"Curses on them, unbelieving dogs!" shrieked Tarass, growing angry; "why art thou calling over to me thy Jewish stock! I ask thee about our Zaporoghians."
"I've not seen our Zaporoghians. I've only seen my lord Andrew."
"Thou hast seen Andrew?" cried Tarass; "what of him? where didst thou see him? in some dungeon? in some cave? dishonoured? fettered?"
"Who would ever dare to fetter my lord Andrew? he is now such a knight—by Heavens, I hardly recognised him! His coat all over gold, his belt all gold—yes, all over gold and everywhere gold; just like the sun, as it shines in spring when every bird is chirping and singing in the gardens, and every blade of grass is fragrant, thus is he all shining bright with gold; and the steed that the voevoda has given him, is the best riding horse one ever saw: the steed alone is worth two hundred ducats!"
Boolba was astounded. "Why did he put on this strange dress?"
"Because it was better than his own; that's why he put it on. And he is riding about, and others are riding about, and he is teaching others, and others are teaching him—just like the most important Polish lord."
"And who constrained him to do this?"
"I am not saying that anybody put any constraint on him. Does not your lordship know, then, that he went over to them of his own free will?"
"Who went over?"
"My lord Andrew."