"The victory is ours!" rang Cossack voices on all sides; the trumpets sounded and the banner of victory was unfurled.

The beaten Lyakhs ran in all directions and hid themselves.

"No, the victory is not yet complete," said Taras, glancing at the city gate; and he was right.
The gates opened, and out dashed a hussar band, the flower of all the cavalry.

Every rider was mounted on a matched brown horse from the Kabardei; and in front rode the handsomest, the most heroic of them all.
His black hair streamed from beneath his brazen helmet; and from his arm floated a rich scarf, embroidered by the hands of a peerless beauty.
Taras sprang back in horror when he saw that it was Andrii.

And the latter meanwhile, enveloped in the dust and heat of battle, eager to deserve the scarf which had been bound as a gift upon his arm, flew on like a greyhound; the handsomest, most agile, and youngest of all the band.