He strode away across the fields.
It had begun to snow.
ARGUMENT
The Cossacks sang as they rode:
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I
“Life is against us We are born crying: Life that commenced us Leaves us all dying. We were born crying; We shall die sighing. “Shall we sit idle? Follow Death’s dance! Pick up your bridle, Saddle and lance! Cossacks, advance!” |
They were from the Urals: they sat their shaggy little grey horses, lance in hand, stirrup deep in saddle paraphernalia––kit-bags, tents, blankets, trusses of straw, a dead fowl or two or a quarter of beef. And from every saddle dangled a balalaika and the terrible Cossack whip.
The steel of their lances flashed red in the setting sun; snow whirled before the wind in blinding pinkish clouds, powdering horse and rider from head to heel.
Again one rider unslung his balalaika, struck it, looking skyward as he rode: