17. At Gadiatch

Had they told him nothing, he would have guessed it. Their description of her had not been exaggerated, the original corresponded to the portrait.

She was going to pass very near Maroussia, she had reached the last step. The little girl ventured to stop her by taking hold of the sleeve of her embroidered chemise.

“Madam,” said Maroussia, “you dropped this handkerchief,” and she gave her a red handkerchief.

The young woman stopped, looked at the red handkerchief, then at the little girl presenting it, and said:

“Thank you, my pretty child! I should have been very sorry to have lost it.”

No one, I think, unless it was Maroussia, had seen the handkerchief fall.

The large eyes of the amiable woman glanced at the child with a searching look and from her to the old singer. “You do not live here,” she said to the child, “I have never seen you, do you come from far, my dear child?”

“Very far,” answered Maroussia.

“I understand, then, why you look so tired. From what part of Ukraine do you come?”

“Her little head will never be able to remember the names of all the places she has visited,” said the old singer. “We have seen many things and many people, Madam, good and bad, the country devastated by battles, and our fields, the last hope of Ukraine, now ready for the harvest. But, thanks be to God, we have found our way. As we say at home, although the horse may not be well harnessed, the cart goes straight to the market.”

“My friends,” replied the gracious woman, “come very soon and present yourselves to the great Ataman. You can relate your journey to me, to him you can sing your songs. Each one will thus be served according to his taste.”

She gave a little tap with her hand on Maroussia’s cheek, like a caress, and disappeared in the crowd which was filling the church.

The voice of Father Mikail could already be heard as he began prayer.