"Borodaty!"
Blows succeeded to words, and Kirdiaga's party got the better.
"Go and fetch Kirdiaga!" was now the cry.
Some ten Cossacks directly stepped out of the crowd; many of them hardly stood upon their legs, such was the strength of the spirits they had swallowed; they went straight to Kirdiaga, to notify to him his election.
Kirdiaga, a clever old Cossack, had already been some time seated in his kooren, and looked as if quite unconscious of what had just taken place. "What do you want, gentlemen?" asked he.
"Go; thou art elected to be the Koschevoï."
"Be merciful, gentlemen!" said Kirdiaga. "I am by no means worthy of such an honour; I have not sense enough for a rank like that; is there no one better than I to be found in the whole Ssiecha?"
"Go, when thou art told to go!" cried the Zaporoghians. Two of them took hold of his arms, and in vain did he endeavour to stay his feet. He was at last brought into the square, pushed from behind by blows and pokes, receiving such scoldings and admonitions as—"Don't draw back, thou devil's son!" "Take the honour, dog, when they give it to thee!"
In such a manner Kirdiaga was brought into the midst of the Cossack circle.
"Gentlemen!" cried those who had brought him, "are you willing to have this Cossack for your Koschevoï?"