XI
"Calm yourself, my beloved sister!" said old Captain Gorobets. "Dreams seldom tell the truth."
"Lie down, sister!" his young daughter-in-law said. "I'll send for an old woman, a fortuneteller, and she'll pour out a flurry for you." 11
"Have no fear," said his son, grasping his saber, "no one will harm you."
Gloomily, with dull eyes, Katerina gazed at them all and could find no words. "I myself arranged for my own ruin," she thought. "I let him go." At last she said:
"He won't leave me in peace! For ten days now I've been with you in Kiev, and my grief has not lessened at all. I thought I might at least quietly raise my son for revenge… Terrible, terrible he looked in my dream! God forbid that you should see him, too! My heart is still pounding. 'I will stab your baby, Katerina,' he shouted, 'if you do not marry me!'" and, bursting into sobs, she rushed to the cradle, and the frightened baby reached out his arms and cried.
The captain's son seethed and blazed with wrath, hearing this talk. Captain Gorobets himself became furious.
"Let him try coming here, the cursed antichrist; he'll taste whether there's strength in an old Cossack's arms. God sees," he said, lifting up his clairvoyant eyes, "did I not fly to give my brother Danilo a hand? His holy will! I found him already lying on a cold bed, where many a Cossack lay. Still, was his wake not magnificent? Did we let even one Polack go alive? Calm yourself, my child! No one will dare to harm you, unless I and my son are no more."
Having spoken, the old captain went over to the cradle, and the baby, seeing the red pipe with its silver trim and the pouch with the gleaming tinderbox hanging from his belt, reached out to him and laughed.
"He'll take after his father," said the old captain, removing the pipe and handing it to him. "He's still in the cradle and already wants to smoke a pipe."
Katerina quietly sighed and began to rock the cradle. They all decided to spend the night together, and soon afterwards they fell asleep. Katerina, too, fell asleep.
Out in the yard and inside the house everything was quiet; only the Cossacks standing guard were not asleep. Suddenly Katerina gave a cry and woke up, and after her everyone woke up. "He's been slain, he's been stabbed!" she cried as she rushed to the cradle.
They all stood around the cradle, frozen with fear, seeing the dead baby lying in it. No one uttered a sound, not knowing what to think of the unheard-of evildoing.
XII Far from the Ukrainian land, past Poland, beyond the populous city of Lemberg, stretch rows of high-peaked mountains. Mountain after mountain, like a chain of stone, they push back the earth to right and left and clothe it in thick stone to keep the loud and stormy sea from seeping through. Chains of stone stretch to Wallachia and the region of the Seven Cities, and stand in a massive horseshoe between the Galician and Hungarian peoples. There are no such mountains in our parts. The eye dares not survey them; no human foot has stepped on the tops of some.
Strange, too, is their look: Is it that the eager sea overflowed its shores in a storm, heaved up its shapeless waves in a whirl, and they, petrified, remained motionless in air? Is it that heavy clouds dropped down from the sky and encumbered the earth with themselves? for they are also gray in color, and a white peak glistens and sparkles in the sun. Up to the Carpathian Mountains you still hear Russian speech, and just beyond them familiar words can be heard here and there; but then the faith is no longer the same and the speech is no longer the same. There lives the not inconsiderable Hungarian people; they ride horses, wield sabers, and drink no worse than the Cossacks; and they do not stint in producing gold coins from their pockets to pay for harness and costly caftans. Great vast lakes lie between the mountains. They are still as glass and, mirror-like, reflect the bare tops of the mountains and the green at their feet.
But who is it, in the dark of night, whether the stars shine or not, that comes riding on a huge black horse? What knight of inhuman stature gallops below the mountains, above the lakes, reflected with his gigantic horse in the still waters, his endless shadow flitting terribly over the mountains? Plate-armor gleaming, lance on his shoulder, saber clanking against his saddle, helmet pulled down, black mustache, eyes closed, eyelashes lowered-he sleeps. And, asleep, he holds the reins; and behind him on the same horse sits a child page, who also sleeps, and asleep holds on to the knight. Who is he, where is he going, and why? Who knows? Not for one day, not for two days, has he been crossing the mountains. Day breaks, the sun rises, he is not to be seen; only now and then the mountain people notice a long shadow flitting over the mountains, though the sky is clear and there is not a cloud in it. But as soon as night brings darkness, he is visible again and is reflected in the lakes, and behind him, trembling, rides his shadow. He has already crossed many mountains and gone up Krivan. There is no higher mountain in the Carpathians; like a tsar it rises above the rest. Here steed and rider have stopped, and sunk still deeper into sleep, and the clouds have descended and covered him.
XIII
"Sh… hush, woman! don't knock so, my baby's fallen asleep. For a long time my son cried, but now he's asleep. I'll go to the forest, woman! Why are you staring at me like that? You're terrible: iron tongs reach out from your eyes… such long ones, ohh! they burn like fire! You must be a witch! Oh, if you're a witch, vanish from here! you'll steal my son. He's so muddle-headed, this captain: he thinks I like living in Kiev. No, my husband is here, and my son-who is going to look after the house? I left so quietly, not a cat or a dog heard me. You want to grow young, woman? It's not hard at all, you only have to dance. Look how I dance…" And having uttered these incoherent words, Katerina started rushing about, looking crazily from side to side, her hands on her hips. She stamped her feet with a shriek; her silver-shod heels rang without time or measure. Unbraided black tresses scattered over her white neck. Like a bird she flew without stopping, waving her arms and nodding, and it seemed she would either drop strengthless to the ground or fly out of this world.
The old nurse stood by sorrowfully, and tears filled her deep wrinkles; heavy stone lay on the hearts of the trusty lads as they watched their mistress. She was already quite weak and lazily tapped her feet in one spot, thinking she was dancing the Turtledove. "And I have a necklace, boys!" she said, stopping at last, "and you don't… Where is my husband?" she suddenly cried out, snatching a Turkish dagger from her belt. "Oh! this isn't the kind of knife I need." Here tears and anguish showed on her face. "My father's heart is far away: this won't reach it. His heart is forged of iron. A witch forged it for him in hellfire. Why doesn't my father come? Doesn't he know it's time to put a knife in him? He must want me to come myself…" And she broke off with a strange laugh. "A funny story came into my head: I remembered how they were burying my husband. They buried him alive… How I wanted to laugh!… Listen, listen!" And instead of speaking, she began to sing a song: