He felt something confining his mouth; voice and words were lacking; he felt that it was not for him, bred in the seminary and in the tumult of a roaming life, to reply fitly to such language, and was angry with his Cossack nature.
At that moment the Tatar entered the room.

She had cut up the bread which the warrior had brought into small pieces on a golden plate, which she placed before her mistress.

The lady glanced at her, at the bread, at her again, and then turned her eyes towards Andrii.

There was a great deal in those eyes.

That gentle glance, expressive of her weakness and her inability to give words to the feeling which overpowered her, was far more comprehensible to Andrii than any words.