8. At the Same Place

Her heart was filled with joy, her cheeks were covered with such a rosy color, her eyes shone with such brightness, that Tarass, who was prancing in the court like the most fiery steed of the Ataman, or fighting like the Ataman himself, against some invisible enemy, interrupted his exercises and came to place himself in front of the little girl.

Struck forcibly with the great change in her appearance, he looked at her with a curious eye.

“Surely she is well pleased, grandfather must have given her something very good,” he thought. But what was it? Was it gingerbread, or roasted filberts?

And the more he looked at her, the more his excited imagination was carried away by fantastic suppositions of marvelous goodies. This idea took more and more hold of him. Hesitating, watchful, nursing some vague hope, he stood there, recalling more than ever the type of an eaglet, who flutters his wings, stretches his beak, and with his piercing eyes tries to perceive the prey.

Maroussia said to him:

“Should you like to go into the garden?” “I should like it very much,” he answered, with some hesitation, like a boy who is not sure, in giving his consent, whether he is going to lose or win. “But tell me, what has grandfather given you?”

“To whom has he given?”

“To you.”

“He has given me nothing.”

“Very well! He has promised you something, it is the same as if you had it. What has he promised you?”

“He has promised me nothing.”

Tarass looked at her with distrust.

“Why then are you so pleased?” he asked her.

“I?”

“Yes, you.”

She wanted to say, “I am not pleased”; but she could not lie, even for a good cause, and only uttered these words:

“Let us go into the garden.”

“I am going,” Tarass said with a cross look. “Shall we find many strawberries?” asked Maroussia.