10. The Real Knich

While the piercing eyes of Tarass followed Ivan galloping away over the high grass, Maroussia’s glances were turned toward the old farmer.

Old Knich stood near the wagon gate and seemed to watch his guest disappear without concealing his joy. It might have been said that it simply gave him pleasure, as it did little Tarass, to witness the rapid course and to hear the neighing of the noble horse which bore away the soldier. With one hand the old farmer patted his dog, which approached him wagging his tail in congratulation, no doubt, and shaded his eyes with the other to protect them from the ardent rays of the sun.

Having looked thus for some minutes, which seemed very long to Maroussia, he turned his steps toward the cottage. He went quietly without hurrying, glancing from one side to another with the look of an economical and watchful owner, who is careful to repair the accidental disorder which has happened in his home.

“Grandfather,” cried Tarass, who ran after him, “tell me, then, where the enemy is camping. I think indeed that they are at Velika-Jarouga, but—”

“Ah! You are there my children!” said the old farmer in an affectionate tone of voice.

He stopped, shaking his head with good-humor.

“Have you amused yourselves in the garden? Are you tired? Are you hungry? Very well! Come, come, they will give you some good things, the soldier did not eat everything. Follow me, be quick.”

And he walked before them, a pleasant smile on his face, coughing sometimes, like a good old man. Tarass and Maroussia trotted after him. In the twinkling of an eye, the bottle and glass which had been used by the soldier were carried away by Maroussia. A window was opened, the pure air was coming in, and the disagreeable and penetrating smell of brandy was replaced by the tempting odor of a warm pie. A nice bowl of cream was placed on one side for the dessert.

Tarass, though very anxious to know the exact spot where the enemy was encamped, did not allow his appetite to be affected. He ate like a little wolf. The morsels of food disappeared in his mouth as if by enchantment; it seemed as if he did not swallow them, but that he threw them behind him.

But Maroussia ate little; while her delicate little fingers broke the biscuit, she could hardly keep her eyes off old Knich’s face.

“Grandfather! Listen to me, grandfather,” cried Tarass, who was no longer hungry; “ if this soldier gallops toward Stary-Kresty, that means that the enemy is no longer encamped at Velika-Jarouga. Doesn’t it, grandfather?”