Sakovich did not leave Boguslav’s bedside for two days, the second
paroxysm being worse than the first. The prince’s jaws closed so firmly
that attendants had to open them with a knife to pour medicine into his
mouth. He regained consciousness immediately after; but he trembled,
quivered, floundered in the bed, and stretched himself like a wild
beast mortally wounded. When that had passed, a wonderful weakness
came; he gazed all night at the ceiling without saying a word. Next
day, after he had taken drugs, he fell into a sound sleep, and about
midday woke covered with abundant perspiration.
“How does your highness feel?” asked Sakovich.
“I am better. Have any letters come?”
“Letters from the elector and Steinbock are lying on the table; but the
reading must be put off till later, for you have not strength enough
yet.”
“Give them at once!—do you hear?”
Sakovich brought the letters, and Boguslav read them twice; then he
thought awhile and said,—
“We will move for Podlyasye to-morrow.”
“You will be in bed to-morrow, as you are to-day.”
“I will be on horseback as well as you. Be silent, no interference!”
The starosta ceased, and for a while silence continued, broken only by
the tick-tick of the Dantzig clock.
“The advice was stupid, the idea was stupid, and I too was stupid to
listen.”
“I knew that if it did not succeed the blame would fall on me,”
answered Sakovich.
“For you blundered.”
“The counsel was clever; but if there is some devil at their service
who gives warning of everything, I am not to blame.”
The prince rose in the bed. “Do you think that they employ a devil?”
asked he, looking quickly at Sakovich.
“But does not your highness know the Papists?”
“I know, I know! And it has often come into my head that there might be
enchantment. Since yesterday I am certain. You have struck my idea;
therefore I asked if you really think so. But which of them could enter
into company with unclean power? Not she, for she is too virtuous; not
the sword-bearer, for he is too stupid.”
“But suppose the aunt?”
“That may be.”
“To make certain I bound her yesterday, and put a dagger to her throat;
and imagine,—I look to-day, the dagger is as if melted in fire.”
“Show it.”
“I threw it into the river, though there was a good turquoise in the
hilt. I preferred not to touch it again.”
“Then I’ll tell you what happened to me yesterday. I ran into her room
as if mad. What I said I do not remember; but I know this,—that she
cried, ‘I’ll throw myself into the fire first.’ You know what an
enormous chimney there is there; she sprang right into it, I after her.
I dragged her out on the floor. Her clothes were already on fire. I had
to quench the fire and hold her at the same time. Meanwhile dizziness
seized me, my jaws became fixed,—you would have said that some one had
torn the veins in my neck; then it seemed to me that the sparks flying
near us were turned into bees, were buzzing like bees. And this is as
true as that you see me here.”
“And what came later?”
“I remember nothing, but such terror as if I were flying into an
immense well, into some depth without bottom. What terror! I tell you
what terror! Even now the hair is standing on my head. And not terror
alone, but—how can I explain it?—an emptiness, a measureless weariness
and torment beyond understanding. Luckily the powers of heaven were
with me, or I should not be speaking with you this day.”
“Your highness had a paroxysm. Sickness itself often brings visions
before the eye; but for safety’s sake we may have a hole cut in the
river ice, and let the old maid float down.”
“Oh, devil take her! We will march to-morrow in any event, and
afterward spring will come; there will soon be other stars, and the
nights will be short, weakening every unclean power.”
“If we must march to-morrow, then you would better let the girl go.”
“Even if I wished not, I must. All desire has fallen away from me.”
“Never mind them; let them go to the devil!”
“Impossible!”
“Why?”
“The old man has confessed that he has a tremendous lot of money buried
in Billeviche. If I let them alone, they will dig up the money and go
to the forests. I prefer to keep them here, and take the money in
requisition. There is war now, and this is permissible. Besides, he
offered it himself. We shall give orders to dig up the whole garden,
foot by foot; we must find the money. While Billevich is sitting here,
at least, he will not make a noise and shout over all Lithuania that he
is plundered. Rage seizes me when I think how much I have spent on
those amusements and tournaments,—and all for nothing, for nothing!”
“Rage against that maiden seized me long ago. And I tell your highness
that when she came yesterday and said to me, as to the last camp
follower, ‘Be off, serving-man! go up, for thy master is lying there!’
I came near twisting her head like a starling; for I thought that she
had stabbed you with a knife or shot you from a pistol.”
“You know that I do not like to have any one manage in my house like a
gray goose. It is well that you did not do as you say, for I should
have given orders to nip you with those pincers which were heated for
Plaska. Keep away from her!”
“I sent Plaska back. He was terribly astonished, not knowing why he was
brought nor why he was sent home. He wanted something for his fatigue,
‘because this,’ said he, ‘is loss in my trade;’ but I told him, ‘You
bear home a sound skin as reward.’ Do we really march to-morrow for
Podlyasye?”
“As God is in heaven. Are the troops sent off according to my orders?”
“The cavalry has gone already to Kyedani, whence it is to march to
Kovno and wait there. Our Polish squadrons are here yet; I did not like
to send them in advance. The men seem reliable; still they might meet
the confederates. Glovbich will go with us; also the Cossacks under
Vrotynski. Karlström marches with the Swedes in the vanguard. He has
orders to exterminate rebels, and especially peasants on the way.”
“That is well.”
“Kyritz with infantry is to march slowly, so that we may have some one
to fall back upon in difficulty. If we are to advance like a
thunderbolt,—and our entire calculation lies in swiftness,—I do not
know whether the Prussian and Swedish cavalry will be useful. It is a
pity that the Polish squadrons are not reliable; for between us, there
is nothing superior to Polish cavalry.”
“Has the artillery gone?”
“It has.”
“And Patterson too?”
“No, Patterson is here; he is nursing Kettling, of whom he is very
fond, and who wounded himself rather badly with his own sword. If I did
not know Kettling to be a daring officer, I should think that he had
cut himself of purpose to avoid the campaign.”
“It will be needful to leave about a hundred men here, also in Rossyeni
and in Kyedani. The Swedish garrisons are small, and De la Gardie, as
it is, is asking men every day from Löwenhaupt. Besides, when we march
out, the rebels, forgetting the defeat of Shavli, will raise their
heads.”
“They are growing strong as it is. I have heard again that the Swedes
are cut down in Telshi.”
“By nobles or peasants?”
“By peasants under the leadership of a priest; but there are parties of
nobles, particularly near Lauda.”
“The Lauda men have gone out under Volodyovski.”
“There is a multitude of youths and old men at home. These have taken
arms, for they are warriors by blood.”
“The rebellion can do nothing without money.”
“But we shall get a supply of that in Billeviche.”
“A man must be a genius like your highness to find means in
everything.”
“There is more esteem in this country,” said Boguslav, with a bitter
smile, “for the man who can please the queen and the nobles. Neither
genius nor virtue has value. It is lucky that I am also a prince of the
Empire, and therefore they will not tie me by the legs to a pine-tree.
If I could only have the revenues regularly from my estates, I should
not care for the Commonwealth.”
“But will they not confiscate these estates?”
“We will first confiscate Podlyasye, if not all Lithuania. Now summon
Patterson.”
Sakovich went out, and returned soon with Patterson. At Boguslav’s
bedside a council was held, at which it was determined to move before
daylight next morning and go to Podlyasye by forced marches. The prince
felt so much better in the evening that he feasted with the officers
and amused himself with jests till late, listening with pleasure to the
neighing of horses and the clatter of arms in the squadrons preparing
to march. At times he breathed deeply, and stretched himself in the
chair.
“I see that this campaign will bring back my health,” said he to the
officers, “for amid all these negotiations and amusements I have
neglected the field notably. But I hope in God that the confederates
and our ex-cardinal (the king) in Poland will feel my hand.”
To this Patterson made bold to answer: “It is lucky that Delilah did
not clip Samson’s hair.”
Boguslav looked at him for a while with a strange expression, from
which the Scot was growing confused; but after a time the countenance
of the prince grew bright with a threatening smile, and he said,—
“If Sapyeha is my pillar, I will shake him so that the whole
Commonwealth will fall on his head.”
The conversation was carried on in German; therefore all the foreign
officers understood it perfectly, and answered in chorus,—
“Amen!”
The column, with Boguslav at the head of it, marched before daybreak
next morning. The Prussian nobles whom the brilliant court attracted,
began at the same time to return to their homes. After them marched to
Tyltsa those who in Taurogi had sought refuge from the terrors of war,
and to whom now Tyltsa seemed safer. Only Billevich, Olenka, and Panna
Kulvyets remained, not counting Kettling and the old officer Braun, who
held command over the slender garrison.
Billevich, after that blow of the hammer, lay for some days bleeding
from the mouth at intervals; but since no bone was broken, he recovered
by degrees and began to think of flight.
Meanwhile an official came from Billeviche with a letter from Boguslav
himself. The sword-bearer did not wish at first to read the letter, but
soon changed his mind, following in this the advice of Olenka, who
thought it better to know all the plans of the enemy.
Very Gracious Pan Billevich!—_Concordia res parvæ crescunt; discordia
maximæ dillabuntar_ (By concord small things grow great; by discord the
greatest are ruined)! The fates brought it about that we did not part
in such harmony as my love for you and your charming niece demands, in
which God knows I am not to blame, for you know yourself that you fed
me with ingratitude in return for my sincere intentions. But for
friendship’s sake what in done in anger should not be remembered; I
think, therefore, that you will excuse my deeds of impulse, because of
the injustice which I experienced at your hands. I, too, forgive you
from my heart, as Christian charity enjoins, and I wish to return to a
good understanding. To give you a proof that no offence has remained in
my heart, I have not thought it proper to refuse the service which you
have asked of me, and I accept your money.
Here Billevich stopped reading, struck the table with his fist, and
cried,—
“He will see me in dreams rather than receive one coin from my
caskets!”
“Read on!” said Olenka.
Billevich raised the letter again to his eyes.
“Not wishing to trouble you and expose your health to hazard in the
present stormy times while getting this money, we have ordered
ourselves to get it and count it.”
At this point Billevich’s voice failed, and the letter fell from his
hands to the floor. For a while it seemed that speech was taken from
the noble, for he only caught after his hair and pulled it with all his
power.
“Strike, whoso believes in God!” cried he at last.
“One injustice the more, the punishment of God nearer; for the measure
will soon be filled,” said Olenka.