no trace now remains, and which was not more than a hundred paces from
Dikanka. 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.

There was a church in the village,--St. Pantelei, if I remember rightly.
There lived there a priest, Father Athanasii of blessed memory.
Observing that Basavriuk did not come to church, even on Easter, he
determined to reprove him, and impose penance upon him. Well, he hardly
escaped with his life. "Hark ye, pannotche!" [Footnote: Sir] he
thundered in reply, "learn to mind your own business instead of meddling
in other people's, if you don't want that goat's throat of yours stuck
together with boiling kutya." [Footnote: A dish of rice or wheat flour,