Basia insisted that Volodyovski should give her instruction in
“fencing;” he did not refuse, though he delayed for some days. He
preferred Krysia; still, he liked Basia greatly, so difficult was
it, in fact, not to like her.
A certain morning the first lesson began, mainly because of Basia’s
boasting and her assurances that she knew that art by no means
badly, and that no common person could stand before her. “An old
soldier taught me,” said she; “there is no lack of these among us;
it is known too that there are no swordsmen superior to ours. It is
a question if even you, gentlemen, would not find your equals.”
“Of what are you talking?” asked Zagloba. “We have no equals in the
whole world.”
“I should wish it to come out that even I am your equal. I do not
expect it, but I should like it.”
“If it were firing from pistols, I too would make a trial,” said
Pani Makovetski, laughing.
“As God lives, it must be that the Amazons themselves dwell in
Latychov,” said Zagloba. Here he turned to Krysia: “And what weapon
do you use best, your ladyship?”
“None,” answered Krysia.
“Ah, ha! none!” exclaimed Basia. And here, mimicking Krysia’s
voice, she began to sing:--
“‘O knights, believe me,
Useless is armor,
Shields give no service;
Cupid’s keen arrows,
Through steel and iron,
Go to all hearts.’
“She wields arms of that kind; never fear,” added Basia, turning
to Pan Michael and Zagloba. “In that she is a warrior of no common
skill.”
“Take your place, young lady!” said Pan Michael, wishing to conceal
a slight confusion.
“Oh, as God lives! if what I think should come true!” cried Basia,
blushing with delight.
And she stood at once in position with a light Polish sabre in her
right hand; the left she put behind her, and with breast pushed
forward, with raised head and dilated nostrils, she was so pretty
and so rosy that Zagloba whispered to Pan Michael’s sister, “No
decanter, even if filled with Hungarian a hundred years old, would
delight me so much with the sight of it.”
“Remember,” said the little knight to Basia, “that I will only
defend myself; I will not thrust once. You may attack as quickly as
you choose.”
“Very well. If you wish me to stop, give the word.”
“The fencing could be stopped without a word, if I wished.”
“And how could that be done?”
“I could take the sabre easily out of the hand of a fencer like
you.”
“We shall see!”
“We shall not, for I will not do so, through politeness.”
“There is no need of politeness in this case. Do it if you can. I
know that I have less skill than you, but still I will not let that
be done.”
“Then you permit it?”
“I permit it.”
“Oh, do not permit, sweetest haiduk,” said Zagloba. “He has
disarmed the greatest masters.”
“We shall see!” repeated Basia.
“Let us begin,” said Pan Michael, made somewhat impatient by the
boasting of the maiden.
They began. Basia thrust terribly, skipping around like a pony
in a field. Volodyovski stood in one place, making, according to
his wont, the slightest movements of the sabre, paying but little
respect to the attack.
“You brush me off like a troublesome fly!” cried the irritated
Basia.
“I am not making a trial of you; I am teaching you,” answered the
little knight. “That is good! For a fair head, not bad at all!
Steadier with the hand!”
“‘For a fair head?’ You call me a fair head! you do! you do!”
But Pan Michael, though Basia used her most celebrated thrusts,
was untouched. Even he began to talk with Zagloba, of purpose to
show how little he cared for Basia’s thrusts: “Step away from the
window, for you are in the lady’s light; and though a sabre is
larger than a needle, she has less experience with the sabre.”
Basia’s nostrils dilated still more, and her forelock fell to her
flashing eyes. “Do you hold me in contempt?” inquired she, panting
quickly.
“Not your person; God save me from that!”
“I cannot endure Pan Michael!”
“You learned fencing from a schoolmaster.” Again he turned to
Zagloba: “I think snow is beginning to fall.”
“Here is snow! snow for you!” repeated Basia, giving thrust after
thrust.
“Basia, that is enough! you are barely breathing,” said Pani
Makovetski.
“Now hold to your sabre, for I will strike it from your hand.”
“We shall see!”
“Here!” And the little sabre, hopping like a bird out of Basia’s
hands, fell with a rattle near the stove.
“I let it go myself without thinking! It was not you who did that!”
cried the young lady, with tears in her voice; and seizing the
sabre, in a twinkle she thrust again: “Try it now.”
“There!” said Pan Michael. And again the sabre was at the stove.
“That is enough for to-day,” said the little knight.
Pani Makovetski began to bustle about and talk louder than usual;
but Basia stood in the middle of the room, confused, stunned,
breathing heavily, biting her lips and repressing the tears which
were crowding into her eyes in spite of her. She knew that they
would laugh all the more if she burst out crying, and she wished
absolutely to restrain herself; but seeing that she could not, she
rushed from the room on a sudden.
“For God’s sake!” cried Pani Makovetski. “She has run to the
stable, of course, and being so heated, will catch cold. Some one
must go for her. Krysia, don’t you go!”
So saying, she went out, and seizing a warm shuba in the ante-room,
hurried to the stable; and after her ran Zagloba, troubled about
his little haiduk. Krysia wished to go also, but the little knight
held her by the hand. “You heard the prohibition. I will not let
this hand go till they come back.”
And, in fact, he did not let it go. But that hand was as soft as
satin. It seemed to Pan Michael that a kind of warm current was
flowing from those slender fingers into his bones, rousing in them
an uncommon pleasantness; therefore he held them more firmly. A
slight blush flew over Krysia’s face. “I see that I am a prisoner
taken captive.”
“Whoever should take such a prisoner would not have reason to envy
the Sultan, for the Sultan would gladly give half his kingdom for
her.”
“But you would not sell me to the Pagans?”
“Just as I would not sell my soul to the Devil.”
Here Pan Michael remarked that momentary enthusiasm had carried him
too far, and he corrected himself: “As I would not sell my sister.”
“That is the right word,” said Krysia, seriously. “I am a sister in
affection to your sister, and I will be the same to you.”
“I thank you from my heart!” said Pan Michael, kissing her hand;
“for I have great need of consolation.”
“I know, I know,” repeated the young lady; “I am an orphan myself.”
Here a small tear rolled down from her eyelid and stopped at the
down on her lip.
Pan Michael looked on that tear, on the mouth slightly shaded, and
said, “You are as kind as a real angel; I feel comforted already.”
Krysia smiled sweetly: “May God reward you!”
“As God is dear to me.”
The little knight felt meanwhile that if he should kiss her hand a
second time, it would comfort him still more; but at that moment
his sister appeared. “Basia took the shuba,” said she, “but is in
such confusion that she will not come in for anything. Pan Zagloba
is chasing her through the whole stable.”
In fact, Zagloba, sparing neither jests nor persuasion, not only
followed Basia through the stable, but drove her at last to the
yard, in hopes that he would persuade her to the warm house. She
ran before him, repeating, “I will not go! Let the cold catch me! I
will not go! I will not go!”
Seeing at last a pillar before the house with pegs, and on it a
ladder, she sprang up the ladder like a squirrel, stopped, and
leaned at last on the eave of the roof. Sitting there, she turned
to Pan Zagloba and cried out half in laughter, “Well, I will go if
you climb up here after me.”
“What sort of a cat am I, little haiduk, to creep along roofs after
you? Is that the way you pay me for loving you?”
“I love you too, but from the roof.”
“Grandfather wants his way; grandmother will have hers. Come down
to me this minute!”
“I will not go down!”
“It is laughable, as God is dear to me, to take defeat to heart as
you do. Not you alone, angry weasel, but Kmita, who passed for a
master of masters, did Pan Michael treat in this way, and not in
sport, but in a duel. The most famous swordsmen--Italians, Germans,
and Swedes--could not stand before him longer than during one ‘Our
Father,’ and here such a gadfly takes the affair to heart. Fie! be
ashamed of yourself! Come down, come down! Besides, you are only
beginning to learn.”
“But I cannot endure Pan Michael!”
“God be good to you! Is it because he is _exquisitissimus_ in that
which you yourself wish to know? You should love him all the more.”
Zagloba was not mistaken. The admiration of Basia for the little
knight increased in spite of her defeat; but she answered, “Let
Krysia love him.”
“Come down! come down!”
“I will not come down.”
“Very well, stay there; but I will tell you one thing: it is not
nice for a young lady to sit on a ladder, for she may give an
amusing exhibition to the world.”
“But that’s not true,” answered Basia, gathering in her skirts with
her hand.
“I am an old fellow,--I won’t look my eyes out; but I’ll call
everybody this minute, let others stare at you.”
“I’ll come down!” cried Basia.
With that, Zagloba turned toward the side of the house. “As God
lives, somebody is coming!” said he.
In fact, from behind the corner appeared young Adam Novoveski, who,
coming on horseback, had tied his beast at the side-gate and passed
around the house himself, wishing to enter through the main door.
Basia, seeing him, was on the ground in two springs, but too late.
Unfortunately Pan Adam had seen her springing from the ladder, and
stood confused, astonished, and covered with blushes like a young
girl. Basia stood before him in the same way, till at last she
cried out,--
“A second confusion!”
Zagloba, greatly amused, blinked some time with his sound eye; at
length he said, “Pan Novoveski, a friend and subordinate of our
Michael, and this is Panna Drabinovski (Ladder). Tfu! I wanted to
say Yezorkovski.”
Pan Adam recovered readily; and because he was a soldier of quick
wit, though young, he bowed, and raising his eyes to the wonderful
vision, said, “As God lives! roses bloom on the snow in Ketling’s
garden.”
But Basia, courtesying, muttered to herself, “For some other nose
than yours.” Then she said very charmingly, “I beg you to come in.”
She went forward herself, and rushing into the room where Pan
Michael was sitting with the rest of the company, cried, making
reference to the red kontush of Pan Adam, “The red finch has come!”
Then she sat at the table, put one hand into the other, and pursed
her mouth in the style of a demure and strictly reared young lady.
Pan Michael presented his young friend to his sister and Panna
Krysia; and the friend, seeing another young lady of equal beauty,
but of a different order, was confused a second time; he covered
his confusion, however, with a bow, and to add to his courage
reached his hand to his mustache, which had not grown much yet.
Twisting his fingers above his lip, he turned to Pan Michael
and told him the object of his coming. The grand hetman wished
anxiously to see the little knight. As far as Pan Adam could
conjecture, it was a question of some military function, for the
hetman had received letters recently from Pan Vilchkovski, from Pan
Silnitski, from Colonel Pivo, and other commandants stationed in
the Ukraine and Podolia, with reports of Crimean events which were
not of favorable promise.
“The Khan himself and Sultan Galga, who made treaties with us at
Podhaytse,” continued Pan Adam, “wish to observe the treaties; but
Budjyak is as noisy as a bee-hive at time of swarming. The Belgrod
horde also are in an uproar; they do not wish to obey either the
Khan or Galga.”
“Pan Sobieski has informed me already of that, and asked for
advice,” said Zagloba. “What do they say now about the coming
spring?”
“They say that with the first grass there will be surely a movement
of those worms; that it will be necessary to stamp them out a
second time,” replied Pan Adam, assuming the face of a terrible
Mars, and twisting his mustache till his upper lip reddened.
Basia, who was quick-eyed, saw this at once; therefore she pushed
back a little, so that Pan Adam might not see her, and then
twisted, as it were, her mustache, imitating the youthful cavalier.
Pan Michael’s sister threatened with her eyes, but at the same time
she began to quiver, restraining her laughter with difficulty.
Volodyovski bit his lips; and Krysia dropped her eyes till the long
lashes threw a shadow on her cheeks.
“You are a young man,” said Zagloba, “but a soldier of experience.”
“I am twenty-two years old, and I have served the country seven
years without ceasing; for I escaped to the field from the lowest
bench in my fifteenth year,” answered the young man.
“He knows the steppe, knows how to make his way through the grass,
and to fall on the horde as a kite falls on grouse,” said Pan
Michael. “He is no common partisan! The Tartar will not hide from
him in the steppe.”
Pan Adam blushed with delight that praise from such famous lips met
him in presence of ladies. He was withal not merely a falcon of
the steppes, but a handsome fellow, dark, embrowned by the winds.
On his face he bore a scar from his ear to his nose, which from
this cut was thinner on one side than the other. He had quick eyes,
accustomed to look into the distance, above them very dark brows,
joined at the nose and forming, as it were, a Tartar bow. His head,
shaven at the sides, was surmounted by a black, bushy forelock. He
pleased Basia both in speech and in bearing; but still she did not
cease to mimic him.
“As I live!” said Zagloba, “it is pleasant for old men like me to
see that a new generation is rising up worthy of us.”
“Not worthy yet,” answered Pan Adam.
“I praise the modesty too. We shall see you soon receiving
commands.”
“That has happened already!” cried Pan Michael. “He has been
commandant, and gained victories by himself.”
Pan Adam began so to twist his mustache that he lacked little of
pulling out his lip. And Basia, without taking her eyes from him,
raised both hands also to her face, and mimicked him in everything.
But the clever soldier saw quickly that the glances of the whole
company were turning to one side, where, somewhat behind him, was
sitting the young lady whom he had seen on the ladder, and he
divined at once that something must be against him. He spoke on, as
if paying no heed to the matter, and sought his mustache as before.
At last he selected the moment, and wheeled around so quickly that
Basia had no time either to turn her eyes from him, or to take her
hands from her face. She blushed terribly, and not knowing herself
what to do, rose from the chair. All were confused, and a moment of
silence followed.
Basia struck her sides suddenly with her hands: “A third
confusion!” cried she, with her silvery voice.
“My gracious lady,” said Pan Adam, with animation, “I saw at once
that something hostile was happening behind me. I confess that I am
anxious for a mustache; but if I do not get it, it will be because
I shall fall for the country, and in that event I hope I shall
deserve tears rather than laughter from your ladyship.”
Basia stood with downcast eyes, and was the more put to shame by
the sincere words of the cavalier.
“You must forgive her,” said Zagloba. “She is wild because she is
young, but she has a golden heart.”
And Basia, as if confirming Zagloba’s words, said at once in a low
voice, “I beg your forgiveness most earnestly.”
Pan Adam caught her hands that moment and fell to kissing them.
“For God’s sake, do not take it to heart! I am not some kind of
barbarian. It is for me to beg pardon for having dared to interrupt
your amusement. We soldiers ourselves are fond of jokes. _Mea
culpa!_ I will kiss those hands again, and if I have to kiss them
till you forgive me, then, for God’s sake, do not forgive me till
evening!”
“Oh, he is a polite cavalier. You see, Basia!” said Pani Makovetski.
“I see!” answered Basia.
“It is all over now,” cried Pan Adam.
When he said this he straightened himself, and with great
resolution reached to his mustache from habit, but suddenly
remembered himself and burst out in hearty laughter. Basia followed
him; others followed Basia. Joy seized all. Zagloba gave command
straightway to bring one and a second bottle from Ketling’s cellar,
and all felt well. Pan Adam, striking one spur against the other,
passed his fingers through his forelock and looked more and more
ardently at Basia. She pleased him greatly. He grew immensely
eloquent; and since he had served with the hetman, he had lived in
the great world, therefore had something to talk about. He told
them of the Diet of Convocation, of its close, and how in the
senate the stove had tumbled down under the inquisitive spectators,
to the great amusement of all. He departed at last after dinner,
with his eyes and his soul full of Basia.