Pan Michael began to prepare slowly for his departure; he did not
cease, however, to give lessons to Basia, whom he liked more and
more, nor to walk alone with Krysia and seek consolation in her
society. It seemed to him also that he found it; for his good-humor
increased daily, and in the evening he even took part in the games
of Basia and Pan Adam. That young cavalier became an agreeable
guest at Ketling’s house. He came in the morning or at midday, and
remained till evening; as all liked him, they were glad to see
him, and very soon they began to hold him as one of the family. He
took the ladies to Warsaw, gave their orders at the silk shops,
and in the evening played blind-man’s-buff and patience with them,
repeating that he must absolutely catch the unattainable Basia
before his departure.
But Basia laughed and escaped always, though Zagloba said to her,
“If this one does not catch you at last, another man will.”
It became clearer and clearer that just “this one” had resolved
to catch her. This must have come even to the head of the haiduk
herself, for she fell sometimes to thinking till the forelock
dropped into her eyes altogether. Pan Zagloba had his reasons,
according to which Pan Adam was not suitable. A certain evening,
when all had retired, he knocked at Pan Michael’s chamber.
“I am so sorry that we must part,” said he, “that I have come to
get a good look at you. God knows when we shall see each other
again.”
“I shall come in all certainty to the election,” said the little
knight, embracing his old friend, “and I will tell you why. The
hetman wishes to have here the largest number possible of men
beloved by the knighthood, so that they may capture nobles for his
candidate; and because--thanks to God!--my name has some weight
among our brethren, he wants me to come surely. He counts on you
also.”
“Indeed, he is trying to catch me with a large net; yet I see
something, and though I am rather bulky, still I can creep out
through any hole in that net. I will not vote for a Frenchman.”
“Why?”
“Because he would be for _absolutum dominium_ (absolute rule).”
“Condé would have to swear to the _pacta conventa_ like any other
man; and he must be a great leader,--he is renowned for warlike
achievement.”
“With God’s favor we have no need of seeking leaders in France.
Pan Sobieski himself is surely no worse than Condé. Think of it,
Michael; the French wear stockings like the Swedes; therefore, like
them they of course keep no oaths. Carolus Gustavus was ready to
take an oath every hour. For the Swedes to take an oath or crack a
nut is all one. What does a pact mean when a man has no honesty?”
“But the Commonwealth needs defence. Oh, if Prince Yeremi were
alive! We would elect him king with one voice.”
“His son is alive, the same blood.”
“But not the same courage. It is God’s pity to look at him, for
he is more like a serving-man than a prince of such worthy blood.
If it were a different time! But now the first virtue is regard
for the good of the country. Pan Yan says the same thing. Whatever
the hetman does, I will do, for I believe in his love of the
Commonwealth as in the Gospel.”
“It is time to think of that. It is too bad that you are going now.”
“But what will you do?”
“I will go to Pan Yan. The boys torment me at times; still, when I
am away for a good while I feel lonely without them.”
“If war comes after the election, Pan Yan too will go to it.
Who knows? You may take the field yourself; we may campaign yet
together in Russia. How much good and evil have we gone through in
those parts!”
“True, as God is dear to me! there our best years flowed by. At
times the wish comes to see all those places which witnessed our
glory.”
“Then come with me now. We shall be cheerful together; in five
months I will return to Ketling. He will be at home then, and Pan
Yan will be here.”
“No, Michael, it is not the time for me now; but I promise that if
you marry some lady with land in Russia, I will go with you and see
your installation.”
Pan Michael was confused a little, but answered at once, “How
should I have a wife in my head? The best proof that I have not is
that I am going to the army.”
“It is that which torments me; for I used to think, if not one,
then another woman. Michael, have God in your heart; stop; where
will you find a better chance than just at this moment? Remember
that years will come later in which you will say to yourself:
‘Each has his wife and his children, but I am alone, like Matsek’s
pear-tree, sticking up in the field.’ And sorrow will seize you and
terrible yearning. If you had married that dear one; if she had
left children,--I should not trouble you; I should have some object
for my affection and ready hope for consolation; but as things
now are, the time may come when you will look around in vain for
a near soul, and you will ask yourself, ‘Am I living in a foreign
country?’”
Pan Michael was silent; he meditated; therefore Zagloba began to
speak again, looking quickly into the face of the little knight,
“In my mind and my heart I chose first of all that rosy haiduk for
you: to begin with, she is gold, not a maiden; and secondly, such
venomous soldiers as you would give to the world have not been on
earth yet.”
“She is a storm; besides, Pan Adam wants to strike fire with her.”
“That’s it,--that’s it! To-day she would prefer you to a certainty,
for she is in love with your glory; but when you go, and he
remains--I know he will remain, the rascal! for there is no
war--who knows what will happen?”
“Basia is a storm! Let Novoveski take her. I wish him well, because
he is a brave man.”
“Michael!” said Zagloba, clasping his hands, “think what a
posterity that would be!”
To this the little knight answered with the greatest simplicity, “I
knew two brothers Bal whose mother was a Drohoyovski,[10] and they
were excellent soldiers.”
“Ah! I was waiting for that. You have turned in that direction?”
cried Zagloba.
Pan Michael was confused beyond measure; at last he replied,
“What do you say? I am turning to no side; but when I thought of
Basia’s bravery, which is really manlike, Krysia came to my mind at
once; in her there is more of woman’s nature. When one of them is
mentioned, the other comes to mind, for they are both together.”
“Well, well! God bless you with Krysia, though as God is dear to
me, if I were young, I should fall in love with Basia to kill. You
would not need to leave such a wife at home in time of war; you
could take her to the field, and have her at your side. Such a
woman would be good for you in the tent; and if it came to that,
even in time of battle she would handle a musket. But she is honest
and good. Oh, my haiduk, my little darling haiduk, they have not
known you here, and have nourished you with thanklessness; but if I
were something like sixty years younger, I should see what sort of
a Pani Zagloba there would be in my house.”
“I do not detract from Basia.”
“It is not a question of detracting from her virtues, but of giving
her a husband. But you prefer Krysia.”
“Krysia is my friend.”
“Your friend, not your friend_ess_? That must be because she has
a mustache. I am your friend; Pan Yan is; so is Ketling. You do
not need a man for a friend, but a woman. Tell this to yourself
clearly, and don’t throw a cover over your eyes. Guard yourself,
Michael, against a friend of the fair sex, even though that friend
has a mustache; for either you will betray that friend, or you
yourself will be betrayed. The Devil does not sleep, and he is glad
to sit between such friends; as example of this, Adam and Eve began
to be friends, till that friendship became a bone in Adam’s throat.”
“Do not offend Krysia, for I will not endure it in any way.”
“God guard Krysia! There is no one above my little haiduk; but
Krysia is a good maiden too. I do not attack her in any way, but
I say this to you: When you sit near her, your cheeks are as
flushed as if some one had pinched them, and your mustaches are
quivering, your forelock rises, and you are panting and striking
with your feet and stamping like a ring-dove; and all this is a
sign of desires. Tell some one else about friendship; I am too old
a sparrow for that talk.”
“So old that you see that which is not.”
“Would that I were mistaken! Would that my haiduk were in question!
Michael, good-night to you. Take the haiduk; the haiduk is the
comelier. Take the haiduk; take the haiduk!”
Zagloba rose and went out of the room.
Pan Michael tossed about the whole night; he could not sleep, for
unquiet thoughts passed through his head all the time. He saw
before him Krysia’s face, her eyes with long lashes, and her lip
with down. Dozing seized him at moments, but the vision did not
vanish. On waking, he remembered the words of Zagloba, and called
to mind how rarely the wit of that man was mistaken in anything.
At times when half sleeping, half waking, the rosy face of Basia
gleamed before him, and the sight calmed him; but again Krysia took
her place quickly. The poor knight turns to the wall now, sees her
eyes; turns to the darkness in the room, sees her eyes, and in them
a certain languishing, a certain encouragement. At times those eyes
are closing, as if to say, “Let thy will be done!” Pan Michael sat
up in the bed and crossed himself. Toward morning the dream flew
away altogether; then it became oppressive and bitter to him. Shame
seized him, and he began to reproach himself harshly, because he
did not see before him that beloved one who was dead; that he had
his eyes, his heart, his soul, full not of her, but of the living.
It seemed to him that he had sinned against the memory of Anusia,
hence he shook himself once and a second time; then springing from
the bed, though it was dark yet, he began to say his morning “Our
Father.”
When Pan Michael had finished, he put his finger on his forehead
and said, “I must go as soon as possible, and restrain this
friendship at once, for perhaps Zagloba is right.” Then, more
cheerful and calm, he went down to breakfast. After breakfast he
fenced with Basia, and noticed, beyond doubt, for the first time,
that she drew one’s eyes, she was so attractive with her dilated
nostrils and panting breast. He seemed to avoid Krysia, who, noting
this, followed him with her eyes, staring from astonishment; but he
avoided even her glance. It was cutting his heart; but he held out.
After dinner he went with Basia to the storehouse, where Ketling
had another collection of arms. He showed her various weapons, and
explained the use of them. Then they shot at a mark from Astrachan
bows. The maiden was made happy with the amusement, and became
giddier than ever, so that Pani Makovetski had to restrain her.
Thus passed the second day. On the third Pan Michael went with
Zagloba to Warsaw to the Danilovich Palace to learn something
concerning the time of his departure. In the evening the little
knight told the ladies that he would go surely in a week. While
saying this, he tried to speak carelessly and joyfully. He did not
even look at Krysia. The young lady was alarmed, tried to ask him
touching various things; he answered politely, with friendliness,
but talked more with Basia.
Zagloba, thinking this to be the fruit of his counsel, rubbed his
hands with delight; but since nothing could escape his eye, he saw
Krysia’s sadness. “She has changed,” thought he; “she has changed
noticeably. Well, that is nothing,--the ordinary nature of fair
heads. But Michael has turned away sooner than I hoped. He is a
man in a hundred, but a whirlwind in love, and a whirlwind he will
remain.”
Zagloba had, in truth, a good heart, and was sorry at once for
Panna Krysia. “I will say nothing to the maiden directly,” thought
he, “but I must think out some consolation for her.” Then, using
the privilege of age and a white head, he went to her after supper
and began to stroke her black, silky hair. She sat quietly, raising
toward him her mild eyes, somewhat astonished at his tenderness,
but grateful.
In the evening Zagloba nudged Pan Michael in the side at the door
of the little knight’s room, “Well, what?” said he. “No one can
beat the haiduk?”
“A charming kid,” answered Pan Michael. “She will make as much
uproar as four soldiers in the house,--a regular drummer.”
“A drummer? God grant her to go with your drum as quickly as
possible!”
“Good-night!”
“Good-night! Wonderful creatures, those fair heads! Since you
approached Basia a little, have you noted the change in Krysia?”
“No, I have not,” answered the little knight.
“As if some one had tripped her.”
“Good-night,” repeated Pan Michael, and went quickly to his room.
Zagloba, in counting on the little knight’s instability,
over-reckoned somewhat, and in general acted awkwardly in
mentioning the change in Krysia; for Pan Michael was so affected
that something seemed to seize him by the throat.
“And this is how I pay her for kindness, for comforting me in
grief, like a sister,” said he to himself. “Well, what evil have
I done to her?” thought he, after a moment of meditation. “What
have I done? I have slighted her for three days, which was rude,
to say the least. I have slighted the cherished girl, the dear
one. Because she wished to cure my wounds, I have nourished her
with ingratitude. If I only knew,” continued he, “how to preserve
measure and restrain dangerous friendship, and not offend her; but
evidently my wit is too dull for such management.”
Pan Michael was angry at himself; but at the same time great pity
rose in his breast. Involuntarily he began to think of Krysia as
of a beloved and injured person. Anger against himself grew in him
every moment.
“I am a barbarian, a barbarian!” repeated he. And Krysia
overwhelmed Basia completely in his mind. “Let him who pleases take
that kid, that windmill, that rattler,” said he to himself,--“Pan
Adam or the Devil, it is all one to me!”
Anger rose in him against Basia, who was indebted to God for her
disposition; but it never came to his head once that he might
wrong her more with this anger than Krysia with his pretended
indifference. Krysia, with a woman’s instinct, divined straightway
that some change was taking place in Pan Michael. It was at once
both bitter and sad for the maiden that the little knight seemed
to avoid her; but she understood instantly that something must be
decided between them, and that their friendship could not continue
unmodified, but must become either far greater than it had been or
cease altogether. Hence she was seized by alarm, which increased
at the thought of Pan Michael’s speedy departure. Love was not in
Krysia’s heart yet. The maiden had not come to self-consciousness
on that point; but in her heart and in her blood there was a
great readiness for love. Perhaps too she felt a light turning of
the head. Pan Michael was surrounded with the glory of the first
soldier in the Commonwealth. All knights were repeating his name
with respect. His sister exalted his honor to the sky; the charm
of misfortune covered him; and in addition, the young lady, living
under the same roof with him, grew accustomed to his attraction.
Krysia had this in her nature, she was fond of being loved;
therefore when Pan Michael began in those recent days to treat her
with indifference, her self-esteem suffered greatly; but having a
good heart, she resolved not to show an angry face or vexation,
and to win him by kindness. That came to her all the more easily,
since on the following day Pan Michael had a penitent mien, and
not only did not avoid Krysia’s glance, but looked into her eyes,
as if wishing to say, “Yesterday I offended you; to-day I implore
your forgiveness.” He said so much to her with his eyes that under
their influence the blood flowed to the young lady’s face, and her
disquiet was increased, as if with a presentiment that very soon
something important would happen. In fact, it did happen. In the
afternoon Pani Makovetski went with Basia to Basia’s relative,
the wife of the chamberlain of Lvoff, who was stopping in Warsaw;
Krysia feigned purposely a headache, for curiosity seized her to
know what she and Pan Michael would do if left to themselves.
Zagloba did not go, it is true, to the chamberlain’s wife, but he
had the habit of sleeping a couple of hours after dinner, for he
said that it saved him from fatness, and gave him clear wit in the
evening; therefore, after he had chatted an hour or so, he began to
prepare for his room. Krysia’s heart beat at once more unquietly.
But what a disillusion was awaiting her! Pan Michael sprang up, and
went out with Zagloba.
“He will come back soon,” thought Krysia. And taking a little
drum, she began to embroider on it a gold top for a cap to give
Pan Michael at his departure. Her eyes rose, however, every little
while, and went to the Dantzig clock, which stood in the corner of
Ketling’s room, and ticked with importance.
But one hour and a second passed; Pan Michael was not to be seen.
Krysia placed the drum on her knees, and crossing her hands on it,
said in an undertone, “But before he decides, they may come, and we
shall not say anything, or Pan Zagloba may wake.”
It seemed to her in that moment that they had in truth to speak of
some important affair, which might be deferred through the fault
of Pan Michael. At last, however, his steps were heard in the next
room. “He is wandering around,” thought she, and began to embroider
diligently again.
Volodyovski was, in fact, wandering; he was walking through the
room, and did not dare to come in. Meanwhile the sun was growing
red and approaching its setting.
“Pan Michael!” called Krysia, suddenly.
He came in and found her sewing. “Did you call me?”
“I wished to know if some stranger was walking in the house; I have
been here alone for two hours.”
Pan Michael drew up a chair and sat on the edge of it. A long time
elapsed; he was silent; his feet clattered somewhat as he pushed
them under the table, and his mustache quivered. Krysia stopped
sewing and raised her eyes to him; their glances met, and then both
dropped their eyes suddenly.
When Pan Michael raised his eyes again, the last rays of the sun
were falling on Krysia’s face, and it was beautiful in the light;
her hair gleamed in its folds like gold. “In a couple of days you
are going?” asked she, so quietly that Pan Michael barely heard her.
“It cannot be otherwise.”
Again a moment of silence, after which Krysia said, “I thought
these last days that you were angry with me.”
“As I live,” cried Pan Michael, “I would not be worthy of your
regard if I had been, but I was not.”
“What was the matter?” asked Krysia, raising her eyes to him.
“I wish to speak sincerely, for I think that sincerity is always
better than dissimulation; but I cannot tell how much solace you
have poured into my heart, and how grateful I feel.”
“God grant it to be always so!” said Krysia, crossing her hands on
the drum.
To this Pan Michael answered with great sadness, “God grant! God
grant--But Pan Zagloba told me--I speak before you as before a
priest--Pan Zagloba told me that friendship with fair heads is
not a safe thing, for a more ardent feeling may be hidden beneath
it, as fire under ashes. I thought that perhaps Pan Zagloba was
right. Forgive me, a simple soldier; another would have brought out
the idea more cleverly, but my heart is bleeding because I have
offended you these recent days, and life is not pleasant to me.”
When he had said this, Pan Michael began to move his mustaches more
quickly than any beetle. Krysia dropped her head, and after a while
two tears rolled down her cheeks. “If it will be easier for you, I
will conceal my sisterly affection.” A second pair of tears, and
then a third, appeared on her cheeks.
At sight of this, Pan Michael’s heart was rent completely; he
sprang toward Krysia, and seized her hands. The drum rolled from
her knees to the middle of the room; the knight, however, did not
care for that; he only pressed those warm, soft, velvety hands to
his mouth, repeating,--
“Do not weep. For God’s sake, do not weep!”
Pan Michael did not cease to kiss the hands even when Krysia put
them on her head, as people do usually when embarrassed; but he
kissed them the more ardently, till the warmth coming from her
hair and forehead intoxicated him as wine does, and his ideas grew
confused. Then not knowing himself how and when, his lips came
to her forehead and kissed that still more eagerly; and then he
pushed down to her tearful eyes, and the world went around with
him altogether. Next he felt that most delicate down on her lip;
and after that their mouths met and were pressed together with all
their power. Silence fell on the room; only the clock ticked with
importance.
Suddenly Basia’s steps were heard in the ante-room, and her
childlike voice repeating, “Frost! frost! frost!”
Pan Michael sprang away from Krysia like a frightened panther from
his victim; and at that moment Basia rushed in with an uproar,
repeating incessantly, “Frost! frost! frost!” Suddenly she stumbled
against the drum lying in the middle of the room. Then she stopped,
and looking with astonishment, now on the drum, now on Krysia, now
on the little knight, said, “What is this? You struck each other,
as with a dart?”
“But where is auntie?” asked Krysia, striving to bring out of her
heaving breast a quiet, natural voice.
“Auntie is climbing out of the sleigh by degrees,” answered Basia,
with an equally changed voice. Her nostrils moved a number of
times. She looked once more at Krysia and Pan Michael, who by that
time had raised the drum, then she left the room suddenly.
Pani Makovetski rolled into the room; Pan Zagloba came downstairs,
and a conversation set in about the wife of the chamberlain of
Lvoff.
“I did not know that she was Pan Adam’s godmother,” said Pani
Makovetski; “he must have made her his confidante, for she is
persecuting Basia with him terribly.”
“But what did Basia say?” asked Zagloba.
“‘A halter for a dog!’ She said to the chamberlain’s lady: ‘He has
no mustache, and I have no sense; and it is not known which one
will get what is lacking first.’”
“I knew that she would not lose her tongue; but who knows what her
real thought is? Ah, woman’s wiles!”
“With Basia, what is on her heart is on her lips. Besides, I have
told you already that she does not feel the will of God yet; Krysia
does, in a higher degree.”
“Auntie!” said Krysia, suddenly.
Further conversation was interrupted by the servant, who announced
that supper was on the table. All went then to the dining-room; but
Basia was not there.
“Where is the young lady?” asked Pani Makovetski of the servant.
“The young lady is in the stable. I told the young lady that supper
was ready; the young lady said, ‘Well,’ and went to the stable.”
“Has something unpleasant happened to her? She was so gay,” said
Pani Makovetski, turning to Zagloba.
Then the little knight, who had an unquiet conscience, said, “I
will go and bring her.” And he hurried out. He found her just
inside the stable-door, sitting on a bundle of hay. She was so sunk
in thought that she did not see him as he entered.
“Panna Basia,” said the little knight, bending over her.
Basia trembled as if roused from sleep, and raised her eyes, in
which Pan Michael saw, to his utter astonishment, two tears as
large as pearls. “For God’s sake! What is the matter? You are
weeping.”
“I do not dream of it,” cried Basia, springing up; “I do not dream
of it! That is from frost.” She laughed joyously, but the laughter
was rather forced. Then, wishing to turn attention from herself,
she pointed to the stall in which was the steed given Pan Michael
by the hetman, and said with animation, “You say it is impossible
to go to that horse? Now let us see!”
And before Pan Michael could restrain her, she had sprung into the
stall. The fierce beast began to rear, to paw, and to put back his
ears.
“For God’s sake! he will kill you!” cried Pan Michael, springing
after her.
But Basia had begun already to stroke with her palm the shoulder of
the horse, repeating, “Let him kill! let him kill!”
But the horse turned to her his steaming nostrils and gave a low
neigh, as if rejoiced at the fondling.