After them follow a detachment of Tartars. They march slowly, for they surround men on foot, evidently prisoners.
Skshetuski believes not his own eyes. He recognizes perfectly on the prisoners the uniform of the hetmans’ hussars; then he drops his hands, and with a wild, strange voice repeats persistently, “It cannot be! it cannot be!”
The roar of cannon was still to be heard. The battle was not finished, but through all the unburnt streets Zaporojians and Tartars were crowding in, their faces black, their breasts heaving, but they were coming as if intoxicated, singing songs. Thus return soldiers from victory.
The lieutenant grew pale as a corpse. “It cannot be!” repeated he in a hoarser voice,--”it cannot be! The Commonwealth--”
A new object arrested his attention. Krechovski’s Cossa
