breath may not be longer in the world."

"Come to your mother, children; a mother's prayer protects on land and
sea."

The mother, weak as mothers are, embraced them, drew out two small
holy pictures, and hung them, sobbing, around their necks. "May God's
mother--keep you! Children, do not forget your mother--send some
little word of yourselves--" She could say no more.

"Now, children, let us go," said Bulba.

At the door stood the horses, ready saddled. Bulba sprang upon his
"Devil," which bounded wildly, on feeling on his back a load of over
thirty stone, for Taras was extremely stout and heavy.

When the mother saw that her sons were also mounted, she rushed
towards the younger, whose features expressed somewhat more gentleness
than those of his brother. She grasped his stirrup, clung to his
saddle, and with despair in her eyes, refused to loose her hold. Two
stout Cossacks seized her carefully, and bore her back into the hut.
But before the cavalcade had passed out of the courtyard, she rushed
with the speed of a wild goat, disproportionate to her years, to the
gate, stopped a horse with irresistible strength, and embraced one of
her sons with mad, unconscious violence. Then they led her away again.

The young Cossacks rode on sadly, repressing their tears out of fear
of their father, who, on his side, was somewhat moved, although he
strove not to show it. The morning was grey, the green sward bright,
the birds twittered rather discordantly. They glanced back as they