III.
Tarass Boolba and his sons had remained already more than a week at the Ssiecha. Ostap and Andrew had not yet much profited by warlike exercises. The Zaporoghians did not like spending their time in the mimicry of war; the education and martial accomplishments of the young were acquired by experience alone, during the raging of battles which, for the same reason, were almost incessant. The Cossacks found it dull work to employ their leisure in learning discipline, and if they ever studied anything it was shooting at a target, and sometimes pursuing on horseback the wild animals of the steppes; the whole remaining time was given up to carousing—the proof of a widely diffused freedom. The whole Ssiecha presented a strange scene; it was like an unceasing festival, a banquet which had begun noisily and forgotten to end. Some Zaporoghians were occupied in different handicrafts; others had shops and busied themselves with trade; but the greater part feasted from morning till night, as long as the possibility of feasting jingled in their pockets, and as long as the conquered booty had not found its way into the hands of the tradesmen and the proprietors of brandy-shops. This universal festival had something seductive about it; it was not an assembly of men who had been driven to drunkenness by grief; it was nothing but the maddest expression of mirth. Every one who had found his way thither, forgot and at once cast off everything which had till then occupied his mind. He seemed to drive away all his past life, and to give himself up, soul and body, with the fanaticism of a new convert, to freedom and to comradeship, with men who, like himself, had no relations, nor home, nor family, and to whom nothing was left but the canopy of Heaven, and the unintermittent festival of their hearts. This gave rise to that mad gaiety, which could never have found any other source. The tales and narratives which might be heard among the groups lazily reclining upon the ground, were often so droll and breathed such lively animation, that one must needs have had the immoveable features of a Zaporoghian to have kept an indifferent countenance and never so much as curled the lip; and this, indeed, is one of the most striking features which distinguish the Southern Russian from the rest of the Russians. The mirth was provoked by wine, was attended by noise, but yet there were none of those disfigured outlines of a caricatured gaiety, which one finds in the dirty brandy shop. It was the friendly circle of schoolfellows. The only difference consisted in this, that instead of poring over books, and listening to the stupid lessons of professors, these schoolfellows made invasions, mounted on about five thousand horses; that instead of the field in which they had formerly played at ball, they now had, unguarded and uncared for, boundaries beyond which might be seen the swift head of the Tartar, and the Turk haughtily glancing from beneath his green turban. The difference was this, that instead of the forced will which had brought them together at school, they had, of their own free choice, left their fathers and mothers and fled from the parental roof. Here were to be found those who had already felt the halter dangling about their necks, and who, instead of pale-faced death, had found life, and life in its utmost gaiety. Here were those who followed the noble principle of never retaining a farthing about them. Here were those, who, thanks to the Jews, tenants of Polish lords, could always have their pockets turned inside out without the fear of losing anything. Here were all the collegians, who had not had the patience to endure the college rods, and who, of all their school learning, had not retained so much as the alphabet. But besides these, here were to be found some who knew who Horace was, who Cicero, and what the Roman Republic. Here were many who afterwards acquired distinction as officers in the army of the King of Poland. Here were many experienced volunteers who felt the noble conviction that it was quite the same thing where and why the war took place so that wars were made, and that no man of noble feelings could remain without fighting. Many more were here who had come into the Ssiecha for no other purpose, but that they might say afterwards that they had been there, and that they were hardened warriors. But what, indeed, were the characters that could not be found here? Those who liked warfare, who liked gilded cups, who liked rich stuffs, or gold and silver coins, could at all times find employment here. Those only who worshipped womankind could find nothing to suit their taste; for no woman was allowed so much as to show her face even in the suburb of the Ssiecha.
During their abode in the Ssiecha, Ostap and Andrew were much astonished at seeing that crowds of people came, without so much as any one asking whence they came, or what were their names. They came thither as if they were returning to their own homes which they had but recently quitted. The new-comer only went to the Koschevoï Ataman,[15] who addressed him in these terms:—
"Good day! dost thou believe in Christ?
"I do;" answered the new-comer.
"And dost thou believe in the Holy Trinity?"
"I do."
"And dost thou go to church?"
"I do."