"Eh, eh, why are you so quiet, lads?" said Bulba at length, waking from his 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 spur on our horses so swiftly that no bird can overtake us."And the Cossacks, bending low on their horses' necks, disappeared in the grass.Their black caps were no longer to be seen; a streak of trodden grass alone showed the trace of their swift flight.
The sun had long since looked forth from the clear heavens and inundated the steppe with his quickening, warming light.All that was dim and drowsy in the Cossacks' minds flew away in a twinkling: their hearts fluttered 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 plough had ever passed over the immeasurable waves of wild growth;horses alone, hidden in it as in a forest, trod it down.Nothing in nature could be finer.The whole surface resembled a golden-green ocean, upon which were sprinkled millions of different flowers.
Through the tall, slender stems of the grass peeped light-blue, dark-blue, and lilac star-thistles; the yellow broom thrust up its pyramidal head; the parasol-shaped white flower of the false flax shimmered on high.A wheat-ear, brought God knows whence, was filling out to ripening.Amongst the roots of this luxuriant vegetation ran partridges with outstretched necks.The air was filled with the notes of a thousand different birds.On high hovered the hawks, their wings outspread, and their eyes fixed intently on the grass.The cries of a flock of wild ducks, ascending from one side, were echoed from God knows what distant lake.From the grass arose, with measured sweep, a gull, and skimmed wantonly 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, and shines in the sunlight.Oh, steppes, how beautiful you are!
Our travellers halted only a few minutes for dinner.Their escort of ten Cossacks sprang from their horses and undid the wooden casks of brandy, and the gourds which were used instead of drinking vessels.
They ate only cakes of bread and dripping; they drank but one cup apiece to strengthen them, for Taras Bulba never permitted intoxication upon the road, and then continued their journey until evening.
In the evening the whole steppe changed its aspect.All its varied expanse was bathed in the last bright glow of the sun; and as it grew dark gradually, it could be seen how the shadow flitted across it and it became dark green.The mist rose more densely; each flower, each blade of grass, emitted a fragrance as of ambergris, and the whole steppe distilled perfume.Broad bands of rosy gold were streaked across the dark 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 the grass-blades, like sea-waves, and caressed the cheek.The music which had resounded through the day had died away, and given place to another.The striped marmots crept out of their holes, stood erect on their hind legs, and filled the steppe with their whistle.The whirr of the grasshoppers had become more distinctly audible.Sometimes the cry of the swan was heard from some distant lake, ringing through the air like a silver trumpet.The travellers, halting in the midst of the plain, selected a spot for their night encampment, made a fire, and hung over it the kettle in which they cooked their oatmeal; the steam rising and floating aslant in the air.Having supped, the Cossacks lay down to sleep, after hobbling their horses and turning them out to graze.They lay down in their gaberdines.The stars of night gazed directly down upon them.They could hear the countless myriads of insects which filled the grass; their rasping, whistling, and chirping, softened by the fresh air, resounded clearly through the night, and lulled the drowsy ear.If one of them rose and stood for a time, the steppe presented itself to him strewn with the sparks of glow-worms.At times the night sky was illumined in spots by the glare of burning reeds along pools or river-bank; and dark flights of swans flying to the north were suddenly lit up by the silvery, rose-coloured gleam, till it seemed as though red kerchiefs were floating in the dark heavens.
The travellers proceeded onward without any adventure.They came across no villages.It was ever the same boundless, waving, beautiful steppe.Only at intervals the summits of distant forests shone blue, on one hand, stretching along the banks of the Dnieper.Once only did Taras point out to his sons a small black speck far away amongst the grass, saying, "Look, children! yonder gallops a Tatar." The little head with its long moustaches fixed its narrow eyes upon them from afar, its nostrils snuffing the air like a greyhound's, and then disappeared like an antelope on its owner perceiving that the Cossacks were thirteen strong."And now, children, don't try to overtake the Tatar! You would never catch him to all eternity; he has a horse swifter than my Devil." But Bulba took precautions, fearing hidden ambushes.They galloped along the course of a small stream, called the Tatarka, which falls into the Dnieper; rode into the water and swam with their horses some distance in order to conceal their trail.Then, scrambling out on the bank, they continued their road.
Three days later they were not far from the goal of their journey.The air suddenly grew colder: they could feel the vicinity of the Dnieper.
