There was one small lot belonging to this hut, which was left to grow up in grass for hay, and another larger one, which was usually sowed down in rye or planted in vegetables, and which on the farther side joined the commons. The cossack's widow owned four cows from whose milk she made butter and cheese, which she sold to the neighbouring dwors and to the peasants; in addition she had a team of two oxen for ploughing, which she often rented to her neighbours, or sent now and then without pay to cultivate the field of the poor,--also ten sheep, three small calves, and even a horse which she had bought to use in the harrow, but which had proved useless, as it was spavined. Besides herself and her daughter, there dwelt in the cottage old Chwedor, her servant, whose hair had grown gray in the service of others, and who was also a little deaf, and a great toper. Then there was a little orphan about ten years old, who drove the cattle to pasture, and a young servant. It was, in fact, a complete and flourishing household, skilfully managed by the widow. The comfort in which she lived and her honest reputation rendered more striking the indifference with which the young men of the village regarded her daughter, Horpyna, who had now reached her twentieth year, and was justly considered the greatest beauty in the village.
She had a tall, erect figure, which she inherited from her father, a charming bright and healthy complexion, beautiful hair, and fine black eyebrows. When she dressed herself on Sunday in her ribbon head-dress, her jacket of gray-blue cloth, and yellow Wolhynian boots with high heels, she might have been taken for a great lady in disguise. The young men of the village gazed at her from a distance, sighed, twirled their caps in their hands, and scratched their heads; but none of them dared approach her, for Horpyna was as proud as if she had been the daughter of a great lord. Besides, it had been whispered about for two years that one of the gentlemen of the lesser nobility who had served in the capacity of agent in a great land-scheme was suing for her hand, and made frequent visits to her and her mother. It was this which frightened and discouraged the village suitors, who took pleasure in laughing secretly at Horpyna's vanity, her fine-lady airs, and her liking for the nobility.
But the old mother, apparently expecting no good to come of such a rash project, used every effort in her power to marry off her daughter. She went with her to all the fairs and jubilees; she invited the fathers of families and the young men to suppers and wakes. Every one went gladly to her house, were entertained, ate and drank heartily, but nothing came of it all, and Horpyna still had not seen the arrival of her bottle and napkin.[[4]]
It happened that Iermola encountered no one on his way to the widow's cottage; and he reached it all out of breath, holding in his arms the baby, who still continued to cry. But the light which glimmered from the window told him that the thrifty housewife was at home. He therefore hastened with his burden straight into his old friend's chamber.
The widow was seated on a bench near the table, leaning her head upon her hands, and seemed in deep thought; Horpyna was standing beside the fireplace. They were both gloomy and silent; but when they saw Iermola with his burden, they rose at once, somewhat confused, and uttered a cry of astonishment.
"What have you got, old man? What is it?" cried the mother, who was the first to speak.
"See what it is," answered the old man, as he laid upon her lap the baby, upon which his eyes were fixed. "Look at it; see, it is a baby which God has given me."
"A baby! to you? How is this?"
"It is a marvel, a miracle; I can scarcely believe it myself. I had just come from the river shore, where I had been to help the raftsmen bind up the wood; I had lighted my fire and sat down to say my prayers, when I heard all at once something moaning under the oaks. Now it sounded like the voice of an owl, and then like the wail of an infant. At first I was sure it was an owl, because those hateful birds have nests in the old trunks, and I went on with my prayers; but suddenly the voice rose in louder weeping. Then I could not tell what it was, and I began to be anxious. I ran out hurriedly and looked around; and what do you think I found? This baby. And now what shall I do with it? What shall I do?"
The two women, shaking their heads in their extreme astonishment, had listened to Iermola in profound silence.