The dumb woman’s face flushed with pleasure, and she began making a weird noise for joy. Having seized the gingerbread she began to gesticulate still more rapidly, frequently pointing in one direction and passing her thick finger over her eyebrows and her face. Lukáshka understood her and kept nodding, while he smiled slightly. She was telling him to give the girls dainties, and that the girls liked him, and that one girl, Maryánka—the best of them all—loved him. She indicated Maryánka by rapidly pointing in the direction of Maryánka’s home and to her own eyebrows and face, and by smacking her lips and swaying her head. “Loves” she expressed by pressing her hands to her breast, kissing her hand, and pretending to embrace someone. Their mother returned to the hut, and seeing what her dumb daughter was saying, smiled and shook her head. Her daughter showed her the gingerbread and again made the noise which expressed joy. “I told Ulítka the other day that I’d send a matchmaker to them,” said the mother. “She took my words well.” Lukáshka looked silently at his mother. “But how about selling the wine, mother? I need a horse.” “I’ll cart it when I have time. I must get the barrels ready,” said the mother, evidently not wishing her son to meddle in domestic matters. “When you go out you’ll find a bag in the passage. I borrowed from the neighbours and got something for you to take back to the cordon; or shall I put it in your saddle-bag?” “All right,” answered Lukáshka. “And if Giréy Khan should come across the river send him to me at the cordon, for I shan’t get leave again for a long time now; I have some business with him.” He began to get ready to start. “I will send him on,” said the old woman. “It seems you have been spreeing at Yámka’s all the time. I went out in the night to see the cattle, and I think it was your voice I heard singing songs.” Lukáshka did not reply, but went out into the passage, threw the bags over his shoulder, tucked up the skirts of his coat, took his musket, and then stopped for a moment on the threshold. “Good-bye, mother!” he said as he closed the gate behind him. “Send me a small barrel with Nazárka. I promised it to the lads, and he’ll call for it.” “May Christ keep you, Lukáshka. God be with you! I’ll send you some, some from the new barrel,” said the old woman, going to the fence: “But listen,” she added, leaning over the fence. The Cossack stopped. “You’ve been making merry here; well, that’s all right. Why should not a young man amuse himself? God has sent you luck and that’s good. But now look out and mind, my son. Don’t you go and get into mischief. Above all, satisfy your superiors: one has to! And I will sell the wine and find money for a horse and will arrange a match with the girl for you.” “All right, all right!” answered her son, frowning.