"My queen!" exclaimed Andrii, his heart and soul filled with emotion, "what do you need? what do you wish? command me! Impose on me the most impossible task in all the world: I fly to fulfil it! Tell me to do that which it is beyond the power of man to do: I will fulfil it if Idestroy myself.I will ruin myself.And I swear by the holy cross that ruin for your sake is as sweet--but no, it is impossible to say how sweet! I have three farms; half my father's droves of horses are mine;all that my mother brought my father, and which she still conceals from him--all this is mine! Not one of the Cossacks owns such weapons as I; for the pommel of my sword alone they would give their best drove of horses and three thousand sheep.And I renounce all this, Idiscard it, I throw it aside, I will burn and drown it, if you will but say the word, or even move your delicate black brows! But I know that I am talking madly and wide of the mark; that all this is not fitting here; that it is not for me, who have passed my life in the seminary and among the Zaporozhtzi, to speak as they speak where kings, princes, and all the best of noble knighthood have been.I can see that you are a different being from the rest of us, and far above all other boyars' wives and maiden daughters."With growing amazement the maiden listened, losing no single word, to the frank, sincere language in which, as in a mirror, the young, strong spirit reflected itself.Each simple word of this speech, uttered in a voice which penetrated straight to the depths of her heart, was clothed in power.She advanced her beautiful face, pushed back her troublesome hair, opened her mouth, and gazed long, with parted lips.Then she tried to say something and suddenly stopped, remembering that the warrior was known by a different name; that his father, brothers, country, lay beyond, grim avengers; that the Zaporozhtzi besieging the city were terrible, and that the cruel death awaited all who were within its walls, and her eyes suddenly filled with tears.She seized a silk embroidered handkerchief and threw it over her face.In a moment it was all wet; and she sat for some time with her beautiful head thrown back, and her snowy teeth set on her lovely under-lip, as though she suddenly felt the sting of a poisonous serpent, without removing the handkerchief from her face, lest he should see her shaken with grief.
"Speak but one word to me," said Andrii, and he took her satin-skinned hand.A sparkling fire coursed through his veins at the touch, and he pressed the hand lying motionless in his.
But she still kept silence, never taking the kerchief from her face, and remaining motionless.
"Why are you so sad? Tell me, why are you so sad?"She cast away the handkerchief, pushed aside the long hair which fell over her eyes, and poured out her heart in sad speech, in a quiet voice, like the breeze which, rising on a beautiful evening, blows through the thick growth of reeds beside the stream.They rustle, murmur, and give forth delicately mournful sounds, and the traveller, pausing in inexplicable sadness, hears them, and heeds not the fading light, nor the gay songs of the peasants which float in the air as they return from their labours in meadow and stubble-field, nor the distant rumble of the passing waggon.
"Am not I worthy of eternal pity? Is not the mother that bore me unhappy? Is it not a bitter lot which has befallen me? Art not thou a cruel executioner, fate? Thou has brought all to my feet--the highest nobles in the land, the richest gentlemen, counts, foreign barons, all the flower of our knighthood.All loved me, and any one of them would have counted my love the greatest boon.I had but to beckon, and the best of them, the handsomest, the first in beauty and birth would have become my husband.And to none of them didst thou incline my heart, Obitter fate; but thou didst turn it against the noblest heroes of our land, and towards a stranger, towards our enemy.O most holy mother of God! for what sin dost thou so pitilessly, mercilessly, persecute me?
