"Now, my men, you've slept enough! 'tis time, 'tis time! Water the horses! And where is the old woman ?" He generally called his wife so.

"Be quick, old woman, get us something to eat; the way is long." The poor old woman, deprived of her last hope, slipped sadly into the hut.
Whilst she, with tears, prepared what was needed for breakfast, Bulba gave his orders, went to the stable, and selected his best trappings for his children with his own hand.
The scholars were suddenly transformed.

Red morocco boots with silver heels took the place of their dirty old ones; trousers wide as the Black Sea, with countless folds and plaits, were kept up by golden girdles from which hung long slender thongs, with tassles and other tinkling things, for pipes.

Their jackets of scarlet cloth were girt by flowered sashes into which were thrust engraved Turkish pistols; their swords clanked at their heels.

Their faces, already a little sunburnt, seemed to have grown handsomer and whiter; their slight black moustaches now cast a more distinct shadow on this pallor and set off their healthy youthful complexions.