He sat there long with drooping head, repeating continually, "My Ostap, my Ostap!" Before him spread the gleaming Black Sea; in the distant reeds the sea-gull screamed.

His grey moustache turned to silver, and the tears fell one by one upon it.
At last Taras could endure it no longer.

"Whatever happens, I must go and find out what he is doing.

Is he alive, or in the grave?
I will know, cost what it may!" Within a week he found himself in the city of Ouman, fully armed, and mounted, with lance, sword, canteen, pot of oatmeal, powder horn, cord to hobble his horse, and other equipments.
He went straight to a dirty, ill-kept little house, the small windows of which were almost invisible, blackened as they were with some unknown dirt.

The chimney was wrapped in rags; and the roof, which was full of holes, was covered with sparrows.