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Updated: June 23, 2025
"Lord colonel! lord colonel!" said the Jew in a hasty and broken voice, as though desirous of revealing something not utterly useless, "I have been in the city, lord colonel!" Taras looked at the Jew, and wondered how he had succeeded in getting into the city. "What enemy took you there?" "I will tell you at once," said Yankel.
You know, your Serenity, our people they travel a lot and they see all that's going on, and they know all the roads. "He tried to keep down his excitement, for the Jew Yankel, innkeeper and tenant of all the mills on the estate, was a Polish patriot. And in a still lower voice: "'I was already a married man when the French and all the other nations passed this way with Napoleon. Tse! Tse!
"I hear!" rang through the universal silence, and those thousands of people shuddered in concert. A detachment of cavalry hastened to search through the throng of people. Yankel turned pale as death, and when the horsemen had got within a short distance of him, turned round in terror to look for Taras; but Taras was no longer beside him; every trace of him was lost.
"It is we!" cried Yankel; "we, by heavens, noble sirs!" But no one would listen to him. Fortunately, at that moment a fat man came up, who appeared to be a commanding officer, for he swore louder than all the others. "My lord, it is we! you know us, and the lord count will thank you." "Admit them, a hundred fiends, and mother of fiends! Admit no one else.
Scarcely was the sky touched with the first faint gleams of dawn than he pushed Yankel with his foot, saying: "Rise, Jew, and give me your count's dress!" In a moment he was dressed. He blackened his moustache and eyebrows, put on his head a small dark cap; even the Cossacks who knew him best would not have recognised him. Apparently he was not more than thirty-five.
Bulba turned slowly, with drooping head, and retraced his steps, followed by the complaints of Yankel who was sorrowing at the thought of the wasted ducats. "Why be angry? Let the dog curse. That race cannot help cursing. Oh, woe is me, what luck God sends to some people! A hundred ducats merely for driving us off!
He addressed Yankel at once in his gibberish, and Yankel at once drove into a court-yard. Another Jew came along, halted, and entered into conversation. When Bulba finally emerged from beneath the bricks, he beheld three Jews talking with great warmth.
If I tell you his name is Yankel or Berella or Chaim Duvit do you know any more than if I tell you his name is Pitzela?" "No. We will drop the matter. I will call him Chaim Yankel." "You will call him Chaim Yankel! And what for? His name is Pitzela and not Chaim Yankel." "Thanks."
"You can go anywhere on Maxwell Street and ask anybody you meet do they know Pitzela and they will say: 'Do we know Pitzela? We know Pitzela all right. So what is there to be gained by calling him Chaim Yankel?" "Nothing, Feodor. It was a mistake even to think of it." "It was. Well, as I was telling you before you began this interruption about names, he is exactly 110 years old.
"He watched the Prince approach and bowed gravely from the waist, not expecting to be noticed even, since it was well known that their young lord had no eyes for anything or anybody in his grief. It was quite a shock for him when the Prince pulled up and asked: "'What's all this, Yankel? "'That is, please your Serenity, that is a convoy of footsoldiers they are hurrying down to the south.
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