“Is that Hreptyoff already?”
“You would see it as a thing on your palm, but the trees hide it.”
They rode into a small forest; but they had not ridden halfway through it when a swarm of lights appeared on the other edge like a swarm of fireflies, or glittering stars. Those stars began to approach with amazing rapidity; and suddenly the whole forest was quivering with shouts,—
“Vivat the lady! Vivat her great mightiness! vivat our commandress! vivat, vivat!”
These were soldiers who had hastened to greet Basia. Hundreds of them mingled in one moment with the Tartars. Each held on a long pole a burning taper, fixed in a split at the end of the pole. Some had iron candlesticks on pikes, from which burning rosin was falling in the form of long fiery tears.
Basia was surrounded quickly with throngs of mustached faces, threatening, somewhat wild, but radiant with joy. The greater number of them had never seen Basia in their lives; many expected to meet an imposing person; hence their delight was all the greater at sight of that lady, almost a child in appearance, who was riding on a white palfrey and bent in thanks to every side her wonderful, rosy face, small and joyous, but at the same time greatly excited by the unlooked-for reception.
“I thank you, gentlemen,” said she; “I know that this is not for me.” But her silvery voice was lost in the vivats, and the forest was trembling from shouts.
The officers from the squadron of the starosta of Podolia and the chamberlain of Premysl, Motovidlo’s Cossacks and the Tartars, mingled together. Each wished to see the lady commandress, to approach her; some of the most urgent kissed the edge of her skirt or her foot in the stirrup. For these half-wild partisans, inured to raids and man-hunting, to bloodshed and slaughter, that was a sight so unusual, so new, that in presence of it their hard hearts were moved, and some kind of feeling, new and unknown to them, was roused in their breasts. They came to meet her out of love for Pan Michael, wishing to give him pleasure, and perhaps to flatter him; and behold! sudden tenderness seizes them. That smiling, sweet, and innocent face, with gleaming eyes and distended nostrils, became dear to them in one moment. “That is our child!” cried old Cossacks, real wolves of the steppe. “A cherub, Pan Commander.” “She is a morning dawn! a dear flower!” shouted the officers. “We will fall, one after another, for her!” And the Tartars, clicking with their tongues, put their palms to their broad breasts and cried, “Allah! Allah!” Volodyovski was greatly touched, but glad; he put his hands on his hips and was proud of his Basia.
Shouts were heard continually. At last the caravan came out of the forest, and before the eyes of the newly arrived appeared firm wooden buildings, erected in a circle on high ground. That was the stanitsa of Hreptyoff, as clearly seen then as in daylight, for inside the stockade enormous piles were burning, on which whole logs had been thrown. The square was full of fires, but smaller, so as not to burn up the place. The soldiers quenched their torches; then each drew from his shoulder, one a musket, another a gun, a third a pistol, and thundered in greeting to the lady. Musicians came too in front of the stockade: the starosta’s band with crooked horns, the Cossacks with trumpets, drums, and various stringed instruments, and at last the Tartars, pre-eminent for squeaking pipes. The barking of the garrison dogs and the bellowing of terrified cattle added still to the uproar.
The convoy remained now in the rear, and in front rode Basia, having on one side her husband, and on the other Zagloba. Over the gate, beautifully ornamented with birch boughs, stood black, on membranes of bladder smeared with tallow and lighted from the inside, the inscription:—