aid, "It is we, sirs;
do you hear? it is we."

"Go in!" said one of them, opening the door with one hand, and holding
out the other to his comrade to receive his blows.

They entered a low and dark corridor, which led them to a similar room
with small windows overhead. "Who goes there?" shouted several voices,
and Taras beheld a number of warriors in full armour. "We have been
ordered to admit no one."

"It is we!" cried Yankel; "we, by heavens, noble sirs!" But no one
would listen to him. Fortunately, at that moment a fat man came up, who
appeared to be a commanding officer, for he swore louder than all the
others.

"My lord, it is we! you know us, and the lord count will thank you."

"Admit them, a hundred fiends, and mother of fiends! Admit no one else.
And no one is to draw his sword, nor quarrel."

The conclusion of this order the visitors did not hear. "It is we, it is
I, it is your friends!" Yankel said to every one they met.

"Well, can it be managed now?" he inquired of one of the guards, when
they at length reached the end of the corridor.

"It is possible, but I don't know whether you will be able to gain
admission to the prison itself. Yana is not here now; another man is
keeping watch in his place," replied the guard.

"Ai, ai!" cried the Jew softly: "this is bad, my dear lord!"

"Go on!" said Taras, firmly, and the Jew obeyed.

At the arched entrance of the vaults stood a heyduke, with a moustache
trimmed in three layers: the upper layer was trained backwards, the
second straight forward, and the third downwards, which made him greatly
resemble a cat.

The Jew shrank into nothing and approached him almost sideways: "Your
high excellency! High and illustrious lord!"

"Are you speaking to me, Jew?"

"To you, illustrious lord."

"Hm, but I am merely a heyduke," said the merry-eyed man with the
triple-tiered moustache.

"And I thought it was the Waiwode himself, by heavens! Ai, ai, ai!"
Thereupon the Jew twisted his head about and spread out his fingers.
"Ai, what a fine figure! Another finger's-breadth and he would be
a colonel. The lord no doubt rides a horse as fleet as the wind and
commands the troops!"

The heyduke twirled the lower tier of his moustache, and his eyes
beamed.

"What a warlike people!" continued the Jew. "Ah, woe is me, what a
fine race! Golden cords and trappings that shine like the sun; and the
maidens, wherever they see warriors--Ai, ai!" Again the Jew wagged his