Each simple word of this speech, uttered in a voice which penetrated straight to the depths of her heart, was clothed in power.

She advanced her beautiful face, pushed back her troublesome hair, opened her mouth, and gazed long, with parted lips.

Then she tried to say something and suddenly stopped, remembering that the warrior was known by a different name; that his father, brothers, country, lay beyond, grim avengers; that the Zaporozhtzi besieging the city were terrible, and that the cruel death awaited all who were within its walls, and her eyes suddenly filled with tears.

She seized a silk embroidered handkerchief and threw it over her face.

In a moment it was all wet; and she sat for some time with her beautiful head thrown back, and her snowy teeth set on her lovely under-lip, as though she suddenly felt the sting of a poisonous serpent, without removing the handkerchief from her face, lest he should see her shaken with grief.
"Speak but one word to me," said Andrii, and he took her satin-skinned hand.