Then in terror ran her little daughters, Calling after her, and weeping sorely, "These are not the steeds of Father Asan; 'Tis thy brother Pintorovich coming!" And the wife of Asan turn'd to meet him; Sobbing, threw her arms around her brother. "See the wrongs, O brother, of thy sister! These five babes I bore, and must I leave them?" Silently the brother from his girdle Draws the ready deed of separation, Wrapp'd within a crimson silken cover. She is free to seek her mother's dwelling-- Free to join in wedlock with another. When the woful lady saw the writing, Kiss'd she both her boys upon the forehead, Kiss'd on both the cheeks her sobbing daughters; But she cannot tear herself for pity From the infant smiling in the cradle! Rudely did her brother tear her from it, Deftly lifted her upon a courser, And in haste, towards his father's dwelling, Spurr'd he onward with the woful lady. Short the space; seven days, but barely seven-- Little space I ween--by many nobles Was the lady--still in weeds of mourning-- Was the lady courted in espousal. Far the noblest was Imoski's cadi; And the dame in tears besought her brother-- "I adjure thee, by the life thou bearest, Give me not a second time in marriage, That my heart may not be rent asunder If again I see my darling children!" Little reck'd the brother of her bidding, Fix'd to wed her to Imoski's cadi. But the gentle lady still entreats him-- "Send at least a letter, O my brother! To Imoski's cadi, thus imploring-- I, the youthful widow, greet thee fairly, And entreat thee, by this selfsame token, When thou comest hither with thy bridesmen, Bring a heavy veil, that I may shroud me As we pass along by Asan's dwelling, So I may not see my darling orphans." Scarcely had the cadi read the letter, When he call'd together all his bridesmen, Boune himself to bring the lady homewards, And he brought the veil as she entreated. Jocundly they reach'd the princely mansion, Jocundly they bore her thence in triumph; But when they drew near to Asan's dwelling, Then the children recognized their mother, And they cried, "Come back unto thy chamber-- Share the meal this evening with thy children;" And she turn'd her to the lordly bridegroom-- "Pray thee, let the bridesmen and their horses Halt a little by the once-loved dwelling, Till I give these presents to my children." And they halted by the once-loved dwelling, And she gave the weeping children presents, Gave each boy a cap with gold embroider'd, Gave each girl a long and costly garment, And with tears she left a tiny mantle For the helpless baby in the cradle. These things mark'd the father, Asan Aga, And in sorrow call'd he to his children-- "Turn again to me, ye poor deserted; Hard as steel is now your mother's bosom; Shut so fast, it cannot throb with pity!"