He would collect together all the Cossacks he met; then there
were songs, laughter, money in abundance, and vodka flowed like
water. . . . He would address the pretty girls, and give them ribbons,
earrings, strings of beads,--more than they knew what to do with. It is
true that the pretty girls rather hesitated about accepting his
presents: God knows, perhaps they had passed through unclean hands. My
grandfather's aunt, who kept a tavern at that time, in which Basavriuk
(as they called that devil-man) often had his carouses, said that no
consideration on the face of the earth would have induced her to accept
a gift from him. And then, again, how avoid accepting? Fear seized on
every one when he knit his bristly brows, and gave a sidelong glance
which might send your feet, God knows whither; but if you accept, then
the next night some fiend from the swamp, with horns on his head, comes
to call, and begins to squeeze your neck, when there is a string of
beads upon it; or bite your finger, if there is a ring upon it; or drag
you by the hair, if ribbons are braided in it. God have mercy, then, on
those who owned such gifts! But here was the difficulty: it was
impossible to get rid of them; if you threw them into the water, the
diabolical ring or necklace would skim along the surface, and into your
hand.
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