sack on to his back, pulled out another sack of millet as he passed
the waggon, took in his hands the loaves he had wanted to give the
Tatar woman to carry, and, bending somewhat under the load, went
boldly through the ranks of sleeping Zaporozhtzi.

"Andrii," said old Bulba, as he passed. His heart died within him. He
halted, trembling, and said softly, "What is it?"

"There's a woman with you. When I get up I'll give you a sound
thrashing. Women will lead you to no good." So saying, he leaned his
hand upon his hand and gazed intently at the muffled form of the
Tatar.

Andrii stood there, more dead than alive, not daring to look in his
father's face. When he did raise his eyes and glance at him, old Bulba
was asleep, with his head still resting in the palm of his hand.

Andrii crossed himself. Fear fled from his heart even more rapidly
than it had assailed it. When he turned to look at the Tatar woman,
she stood before him, muffled in her mantle, like a dark granite
statue, and the gleam of the distant dawn lighted up only her eyes,
dull as those of a corpse. He plucked her by the sleeve, and both went
on together, glancing back continually. At length they descended the
slope of a small ravine, almost a hole, along the bottom of which a
brook flowed lazily, overgrown with sedge, and strewed with mossy
boulders. Descending into this ravine, they were completely concealed
from the view of all the plain occupied by the Zaporovian camp. At
least Andrii, glancing back, saw that the steep slope rose behind him
higher than a man. On its summit appeared a few blades of
steppe-grass; and behind them, in the sky, hung the moon, like a