Just then two men rode out of the side street into the square. One of them was Nazárka. The other, Lukáshka, sat slightly sideways on his well-fed bay Kabardá horse which stepped lightly over the hard road jerking its beautiful head with its fine glossy mane. The well-adjusted gun in its cover, the pistol at his back, and the cloak rolled up behind his saddle showed that Lukáshka had not come from a peaceful place or from one near by. The smart way in which he sat a little sideways on his horse, the careless motion with which he touched the horse under its belly with his whip, and especially his half-closed black eyes, glistening as he looked proudly around him, all expressed the conscious strength and self-confidence of youth. “Ever seen as fine a lad?” his eyes, looking from side to side, seemed to say. The elegant horse with its silver ornaments and trappings, the weapons, and the handsome Cossack himself attracted the attention of everyone in the square. Nazárka, lean and short, was much less well dressed. As he rode past the old men, Lukáshka paused and raised his curly white sheepskin cap above his closely cropped black head. “Well, have you carried off many Nogáy horses?” asked a lean old man with a frowning, lowering look. “Have you counted them, Grandad, that you ask?” replied Lukáshka, turning away. “That’s all very well, but you need not take my lad along with you,” the old man muttered with a still darker frown. “Just see the old devil, he knows everything,” muttered Lukáshka to himself, and a worried expression came over his face; but then, noticing a corner where a number of Cossack girls were standing, he turned his horse towards them. “Good evening, girls!” he shouted in his powerful, resonant voice, suddenly checking his horse. “You’ve grown old without me, you witches!” and he laughed. “Good evening, Lukáshka! Good evening, laddie!” the merry voices answered. “Have you brought much money? Buy some sweets for the girls!... Have you come for long? True enough, it’s long since we saw you....” “Nazárka and I have just flown across to make a night of it,” replied Lukáshka, raising his whip and riding straight at the girls. “Why, Maryánka has quite forgotten you,” said Ústenka, nudging Maryánka with her elbow and breaking into a shrill laugh. Maryánka moved away from the horse and throwing back her head calmly looked at the Cossack with her large sparkling eyes. “True enough, you have not been home for a long time! Why are you trampling us under your horse?” she remarked dryly, and turned away. Lukáshka had appeared particularly merry. His face shone with audacity and joy. Obviously staggered by Maryánka’s cold reply he suddenly knitted his brow. “Step up on my stirrup and I’ll carry you away to the mountains. Mammy!” he suddenly exclaimed, and as if to disperse his dark thoughts he caracoled among the girls. Stooping down towards Maryánka, he said, “I’ll kiss, oh, how I’ll kiss you! ...”