in Zaporozhe. The
guitar-players celebrated the daring of Balaban and his Cossacks for
a long time afterwards. Now he bowed his head, feeling the pains which
precede death, and said quietly, "I am permitted, brother gentles, to
die a fine death. Seven have I hewn in pieces, nine have I pierced with
my lance, many have I trampled upon with my horse's hoofs; and I no
longer remember how many my bullets have slain. May our Russian land
flourish forever!" and his spirit fled.

Cossacks, Cossacks! abandon not the flower of your army. Already
was Kukubenko surrounded, and seven men only remained of all the
Nezamaikovsky kuren, exhausted and with garments already stained with
their blood. Taras himself, perceiving their straits, hastened to
their rescue; but the Cossacks arrived too late. Before the enemies
who surrounded him could be driven off, a spear was buried just below
Kukubenko's heart. He sank into the arms of the Cossacks who caught him,
and his young blood flowed in a stream, like precious wine brought from
the cellar in a glass vessel by careless servants, who, stumbling at the
entrance, break the rich flask. The wine streams over the ground, and
the master, hastening up, tears his hair, having reserved it, in order
that if God should grant him, in his old age, to meet again the comrade
of his youth, they might over it recall together former days, when a man
enjoyed himself otherwise and better than now. Kukubenko cast his eyes
around, and said, "I thank God that it has been my lot to die before
your eyes, comrades. May they live better who come after us than we have
lived; and may our Russian land, beloved by Christ, flourish forever!"
and his young spirit fled. The angels took it in their arms and bore it
to heaven: it will be well with him there. "Sit down at my right hand,
Kukubenko," Christ will say to him: "you never betrayed your comrades,
you never committed a dishonourable act, you never sold a man into
misery, you preserved and defended my church." The death of Kukubenko
saddened them all. The Cossack ranks were terribly thinned. Many brave
men were missing, but the Cossacks still stood their ground.

"How now, gentles," cried Taras to the remaining kurens: "is there still
powder in your flasks? Are your swords blunted? Are the Cossack forces
wearied? Have the Cossacks given way?"

"There is still an abundance of powder; our swords are still sharp; the
Cossack forces are not wearied, and the Cossacks h