CHAPTER XI.At the house of the inspector of weights and measures, in the outskirts of Hassan Pasha, at the Saitch, sat two Zaporojians at a table, fortifying themselves with spirits distilled from millet, which they dipped unceasingly from a wooden tub that stood in the middle of the table. One of them, already old and quite decrepit, was Philip Zakhar. He was the inspector. The other, Anton Tatarchuk, ataman of the Chigirin kuren, was a man about forty years old, tall, with a wild expression of face and oblique Tartar eyes. Both spoke in a low voice, as if fearing that some one might overhear them.
“But it is today?“ asked the inspector.
“Yes, almost immediately,“ answered Tatarchuk. “They are waiting for the koshevoi and Tugai Bey, who went with Hmelnitski himself to Bazaluk, where the
