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Nicolas Gogol (1809-1852)
"芦 Voyons, tourne-toi. Dieu, que tu es dr么le ! Qu鈥檈st-ce que cette robe de pr锚tre ? Est-ce que vous 锚tes tous ainsi fagot茅s 脿 votre acad茅mie ? 禄
Voil脿 par quelles paroles le vieux Boulba accueillait ses deux fils qui venaient de terminer leurs 茅tudes au s茅minaire de Kiew(1), et qui rentraient en ce moment au foyer paternel.
Ses fils venaient de descendre de cheval. C鈥櫭﹖aient deux robustes jeunes hommes, qui avaient encore le regard en dessous, comme il convient 脿 des s茅minaristes r茅cemment sortis des bancs de l鈥櫭ヽole. Leurs visages, pleins de force et de sant茅, commen莽aient 脿 se couvrir d鈥檜n premier duvet que n鈥檃vait jamais fauch茅 le rasoir. L鈥檃ccueil de leur p猫re les avait fort troubl茅s ; ils restaient immobiles, les yeux fix茅s 脿 terre.
芦 Attendez, attendez ; laissez que je vous examine bien 脿 mon aise. Dieu ! que vous avez de longues robes ! dit-il en les tournant et retournant en tous sens. Diables de robes ! je crois qu鈥檕n n鈥檈n a pas encore vu de pareilles dans le monde. Allons, que l鈥檜n de vous essaye un peu de courir : je verrai s鈥檌l ne se laissera pas tomber le nez par terre, en s鈥檈mbarrassant dans les plis.
鈥� P猫re, ne te moque pas de nous, dit enfin l鈥檃卯n茅.
鈥� Voyez un peu le beau sire ! et pourquoi donc ne me moquerais-je pas de vous ?
鈥� Mais, parce que... quoique tu sois mon p猫re, j鈥檈n jure Dieu, si tu continues de rire, je te rosserai.
鈥� Quoi ! fils de chien, ton p猫re ! dit Tarass Boulba en reculant de quelques pas avec 茅tonnement. "
Nicolas Gogol nous fait p茅n茅trer dans le monde belliqueux des Cosaques au XVIIe si猫cle. Tarass Boulba, guerrier reconnu, part en guerre contre les Polonais, avec ses deux fils, au nom de la foi orthodoxe. Seront-ils 脿 la hauteur ? Une 茅ventuelle d茅faite ne sera-t-elle pas le d茅clin de ces fiers Cosaques ?
177 pages, Unknown Binding
First published January 1, 1835
He was a muscular Cossack, who had often commanded at sea, and undergone many vicissitudes. The Turks had once seized him and his men at Trebizond, and borne them captives to the galleys, where they bound them hand and foot with iron chains, gave them no food for a week at a time, and made them drink sea-water. The poor prisoners endured and suffered all, but would not renounce their orthodox faith. Their hetman, Mosiy Schilo, could not bear it: he trampled the Holy Scriptures under foot, wound the vile turban about his sinful head, and became the favourite of a pasha, steward of a ship, and ruler over all the galley slaves. The poor slaves sorrowed greatly thereat, for they knew that if he had renounced his faith he would be a tyrant, and his hand would be the more heavy and severe upon them. So it turned out. Mosiy Schilo had them put in new chains, three to an oar. The cruel fetters cut to the very bone; and he beat them upon the back. But when the Turks, rejoicing at having obtained such a servant, began to carouse, and, forgetful of their law, got all drunk, he distributed all the sixty-four keys among the prisoners, in order that they might free themselves, fling their chains and manacles into the sea, and, seizing their swords, in turn kill the Turks. Then the Cossacks collected great booty, and returned with glory to their country; and the guitar-players celebrated Mosiy Schilo鈥檚 exploits for a long time.Here is a battle encounter containing an epic simile:
鈥淗e has left untouched rich plunder,鈥� said Borodaty, hetman of the Oumansky kuren, leaving his men and going to the place where the nobleman killed by Kukubenko lay. 鈥淚 have killed seven nobles with my own hand, but such spoil I never beheld on any one.鈥� Prompted by greed, Borodaty bent down to strip off the rich armour, and had already secured the Turkish knife set with precious stones, and taken from the foe鈥檚 belt a purse of ducats, and from his breast a silver case containing a maiden鈥檚 curl, cherished tenderly as a love-token. But he heeded not how the red-faced cornet, whom he had already once hurled from the saddle and given a good blow as a remembrance, flew upon him from behind. The cornet swung his arm with all his might, and brought his sword down upon Borodaty鈥檚 bent neck. Greed led to no good: the head rolled off, and the body fell headless, sprinkling the earth with blood far and wide; whilst the Cossack soul ascended, indignant and surprised at having so soon quitted so stout a frame.
The cornet had not succeeded in seizing the hetman鈥檚 head by its scalp-lock, and fastening it to his saddle, before an avenger had arrived. As a hawk floating in the sky, sweeping in great circles with his mighty wings, suddenly remains poised in air, in one spot, and thence darts down like an arrow upon the shrieking quail, so Taras鈥檚 son Ostap darted suddenly upon the cornet and flung a rope about his neck with one cast. The cornet鈥檚 red face became a still deeper purple as the cruel noose compressed his throat, and he tried to use his pistol; but his convulsively quivering hand could not aim straight, and the bullet flew wild across the plain. Ostap immediately unfastened a silken cord which the cornet carried at his saddle bow to bind prisoners, and having with it bound him hand and foot, attached the cord to his saddle and dragged him across the field . . .