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26 «ЖІНОЧИЙ СВІТ» eo 0 0M 000 DOGO DOC O00 0 0 20020020 P. KULISH. IRENE Translated by John Panchuk. MISS | ss il tt о iin й N old song tells us that no beauty of the countenance is sur- passed by the beauty of a lustrous star. But whoever saw the daughter of the centurion Tavold would venture to say that she was more beautiful than the radiant star, prettier than the full moon at mid- night, and fairer than the sun it- self, which delights the fish in the stream, the beasts in the forests,and the poppies in the field. Perhaps it is somewhat extravagant to speak so, for whoever heard of a girl being fairer than the radiant sun, or the silver moon? Yet our sinful nature is such that when we glance at a beautiful maiden, we deny the existence of anything fairer in heaven or on earth. Very pretty indeed was the cen- turion’s daughter, The fame of her beauty had spread throughout U- kraine; for it is common among us in Ukraine, that as soon as a comely maiden attains an attractive age, she becomes known every- where, Many a young Cossack, though по business neéessitated his presence at Veytovtsey, rode a hundred verstv or more so that he might see the celebrated daughter of the centurion, the famous Irene, whose renown was lustily pro- claimed as with silver trumpets. But all the high hopes and aspi- rations brought only chagrin and disappointment. The young Cos- sack gallants were discouraged in their advances. Whether the father was too proud, or the daughter too haughty I cannot tell, but when- ever any vaunting gallant returned fiom Veytovtsey with а crestfal- len countenance it was always the same story: “There is no chance of making a favorable impression, my friend. The flower has not blossomed for us. Maybe someone will pluck it and place it in his high hat, but he will certainly not be from our lot.” Irene was a full grown girl now, straight and supple as a white poplar in the field. The old centur- ion would look at her, survey her proud carriage and pretty features, and rejoice with paternal felicity that his old age was blessed with such a daughter. But at times a feeling of sadness seized him. “You have grown up to maturity, my darling, as a full ear of corn in the field. But will the reaper know what a favor he receives from God? There are plenty of suitors, both of wealth and rank, who seek your hand, but I have no desire to give you in wedlock to а gray- beard whose jealousy would blight your youth as the wind wilts the lonely flower in the meadow. Nor would I see you married to some madcap who could not abandon the dangerous lure of the steppe and the military life, but would join the Cossack bands and lose his life in some foolhardy encounter, leav- ing you to suffer with little children.” thus, she said: “Father, my maids have prepared the clothes for washing, and I wish the horses to be ready to drive us down to the Trubailo by the Auroch’s bank. There the water runs over the pebbles аз clear аз crystal.” “But why to you want to go so far?” asked her father. “Tt isn’t so far, father; only a half hour’s drive through the meadows, coppices, and before you are aware, the shining and shim- mering stream lies before you at the foot of the steep incline.” “Qh, I know you! Whenever you set your mind on anything, you have a winning way of getting it. It’s no use to argue with you. Tell old Henry to come here.” Irene skipped outdoors quickly and soon returned with Henry. Henry was a man considerably well on in years, with massive brows overhanging his eyes, and his gray beard reaching down to his waist. He had been in the family a long time, and had cared for the centurion since the latter was a small boy. He had taught him ing and old Tavold sighed deeply and white salty tears glistened in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. Irene waxed beautiful asa garden flower. Buxom and fair to view, she flit- ted about over the estate of the old centurion as a honey bee and made everyone happy. Once Irene had a strange dream. She dreamed that her dead mother came and stood beside her bed and said, “Your girlhood days are over. Every day I pray the merciful Lord to send you a faithful spouse.” Next morning Irene got up neither in a sad nor a cheerful state of mind. She went to her father’s room, and: blushing red as a rose, hor , and had attended the centurion on military expeditions to various parts of Poland, Crimea, and the Black Sea. Henry entered the room, bowed to the centurion and said, “Good day, my friend!” The centurion replied, “How do you do, my friend?” They always addressed each other as friends. “Hitch the horses to the field wagon and drive our servants to the Trubailo.” “Very well, my friend, we will get the horses ready; to be sure we will,” answered Henry. He called two boys, and with their assistance, pulled the wagon оці from the shed. It was.an unusually
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