But who is it, in the dark of night, whether the stars shine or not, that comes riding on a huge black horse? What knight of inhuman stature gallops below the mountains, above the lakes, reflected with his gigantic horse in the still waters, his endless shadow flitting terribly over the mountains? Plate-armor gleaming, lance on his shoulder, saber clanking against his saddle, helmet pulled down, black mustache, eyes closed, eyelashes lowered- he sleeps. And, asleep, he holds the reins; and behind him on the same horse sits a child page, who also sleeps, and asleep holds on to the knight. Who is he, where is he going, and why? Who knows? Not for one day, not for two days, has he been crossing the mountains. Day breaks, the sun rises, he is not to be seen; only now and then the mountain people notice a long shadow flitting over the mountains, though the sky is clear and there is not a cloud in it. But as soon as night brings darkness, he is visible again and is reflected in the lakes, and behind him, trembling, rides his shadow. He has already crossed many mountains and gone up Krivan. There is no higher mountain in the Carpathians; like a tsar it rises above the rest. Here steed and rider have stopped, and sunk still deeper into sleep, and the clouds have descended and covered him.
XIII
'Sh… hush, woman! don't knock so, my baby's fallen asleep. For a long time my son cried, but now he's asleep. I'll go to the forest, woman! Why are you staring at me like that? You're terrible: iron tongs reach out from your eyes… such long ones, ohh! they burn like fire! You must be a witch! Oh, if you're a witch, vanish from here! you'll steal my son. He's so muddle-headed, this captain: he thinks I like living in Kiev. No, my husband is here, and my son-who is going to look after the house? I left so quietly, not a cat or a dog heard me. You want to grow young, woman? It's not hard at all, you only have to dance. Look how I dance…' And having uttered these incoherent words, Katerina started rushing about, looking crazily from side to side, her hands on her hips. She stamped her feet with a shriek; her silver-shod heels rang without time or measure. Unbraided black tresses scattered over her white neck. Like a bird she flew without stopping, waving her arms and nodding, and it seemed she would either drop strengthless to the ground or fly out of this world.
The old nurse stood by sorrowfully, and tears filled her deep wrinkles; heavy stone lay on the hearts of the trusty lads as they watched their mistress. She was already quite weak and lazily tapped her feet in one spot, thinking she was dancing the Turtledove. 'And I have a necklace, boys!' she said, stopping at last, 'and you don't… Where is my husband?' she suddenly cried out, snatching a Turkish dagger from her belt. 'Oh! this isn't the kind of knife I need.' Here tears and anguish showed on her face. 'My father's heart is far away: this won't reach it. His heart is forged of iron. A witch forged it for him in hellfire. Why doesn't my father come? Doesn't he know it's time to put a knife in him? He must want me to come myself…' And she broke off with a strange laugh. 'A funny story came into my head: I remembered how they were burying my husband. They buried him alive… How I wanted to laugh!… Listen, listen!' And instead of speaking, she began to sing a song:
A blood-drenched cart is driving by,
In that cart a Cossack lies,
Pierced his heart, empty his glance,
In his right hand he holds a lance,
And from this lance the blood runs down,
A river of blood pours on the ground.
Above the stream a maple bows,
Above the maple caws a crow.
Over the Cossack his mother cries.
Don't weep, mother, dry your eyes!
For your son has wed a wife,
The fairest young girl of his life.
In the wide field a house of clay,
No windows to let in the day.
And that's the end of all our song.
The fish and crayfish did a dance…
And if you don't love me, may your mother catch a chilli
So all songs had become confused in her. For a day, for two days, she has been living in her house, will hear nothing about Kiev, and does not pray, flees from people, and wanders from morning till late at night in the dark oak groves. Sharp twigs scratch her white face and shoulders; the wind tousles her unbraided tresses; old leaves rustle under her feet-she pays no heed to anything. At the hour when the sunset is fading and the stars have not yet appeared, the moon does not shine, but it is already frightening to walk in the forest: unbaptized children clamber up the trees, clutching at the branches; they sob, guffaw, roll in a tangle on the road and in the spreading nettles; maidens who destroyed their souls run out of the Dnieper's waves one after another; the hair streams from their green heads onto their shoulders, water runs loudly burbling down their long hair onto the ground; and a maiden shines through the water as through a shirt of glass; her lips smile strangely, her cheeks flush, her eyes lure one's soul out… she would burn up with love, she would kiss you to death.,. Flee, Christian man! her mouth is ice, her bed the cold water; she will tickle you all over and drag you into the river. Katerina pays no heed to anyone; the mad- woman has no fear of water nymphs, she runs about late at night with her knife out, searching for her father.
Early in the morning a visitor arrived, of comely appearance, in a red jacket, and inquired about Master Danilo; he hears it all, wipes his tearful eyes with his sleeve, and heaves his shoulders. Says he went to war together with the late Burulbash; together they fought the Crimeans and the Turks; would never have expected that such would be the end of Master Danilo. The visitor tells of many other things and wishes to see Mistress Katerina.
At first Katerina did not listen to anything the visitor said; in the end she began to listen as if reasonably to his words. He talked of having lived together with Master Danilo as brother with brother; of hiding from the Crimeans once under a dam… Katerina kept listening, not taking her eyes off him.
'She'll come round!' the lads thought, looking at her. 'This visitor will cure her! She's already listening reasonably!'
The visitor meanwhile began telling how Master Danilo had told him, in a moment of frank conversation: 'Look here, brother Koprian, if by the will of God I'm no longer in this world, take my wife and let her be your wife…'
