1. Ukraine

Take note of this, however much of a desert a place may be which a Ukraine family comes to inhabit, the first spring covers it with flowers. Then you may imagine what a paradise of flowers Danilo’s home must have been, after so many generations of Tchabanes had added their flowers to those of their ancestors.

In any case, the home of Danilo would never have given the idea of a desert. On the contrary, situated as it was between an immense steppe and a vast forest, between a deep river and a velvety prairie, between a high mountain and a fresh valley, it was indeed a charming spot.

The endless and balmy steppe, extending to the north, seemed like an ocean of verdure, enameled with flowers. To the south arose mountains, some woody and green as emerald, t others rough and rocky. A beautiful valley, without roads or footpaths, spread itself out toward the east. The dark-blue river watered the prairie. Here it reflected the azure of heaven among the swinging reeds, there it became entangled among the dark rocks and bubbled under a gray granite arch.

How beautiful was this corner of the world! When the sun arose, the prairie, covered with dew, sparkled like a shower of diamonds. The birds, hidden in the reeds, began to fly and to sing, and a delicate veil of mist, gilded by its first beams, swung gently over the river. How full of perfume was this peaceful valley then!

And what shall we say of the mountain tops? They shone like steel. And the forest? It awoke gently. And the steppe? It reflected light and shade as far as the eye could pierce its depths.

Such was the dawn, but how can I paint the day for you, the inundation of light under an azure arch, the triumphant songs of the birds, the murmur of the waves, all nature full of joy.

As to the evenings, the peaceful rosy evenings of Ukraine, you can easily imagine them. The stars show themselves one by one to welcome the moon, which is appearing in its sweet majesty, and, at the horizon, violet bands of varied shades send their last rays to light the dark and silent steppe. The edge of the forest becomes solemn, almost severe. Two great rocks, enveloped with mystery, stand as companions, rising like blocks of black jet, lighted from above. Finally, there is the bushy little garden full of cherry-trees in bloom, and the cheerful windows of the little house glistening between the branches of wild roses. Such was the home of Danilo. But I have been wrong in trying to describe things which your eyes would never tire of seeing.

And beside all these splendors and blessings of God, the occupants of this cottage had close at hand good neighbors, tried friends.

On holidays, Danilo Tchabane’s family received many visitors. Sometimes it was Semène Vorochilo who came, sometimes Andry Krouk, or, instead, you could hear afar off the fresh and musical voice of Hanna, laughing pleasantly. Or you might see the little boat of Vassil Grime which was approaching the shore,—and after him five, ten others, men, women, young girls and young men. children, and even old people. Everyone was eager to visit Danilo.