Vovchok, Marko
Stories
1
Chapters
22
Words
47.4 K
Comments
0
Reading
3 h, 56 m
All this took place a long, long time ago. After a hundred, two hundred years perhaps, this legend remains. And now, on the top of an artificial hill, made by the hand of man, the largest of all those of the same kind to be found in Ukraine, can be seen a large cross of red granite. On this cross, the patient point of a dagger has engraved the name: MAROUSSIA. The entire hill is called the Kourgane, it is the tomb of the little girl. It is covered with beautiful green grass strewn all over with lovely,…- 47.4 K • Completed
- Maroussia bent down to hear the sound of Tchetchevik’s footsteps as long as possible. If her ears could hear him, even though her eyes were not able to follow him, she would be less anxious. As long as she could hear him, she felt as if he was still there. But soon all crackling of branches, all rustling of leaves ceased, Maroussia let her two wreaths drop down, her pretty head drooped, and without suspecting it, she began to think, yes, to think. Subjects for thought were not wanting. She had seen…
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- Everything had been unfortunate and disastrous. “Have we much farther to go?” asked Maroussia. “Are you very tired, my child?” said Tchetchevik. “No, I am not tired, but I would like to know if we have much farther to go.” “Happily, no. Do you see that forest on our right? Well then, it is there that we are going to rest. But you are exhausted, my child.” “No, no,—I assure you; I assure you that I am not.” “You say you are not tired,” replied her good friend,…
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- For more than a year it seemed as if Ukraine was going to gain her independence. The whole country had arisen like one man. The invaders had disappeared, surprised by a movement so sudden, so general and spontaneous. Each Ukrainian had retaken, reconquered his field, his cottage, his farm or his house. Better still, each one had once more been able to gather in his harvest. Step by step, from the lake to the river, from the steppe to the forest, the enemy had been forced to retreat. The Ataman of…
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- The services were over. The Ataman had returned to his palace. The heat was oppressive, the sun blinding with its light. The sky was a great vault of blue. Nevertheless, some black clouds, coming from the west, could be seen on the horizon. “We shall have a great storm this afternoon,” said the Ataman. He was standing on a terrace which surrounded the court of the garden; he spoke these words with so much anxiety, that a Russian lord, his last guest, a middle-aged man with a yellow beard,…
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- The third day after they left the Dnieper, as we told in the preceding chapter, was Sunday, and the great bells of the city of Gadiatch, the residence of the Ataman protected by his Majesty the Tsar of Russia, were ringing a full peal, inviting the faithful to matins. It was scarcely day, and the city of Gadiatch, with its narrow, winding streets, its low buildings and bushy gardens, seemed to be enveloped by a half-transparent veil. The people, hurrying from all its sides toward the cathedral, appeared…
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- When they were in the middle of the river, “What news from the other Ataman?” Tchetchevik asked Knich. “Everything will be better when you have been there,” answered the farmer. “Fortune helps fools, God helps only the wise. They are roasting chickens, preparing geese and feasting. Briefly, there are too many strangers, too much luxury, and too great expense. They cannot make out the mind of the master of the house, do you know? Perhaps he hasn’t any—” “That would be unfortunate,”…
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- Two weeks after the interview of Tchetchevik with the great Ataman, on a beautiful tranquil evening, the old singer with his Antigone was slowly approaching a village which had been destroyed by fire. Their journey was not a pleasure trip. It was evident that they had not allowed themselves to take necessary rest; their large eyes shone with a feverish fire, their faces were burned by the sun, their clothing was covered with dust, their lips were dry and their feet sore. Nevertheless, they walked…
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- Maroussia rested as one rests on the sharp edge of a perpendicular rock whose base plunges into the sea; one sleeps, but at the same time, one feels that an abyss is nigh and hears its threatening sound. One dreams of many things, but has the vague consciousness that one may disappear in this vast ocean like a drop of water. Sometimes a smile trembled on her lips, she saw again in her dreams her parents’ house, the orchard of cherry-trees so fragrant, her little brothers, all the dear faces; but very…
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- Maroussia and her friend walked a good part of the night without speaking to one another. From time to time Tchetchevik stopped and offered to carry the child. “I am not tired,” she always said. The hours to Maroussia seemed to fly away like swift birds. Her heart was filled with enthusiasm. Her good friend was well satisfied. He had learned many things during the musical entertainment which he had dared to give in the camp. At the same time that he had heard with his ears he had looked and…
- 47.4 K • Completed
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