Next morning the prince received a summons from the elector to go with
all speed to Königsberg to take command of the newly levied troops
which were to march to Marienburg or Dantzig. The letter contained also
news of the daring campaign of Karl Gustav through the whole length of
the Commonwealth to Russian regions. The elector foresaw a disastrous
end to the campaign; but just for that reason he desired to be at the
head of as many troops as possible, that he might in case of need be
indispensable to one side or the other, sell himself dearly, and decide
the fate of the war. For those reasons he enjoined on the young prince
all possible haste, so greatly was he concerned about avoiding delay;
but after the first courier he sent a second, who arrived twelve hours
later.
The prince, therefore, had not a moment to lose, and not time enough to
rest, for the fever returned with its previous violence. Still he had
to go. So when he had delegated his authority to Sakovich, he said,—
“Perhaps we shall have to transport Billevich and the maiden to
Königsberg. There it will be easier in quiet to handle a hostile man
firmly; but the girl I will take to the camp, for I have had enough of
these ceremonies.”
“It is well, and the cavalry may be increased,” answered Sakovich at
parting.
An hour later the prince was no longer in Taurogi. Sakovich remained,
an unlimited despot, recognizing no power above himself but that of
Anusia. And he began to blow away the dust from before her feet, as on
a time the prince had before the feet of Olenka. Restraining his wild
nature, he was courteous, anticipating her wishes, divining her
thoughts, and at the same time he held himself at a distance, with all
the respect which a polished cavalier should have toward a lady for
whose hand and heart he is striving.
It must be confessed that this reigning in Taurogi pleased Anusia; it
was grateful to her to think that when evening came, in the lower
halls, in the corridors, in the barracks, in the garden still covered
with winter frost, the sighs of old and young officers were heard; that
the astrologer was sighing while looking at the stars from his tower;
that even old Billevich interrupted his evening rosary with sighs.
While the best of maidens, she was still glad that those swift
affections went not to Olenka, but to her. She was glad also with
respect to Babinich; for she felt her power, and it came to her head
that if no man had resisted her anywhere, she must have burned on his
heart also permanent marks with her eyes.
“He will forget that woman, it cannot be otherwise, for she feeds him
with ingratitude; and when he forgets her he knows where to seek
me,—and he will seek me, the robber!”
Then she threatened him in her soul: “Wait! I will pay you before I
console you.”
Meanwhile, though not in real truth caring much for Sakovich, she saw
him with pleasure. It is true that he justified himself in her eyes
from reproaches of treason in the same way in which Boguslav had
explained himself to the sword-bearer. He said, therefore, that peace
was already concluded with the Swedes; that the Commonwealth might
recover and flourish, had not Pan Sapyeha ruined everything for his own
private ends.
Anusia, not knowing over-much of these matters, let the words pass her
ears; but she was struck by something else in Sakovich’s narrative.
“The Billeviches,” said he, “scream in heaven-piercing voices of
injustice and captivity; but nothing has happened to them here, and
nothing will happen. The prince has not let them go from Taurogi, it is
true; but that is for their good, for three furlongs beyond the gate
they would perish from ravagers or forest bandits. He has not let them
go also, because he loves Panna Billevich, and that also is true. But
who will not justify him? Who would act otherwise, who had a feeling
heart and a breast burdened with sighs? If he had had less honorable
intentions, being such a powerful man, he might have given rein to
himself; but he wanted to marry her, he wanted to elevate that stubborn
lady to his princely estate, to cover her with happiness, place the
coronet of the Radzivills on her head; and these thankless people are
hurling invectives at him, thus trying to diminish his honor and fame.”
Anusia, not believing this greatly, asked Olenka that same day if the
prince wished to marry her. Olenka could not deny; and because they had
become intimate, she explained her reasons for refusal. They seemed
just and sufficient to Anusia; but still she thought to herself that it
was not so grievous for the Billeviches in Taurogi, and that the prince
and Sakovich were not such criminals as Pan Tomash had proclaimed.
Then, also, came news that Sapyeha and Babinich were not only not
approaching Taurogi, but had gone with forced marches against the King
of Sweden, faraway toward Lvoff. Anusia fell into a rage at first, and
then began to understand that if the hetman and Babinich had gone,
there was no reason to flee from Taurogi, for they might lose their
lives, or in the most favorable event change a quiet existence into a
captivity full of dangers.
For this reason it came to disputes between her on one side, and Olenka
and Billevich on the other; but even they were forced to admit that the
departure of Sapyeha rendered their flight very difficult, if not quite
impossible, especially since the country was growing more and more
excited, and no inhabitant could be certain of the morrow. Finally,
even should they not accept Anusia’s reason, flight without her aid was
impossible, in view of the watchfulness of Sakovich and the other
officers. Kettling alone was devoted to them, but he would not let
himself be involved in any plot against his service; besides, he was
absent often, for Sakovich was glad to employ him against armed bands
of confederates and ravagers, since he was an experienced soldier and a
good officer, therefore he sent him frequently from Taurogi.
But it was pleasanter and pleasanter for Anusia. Sakovich made a
declaration to her a month after the departure of the prince; but, the
deceiver! she answered cunningly that she did not know him, that men
spoke variously concerning him, that she had not time yet to love, that
without permission of Princess Griselda she could not marry, and
finally, that she wished to subject him to a year’s trial.
The starosta gnawed his anger, gave orders that day to give three
thousand stripes to a cavalry soldier for a trifling offence,—after
this the poor soldier was buried; but the starosta had to agree to
Anusia’s conditions. She told the lordling that if he would serve still
more faithfully, diligently, and obediently, in a year he would receive
whatever love she had.
In this way she played with the bear; and she so succeeded in mastering
him that he stifled even his growling. He merely said,—
“With the exception of treason to the prince, ask anything of me, even
ask me to walk on my knees.”
If Anusia had seen what terrible results of Sakovich’s impatience were
falling on the whole neighborhood, she would not have teased him so
greatly. Soldiers and residents in Taurogi trembled before him, for he
punished grievously and altogether without cause, punished beyond every
measure. Prisoners died in chains from hunger, or were burned with hot
iron.
More than once it seemed that the wild starosta wished to cool in the
blood of men his spirit, at once raging and burning with love, for he
started up suddenly and went on an expedition. Victory followed him
nearly everywhere. He cut to pieces parties of rebels, and ordered, as
an example, that the right hands be cut from captured peasants, who
were then sent home free.
The terror of his name girded Taurogi as with a wall; even the most
considerable bodies of patriots did not dare to go beyond Rossyeni.
Peace was established in all parts, and he formed new regiments of
German vagrants and the local peasants with the money extorted from
neighboring citizens and nobles, and increased in power so as to
furnish men to the prince in case of urgent necessity.
A more loyal and terrible servant Boguslav could not have found.
But Sakovich gazed more and more tenderly at Anusia with his terrible,
pale-blue eyes, and played to her on a lute. Life, therefore, in
Taurogi passed for Anusia joyously and with amusement; for Olenka it
was sore and monotonous. From one there went gleams of gladness, like
that light which issues at night from the firefly; the face of the
other grew paler and paler, more serious, sterner; her dark brows were
contracted more resolutely on her white forehead, so that finally they
called her a nun. And she had something in her of the nun; she began to
accept the thought that she would become one,—that God himself would
through suffering and disappointment lead her to peace behind the
grating. She was no longer that maiden with beautiful bloom on her face
and happiness in her eyes; not that Olenka who on a time while riding
in a sleigh with her betrothed, Andrei Kmita, cried, “Hei! hei!” to the
pine woods and forests.
Spring appeared in the world. A wind strong and warm shook the waters
of the Baltic, now liberated from ice; later on, trees bloomed, flowers
shot out from their harsh leafy enclosures; then the sun grew hot, and
the poor girl was waiting in vain for the end of Taurogi captivity,—for
Anusia did not wish to flee, and in the country it was ever more
terrible.
Fire and sword were raging as though the pity of God were never to be
manifest. Nay more, whoso had not seized the sabre or the lance in
winter, seized it in spring; snow did not betray his tracks, the pine
wood gave better concealment, and warmth made war the easier.
News flew swallow-like to Taurogi,—sometimes terrible, sometimes
comforting; and to these and to those the maiden devoted her prayers,
and shed tears of sorrow or joy.
Previous mention had been made of a terrible uprising of the whole
people. As many as the trees in the forests of the Commonwealth, as
many as the ears of grain waving on its fields, as many as the stars
shining on it at night between the Carpathians and the Baltic, were the
warriors who rose up against the Swedes. These men, being nobles, were
born to the sword and to war by God’s will and nature’s order; those
who cut furrows with the plough, sowed land with grain; those who were
occupied with trade and handicraft in towns; those who lived in the
wilderness, from bee-keeping, from pitch-making, who lived with the axe
or by hunting; those who lived on the rivers and labored at fishing;
those who were nomads in the steppes with their cattle,—all seized
their weapons to drive out the invader.
The Swede was now drowning in that multitude as in a swollen river.
To the wonder of the whole world, the Commonwealth, powerless but a
short time before, found more sabres in its defence than the Emperor of
Germany or the King of France could have.
Then came news of Karl Gustav,—how he was marching ever deeper into the
Commonwealth, his feet in blood, his head in smoke and flames, his lips
blaspheming. It was hoped any moment to hear of his death and the
destruction of all the Swedish armies.
The name of Charnyetski was heard with increasing force from boundary
to boundary, transfixing the enemy with terror, pouring consolation
into the hearts of the Poles.
“He routed them at Kozyenitsi!” was said one day. “He routed them at
Yaroslav!” was repeated a few weeks later; a distant echo repeated: “He
has beaten them at Sandomir!” The only wonder was where so many Swedes
could still come from after so many defeats.
Finally a new flock of swallows flew in, and with them the report of
the imprisonment of the king and the whole Swedish army in the fork of
the rivers. It seemed that the end was right there. Sakovich stopped
his expeditions; he merely wrote letters at night and sent them in
various directions.
Billevich seemed bewildered. He rushed in every evening with news to
Olenka. Sometimes he gnawed his hands, when he remembered that he had
to sit in Taurogi. The old soldier soul was yearning for the field. At
last he began to shut himself up in his room, and to ponder over
something for hours at a time. Once he seized Olenka in his arms, burst
out into great weeping, and said,—“You are a dear girl, my only
daughter, but the country is dearer.” And next day he vanished, as if
he had fallen through the earth. Olenka found merely a letter, and in
it the following words:—
“God bless thee, beloved child! I understood well that they are
guarding thee and not me, and that it would be easier for me to escape
alone. Let God judge me, thou poor orphan, if I did this from hardness
of heart and lack of fatherly love for thee. But the torment surpassed
my endurance. I swear, by Christ’s wounds, that I could endure no
longer. For when I thought that the best Polish blood was flowing in a
river _pro patria el libertate_ (for the country and liberty), and in
that river there was not one drop of my blood, it seemed to me that the
angels of heaven were condemning me. If I had not been born in our
sacred Jmud, where love of country and bravery are cherished, if I had
not been born a noble, a Billevich, I should have remained with thee
and guarded thee. But thou, if a man, wouldst have done as I have;
therefore thou’lt forgive me for leaving thee alone, like Daniel in the
lions’ den, whom God in His mercy preserved; so I think that the
protection of our Most Holy Lady the Queen will be better over thee
than mine.”
Olenka covered the letter with tears: but she loved her uncle still
more because of this act, for her heart rose with pride. Meanwhile no
small uproar was made in Taurogi. Sakovich himself rushed to the maiden
in great fury, and without removing his cap asked,—
“Where is your uncle?”
“Where all, except traitors, are,—in the field!”
“Did you know of this?” cried he.
But she, instead of being abashed, advanced some steps and measuring
him with her eyes, said with inexpressible contempt,—
“I knew—and what?”
“Ah, if it were not for the prince! You will answer to the prince!”
“Neither to the prince nor to his serving-lad. And now I beg you—” And
she pointed to the door.
Sakovich gnashed his teeth and went out.
That same day news of the victory at Varka was ringing through Taurogi,
and such fear fell on all partisans of the Swedes that Sakovich himself
dared not punish the priests who sang publicly in the neighboring
churches _Te Deum_.
A great burden fell from his heart, when a few weeks later a letter
came from Boguslav, who was before Marienburg, with information that
the king had escaped from the river sack. But the other news was very
disagreeable. The prince asked reinforcements, and directed to leave in
Taurogi no more troops than were absolutely needed for defence.
All the cavalry ready marched the next day, and with it Kettling,
Oettingen, Fitz-Gregory,—in a word, all the best officers, except
Braun, who was indispensable to Sakovich.
Taurogi was still more deserted than after the prince’s departure.
Anusia grew weary, and annoyed Sakovich all the more. The starosta
thought of removing to Prussia; for parties, made bold by the departure
of the troops, began again to push beyond Rossyeni. The Billeviches
themselves had collected about five hundred horse, small nobles and
peasants. They had inflicted a sensible defeat on Bützov, who had
marched against them, and they ravaged without mercy all villages
belonging to Radzivill.
Men rallied to them willingly; for no family, not even the Hleboviches,
enjoyed such general honor and respect. Sakovich was sorry to leave
Taurogi at the mercy of the enemy; he knew that in Prussia it would be
difficult for him to get money and reinforcements, that he managed here
as he liked, there his power must decrease; still he lost hope more and
more of being able to maintain himself.
Bützov, defeated, took refuge under him; and the tidings which he
brought of the power and growth of the rebellion made Sakovich decide
at last on the Prussian journey.
As a positive man, and one loving to bring into speedy effect that
which he had planned, he finished his preparations in ten days, issued
orders, and was ready to march.
Suddenly he met with an unlooked for resistance, and from a side from
which he had least expected it,—from Anusia Borzobogati.
Anusia did not think of going to Prussia. She was comfortable in
Taurogi. The advances of confederate “parties” did not alarm her in the
least; and if the Billeviches had attacked Taurogi itself, she would
have been glad. She understood also that in a strange place, among
Germans, she would be at Sakovich’s mercy completely, and that she
might the more easily be brought there to obligation, for which she had
no desire; therefore she resolved to insist on remaining. Olenka, to
whom she explained her reasons, not only confirmed the justness of
them, but implored with all her power, with tears in her eyes, to
oppose the journey.
“Here,” said she, “salvation may come,—if not to-day, to-morrow; there
we should both be lost utterly.”
“But see, you almost abused me because I wanted to conquer the
starosta, though I knew of nothing; as I love Princess Griselda, it
only came somehow of itself. But now would he regard my resistance were
he not in love? What do you think?”
“True, Anusia, true,” responded Olenka.
“Do not trouble yourself, my most beautiful flower! We shall not stir a
foot out of Taurogi; besides, I shall annoy Sakovich terribly.”
“God grant you success!”
“Why should I not have it? I shall succeed, first, because he cares for
me, and second, as I think he cares for my property. It is easy for him
to get angry with me; he can even wound me with his sabre; but then all
would be lost.”
And it turned out that she was right. Sakovich came to her joyful and
confident; but she greeted him with disdainful mien.
“Is it possible,” asked she, “that you wish to flee to Prussia from
dread of the Billeviches?”
“Not before the Billeviches,” answered he, frowning; “not from fear;
but I go there from prudence, so as to act against those robbers with
fresh forces.”
“Then a pleasant journey to you.”
“How is that? Do you think that I will go without you, my dearest
hope?”
“Whoso is a coward may find hope in flight, not in me.”
Sakovich was pale from anger. He would have punished her; but seeing
before whom he was standing, he restrained himself, softened his fierce
face with a smile, and said, as if jesting,—
“Oh, I shall not ask. I will seat you in a carriage and take you
along.”
“Will you?” asked she. “Then I see that I am held here in captivity
against the will of the prince. Know then, sir, that if you do that, I
shall not speak another word to you all my life, so help me the Lord
God! for I was reared in Lubni, and I have the greatest contempt for
cowards. Would that I had not fallen into such hands! Would that Pan
Babinich had carried me off for good into Lithuania, for he was not
afraid of any man!”
“For God’s sake!” cried Sakovich. “Tell me at least why you are
unwilling to go to Prussia.”
But Anusia feigned weeping and despair.
“Tartars as it were have taken me into captivity, though I was reared
by Princess Griselda, and no one had a right to me. They seize me,
imprison me, take me beyond the sea by force, will condemn me to exile.
It is soon to be seen how they will tear me with pincers! O my God! my
God!”
“Have the fear of that God on whom you are calling!” cried the
starosta. “Who will tear you with pincers?”
“Oh, save me, all ye saints!” cried Anusia, sobbing.
Sakovich knew not what to do; he was choking with rage. At times he
thought that he would go mad, or that Anusia had gone mad. At last he
threw himself at her feet and said that he would stay in Taurogi. Then
she began to entreat him to go away, if he was afraid; with which she
brought him to final despair, so that, springing up and going out, he
said,—
“Well! we shall remain in Taurogi, and whether I fear the Billeviches
will soon be seen.”
And collecting that very day the remnant of Bützov’s defeated troops
and his own, he marched, but not to Prussia, only to Rossyeni, against
the Billeviches, who were encamped in the forests of Girlakol. They did
not expect an attack, for news of the intended withdrawal of the troops
from Taurogi had been repeated in the neighborhood for several days.
The starosta struck them while off their guard, cut them to pieces, and
trampled them. The sword-bearer himself, under whose leadership the
party was, escaped from the defeat; but two Billeviches of another line
fell, and with them a third part of the soldiers; the rest fled to the
four points of the world. The starosta brought a number of tens of
prisoners to Taurogi, and gave orders to slay every one, before Anusia
could intercede in their defence.
There was no further talk of leaving Taurogi; and the starosta had no
need of doing so, for after this victory parties did not go beyond the
Dubisha.
Sakovich put on airs and boasted beyond measure, saying that if
Löwenhaupt would send him a thousand good horse he would rub out the
rebellion in all Jmud. But Löwenhaupt was not in those parts then.
Anusia gave a poor reception to this boasting.
“Oh, success against the sword-bearer was easy,” said she; “but if he
before whom both you and the prince fled had been there, of a certainty
you would have left me and fled to Prussia beyond the sea.”
These words pricked the starosta to the quick.
“First of all, do not imagine to yourself that Prussia is beyond the
sea, for beyond the sea is Sweden; and second, before whom did the
prince and I flee?”
“Before Pan Babinich!” answered she, courtesying with great ceremony.
“Would that I might meet him at a sword’s length!”
“Then you would surely lie a sword’s depth in the ground; but do not
call the wolf from the forest.”
Sakovich, in fact, did not call that wolf with sincerity; for though he
was a man of incomparable daring, he felt a certain, almost
superstitious, dread of Babinich,—so ghastly were the memories that
remained to him after the recent campaign. He did not know, besides,
how soon he would hear that terrible name.
But before that name rang through all Jmud, there came in time other
news,—for some the most joyful of joyful, but for Sakovich most
terrible,—which all mouths repeated in three words throughout the whole
Commonwealth,—
“Warsaw is taken!”
It seemed that the earth was opening under the feet of traitors; that
the whole Swedish heaven was falling on their heads, together with all
the deities which had shone in it hitherto like suns. Ears would not
believe that the chancellor Oxenstiern was in captivity; that in
captivity were Erskine, Löwenhaupt, Wrangel; in captivity the great
Wittemberg himself, who had stained the whole Commonwealth with blood,
who had conquered one half of it before the coming of Karl Gustav; that
the king, Yan Kazimir, was triumphing, and after the victory would pass
judgment on the guilty.
And this news flew as if on wings; roared like a bomb through the
Commonwealth; went through villages, for peasant repeated it to
peasant; went through the fields, for the wheat rustled it; went
through the forest, for pine-tree told it to pine-tree; the eagles
screamed it in the air; and all living men still the more seized their
weapons.
In a moment the defeat of Girlakol was forgotten around Taurogi. The
recently terrible Sakovich grew small in everything, even in his own
eyes. Parties began again to attack bodies of Swedes; the Billeviches,
recovering after their last defeat, passed the Dubisha again, at the
head of their own men and the remainder of the Lauda nobles.
Sakovich knew not himself what to begin, whither to turn, from what
side to look for salvation. For a long time he had no news from Prince
Boguslav, and he racked his head in vain. Where was he, with what
troops could he be? And at times a mortal terror seized him: had not
the prince too fallen into captivity? He called to mind the prince’s
saying that he would turn his tabor toward Warsaw, and that if they
would make him commandant over the garrison in the capital, he would
prefer to be there, for he could look more easily on every side.
There were not wanting also people who asserted that the prince must
have fallen into the hands of Yan Kazimir.
“If the prince were not in Warsaw,” said they, “why should our gracious
lord the king exclude him alone from amnesty, which he extended in
advance to all Poles in the garrison? He must be already in the power
of the king; and since it is known that Prince Yanush’s head was
destined for the block, it is certain that Prince Boguslav’s will
fall.”
In consequence of these thoughts Sakovich came to the same conviction,
and wrestled with despair,—first, because he loved the prince; second,
because he saw that if this powerful protector were dead, the wildest
beast would more easily find a place to hide its head in the
Commonwealth than he, the right hand of the traitor.
All that seemed left to him was to flee to Prussia without regard to
Anusia’s opposition, and seek there bread, service.
“But what would happen?” asked the starosta of himself more than once,
“if the elector, fearing the anger of Yan Kazimir, should give up all
fugitives?”
There was no issue but to seek safety beyond the sea, in Sweden itself.
Fortunately, after a week of this torment and doubt, a courier came
from Prince Boguslav with a long autograph letter.
“Warsaw is taken from the Swedes,” wrote the prince. “My tabor and
effects are lost. It is too late for me to recede, for the king’s
advisers are so envenomed against me that I was excepted from amnesty.
Babinich harassed my troops at the very gates of Warsaw. Kettling is in
captivity. The King of Sweden, the elector, and I, with Steinbock and
all forces, are marching to the capital, where there will be a general
battle soon. Karl Gustav swears that he will win it, though the skill
of Yan Kazimir in leading armies confounds him not a little. Who could
have foreseen in that ex-Jesuit such a strategist? But I recognized him
as early as Berestechko, for there everything was done with his head
and Vishnyevetski’s. We have hope in this,—that the general militia, of
which there are several tens of thousands with Yan Kazimir, will
disperse to their homes, or that their first ardor will cool and they
will not fight as at first. God grant some panic in that rabble; then
Karl Gustav can give them a general defeat, though what will come later
is unknown, and the generals themselves tell one another in secret that
the rebellion is a hydra on which new heads are growing every moment.
First of all, ‘Warsaw must be taken a second time.’ When I heard this
from the mouth of Karl, I asked, ‘What next?’ He said nothing. Here our
strength is crumbling, theirs is increasing. We have nothing with which
to begin a new war. And courage is not the same; no Poles will join the
Swedes as at first. My uncle the elector is silent as usual; but I see
well that if we lose a battle, he will begin to-morrow to beat the
Swedes, so as to buy himself into Yan Kazimir’s favor. It is bitter to
bow down, but we must. God grant that I be accepted, and come out whole
without losing my property. I trust only in God; but it is hard to
escape fear, and we must foresee evil. Therefore what property you can
sell or mortgage for ready money, sell and mortgage; even enter into
relations with confederates in secret. Go yourself with the whole tabor
to Birji, as from there to Courland is nearer. I should advise you to
go to Prussia; but soon it will not be safe from fire and sword in
Prussia, for immediately after the taking of Warsaw Babinich was
ordered to march through Prussia to Lithuania, to excite the rebellion
and burn and slay on the road. And you know that he will carry out that
order. We tried to catch him at the Bug; and Steinbock himself sent a
considerable force against him, of which not one man returned to give
news of the disaster. Do not try to measure yourself with Babinich, for
you will not be able, but hasten to Birji.
“The fever has left me entirely; here there are high and dry plains,
not such swamps as in Jmud. I commit you to God, etc.”
The starosta was as much grieved at the news as he was rejoiced that
the prince was alive and in health; for if the prince foresaw that the
winning of a general battle could not much better the shattered fortune
of Sweden, what could be hoped for in future? Perhaps the prince might
save himself from ruin under the robe of the crafty elector, and he,
Sakovich, under the prince; but what could be done in the mean while?
Go to Prussia?
Pan Sakovich did not need the advice of the prince to restrain him from
meeting Babinich. Power and desire to do that were both lacking. Birji
remained, but too late for that also. On the road was a Billevich
party; then a second party,—nobles, peasants, people of the prince, and
God knows what others,—who at a mere report would assemble and sweep
him away as a whirlwind sweeps withered leaves; and even if they did
not assemble, even if he could anticipate them by a swift and bold
march, it would be needful to fight on the road with others; at every
village, at every swamp, in every field and forest, a new battle. What
forces should he have to take even thirty horses to Birji? Was he to
remain in Taurogi? That was bad, for meanwhile the terrible Babinich
would come at the head of a powerful Tartar legion; all the parties
would fly to him; they would cover Taurogi as with a flood, and wreak a
vengeance such as man had not heard of till that day.
For the first time in his life the hitherto insolent starosta felt that
he lacked counsel in his head, strength in undertaking, and decision in
danger; and the next day he summoned to counsel Bützov, Braun, and some
of the most important officers.
It was decided to remain in Taurogi and await tidings from Warsaw.
But Braun from that council went straight to another, to one with
Anusia.
Long, long did they deliberate together. At last Braun came out with
face greatly moved; but Anusia rushed like a storm to Olenka,—
“Olenka, the time has come!” cried she, on the threshold. “We must
flee!”
“When?” asked the valiant girl, growing a little pale, but rising at
once in sign of immediate readiness.
“To-morrow, to-morrow! Braun has the command, and Sakovich will sleep
in the town, for Pan Dzyeshuk has invited him to a banquet. Pan
Dzyeshuk was long ago prepared, and he will put something in Sakovich’s
wine. Braun says that he will go himself and take fifty horse. Oh,
Olenka, how happy I am! how happy!”
Here Anusia threw herself on Panna Billevich’s neck, and began to press
her with such an outburst of joy that she asked,—
“What is the matter, Anusia? You might have brought Braun to this long
ago.”
“I might, I might. I have told you nothing yet! O my God! my God! Have
you heard of nothing? Pan Babinich is marching hither! Sakovich and all
of them are dying of fear! Pan Babinich is marching, burning, and
slaying. He has destroyed one party, has beaten Steinbock himself, and
is advancing with forced marches, so as to hurry. And to whom can he
hurry hither? Tell me, am I not a fool?”
Here tears glistened in Anusia’s eyes. Olenka placed her hands together
as if in prayer, and raising her eyes said,—
“To whomsoever he is hastening, may God straighten his paths, bless
him, and guard him!”