gleamed, in white tufts, light and transparent clouds: and the
freshest, most enchanting of gentle breezes barely stirred the tops of
the grass-blades, like sea-waves, and caressed the cheek. The music
which had resounded through the day had died away, and given place to
another. The striped marmots crept out of their holes, stood erect on
their hind legs, and filled the steppe with their whistle. The whirr
of the grasshoppers had become more distinctly audible. Sometimes the
cry of the swan was heard from some distant lake, ringing through the
air like a silver trumpet. The travellers, halting in the midst of the
plain, selected a spot for their night encampment, made a fire, and
hung over it the kettle in which they cooked their oatmeal; the steam
rising and floating aslant in the air. Having supped, the Cossacks lay
down to sleep, after hobbling their horses and turning them out to
graze. They lay down in their gaberdines. The stars of night gazed
directly down upon them. They could hear the countless myriads of
insects which filled the grass; their rasping, whistling, and
chirping, softened by the fresh air, resounded clearly through the
night, and lulled the drowsy ear. If one of them rose and stood for a
time, the steppe presented itself to him strewn with the sparks of
glow-worms. At times the night sky was illumined in spots by the glare
of burning reeds along pools or river-bank; and dark flights of swans
flying to the north were suddenly lit up by the silvery, rose-coloured
gleam, till it seemed as though red kerchiefs were floating in the
dark heavens.

The travellers proceeded onward without any adventure. They came
across no villages. It was ever the same boundless, waving, beautiful
steppe. Only at intervals the summits of distant forests shone blue,
on one hand, stretching along the banks of the Dnieper. Once only did
Taras point out to his sons a small black speck far away amongst the