ARGUMENT
Spring omens—The entrance of the armies—Religious
services—Official rehabilitation of the late Jacek Soplica—From
the talk between Gerwazy and Protazy a speedy ending of the
lawsuit may be inferred—A love affair between an uhlan and a
girl—The quarrel over Bobtail and Falcon is at last
settled—Thereupon the guests gather for the banquet—The
presentation of the betrothed couples to the generals.
MEMORABLE year! Happy is he who beheld thee in our land! The folk still
call thee the year of harvest, but the soldiers the year of war; old men
still love to tell tales of thee and poets still dream of thee. Thou hadst
long been heralded by the marvel in the sky and preceded by a vague rumour
among the folk; with the coming of the spring sun the hearts of the
Lithuanians were seized with a certain strange foreboding, as if the end
of the world were approaching—by a certain yearning and joyous
expectation.
In the spring, when the cattle were driven forth for the first time, men
noticed that, though famished and lean, they did not run to the young
corn179 that already made gay the fields, but lay down on the ploughed
land, and, drooping their heads, either lowed or chewed the cud of their
winter food.
The villagers too, as they ploughed for the spring grain, did not show
their wonted joy in the end of the long winter; they did not sing songs,
but worked lazily, as though forgetful of the sowing and the harvest. As
they harrowed, at every step they checked their oxen and their nags, and
gazed anxiously towards the west, as though from this direction some
marvel were about to appear. And they regarded anxiously the birds, which
were returning home; for already the stork had flown back to its native
pine and had spread its white wings, the early standard of spring; and
after it the swallows, coming on in noisy regiments, gathered above the
waters, and from the frozen earth collected mud for their tiny houses. At
evening in the thickets one could hear the calling of the woodcocks as
they rose from the earth; and flocks of wild geese honked over the forest
and, wearied, settled noisily down to feed; and in the depths of the dark
heaven the cranes kept up a continuous clamour. Hearing this, the night
watchmen would ask in dread whence came such disorder in the winged
kingdom, and what storm had driven forth these birds so early.
And now new swarms, like flocks of finches, plover, and starlings, swarms
of bright plumes and pennons shone bright upon the hills and came down
into the meadows. It was cavalry! In strange array, and arms never seen
before, came regiment after regiment; and straight across the country,
like melted snows, the iron-shod ranks flowed along the roads. From the
forests emerged black shakos, a row of bayonets glittered, and the
infantry, countless as ants, swarmed forth.
All were turned towards the north; you would have said that at that time,
coming from the Sunny South180 and following the birds, men too were
entering our land, driven on by the force of some instinct that they could
not comprehend.
Steeds, men, cannon, eagles flowed on day and night; here and there fires
glowed in the sky; the earth trembled, in the distance one could hear the
rolling of thunder.—
War! war! There was no corner in the Lithuanian land to which its roar did
not reach; amid dark forests, the peasant, whose grandfathers and kinsmen
had died without seeing beyond the boundaries of the wood, who understood
no other cries in the sky than those of the winds, and none on earth
except the roaring of beasts, who had seen no other guests than his
fellow-woodsmen, now beheld how a strange glare flamed in the sky—in the
forest there was a crash—that was a cannon ball that had wandered from the
battlefield and was seeking a path in the wood, tearing up stumps and
cutting through boughs. The hoary, bearded bison trembled in his mossy
lair and bristled up his long shaggy mane; he half rose, resting on his
forelegs, and, shaking his beard, he gazed in amazement at the sparks
suddenly glittering amid the brushwood: this was a stray bombshell that
twirled and whirled and hissed, and at last broke with a roar like
thunder; the bison for the first time in his life was terrified and fled
to take refuge in deeper hiding.
“A battle! Where? In what direction?” asked the young men, as they seized
their arms; the women raised their hands in prayer to Heaven. All, sure of
victory, cried out with tears in their eyes: “God is with Napoleon and
Napoleon is with us!”
O spring! Happy is he who beheld thee then in our country! Memorable
spring of war, spring of harvest! O spring, happy is he who beheld how
thou didst bloom with corn and grass, but glittered with men; how thou
wert rich in events and big with hope! I see thee still, fair phantom of
my dream! Born in slavery and chained in my swaddling bands, I have had
but one such spring in my whole life.
Soplicowo lay close by the highway along which two generals were pressing
forward from the Niemen. Our own Prince Joseph and Jerome, King of
Westphalia,181 had already occupied Lithuania from Grodno to Slonim, when
the King issued orders to give the army three days of repose. But the
Polish soldiers, despite their hardships, murmured because the King would
not permit them to march on; so eager were they to overtake the Muscovites
at the earliest possible moment.
The main staff of the Prince had halted in the town near by, but in
Soplicowo was a camp of forty thousand men, and with them Generals
Dombrowski,182 Kniaziewicz,183 Malachowski,184 Giedrojc,185 and
Grabowski,186 with their staffs.
As it was late when they arrived, each man chose quarters wherever he
could, either in the old castle or in the mansion; soon orders had been
issued and guards stationed, and each weary man went to his chamber for
sleep. As night drew on all became quiet, both camp, mansion, and field;
one could see only the patrols wandering about like shadows, and here and
there the flickering of the camp fires; one could hear only the watchwords
being passed about from post to post in the army.
All slept, the master of the house, the generals, and the soldiers; the
eyes of the Seneschal alone were not closed in sweet slumber. For on the
morrow the Seneschal had to arrange a banquet by which he would fain make
famous the house of the Soplicas for ever and ever; a banquet worthy of
guests so dear to Polish hearts, and in keeping with the great solemnity
of the day, which was both a church holiday and a family holiday; on the
morrow the betrothals of three couples were to take place. Moreover,
General Dombrowski had made known that evening that he wished to have a
Polish dinner.
Though the hour was late, the Seneschal had gathered cooks from the
neighbourhood with all possible speed; there were five of them working
under his direction. As head cook he had girt him with a white apron,
donned a nightcap, and tucked up his sleeves to the elbows. In one hand he
held a fly-flapper, and with it he drove away insects of all sorts, which
were settling greedily on the dainties; with the other hand he put on his
well-wiped spectacles, took a book from his bosom, unwrapped it, and
opened it.
This book was entitled _The Perfect Cook_.187 Herein were described in
detail all the dishes peculiar to the Polish table: with its aid the Count
of Tenczyn was wont to give those banquets in the Italian land at which
the Holy Father Urban VIII. marvelled;188 by its aid, later on, Karol
My-dear-friend Radziwill,189 when he entertained King Stanislaw at
Nieswiez, arranged that memorable feast the fame of which still lives
throughout Lithuania in popular tales.
What the Seneschal read, understood, and proclaimed, that straightway did
the skilful cooks carry out. The work seethed: fifty knives clattered on
the tables; scullions black as demons rushed about, some carrying wood,
others pails of milk and wine; they poured them into kettles, spiders, and
stew-pans, and the steam burst forth. Two scullions sat by the stove and
puffed at the bellows; the Seneschal, the more easily to kindle the fire,
had given orders to have melted butter poured on the wood—this bit of
extravagance is permitted in a well-to-do household. The scullions stuffed
bundles of dry brushwood into the fire; others of them placed upon spits
immense roasts of beef and venison, and haunches of wild boars and of
stags; still others were plucking whole heaps of birds of all sorts—
clouds of down flew about, and grouse, heath cocks, and hens were stripped
bare. But there were very few hens: since the attack that bloodthirsty
Buzzard Dobrzynski had made on the hencoop at the time of the foray, when
he had annihilated Zosia’s establishment, without leaving a bit for
medicine,190 Soplicowo, once famous for its poultry, had not yet managed
to blossom out again with new birds. For the rest, there was a great
abundance of all the sorts of meats that could be gathered from the house
and from the butchers’ shops, from the woods and from the neighbours, from
near and from far: you would have said that the only thing lacking was
bird’s milk. The two things that a generous man requires in order to give
a feast were united at Soplicowo: plenty and art.
Already the solemn day of the Most Holy Lady of Flowers191 was
approaching; the weather was lovely, the hour early; the clear sky was
extended about the earth like a calm, hanging, concavo-convex sea. A few
stars shone from its depths, like pearls from the sea bottom, seen through
waves; on one side a little white cloud, all alone, drifted along and
buried its wings in the azure, like the vanishing pinions of a guardian
angel, who, detained through the night by the prayers of men, has been
belated, and is hastening to return to his fellow-denizens of heaven.
Already the last pearls of the stars had grown dim and been extinguished
in the depths of the sky, and the centre of the sky’s brow was growing
pale; its right temple, reposing on a pillow of shadow, was still swarthy,
but its left grew ever rosier; but farther off the horizon line parted
like a broad eyelid, and in the centre one could see the white of an eye,
one could see the iris and the pupil—now a ray darted forth and circled
and shimmered over the rounded heavens, and hung in the white cloud like a
golden arrow. At this beam, at this signal of day, a cluster of fires flew
forth, crossing one another a thousand times on the sphere of the
skies—and the eye of the sun rose up—still somewhat sleepy, it blinked and
trembled and shook its gleaming lashes; it glittered with seven tints at
once: at first sapphire, it straightway turned blood red like a ruby, and
yellow as a topaz; next it sparkled transparent as crystal, then was
radiant as a diamond; finally it became the colour of pure flame, like a
great moon, or like a twinkling star: thus over the measureless heaven
advanced the solitary sun.
To-day from the whole neighbourhood the Lithuanian populace had gathered
before sunrise around the chapel, as if to hear some new marvel
proclaimed. This gathering was due in part to the piety of the folk and in
part to curiosity; for to-day at Soplicowo the generals were to attend
service, those famous captains of our legions, whose names the folk knew
and honoured as those of patron saints; all whose wanderings, cam-paigns,
and battles were the people’s gospel throughout Lithuania.
Now some officers and a throng of soldiers arrived. The folk surrounded
them and gazed upon them, and they could hardly believe their eyes when
they beheld their fellow-countrymen wearing uniforms, and carrying
arms—free, and speaking the Polish language!
The mass began. The little sanctuary could not contain the entire throng;
the folk kneeled on the grass, gazing at the door of the chapel, and bared
their heads. The white or yellow hair of the Lithuanian folk was gilded
like a field of ripe grain; here and there a maiden’s fair head, decked
with fresh flowers or with peacock’s feathers, and with ribbons flowing
loose from her braided hair, blossomed among the men’s heads like a
corn-flower or poppy amid the wheat. The kneeling, many-coloured throng
covered the plain, and at the sound of the bell, as though at a breath of
wind, all heads bent down like ears of corn on a field.
To-day the village girls had brought to the altar of the Virgin Mother the
first tribute of spring—fresh sheaves of greenery; everything was decked
with nosegays and garlands—the altar, the image, and even the belfry and
the galleries. Sometimes a morning zephyr, stirring from the east, would
tear down the garlands and throw them upon the brows of the kneeling
worshippers, and would spread fragrance abroad as from a priest’s censer.
When the mass and the sermon were over in the church, there came forth at
the head of the whole gathering the Chamberlain, who had recently been
unanimously chosen Marshal of the Confederacy192 by the electoral assembly
of the district. He wore the uniform of the wojewodeship, a tunic
embroidered with gold, a kontusz of gros-de-Tours with a fringe, and a
massive brocade belt, on which hung a sabre with a hilt of lizard skin. At
his neck shone a large diamond pin; his cap was white, and on it was a
large tuft of costly feathers, the crests of white herons. (Only on
festival days is worn so rich an ornament, every little feather of which
is worth a ducat.) Thus adorned, he stepped up on a mound before the
church; the villagers and soldiers crowded around him: he spoke:—
"Brothers, the priest has proclaimed to you from the pulpit the liberty
that the Emperor-King has already restored to the Kingdom, and is now
restoring to the Duchy of Lithuania, to all Poland; you have heard the
official decrees and the letters convening a General Diet. I have only a
few words to say to the company on a matter that pertains to the Soplica
family, the lords of this district.
“All the neighbourhood remembers the crime committed here by the deceased
Pan Jacek Soplica; but, since you all know of his sins, it is time to
proclaim his merits, also, before the world. Here are present the generals
of our armies, from whom I have heard all that I tell you. This Jacek did
not die at Rome, as was reported, but only changed his former way of life,
his calling, and his name; and all his offences against God and his
country he has blotted out by his holy life and by great deeds.
“It was he who at Hohenlinden,193 when General Richepanse, half
vanquished, was already preparing to retreat, not knowing that Kniaziewicz
was on the way to his rescue—it was he, Jacek, called Robak, who amid
spears and swords brought to Richepanse from Kniaziewicz letters
announcing that our men were attacking the enemy in the rear. Later, in
Spain, when our uhlans had taken the fortified ridge of Somosierra,194 he
was wounded twice by the side of Kozietulski! Following this, as an
emissary, with secret instructions, he traversed various quarters of our
land, in order to watch the currents of popular feeling and to found and
build up secret societies. Finally, at Soplicowo, in the home of his
fathers, while he was paving the way for an insurrection, he perished in a
foray. The news of his death arrived in Warsaw just at the moment when His
Majesty the Emperor deigned to bestow on him as a reward for his former
heroic deeds the knightly badge of the Legion of Honour.
“Therefore, taking into consideration all these matters, I, as
representative of the authority of the wojewodeship, proclaim to you with
my confederate’s staff of office that Jacek by faithful service and by the
favour of the Emperor has removed the blot of infamy from his name, and
has won back his honour, taking once more his place in the ranks of true
patriots. So whoever dares to speak a word at any time to the family of
the deceased Jacek of the offence that he long since atoned for, that man
will be liable, as a penalty for such a taunt, to _gravis notæ macula_,195
according to the words of the statutes, which thus punish both _militem_
and _skartabell_196 if he spread calumny against a citizen of the
Commonwealth—and since general equality before the law has now been
proclaimed, therefore Article 3 is likewise binding on townsfolk and
serfs.197 This decree of the Marshal the Scribe will enter in the acts of
the General Confederation, and the Apparitor will proclaim it.
“As for the cross of the Legion of Honour, the fact that it arrived late
does not derogate from its glory; if it could not serve Jacek as an
adornment, let it serve as a memorial of him: I hang it on his grave. For
three days it will hang there, then it will be deposited in the chapel, as
a _votum_ for the Virgin.”
So saying, he took the badge from its case and hung on the modest cross
that marked the grave a red ribbon knotted into a cockade, and a starry
white cross with a golden crown; the rays of the star shone in the
sunlight like the last gleam of Jacek’s earthly glory. Meanwhile the
kneeling folk repeated the Angelus, praying for the eternal repose of the
sinner; the Judge walked about among the guests and the throng of
villagers and invited all to the banquet at Soplicowo.
But on the bench of turf before the house two old men had taken their
seats, each holding on his knees a tankard full of mead. They gazed into
the garden, where amid the buds of bright-coloured poppy stood an uhlan
like a sunflower, wearing a glittering head-dress adorned with gilded
metal and with a cock’s feather; near him a little maid in a garment green
as the lowly rue raised eyes blue as forget-me-nots towards the eyes of
the youth. Farther on girls were plucking flowers among the beds,
purposely turning away their heads from the lovers, in order not to
embarrass their talk together.
But the old men, as they drank their mead and passed from hand to hand a
bark snuffbox, continued their chat.
“Yes, yes, my dear Protazy,” said Gerwazy the Warden. “Yes, yes, my dear
Gerwazy,” said Protazy the Apparitor. “Yes, yes indeed,” they repeated in
unison over and over again, nodding their heads in time to the words;
finally the Apparitor spoke:—
“That our lawsuit has a strange conclusion I do not deny; however, there
are precedents. I remember lawsuits in which worse outrages were committed
than in ours, and yet marriage articles ended the whole trouble: in this
way Lopot was reconciled to the Borzdobohaty family, the Krepsztuls with
the Kupsces, Putrament with Pikturna, Mackiewicz with the Odynieces, and
Turno with the Kwileckis. What am I saying! The Poles used to have worse
broils with Lithuania than the Horeszkos with the Soplica family; but when
Queen Jadwiga198 took the matter under advisement, then that difficulty
too was settled out of court. It is a good thing when the parties have
maidens or widows to give in marriage; then a compromise is always ready
at hand. The longest suits are ordinarily with the Catholic clergy or with
close kindred, for then the cases cannot be concluded by marriage. Hence
come the endless quarrels between the Lechites and the Russians, who
proceed from Lech and Rus,199 two born brothers; hence also there were so
many prolonged lawsuits between the Lithuanians and the Knights of the
Cross, until Jagiello finally won. Hence finally that famous lawsuit of
the Rymszas and the Dominicans long _pendebat_ on the calendar, until
finally Father Dymsza, the syndic of the convent, won the case: whence the
’proverb, the Lord God is greater than Lord Rymsza. And I may add, mead is
better than the penknife.”
So saying, he drank off a tankard to the health of the Warden.
“True, true!” replied Gerwazy with emotion. “Strange have been the
fortunes of our beloved Kingdom and of our Lithuania! They are like a true
married pair! God joined them, and the devil divides them; God has his own
and the devil has his own! Ah, dear brother Protazy, that our eyes should
see this—that these brethren from the Kingdom should visit us once more! I
served with them years ago, and remember that bold confederates came from
their country! If only my deceased lord the Pantler had lived to see this
hour! O Jacek, Jacek!—but why should we lament? Now Lithuania will soon be
reunited to the Kingdom, and therewith all is forgiven and forgotten.”
“And it is strange,” said Protazy, “that in regard to this Zosia, for
whose hand our Thaddeus is now suing, a year ago there was an omen, as it
were a sign from Heaven.”
“Panna Sophia she should be called,” interrupted the Warden, “for she is
now grown up, and is no longer a little girl; besides that, she comes of
the blood of dignitaries; she is the granddaughter of the Pantler.”
“Well, it was an omen prophetic of her fate,” Protazy concluded; “I beheld
the omen with my own eyes. A year ago our servants were sitting here on a
holiday, drinking mead, and we saw—whack! there fell from the eaves two
sparrows fighting, both old males. One, which was somewhat the younger,
had a grey throat, the other a black one; they continued to scuffle about
the yard, turning over and over, until they were buried in dust. We gazed
at them, and meanwhile the servants whispered to one another that the
black one must stand for the Horeszko, and the other for the Soplica. So,
whenever the grey one was on top, they would cry, ‘Vivat Soplica; foh, the
Horeszko cowards!’ but when it fell, they shouted, ‘Get up, Soplica; don’t
give in to the magnate—that’s shameful for a gentleman!’ So we laughed and
waited to see which would beat; but suddenly little Zosia, moved with pity
for the birds, ran up and covered those warriors with her tiny hand: they
still fought in her hands till the feathers flew, such was the fury of
those little scamps. The old wives, looking at Zosia, quietly passed the
word about, that it would certainly be that girl’s destiny to reconcile
two families long at variance. So I see that the old wives’ omen has
to-day come true. To be sure, at that time they had in mind the Count, and
not Thaddeus.”
To this the Warden replied: “There are strange things in the world; who
can fathom them all! I too will tell you, sir, something which, though not
so marvellous as that omen, is nevertheless hard to understand. You know
that in old days I should have been glad to drown the Soplica family in a
spoonful of water; and yet of this young fellow Thaddeus I was always
immensely fond, from his childhood up. I took nonce that whenever he got
into a fight with the other lads he always beat them; so, every time that
he came to the castle, I kept stirring him up to difficult feats. He
succeeded in everything, whether he set out to dislodge the doves from the
tower, or to pluck the mistletoe from the oak, or to tear down a crow’s
nest from the highest pine: he was equal to anything. I thought to
myself—that boy was born under a happy star; too bad that he is a Soplica!
Who would have guessed that in him I was to greet the owner of the castle,
the husband of Panna Sophia, Her Grace my Lady!”
Here they broke off their conversation, but, deep in thought, they
continued to drink; one could only hear now and then these brief words,
“Yes, yes, Gerwazy”; “Yes, Protazy.”
The bench adjoined the kitchen, the windows of which were standing open
and pouring forth smoke as from a conflagration; at last between the
clouds of smoke, like a white dove, flashed the shining nightcap of the
head cook. The Seneschal, putting his head out of the kitchen window,
above the heads of the old men, listened in silence to their talk, and
finally handed them some biscuits in a saucer, with the remark:—
“Have something to eat with your mead, and I will tell you a curious story
of a quarrel that seemed likely to end in a bloody fight, when Rejtan,
hunting in the depths of the forests of Naliboki, played a trick on the
Prince de Nassau. This trick he nearly atoned for with his own life; I
made up the gentlemen’s quarrel, as I will tell you.”
But the Seneschal’s story was interrupted by the cooks, who inquired whom
he would have set the table.
The Seneschal withdrew, and the old men, having finished their mead,
turned their thoughtful eyes towards the centre of the garden, where that
handsome uhlan was talking with the young lady. At that moment the uhlan,
taking her hand in his left (his right hung in a sling, so that he was
evidently wounded), addressed the lady with these words:—
“Sophia, you positively must tell me this; before we exchange rings, I
must be sure of it. What does it matter that last winter you were prepared
to give me your promise? I did not accept your promise then, for what did
I care for such a forced promise? I had then stayed in Soplicowo but a
very short time, and I was not so vain as to flatter myself that by my
mere glance I could awaken love in you. I am no braggart; I wished by my
own merits to win your regard, even though I might have to wait long for
it. Now you are so gracious as to repeat your promise—how have I ever
deserved such favour? Perhaps you are taking me, Zosia, not so much from
attachment, as because your uncle and aunt are urging you to do so; but
marriage, Zosia, is a very serious matter: take counsel of your own heart
and do not hearken to any one’s authority, either to your uncle’s threats
or to your aunt’s entreaties. If you feel for me nothing but kindness, we
may postpone this betrothal for a time; I do not wish to bind your will:
let us wait, Zosia. There is no reason for haste, especially since,
yesterday evening, I received orders to remain here in Lithuania as
instructor in the local regiment, until I am healed of my wounds. Well, my
beloved Zosia?”
Raising her head, and looking timidly into his eyes, Zosia replied:—
“I do not now remember perfectly what happened so long ago; I know that
everybody told me that I must marry you. I always assent to the will of
Heaven and the will of my elders.” Then, lowering her eyes, she added:
“Before your departure, if you remember, when Father Robak died on that
stormy night, I saw that you were dreadfully sorry to leave us. You had
tears in your eyes: those tears, I tell you truly, fell deep into my
heart; since then I have trusted your word, that you were fond of me.
Whenever I have uttered a prayer for your success, I have always had
before my eyes the picture of you with those great shining tears. Later
the Chamberlain’s wife went to Wilno and took me there for the winter; but
I longed for Soplicowo and for that little room where you met me for the
first time one evening by the table, and where you later bade me farewell.
In some strange way the memory of you, like seeds of kale planted in the
fall, all through the winter sprouted in my heart, so that, as I tell you,
I continually longed for that little room; and something whispered to me
that I should find you there again; and so it has happened. While thinking
of this, I often had your name on my lips as well—this was at Wilno in the
carnival season; the girls said that I was in love. So now, if I love any
one, it must surely be you.”
Thaddeus, happy at such a proof of affection, took her arm and pressed it
to him, and they left the garden for the lady’s chamber, for that room
that Thaddeus had occupied ten years before.
At this moment the Notary was tarrying there in marvellous array, and
proffering his services to his betrothed lady: he bustled about and handed
her signet rings, little chains, gallipots and bottles and powders and
patches; gay at heart, he gazed in triumph on the young damsel. The young
damsel had finished making her toilet, and was sitting before the mirror
taking counsel of the Graces; but the maids were still toiling over her,
some with curling irons in their hands were freshening the limp ringlets
of her tresses, others, on their knees, were working at a flounce.
While the Notary was thus tarrying with his betrothed, a scullion rapped
on the window to attract his attention; they had caught sight of a rabbit.
The rabbit, stealing out of the willows, had whisked over the meadow and
leapt into the garden amid the growing vegetables; there it was seated,
and it was an easy matter to fright it from the cabbage patch and to
course it, stationing the hounds on the narrow path that it must take. The
Assessor ran up, pulling Falcon by the collar; the Notary hurried after
him, calling to Bobtail. The Seneschal made them both stand with their
dogs near the fence, while he himself with his fly-flapper set out for the
garden, and by trampling, whistling, and clapping his hands greatly
terrified the poor beast. The huntsmen, each holding his hound by the
collar, pointed their fingers to the spot from which the hare was to
appear, and made a soft smacking sound with their lips; the hounds pricked
up their ears, snuffed the wind with their muzzles and trembled
impatiently, like two arrows set on one string. All at once the Seneschal
shouted, “At him,” and the hare darted from behind the fence into the
meadow, the hounds after him; and speedily, without making a single turn,
Falcon and Bobtail together fell upon the grey rabbit from opposite sides
at the same instant, like the two wings of a bird, and buried their teeth
like talons in his back. The rabbit gave one cry, like a newborn babe,
pitifully! The huntsmen ran up; it already lay breathless, and the hounds
were tearing the white fur beneath its belly.
The huntsmen were patting their dogs, but meanwhile while the Seneschal,
drawing the hunting-knife that hung at his girdle, cut off the feet and
said:—
“To-day each dog shall receive an equal fee, for they have gained equal
glory; equal was their fleetness and equal was their toil; worthy is the
palace of Pac, and worthy is Pac of the palace;200 worthy are the huntsmen
of the hounds, and worthy are the hounds of the huntsmen. Thus is ended
your long and furious quarrel; I, whom you appointed your judge and
stakeholder, at last give my verdict: you both have triumphed. I return
your stakes; let each man keep his own, and do you both sign the treaty.”
At the summons of the old man the huntsmen turned beaming faces on each
other and joined their long parted right hands. Then the Notary spoke:—
“My stake was a horse with its caparison; I also agreed before the
district authorities to deposit my ring as a fee for the judge; a forfeit
once pledged cannot be withdrawn. Let the Seneschal accept the ring as a
reminder of this incident, and let him have engraved on it either his own
name or, if he prefers, the armorial bearings of the Hreczechas; the
carnelian is smooth, the gold eleven carats fine. The uhlans have now
commandeered my horse for their troop, but the caparison remains in my
possession; every expert praises this caparison, that it is strong and
comfortable, and pretty as a picture. The saddle is narrow, in the
Turko-Cossack style; in front it has a pommel, and in the pommel are set
precious stones; the seat is covered with a damask pad. And when you leap
into your place, you rest on that soft down as comfortably as in a bed;
and when you start to gallop”—here the Notary Bolesta, who, as is well
known, was extremely fond of gestures, spread out his legs as though he
were leaping on a horse, and then, imitating a gallop, he swayed slowly to
and fro—“and when you start to gallop, then light flashes from the housing
as though gold were dripping from your charger, for the side bands are
thickly set with gold and the broad silver stirrups are gilded; on the
straps of the bit and on the bridle glitter buttons of mother of pearl,
and from the breastplate hangs a crescent shaped like Leliwa,201 that is,
like the new moon. This whole splendid outfit was captured, as rumour
reports, in the battle of Podhajce,202 from a certain Turkish noble of
very high station. Accept it, Assessor, as a proof of my esteem.”
Happy in his gift, the Assessor replied:—
“My stake was the gift that I once received from Prince Sanguszko—my
elegant dog-collars, covered with lizard-skin, with rings of gold, and my
leash woven of silk, the workmanship of which is as precious as the jewel
that glitters upon it. That outfit I wanted to leave as an inheritance for
my children; I shall surely have children, for you know that I am to be
married to-day. But, my dear Notary, I beg you humbly that you will deign
to accept that outfit in exchange for your rich caparison, and as a
reminder of the quarrel that was prolonged for so many years and has
finally been concluded in a manner honourable to us both.—May harmony
flourish between us!”
So they returned home, to proclaim at table that the quarrel between
Bobtail and Falcon had been concluded.
There was a report that the Seneschal had raised that rabbit in the house
and slyly let it out into the garden, in order to make the huntsmen
friends by means of too easy a prey. The old man played his trick so
mysteriously that he completely fooled all Soplicowo. A scullion, some
years later, whispered a word of this, wishing to embroil once more the
Assessor and the Notary; but in vain did he spread abroad reports
slanderous to the hounds—the Seneschal denied the story, and nobody
believed the scullion.
The guests were already assembled in the great hall of the castle, and
were conversing around the table as they awaited the banquet, when the
Judge entered in the uniform of a wojewoda, escorting Thaddeus and Sophia.
Thaddeus, raising his left hand to his forehead, saluted his superior
officers with a military bow. Sophia, lowering her eyes and blushing,
greeted the guests with a curtsy (she had been taught by Telimena how to
curtsy gracefully). On her head she wore a wreath, as a betrothed maiden;
for the rest, her costume was the same that she had worn that morning in
the chapel, when she brought in her spring sheaf for the Virgin Mary. She
had reaped once more, for the guests, a fresh sheaf of greenery, and with
one hand she distributed flowers and grasses from it; with the other she
adjusted on her head her glittering sickle. The leaders, kissing her
hands, took the posies; Zosia curtsied once more to all in turn, her
cheeks glowing.
Then General Kniaziewicz took her by the shoulders, and, imprinting a
fatherly kiss on her brow, lifted the girl aloft and set her on the table;
all clapped their hands and shouted “Bravo!” being charmed by the girl’s
figure and bearing, and more particularly by her Lithuanian village
attire; since for these famous captains, who in their roving life had
wandered so long in foreign lands, there was a marvellous charm in the
national costume, which reminded them both of the years of their youth and
of their loves of long ago: so almost with tears they gathered around the
table and gazed eagerly upon her. Some asked Zosia to raise her head and
show her eyes; others begged her to be so kind as to turn around—the
bashful girl turned around, but covered her eyes with her hands. Thaddeus
looked on gaily and rubbed his hands.
Whether some one had counselled Zosia to make her appearance in such
garments, or whether she knew by instinct (for a girl always guesses by
instinct what is becoming to her), suffice it to say that this morning for
the first time in her life Zosia had been scolded for obstinacy by
Telimena, since she had refused to put on fashionable attire: at last by
her tears she had prevailed on them to let her remain in this village
costume.
She wore a long white underskirt and a short gown of green camlet with a
pink border; the bodice was also of green, laced crosswise with pink
ribbons from the waist to the neck; under it her bosom took refuge like a
bud beneath leaves. On her shoulders shone the full white sleeves of the
shirt, like the wings of a butterfly stretched for flight; at the wrist
they were gathered and fastened with a ribbon; her throat was also
encircled by the close-fitting shirt, the collar of which was fastened
with a pink knot. Her earrings were artistically carved out of cherry
stones; in their making Buzzard Dobrzynski had taken huge pride; they
represented two hearts with dart and flame, and had been a present to
Zosia when Buzzard was paying his court to her. About her collar hung two
strings of amber beads, and on her temples was a wreath of green rosemary;
the ribbons that decked her tresses Zosia had thrown back over her
shoulders. On her brow, as is the custom with reapers, she had fastened a
curved sickle, freshly polished by cutting grasses, bright as the new moon
above the brow of Diana.
All admired and clapped their hands. One of the officers took from his
pocket a portfolio containing bundles of papers; he undid them, sharpened
his pencil, moistened it with his lips, gazed at Zosia, and began to draw.
Hardly had the Judge beheld the papers and pencils, when he recognised the
artist, though he had been greatly changed by his colonel’s uniform, his
rich epaulets, his truly uhlan-like bearing, his blackened mustache, and a
small Spanish beard. The Judge recognised the Count: “How are you, Your
Excellency? So you keep a travelling painter’s kit even in your cartridge
box!” In very truth it was the young Count. He was a soldier of no long
standing, but since he had a large income and had fitted out a whole troop
of cavalry at his own expense, and had borne himself admirably in the very
first battle, the Emperor had to-day just appointed him a colonel. So the
Judge greeted the Count and congratulated him on his promotion, but the
Count paid no attention, and continued to draw diligently.
In the meantime a second betrothed pair had entered. The Assessor, once in
the service of the Tsar, had entered that of Napoleon; he had a company of
gendarmes under his command, and, although he had been in office hardly
twelve hours, he had already donned a dark blue uniform with Polish
facings, and dragged behind him a curved sabre, and clinked his spurs. By
his side, with dignified steps, walked his belovèd, dressed with great
magnificence, Tekla Hreczecha: for the Assessor had long ago abandoned
Telimena, and, the more deeply to wound that coquette, he had turned his
heart’s devotion to the Seneschal’s daughter. The bride was not over
young, she had perhaps already seen half a century go by; but she was a
good housekeeper and a dignified and well-to-do person, for, aside from
her ancestral village, her dowry had been increased by a little sum
presented to her by the Judge.
For the third pair they waited vainly, a long time. The Judge grew
impatient and sent servants; they returned and reported that the third
bridegroom, the Notary, when looking for the rabbit, had lost his wedding
ring, and was now looking for it in the meadow; meanwhile the Notary’s
lady was still at her dressing-table, and, though she was herself hurrying
and was being aided by the serving women, she had been absolutely unable
to finish her toilet: she would scarcely be ready by four o’clock.