"Then kiss each other, and bid each other farewell; for God knows whether you will ever see each other alive again.Obey your hetman, but you know yourselves what you have to do: you know yourselves what Cossack honour requires."And all the Cossacks kissed each other.The hetmans first began it.
Stroking down their grey moustaches, they kissed each other, making the sign of the cross, and then, grasping hands firmly, wanted to ask of each other, "Well, brother, shall we see one another again or not?"But they did not ask the question: they kept silence, and both grey-heads were lost in thought.Then the Cossacks took leave of each other to the last 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 until night in order not to let the Lyakhs perceive the diminution in the Cossack army.Then all went off, by kurens, to dine.
After dinner, all who had the prospect of the journey before them lay down to rest, and fell into a deep and long sleep, as though foreseeing that it was the last sleep they should enjoy in such security.They slept even until sunset; and when the sun had gone down and it had grown somewhat dusky, began to tar the waggons.All being in readiness, they sent the waggons ahead, and having pulled off their caps once more to their comrades, quietly followed the baggage train.
The cavalry, without shouts or whistles to the horses, tramped lightly after the foot-soldiers, and all soon vanished in the darkness.The only sound was the dull thud of horses' hoofs, or the squeak of some wheel which had not got into working order, or had not been properly tarred amid the darkness.
Their comrades stood for some time waving their hands, though nothing was visible.But when they returned to their camping places and saw by the light of the gleaming stars that half the waggons were gone, and many of their comrades, each man's heart grew sad; all became involuntarily 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 accustomed to the melancholy caused by their parting from their comrades; but, meanwhile, he was preparing to rouse them at one blow, by a loud battle-cry in Cossack fashion, in order that good cheer might return to the soul of each with greater strength than before.Of this only the Slav nature, a broad, powerful nature, which is to others what the sea is to small rivulets, is capable.In stormy times it roars and thunders, raging, and raising such waves as weak rivers cannot throw up; but when 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 stood apart.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 with tightly drawn tarred ropes.In the waggon were flasks and casks of good old wine, which had long lain in Taras's cellar.He had brought it along, in case a moment should arrive when some deed awaited them worthy of being handed down to posterity, so that each Cossack, to the very last man, might quaff it, and be inspired with sentiments fitting to the occasion.On receiving his command, the servants hastened to the waggon, hewed asunder the stout ropes with their swords, removed the thick wolf-skins and horsecloths, and drew forth the flasks and casks.
