Taras ordered his servants to unload one of the waggons which stood
apart. It was larger and stronger than any other in the Cossack camp;
two stout tires encircled its mighty wheels. It was heavily laden,
covered with horsecloths and strong wolf-skins, and firmly bound with
tightly drawn tarred ropes. In the waggon were flasks and casks of
good old wine, which had long lain in Taras's cellar. He had brought
it along, in case a moment should arrive when some deed awaited them
worthy of being handed down to posterity, so that each Cossack, to the
very last man, might quaff it, and be inspired with sentiments fitting
to the occasion. On receiving his command, the servants hastened to
the waggon, hewed asunder the stout ropes with their swords, removed
the thick wolf-skins and horsecloths, and drew forth the flasks and
casks.

"Take them all," said Bulba, "all there are; take them, that every one
may be supplied. Take jugs, or the pails for watering the horses; take
sleeve or cap; but if you have nothing else, then hold your two hands
under."

All the Cossacks seized something: one took a jug, another a pail,
another a sleeve, another a cap, and another held both hands. Taras's
servants, making their way among the ranks, poured out for all from
the casks and flasks. But Taras ordered them not to drink until he
should give the signal for all to drink together. It was evident that
he wished to say something. He knew that however good in itself the
wine might be and however fitted to strengthen the spirit of man, yet,
if a suitable speech were linked with it, then the strength of the
wine and of the spirit would be doubled.

"I treat you, brother gentles," thus spoke Bulba, "not in honour of