A bloody storm followed from the side of the Novy Svyat against the
Cracow suburbs, not over-successful, but in so far effective that it
turned the attention of the Swedes from the intrenchment defended by
Kmita, and permitted the garrison enclosed in it to rest somewhat. The
Poles pushed forward however, to the Kazimirovski Palace, but they
could not hold that point.
On the other side they stormed up to the Danillovich Palace and to
Dantzig House, equally without result. A number of hundreds of people
fell again. The king, however, had this consolation: he saw that even
the general militia rushed to the walls with the greatest daring and
devotion, and that after those attempts, more or less unsuccessful,
their courage not only had not fallen, but on the contrary assurance of
victory was growing strong in the army.
The most fortunate event of the day was the arrival of Pan Yan Zamoyski
and Pan Charnyetski. The first brought very excellent infantry and guns
from Zamost, so heavy that the Swedes had nothing like them in Warsaw.
The second, in agreement with Sapyeha, having besieged Douglas, and
with some Lithuanian troops and the general militia of Podlyasye, under
command of Pan Yan, had come to Warsaw to take part in the general
storm. It was hoped by Charnyetski as well as others that this would be
the last storm.
Zamoyski’s heavy guns were placed in the position taken by Kmita; they
began work immediately against the walls and the gate, and forced the
Swedish howitzers to silence at once. General Grodzitski himself
occupied the “molehill,” and Kmita returned to his Tartars.
But he had not reached his quarters when he was summoned to Uyazdov.
The king in presence of the whole staff applauded the young knight;
neither Charnyetski, Sapyeha, Lyubomirski, nor the hetmans spared
praises on him. He stood there in torn garments covered with earth, his
face entirely discolored with powder smoke; without sleep, soiled, but
joyous because he had held the place, had won so much praise, and
gained immeasurable glory in both armies. Among other cavaliers Pan
Michael and Pan Yan congratulated him.
“You do not know indeed, Pan Andrei,” said the little knight, “what
great weight you have with the king. I was at the council of war
yesterday, for Pan Charnyetski took me with him. They talked of the
storm, and then of the news which had just come in from Lithuania, the
war there, and the cruelties which Pontus de la Gardie and the Swedes
permit. They were considering at the council how to strengthen
resistance. Sapyeha said it was best to send thither a couple of
squadrons and a man who could be there what Charnyetski was at the
beginning of the war in Poland. To which the king answered: ‘There is
only one such man, Babinich.’ The others confirmed this at once.”
“I would go most willingly to Lithuania, and especially to Jmud,”
answered Kmita. “I resolved to ask of the king myself permission to go,
but I am waiting till Warsaw is taken.”
“There will be a general storm to-morrow,” said Zagloba.
“I know, but how is Kettling?”
“Who is that? Hassling?”
“All one, for he has two names, as is the custom among the English, the
Scots, and many other nations.”
“True,” answered Zagloba, “and a Spaniard every day of the week has a
new name for himself. Your servant told me that Hassling, or Kettling,
is well; he has begun to talk, walks, the fever has left him, he calls
for food every hour.”
“Have you been with him?” asked Kmita of Pan Michael.
“I have not, for I have had no time. Who has a head for anything but
the storm?”
“Then let us go now.”
“Go to sleep first,” said Zagloba.
“True! true! I am barely standing on my feet.”
So when he came to his own quarters Pan Andrei followed Zagloba’s
advice, especially as he found Hassling asleep. But Zagloba and
Volodyovski came to see him in the evening; they sat down in the broad
summer-house which the Tartars had made for their “bagadyr.” The
Kyemliches poured out for them mead a hundred years old, which the king
had sent to Kmita; and they drank it willingly, for the air was hot
outside. Hassling, pale and emaciated, seemed to draw life and strength
from the precious liquid. Zagloba clicked with his tongue, and wiped
perspiration from his forehead.
“Hei! how the great guns are thundering!” said the young Scot,
listening. “To-morrow you will go to the storm—it is well!—for the
healthy—God give you blessing! I am of foreign blood, and serve him
whom it was my duty to serve, but you have my best wishes. Ah, what
mead this is! Life enters me.”
Thus speaking, he threw back his golden hair and raised his blue eyes
toward heaven; he had a wonderful face, half childlike as yet. Zagloba
looked at him with a certain emotion.
“You speak Polish as well as any of us,” said he. “Become a Pole, love
this our country, and you will do an honorable deed, and mead will not
be lacking to you. It is not difficult for a soldier to receive
naturalization with us.”
“All the more easy since I am a noble,” answered Hassling. “My name is
Hassling-Kettling of Elgin. My family come from England, though settled
in Scotland.”
“Those countries beyond the sea are far away, and somehow it is more
decent for a man to live here,” said Zagloba.
“It is pleasant for me here.”
“But unpleasant for us,” said Kmita, who from the beginning was
twisting impatiently on the bench, “for we are anxious to hear what is
going on in Taurogi; but you are talking genealogies.”
“Ask me; I will answer.”
“Have you seen Panna Billevich often?”
Over the pale face of Hassling blushes passed. “Every day!” said he.
Kmita looked at him quickly. “Were you such a confidant? Why do you
blush? Every day,—how every day?”
“For she knew that I wished her well, and I rendered her some services.
That will appear from the further narrative, but now it is necessary to
commence at the beginning. You, gentlemen, know, perhaps, that I was
not at Kyedani when Prince Boguslav came and took that lady to Taurogi?
Therefore I will not repeat why that happened, for different people
gave different accounts. I will only say that they had scarcely arrived
when all saw at once that the prince was terribly in love—”
“God punish him!” cried Kmita.
“Amusements followed, such as had not been before,—tilting at the ring
and tournaments. Any one would have thought it a time of the greatest
peace; but letters were coming in every day, as well as envoys from the
elector and from Prince Yanush. We knew that Prince Yanush was pushed
by Sapyeha and the confederates; he implored for rescue by the mercy of
God, for destruction was threatening him. We did nothing. On the
elector’s boundary troops were standing ready, captains were coming
with letters; but we did not go with assistance, for the prince had no
success with the lady.”
“Is that why Boguslav did not give aid to his cousin?” asked Zagloba.
“It is. Patterson said the same, and all the persons nearest the
prince. Some complained of this; others were glad that the Radzivills
were falling. Sakovich conducted all public business for the prince,
answered letters, and held council with the envoys; but the prince was
laboring on one idea only, to contrive some kind of amusement, either a
cavalcade or hunt. He, a miser, scattered money on every side. He gave
orders to fell forests for whole miles, so that the lady might have a
better view from her windows; in a word, he really scattered flowers
under her feet, and received her in such fashion that had she been
Queen of Sweden he could have invented nothing better. Many pitied her
and said, ‘All this is for her ruin; as to marrying, the prince will
not marry, and if he can only catch her heart he will deceive her.’ But
it appeared that she was not a lady to be conducted whither virtue does
not go. Oh!”
“Well, what?” cried Kmita, springing up. “I know that better than
others!”
“How did Panna Billevich receive these royal homages?” asked Pan
Michael.
“At first with affable face, though it was evident that she was bearing
some sorrow in her heart. She was present at the hunts, at the
masquerades, cavalcades, and tournaments, thinking indeed that these
were usual court amusements with the prince. It happened on a time that
the prince, straining his imagination over various spectacles, wished
to show the lady the counterfeit of war; he had a settlement burned
near Taurogi, infantry defended it, the prince stormed the place.
Evidently he gained a great victory, after which, being sated with
praise, he fell at the lady’s feet and begged for a return of his love.
It is not known what he proposed to her, but from that time their
friendship was at an end. She began to hold night and day to the sleeve
of her uncle, the sword-bearer of Rossyeni; but the prince—”
“Began to threaten her, did he?” cried Kmita.
“What, threaten! He dressed himself as a Greek shepherd, as Philemon;
special couriers were flying to Königsberg for patterns of shepherd’s
garments, for ribbons and wigs. He feigned despair, he walked under her
windows, and played on a lute. And here I tell you, gentlemen, what I
really think. He was a savage executioner of the virtue of ladies, and
it may be boldly said of him, as is said in our country of such people,
his sighs filled out the sails of more than one lady; but this time he
fell in love in earnest,—which is no wonder, for the lady reminds one
more of a goddess than a dweller in this earthly vale.”
Here Hassling blushed again, but Pan Andrei did not see it; for seizing
his sides with satisfaction and pride, he looked with a triumphant
glance at Zagloba and Volodyovski.
“We know her, a perfect Diana; she needs only the moon in her hair!”
said the little knight.
“What, Diana! Diana’s dogs would howl at Diana if they could see Panna
Billevich.”
“Therefore I said it is ‘no wonder,’” answered Hassling.
“Well! But for that ‘no wonder’ I would burn him with a slow fire; for
that ‘no wonder’ I would have him shod with hob-nails—”
“Give us peace!” interrupted Zagloba. “Get him first, then play pranks;
but now let this cavalier speak.”
“More than once I was on watch before the room in which he slept,”
continued Hassling. “I know how he turned on his bed, sighed, talked to
himself, and hissed, as if from pain; evidently desires were burning
him. He changed terribly, dried up. It may be, too, that the illness
under which he afterward fell was diving into him. Meanwhile news flew
through the whole court that the prince had become so distracted that
he wanted to marry. This came to Yanush’s princess, who with her
daughter was living at Taurogi. Then began anger and disputes; for, as
you know, Boguslav, according to agreement, is to marry Yanush’s
daughter when she comes of age. But he forgot everything, so pierced
was his heart. Yanush’s princess, falling into a rage, went with her
daughter to Courland. That same evening he made a proposal to Panna
Billevich.”
“Did he make proposals?” cried Zagloba, Kmita, and Pan Michael, with
astonishment.
“He did. First to the sword-bearer of Rossyeni, who was no less
astonished than you, and would not believe his own ears; but convinced
at last he was barely able to control himself from delight, for it was
no small splendor for the house of Billevich to be united with the
Radzivills. It is true, as Patterson said, that there is some
connection already, but it is old and forgotten.”
“Tell on!” said Kmita, trembling from impatience.
“Both went to the lady with all ostentation, as is the custom on such
occasions. The whole court was trembling. Evil tidings came from Prince
Yanush. Sakovich alone read them, but no one paid attention to them,
nor even to Sakovich, for he had fallen out of favor because he had
proposed the marriage. But among us some said that it was no novelty
for the Radzivills to marry ordinary noble women; that in the
Commonwealth all nobles were equal, and that the house of Billevich
went back to Roman times. And this was said by those who wished to gain
for themselves the favor of the coming princess. Others asserted that
this was a stratagem of the prince to come to great intimacy with the
lady, which happens not infrequently between persons betrothed.”
“That was it! Nothing else,” said Zagloba.
“And so I think,” said Hassling; “but listen further. When we were
deliberating in the court among ourselves in this fashion, the report
went out like a thunderbolt that the lady had cut all doubt as with a
sabre, for she refused him directly.”
“God bless her!” cried Kmita.
“She refused him directly,” continued Hassling. “It was enough to look
at the prince to know that. He, to whom princesses yielded, could not
endure resistance, and almost went mad. It was dangerous to appear
before him. We all saw that it would not remain long thus, and that the
prince would use force sooner or later. In fact, the sword-bearer of
Rossyeni was carried off the next day to Tyltsa, beyond the elector’s
boundary. That day the lady implored the officer keeping guard before
her door to give her a loaded pistol. The officer did not refuse that,
for being a noble and man of honor he felt compassion for the lady and
homage for her beauty and resolution.”
“Who was that officer?” asked Kmita.
“I,” answered Hassling, dryly.
Pan Andrei seized him by the shoulders, so that the young Scot, being
weak, called out from pain.
“That is nothing!” cried Kmita. “You are not a prisoner; you are my
brother, my friend! Tell me what you wish! In God’s name, tell me what
you wish!”
“To rest awhile,” answered Hassling, breathing heavily; and he was
silent. He merely pressed the hands which Pan Michael and Zagloba gave
him. At last, seeing that all were burning with curiosity, he
continued,—
“I forewarned her too of what all knew, that the prince’s physician was
preparing some intoxicating drug. Meanwhile fears turned out to be
groundless, for God interfered in the affair. He touched the prince
with his finger, threw him on a bed of sickness, and kept him there a
month. It is a marvel, gentlemen, but it happened as if he had been cut
from his feet, as with a scythe, that same day, when he intended to
attack the virtue of this lady. The hand of God, I say, nothing else!
He thought that himself, and was afraid; may be too that during his
sickness the desire left him, may be he was waiting to regain his
strength; it is enough, that when he came to himself he left her in
peace, and even permitted the sword-bearer to come from Tyltsa. It is
true, also, that the sickness which confined him to his bed left him,
but not the fever, which is, I believe, crushing him to this day. It is
true, also, that soon after he left the bed he had to go on the
expedition to Tykotsin, where defeat met him. He returned with a still
greater fever; then the elector sent for him. But meanwhile a change
took place at Taurogi, of which it is wonderful and laughable to tell;
it is enough that the prince cannot count on the loyalty of any officer
or any attendant, unless on very old ones, who neither hear nor see
perfectly, and therefore guard nothing well.”
“What happened?” asked Zagloba.
“During the Tykotsin campaign, before the defeat at Tanov, they
captured a certain Panna Anusia Borzobogati, and sent her to Taurogi.”
“There, Grandmother, you have cakes!” exclaimed Zagloba.
Pan Michael began to blink and move his mustaches; at last he said:
“Say nothing bad of her, or when you recover you will have to meet me.”
“Even if I wished I could say nothing bad of that lady. But if she is
your betrothed, I say that you take poor care of her; and if she is a
relative, you know her too well to deny what I say. It is enough that
in one week she made all in the company, old and young, in love with
her, and only by using her eyes with the addition of some tricks of
witchcraft, of which I can give no account.”
“She! I should know her in hell by this,” muttered Zagloba.
“It is a wonderful thing!” said Hassling. “Panna Billevich is equal to
her in beauty, but has such dignity and unapproachableness that a man
while admiring and doing homage to her does not dare to raise his eyes,
much less to conceive any hope. You know yourselves, gentlemen, that
there are different kinds of ladies: some are like ancient vestals;
others, you have barely seen them and you wish—”
“Worthy sir!” said Pan Michael, threateningly.
“Don’t make a fool of yourself, Michael, for he tells the truth,” said
Zagloba. “You go around like a young cockerel and show the whites of
your eyes; but that she is a coquette we all know, and you have said so
more than a hundred times.”
“Let us leave this matter,” said Hassling. “I wished simply to explain
to you, gentlemen, why only a few were in love with Panna Billevich,
those who could really appreciate her unrivalled perfection [here he
blushed again], and with Panna Borzobogati nearly all. As God is dear
to me, I had to laugh, for it was just as if some plague had come upon
hearts. Disputes and duels increased in the twinkle of an eye. And
about what? For what? You must know that there was no one who could
boast of the love of the lady; each one believed blindly in this alone,
that earlier or later he would have some success—”
“He has painted her, as it were!” muttered Pan Michael.
“But these two young ladies became wonderfully fond of each other,”
continued Hassling; “one would not move a step without the other, and
Panna Borzobogati manages in Taurogi as it pleases her.”
“How is that?” asked the little knight.
“For she rules everybody. Sakovich did not go on a campaign this time,
because he is in love; and Sakovich is absolute master in all the
possessions of Prince Boguslav. And Panna Anusia governs through him.”
“Is he so much in love with her?” asked Pan Michael.
“He is, and has the greatest confidence in himself, for he is a very
rich man.”
“And his name is Sakovich?”
“You wish, I see, to remember him well.”
“Certainly!” answered Pan Michael, as it were, carelessly, but at the
same time he moved his mustaches so ominously that a shudder went
through Zagloba.
“I only wish to add,” continued Hassling, “that if Panna Borzobogati
should command Sakovich to betray the prince and lighten her escape and
that of her friend, I think he would do it without hesitation; but so
far as I know she wishes to do that without his knowledge, maybe to
spite him, who knows? It is enough that an officer, a relative of mine,
but not a Catholic, assured me that the departure of the sword-bearer
with the ladies is arranged; officers are involved in the conspiracy,
and it is to take place soon.”
Here Hassling began to breathe heavily, for he was weary and was using
the last of his strength.
“And this is the most important thing that I had to tell you,” added
he, hurriedly.
Volodyovski and Kmita seized their heads.
“Whither are they going to flee?”
“To the forests and through the forests to Byalovyej.”
Further conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Sapyeha’s
orderly, who delivered to Pan Michael and Kmita a quarter of a sheet of
paper folded in four. Volodyovski had barely unfolded his when he
said,—
“The order to occupy positions for to-morrow’s work.”
“Do you hear how the cannons are roaring?” asked Zagloba.
“Well, to-morrow! to-morrow!”
“Uf! hot!” said Zagloba, “a bad day for a storm,—may the devil take
such heat! Mother of God! But more than one will grow cold in spite of
the heat; but not those—not those who commend themselves to Thee, our
Patroness— But the cannons are thundering! I am too old for storms; the
open field is something else.”
Another officer appeared in the door.
“Is his grace Pan Zagloba here?” asked he.
“I am here.”
“By the command of our Gracious King, you are to be near his person
to-morrow.”
“Ha! he wishes to keep me from the storm, for he knows that the old man
will move first, only let the trumpets sound. He is a kind lord,
mindful; I should not like to annoy him; but whether I shall restrain
myself I know not, for when the desire presses me I think of nothing,
and roll straight into the smoke. Such is my nature! A kind lord! Do
you hear how the trumpets are sounding for every one to take his place?
Well, to-morrow, to-morrow. Saint Peter will have work; he must have
his books ready. In hell too they have put fresh pitch in the kettles,
a bath for the Swedes. Uf! uf! to-morrow!”