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And the Cossacks again strained every nerve, as though they had suffered no loss. Only three kuren hetmans still remained alive. Red blood flowed in streams everywhere; heaps of their bodies and of those of the enemy were piled high. Taras looked up to heaven, and there already hovered a flock of vultures. Well, there would be prey for some one.
But, perhaps, you would like to return home, and turn infidels, and carry Polish priests on your backs?" "We will follow you, noble leader, we will follow you!" shouted all his band, and many others joined them. "If it is to be so, then follow me," said Taras, pulling his cap farther over his brows.
sang the Deacon in low tones embracing Aleksei Maksimovitch, who was smiling kindly into his face. Paltaras Taras giggled voluptuously. The night was approaching. High up in the sky the stars were shining . . . and on the mountain and in the town the lights of the lamps were appearing.
He is unquestionably the most national poet that Russia has produced; Slepoushkin and Alipanov, two other peasant poets, who made some little noise in their time, cannot for one moment be compared with him; but, on the other hand, he has been excelled by the fiery energy and picturesque power of the Cossack, Taras Shevchenko, of whom I shall speak.
"Spare nothing," was the order of Taras. The Cossacks spared not the black-browed gentlewomen, the brilliant, white-bosomed maidens: these could not save themselves even at the altar, for Taras burned them with the altar itself.
There are none such among us: I gave fifty ducats to each sentinel and to the gaoler." "Good. Take me to him!" exclaimed Taras, with decision, and with all his firmness of mind restored. He agreed to Yankel's proposition that he should disguise himself as a foreign count, just arrived from Germany, for which purpose the prudent Jew had already provided a costume. It was already night.
Suppose I see that all is deceit, that business is not business, but merely a plug that we prop up with it the emptiness of our souls; that some work, while others only give orders and sweat, but get more for that. Why is it so? Eh?" "I cannot grasp your idea," announced Taras, when Foma paused, feeling on himself Lubov's contemptuous and angry look.
It was odd that the man who said this was that very Taras Bulba who condemned all learning, and counselled his children, as we have seen, not to trouble themselves at all about it. From that moment, Ostap began to pore over his tiresome books with exemplary diligence, and quickly stood on a level with the best. The style of education in that age differed widely from the manner of life.
"Let it be wrong!" said Foma, with a wave of the hand. "Is it my fault that the truth can be learned by eavesdropping only?" "Go away, Foma, please!" entreated Lubov, pressing close to her brother. "Perhaps you have something to say to me?" asked Taras, calmly. "I?" exclaimed Foma. "What can I say? I cannot say anything. It is you who you, I believe, know everything."
The Taranto of old days, when it was called Taras, or later Tarentum, stood on a long peninsula, which divides a little inland sea from the great sea without.
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