Andrii looked; before him stood Taras! He trembled all over, and turned suddenly pale, like a student who, receiving a blow on the forehead with a ruler, flushes up like fire, springs in wrath from his seat to chase his comrade, and suddenly encounters his teacher entering the classroom; in the instant his wrathful impulse calms down and his futile anger vanishes.

In this wise, in an instant, Andrii's wrath was as if it had never existed.

And he beheld before him only his terrible father.
"Well, what are we going to do now ?" said Taras, looking him straight in the eyes.

But Andrii could make no reply to this, and stood with his eyes fixed on the ground.
"Well, son; did your Lyakhs help you ?" Andrii made no answer.
"To think that you should be such a traitor! that you should betray your faith! betray your comrades! Dismount from your horse!" Obedient as a child, he dismounted, and stood before Taras more dead than alive.
"Stand still, do not move! I gave you life, I will also kill you!" said Taras, and, retreating a step backwards, he brought his gun up to his shoulder.

Andrii was white as a sheet; his lips moved gently, and he uttered a name; but it was not the name of his native land, nor of his mother, nor his brother; it was the name of the beautiful Pole.