“Have you counted them, Grandad, that you ask?” replied Lukáshka, turning away.
“That’s all very well, but you need not take my lad along with you,” the old man muttered with a still darker frown.
“Just see the old devil, he knows everything,” muttered Lukáshka to himself, and a worried expression came over his face; but then, noticing a corner where a number of Cossack girls were standing, he turned his horse towards them.
“Good evening, girls!” he shouted in his powerful, resonant voice, suddenly checking his horse. “You’ve grown old without me, you witches!” and he laughed.
“Good evening, Lukáshka! Good evening, laddie!” the merry voices answered. “Have you brought much money? Buy some sweets for the girls!... Have you come for long? True enough, it’s long since we saw you....”
“Nazárka and I have just flown across to make a night of it,” replied Lukáshka, raising his whip and riding straight at the girls.
“Why, Maryánka has quite forgotten you,” said Ústenka, nudging Maryánka with her elbow and breaking into a shrill laugh.
Maryánka moved away from the horse and throwing back her head calmly looked at the Cossack with her large sparkling eyes.
“True enough, you have not been home for a long time! Why are you trampling us under your horse?” she remarked dryly, and turned away.
Lukáshka had appeared particularly merry. His face shone with audacity and joy. Obviously staggered by Maryánka’s cold reply he suddenly knitted his brow.