He finally discovered that she was the daughter of the governor of Kovno, who was currently visiting Kiev.

The following night, with all the audacity of a Seminary student, he slipped through the fence into the garden, climbed a tree, the branches of which stretched over the house, and from the tree crept out onto the roof and lowered himself through a chimney into the bedroom of the beautiful girl, who was sitting by a candle taking off her precious earrings. The Polish beauty was so startled at suddenly seeing an unknown man before her that she was unable to utter a single word. But she quickly saw that he stood there timidly with lowered eyes, not daring to move a finger. She recognized him as the boy she had seen fall in the street, and she was again gripped by laughter. There was nothing frightening in Andri’s features—he was, in fact, a very handsome fellow. She laughed out loud, and began toying with him. She was frivolous, as all Polish girls are, but her eyes, her wonderful, penetratingly bright eyes, cast lingering glances. He could not stir, and felt as if he had been bound and gagged. The governor’s daughter boldly came over to him, placed her sparkling diadem on his head, clipped her earrings on his lips, and slipped onto him her maidenly, flimsy blouse with its frills and gold embroidery. She adorned him and did a thousand different foolish things with him in the over-familiar, childish way characteristic of Polish girls, perplexing the poor student even more. He was a funny sight, his mouth hanging open as he stared into her dazzling eyes.

A sudden knock at the door startled her, and she quickly made Andri hide under the bed. But the moment the danger was past she told her maid, an indentured Tatar woman, to cautiously take Andri down to the garden and see to it that he slipped back out through the fence. But this time Andri was not as successful. The watchman woke up and grabbed hold of his legs, and servants came running and beat him as he ran out into the street. His fast legs saved him.

It was now dangerous for Andri to walk past the house, because the governor had many servants. Andri met her again in church. She noticed him and smiled at him pleasantly, as at an old acquaintance. He caught a glimpse of her one other time, but then the governor of Kovno left and, instead of the beautiful dark-eyed Polish girl, Andri saw a fat face peering out the window. This is what Andri was thinking of as they rode over the steppe, his head hanging and his eyes fixed on his horse’s mane.

By now the steppe had enfolded the Cossacks in its green embrace, and the high grass surrounding them covered them, so that only their black lambskin hats flashed above it.

“Hey, hey, hey! Why are you boys suddenly so quiet?” Bulba shouted, shaking himself out of his brooding state. “You’re like a pair of monks! To the devil with your somber thoughts! Let’s smoke a pipe before we spur the horses and fly so fast that even birds cannot keep up with us!”

The Cossacks leaned forward over their horses and disappeared into the grass. Now not even their black hats could be seen. Only the stream of parting grass showed the track of their fast gallop.

For some time the sun had been peering from the now cloudless sky, and was bathing the steppe in its bracing, warming light. Everything that was troubled and pensive in the Cossacks’ souls dispersed in an instant, and their hearts soared like birds.

The farther they rode into the steppe, the more beautiful it became. In those days the whole south, the vast expanse of what today is Novorossiya, all the way down to the Black Sea, was a green virgin wilderness. No plow had ever cut the boundless waves of wild grasses, and only the hooves of the horses hidden within the steppe as in a forest had trampled the earth. Here was the best that nature had to offer. The whole land was a gold-green ocean over which a million flowers had been scattered. Blue, purple, and lilac cornflowers shimmered through the thin, tall grass, above which yellow brushweeds stuck their pyramidal tips. White clover with umbrella-like hats sparkled over the surface. Succulent ears of wheat, sprouted from God knows what seed, thrived in the thicket.