Taras himself, perceiving their straits, hastened to their rescue; but the Cossacks arrived too late.

Before the enemies who surrounded him could be driven off, a spear was buried just below Kukubenko's heart.

He sank into the arms of the Cossacks who caught him, and his young blood flowed in a stream, like precious wine brought from the cellar in a glass vessel by careless servants, who, stumbling at the entrance, break the rich flask.

The wine streams over the ground, and the master, hastening up, tears his hair, having reserved it, in order that if God should grant him, in his old age, to meet again the comrade of his youth, they might over it recall together former days, when a man enjoyed himself otherwise and better than now.

Kukubenko cast his eyes around, and said, "I thank God that it has been my lot to die before your eyes, comrades.