teach them to engage in activities which are quite outside the sphere of study.Sometimes from poor nutrition, sometimes from frequent punishment by starvation, sometimes from the many needs that arise in vigorous, healthy, hardy young people, all these factors combined to give them a lifelong life. Chaporosh developed an aggressive spirit even more.Hungry seminary students roam the streets of Kyiv, forcing everyone to be vigilant.The businesswomen sitting in the market place cover their pies, rolls, and pumpkin seeds with their hands whenever a passing divinity student passes by, as a female eagle covers her chicks.The monitor, charged with supervising the schoolmates entrusted to his care, had pockets on his bloomers so enormous that they could fit the whole store of a yawning saleswoman.These seminarians formed a completely special world: they were forbidden to enter the upper class of Polish and Russian aristocrats.Even the governor, Adam Kissel, although he was very fond of the seminaries, did not introduce them into high society, and ordered them to be more strictly controlled.However, this remedial training order is completely unnecessary, because the principal and the teachers and monks don’t hesitate to borrow willow sticks and whips. Following their orders, the supervisor often beats the monitors to pieces and makes them rub their asses for several weeks. .To many of them it was nothing at all, but a little more than good vodka and pepper.Others at last grew weary of this continual whipping, and fled to Zaporosh if they could find their way and not be intercepted. Ostap Bulba, in spite of his furious efforts, studied logic and even Theology, but in any case, was subject to merciless whipping, which, of course, should have only hardened his character, endowing him with that indomitable spirit that distinguished the Cossacks. Ostap is often regarded as is one of the best buddies.He seldom took the lead in leading riots and stealing gardens or kitchen gardens, but at the same time he was always one of the first to rush in under the command of a courageous seminarian, and never under any circumstances betrayed his partner.No matter how many whips and willows were broken, he could not be forced to do such a thing.He was indifferent, at least, hardly ever, to any other temptation than war and unbridled feasting.He is straightforward with his peers.He had that good nature which only a man of such a character could have at such a time.He was deeply moved by the poor mother's tears, and only this one event frightened him, and made him hang his head thoughtfully.

His younger brother Andre has a slightly livelier and seemingly more mature affection.He read more voluntarily, without the nervousness that people of heavy and strong characters usually get into trouble.He is more resourceful than his older brother: he is often the leader of the Dangerous Operations, sometimes relying on his clever wit.He was able to get away with it, but his elder brother Ostap, throwing all considerations to the back of his mind, took off his coat and lay down on the floor, not wanting to beg pardon at all.He also burns with the desire to do great things, but at the same time, his soul can understand other emotions.When he passed the age of eighteen, the desire for love grew strongly in his heart.Women appeared more and more frequently in his ardent fantasies; while he listened to philosophical discussions, he saw the bright, dark-eyed, gentle figure every moment.Her clean and elastic breasts, soft, beautiful, and naked arms flashed before his eyes; even the clothes that stuck her young but strong limbs were in his imagination. It also reveals the taste of indescribable lust.He carefully concealed this passionate youthful soul impulse from his companions, because in those days it was shameful and unseemly for a Cossack to think of women and love before he had experienced war.In general, he has led less trouble in recent years, but more often wanders alone in the back alleys of uninhabited Kyiv, lost in the cherry orchards, in the low houses that face the street temptingly. middle.He also wandered sometimes into the aristocratic streets, in what is now called "Old Kyiv", where the little Russian and Polish aristocrats lived, in somewhat grotesquely built houses.Once, when he was in a trance, a certain Polish gentleman's carriage almost ran over him, and the bearded coachman sitting on the driver's box swung his whip and whipped him severely. one time.The young seminarian was enraged: in a moment of ill will, and with a sudden impulse out of nowhere, he reached over and grabbed the rear wheel, bringing the carriage to a halt.But the coachman was afraid of losing money, so he whipped the horses a few times, and the horses galloped forward. Fortunately, Andrey let go of his grip quickly, and fell to the ground with muddy faces.Above his head, there was a very loud and melodious laugh.He looked up and saw a beautiful woman standing by the window, the beauty he had never seen before in his life: she had a pair of black eyes and a skin as white as the snow field illuminated by the morning sun.She laughed from the bottom of her heart, and this laughter added charm to her dazzling beauty.He panicked.He stared blankly at her in a daze, and at the same time wiped the dirt on his face carelessly, but it got dirtier and dirtier.Who will this beauty be?He wanted to ask the servants, who stood in a cluster at the door, in rich attire, bending over a young musician playing the polychord.However, seeing his smeared face, the servants laughed loudly and gave him no answer.Finally, he found out that it was the daughter of the governor of Kewen City who came here for a while.The next night, with the boldness of a seminary student, he leaped over the fence, sneaked into the garden, climbed an old woman's tree, whose branches soared to the roof; from tree to roof he jumped , and down the chimney of the chimney into the bedroom of the beauty, who was sitting before the candle, taking off the costly earrings from her ears.The beautiful Polish girl suddenly saw a strange man standing in front of her, she was so frightened that she couldn't speak a word, but when she saw the seminary student standing there with lowered eyes, she didn't even dare to move her hands because of her shyness. When she moved, she couldn't help laughing again when she recognized that this was the person who fell on the street with a plop in front of her.Besides, there was nothing ugly about Andrey's face: he was very handsome.She smiled sincerely and played tricks on him for a long time.The beauty was as tender as any Polish woman, but her eyes, strange, sharp, and bright, cast a long, eternal glance.When the governor's daughter came up to him bravely, put her splendid diadem on his head, put earrings on his lips, and threw a sheer veil shawl embroidered with gold over him, the seminarian could not Move his hand, as if tied in a pocket.She adorned him with all the childish insolence of a frivolous Polish woman, and played a thousand tricks on him to confuse the poor seminarian even more, and he appeared She opened her mouth in a funny face, and looked into her bright eyes without moving.A knock at the door startled her.She told him to hide under the bed, and when the uneasiness had passed, she shouted at the woman, a captive Tartar woman, and ordered her to lead him cautiously into the garden, and from there Go over the wall and walk away.But this time our theological student was not so lucky to get over the wall: the awakened watchman grabbed his feet tightly, and the servants gathered to chase him into the street and beat him until Two swift legs rescued him from the encirclement.From then on it was very dangerous to walk through the house, because the Doge's palace was full of servants.He met her again in the chapel, and when she saw him she smiled as graciously as at an old friend.He met her once by chance, and after that, the governor of Kezhang City left soon after, and the Polish girl with beautiful black eyes no longer appeared at the window, but a fat face instead.Andre lowered his head, buried his eyes in the horse's mane, and that was all he could think of at the moment.At this moment, the grassland had already embraced them all in its emerald green embrace, and the tall grass stretched as far as the eye could see, hiding them, only a few black Cossack hats flickering among the grass ears.

"Hey! Boys, why are you so silent?" Bulba finally woke up from his contemplation, "You are like two monks! Come on, leave all your worries to the devil! Pipe in your mouth In the mouth, let us take a few puffs of cigarettes, and then gallop so fast that even the birds can't keep up with us!" Then the Cossacks bent down on their horses and disappeared into the grass.Even the black hats were long gone; only the swiftly rolled waves of the trampled grass showed their galloping tracks, and the sun had long since emerged from the clear sky and bathed the grasslands with a delightful heat.All the haziness and drowsiness that had been in the souls of the Cossacks disappeared at once; their hearts beat like birds.

The further the steppe, the more beautiful it was. At that time, the whole of the south, which constitutes the whole of New Russia to the Black Sea, was a green and uncultivated wasteland.Never before has the rake plowed in the boundless waves of wild vegetation.Only the horses are like walking into the forest, hidden in the rose bushes of wild plants, trampling on it. Nothing in nature is more beautiful than them. The whole ground forms a golden and green sea, dotted with thousands of flowers. various flowers.Light blue, blue and lavender cornflowers emerge from the middle of the slender grass stems; yellow gorse protrudes upwards with pyramid-shaped spiers; white alfalfa protrudes from the umbrella-shaped hat, which is particularly conspicuous on the ground ; a wheat ear blown from nowhere, matured in the middle of the flowers.Pigeons stretch their necks and scurry under the thin roots of the ears of wheat.The air is filled with thousands of birdsongs of all kinds.The vulture stopped motionless in the sky, spread its wings, and stared blankly at the grass.The cries of a flock of geese flying over the clouds reverberated from God knows how far away the lake.A gull fluttered rhythmically from the grass and floated gracefully in the blue waves of the air.It disappeared from the high places for a while, leaving only a small black spot flashing, and then turned its wings over, shining brightly in front of the sun.Hell, Prairie, how beautiful you are!

The travelers stayed only a few minutes for lunch, while a detachment of ten Cossacks who had accompanied them dismounted from their horses, and unfastened the mugs for the wine and the gourds for the table.They ate only buttered bread or scones, drank a small glass of wine each, just to refresh themselves, because Taras Bulba never permitted drinking on the road, and continued on their way until dusk.At dusk, the whole steppe changed completely.The whole colorful region is covered with vivid sunset light, slowly darkening, so that it can be seen: shadows pass over them, they turn dark green; Small flowers, every small grass exudes fragrance, and the whole grassland is immersed in the breath of pineapple.In the deep blue sky, it seems that with a wave of a giant's paintbrush, a few broad bands of rose color mixed with gold have been painted: occasionally a few white clouds that are light and pseudo-transparent drift by, like sea waves. The fresh and charming smoked wind makes the tip of the grass sway slightly, caressing the cheeks of passers-by.Musical consumption during the day is silenced and replaced by another kind of music.Striped woodchucks crawled out of their burrows and squatted on their hind paws. Their whistles filled the grassland, and the chirping of crickets became louder.Sometimes, from some lonely lake in the distance, the cry of a swan was heard, ringing in the air like silver bells.The travelers stopped in the middle of the prairie, selected a place for the night, lit a fire, set up a pot, and cooked oily porridge in the pot; the water vapor rose and swayed into the air curlingly.After supper, the Cossacks let the bound horses out to graze, and lay down to sleep.They spread their gowns on the ground and lay on them.The stars of the night looked down on them, and they heard with their ears the whole innumerable world of insects that filled the grass, their shouts, shrieks, and coughs; Softened by the fresh night air, it is very pleasant to people's ears.If any one of them stood up for a moment, he would see the grass covered with brilliant sparks of fireflies.Sometimes, the night sky is illuminated in many places by the red light of burning dead branches on selected pastures and river banks, and the black procession of a flock of swans flying northward suddenly reflects rose-colored and silvery brilliance, so it seems like It was as if many red handkerchiefs were flying towards the dark sky.

The travelers continued on without incident.Wherever they went, they didn't see a single tree. As far as the eye could see, there was always a boundless, free, beautiful steppe, only occasionally seen on one side, and a distant forest stretching along the Dnieper River. The top of the tip is glowing with a lush blue light.Only once did Taras point to a small black spot in the grass in the distance to his sons and say, "Look, boys, there's a Tartar running!" He kept his narrow eyes on them from a distance, sniffed the air around them like hounds, and when he saw that there were as many as thirteen Cossacks, they disappeared like antelopes without a trace. "Hey, boys, try to overtake that Tartar! . . . Come on, don't try, you'll never catch him in your life: his horse is faster than my devil." But, From then on Bulba stepped up his guard, fearing that he might be ambushed somewhere.They galloped to a small river called Zhebanrka, which emptied into the Dnieper, jumped into it on summer horses, swam for a while, in order to hide their tracks, and then climbed ashore again and continued their journey.

Three days after this, they were not far from the return of their journey.The air suddenly became cold; they felt the arrival of the Dnieper.Glittering in the distance, it drew a dim band, demarcated from the horizon, and it pushed cold waves forward, stretching closer and closer until at last it embraced half the ground.This is a part of the Dnieper River: originally it was restricted by the rapids, but here it finally entered the free world, flooded and roared like the sea; the many islands scattered in its midstream Pushing away from the two banks, the surging waves did not meet the obstacles of the cliffs and high grounds, and they continued to flow to the ground. The Cossacks dismounted, boarded the ferry, and after three hours of sailing, they had reached Khorditsa Island. The shore where the often shifting Seki was stationed at the time.

A group of people were arguing with the boatmen on the shore.The Cossacks equipped the horses.Taras braced himself, tightened his belt, and stroked his beard proudly.His young sons, too, inspected themselves from head to toe with a feeling of terror and vague satisfaction, and they rode together into the outskirts of the town, half a mile from the Setch.As soon as they entered the outskirts of the city, their ears were deafened by fifty hammers beating in the sod-roofed smithies of twenty-five local dugs.The burly tanners sat on the porches before the street steps, kneading the hides with their strong hands.Before the vendors, there was a huge pile of flint, scythe, and gunpowder for sale.An Armenian hangs out his expensive handkerchief.A Tartar twirled slices of mutton on a spit.A Jew stuck his head out of the barrel.Pour out the white wine.However, the first thing they saw was a Zaporoshi lying in the middle of the road with his limbs stretched out.Taras Bulba could not stop admiring him.

"Oh, what a stately lie! What a fine man!" said he, reining in the horse. To tell the truth, it was a very unscrupulous picture: the Zaporoshi lay like a lion on the road.His unruly undone forehead covered half an argentine foot of the floor, and his expensive scarlet woolen trousers were stained with oil, in order to show that he didn't spare the trousers at all.After admiring enough, Bulba continued to walk along this narrow street.The streets are crowded with handicraft craftsmen and people of all nationalities who go to the outskirts of the city of Sechi. This place is like a market, and Sechi, who only knows how to wander and shoot guns, relies on it to provide them with food and clothing.

At last they crossed the outskirts of the city, and came across a few scattered huts covered with turf or, as required, with carpets.Some camps were fitted with cannons.I searched nowhere and couldn't find walls, or low houses with low wooden posts and open sheds like those I saw in the suburbs.The small earthen city and the deer shed, which are absolutely not guarded by anyone, show negligence to the extreme.Several strong-bodied Zaporoshis who lay limp along the road with pipes in their mouths looked at them very indifferently and did not move a muscle.Taras cautiously walked among them with his sons, saying: "Hello, folks!" "Hello!" answered the Zaporos.There are colorful crowds everywhere.It could be seen from the black faces that they had all been trained in battle; they had endured all kinds of disasters.This is Xie Qi!This is the lair from which all these lion-like haughty and strong men flow!It is from here that the spirit of freedom and Cossacks floods all over Ukraine!

Travelers came to the square, where meetings were often held.A shirtless Tzaporos sits on an overturned drum; he holds the shirt in his hand and slowly mends the hole in it.Again a large crowd of musicians blocked their way, and among them a young Zaporosh, with his hat on one side, was dancing with his hands up.He just shouted: "Play harder, musicians! Fuma, don't be reluctant to invite Orthodox believers to drink!" Then Fuma, who had injured one eye, poured it for everyone present without restriction. Drink a large glass of wine.Around the young Zaporoshi, four old men swayed their feet in small steps, jumped aside like a whirlwind, almost jumped on the musician's head, suddenly squatted down, took short steps, Quickly and violently knocked on the solid ground.A low, monotonous sound from the ground spread all around, and far away the air resounded with the sound of gobucks and troubaks beating time with loud boots.However, there was one person who yelled more vigorously than everyone else, and danced quickly after the others.His forehead fluttered in the wind, and his strong chest was completely exposed: a warm winter fur coat was only worn with two sleeves, and large beads of sweat kept coming out like rain. "Take off your fur coat!" said Taras at last, "look at you steaming!" "No!" cried the Zaporos, "why not; I have such a temper: If you take it off, you have to exchange it for wine." Sure enough, the young man no longer wears a hat on his head, he no longer wears a belt over his long coat, and he doesn't even have an embroidered scarf: everything is where it should go up.The crowd grew bigger; others joined in the dance, and saw the whole crowd lost in the freest and wildest dance that is rare in the world and has earned the name of the Cossack dance because of its mighty creator. It cannot but arouse the excitement in my heart. "Oh, if only I didn't ride!" cried Taras, "I'll come and join the dance!" At this moment, a few white-haired old men who had been leaders more than once, were highly respected, and were respected throughout Xieqi because of their bravery appeared in the crowd.Taras immediately saw many familiar faces.Biesdap and Andrei only heard the voices of greetings from all around them: "Oh, it's you, Petcheritsa: hello, Kozorup! What the hell brought you here, Taras ? ""How did you come here, Toroto? ""Well, Kirdjaga!OK, Gusto!How could I expect to see you again, Lie Min? "The warriors gathered from the whole debauched world of Eastern Russia kissed each other; and a series of questions followed: "How is Kachan?"What happened to Borodavka?How is Cropper?How is Bissichok? "All Taras could hear was that Borodavka was hanged at Tolpan, Kolopil was flayed and killed near Kizikirmin, Bishishok's head was They were pickled in the handle and sent all the way to Tsargrad. Old Bulba bowed his head, thinking about him and said: "They are all good Cossacks! "