All the nights that Pan Michael had spent were nothing in
comparison with the night after that adventure with Krysia. For,
behold, he had betrayed the memory of his dead one, and he loved
that memory. He had deceived the confidence of the living woman,
had abused friendship, had contracted certain obligations, had
acted like a man without conscience. Another soldier would have
made nothing of such a kiss, or, what is more, would have twisted
his mustache at thought of it; but Pan Michael was squeamish,
especially since the death of Anusia, as is every man who has a
soul in pain and a torn heart. What was left for him to do, then?
How was he to act?
Only a few days remained until his departure; that departure would
cut short everything. But was it proper to go without a word to
Krysia, and leave her as he would leave any chamber-maid from whom
he might steal a kiss? The brave heart of Pan Michael trembled at
the thought. Even in the struggle in which he was then, the thought
of Krysia filled him with pleasure, and the remembrance of that
kiss passed through him with a quiver of delight. Rage against his
own head seized him; still he could not refrain from a feeling of
sweetness. And he took the whole blame on himself.
“I brought Krysia to that,” repeated he, with bitterness and pain;
“I brought her to it, therefore it is not just for me to go away
without a word. What, then? Make a proposal, and go away Krysia’s
betrothed?”
Here the form of Anusia stood before the knight, dressed in white,
and pale herself as wax, just as he had laid her in the coffin.
“This much is due me,” said the figure, “that you mourn and grieve
for me. You wished at first to become a monk, to bewail me all your
life; but now you are taking another before my poor soul could fly
to the gates of heaven. Ah! wait, let me reach heaven first; let me
cease looking at the earth.”
And it seemed to the knight that he was a species of perjurer
before that bright soul whose memory he should honor and hold
as sacred. Sorrow and immeasurable shame seized him, and
self-contempt. He desired death.
“Anulya,”[11] repeated he, on his knees, “I shall not cease to
bewail thee till death; but what am I to do now?”
The white form gave no answer to that as it vanished like a
light mist; and instead of it appeared in the imagination of the
knight Krysia’s eyes and her lip covered with down, and with it
temptations from which the knight wished to free himself. So his
heart was wavering in uncertainty, suffering, and torment. At
moments it came to his head to go and confess all to Zagloba,
and take counsel of that man whose reason could settle all
difficulties. And he had foreseen everything; he had told
beforehand what it was to enter into “friendship” with fair heads.
But just that view restrained the little knight. He recollected how
sharply he had called to Pan Zagloba, “Do not offend Panna Krysia,
sir!” And now, who had offended Panna Krysia? Who was the man who
had thought, “Is it not best to leave her like a chamber-maid and
go away?”
“If it were not for that dear one up there, I would not hesitate
a moment,” thought the knight, “I should not be tormented at all;
on the contrary, I should be glad in soul that I had tasted such
delight.” After a while he muttered, “I would take it willingly a
hundred times.” Seeing, however, that temptations were flocking
around him, he shook them off again powerfully, and began to reason
in this way: “It is all over. Since I have acted like one who is
not desirous of friendship, but who is looking for satisfaction
from Cupid, I must go by that road, and tell Krysia to-morrow that
I wish to marry her.”
Here he stopped awhile, then thought further thuswise: “Through
which declaration the confidence of to-day will become quite
proper, and to-morrow I can permit myself--” But at this moment he
struck his mouth with his palm. “Tfu!” said he; “is a whole chambul
of devils sitting behind my collar?”
But still he did not set aside his plan of making the declaration,
thinking to himself simply: “If I offend the dear dead one, I
can conciliate her with Masses and prayer; by this I shall show
also that I remember her always, and will not cease in devotion.
If people wonder and laugh at me because two weeks ago I wanted
from sorrow to be a monk, and now have made a declaration of love
to another, the shame will be on my side alone. If I make no
declaration, the innocent Krysia will have to share my shame and my
fault. I will propose to her to-morrow; it cannot be otherwise,”
said he, at last.
He calmed himself then considerably; and when he had repeated “Our
Father,” and prayed earnestly for Anusia, he fell asleep. In the
morning, when he woke, he repeated, “I will propose to-day.” But it
was not so easy to propose, for Pan Michael did not wish to inform
others, but to talk with Krysia first, and then act as was proper.
Meanwhile Pan Adam arrived in the early morning, and filled the
whole house with his presence.
Krysia went about as if poisoned; the whole day she was pale,
worried, sometimes dropped her eyes, sometimes blushed so that the
color went to her neck; at times her lips quivered as if she were
going to cry; then again she was as if dreamy and languid. It was
difficult for the knight to approach her, and especially to remain
long alone with her. It is true he might have taken her to walk,
for the weather was wonderful, and some time before he would have
done so without any scruple; but now he dared not, for it seemed
to him that all would divine on the spot what his object was,--all
would think he was going to propose.
Pan Adam saved him. He took Pani Makovetski aside, conversed with
her a good while touching something, then both returned to the room
in which the little knight was sitting with the two young ladies
and Pan Zagloba, and said, “You young people might have a ride in
two sleighs, for the snow is sparkling.”
At this Pan Michael inclined quickly to Krysia’s ear and said, “I
beg you to sit with me. I have a world of things to say.”
“Very well,” answered Krysia.
Then the two men hastened to the stables, followed by Basia; and in
the space of a few “Our Fathers,” the two sleighs were driven up
before the house. Pan Michael and Krysia took their places in one.
Pan Adam and the little haiduk in the other, and moved on without
drivers.
When they had gone, Pani Makovetski turned to Zagloba and said,
“Pan Adam has proposed for Basia.”
“How is that?” asked Zagloba, alarmed.
“His godmother, the wife of the chamberlain of Lvoff, is to come
here to-morrow to talk with me; Pan Adam himself has begged of me
permission to talk with Basia, even hintingly, for he understands
himself that if Basia is not his friend, the trouble and pains will
be useless.”
“It was for this that you, my benefactress, sent them sleigh-riding?”
“For this. My husband is very scrupulous. More than once he has
said to me, ‘I will guard their property, but let each choose a
husband for herself; if he is honorable, I will not oppose, even in
case of inequality of property.’ Moreover, they are of mature years
and can give advice to themselves.”
“But what answer do you think of giving Pan Adam’s godmother?”
“My husband will come in May. I will turn the affair over to him;
but I think this way,--as Basia wishes, so will it be.”
“Pan Adam is a stripling!”
“But Michael himself says that he is a famous soldier, noted
already for deeds of valor. He has a respectable property, and his
godmother has recounted to me all his relations. You see, it is
this way: his great-grandfather was born of Princess Senyut; he was
married the first time to--”
“But what do I care for his relations?” interrupted Zagloba, not
hiding his ill-humor; “he is neither brother nor godfather to me,
and I tell your ladyship that I have predestined the little haiduk
to Michael; for if among maidens who walk the world on two feet
there is one better or more honest than she, may I from this moment
begin to walk on all-four like a bear!”
“Michael is thinking of nothing yet; and even if he were, Krysia
has struck his eye more. Ah! God, whose ways are inscrutable, will
decide this.”
“But if that bare-lipped youngster goes away with a water-melon,[12]
I shall be drunk with delight,” added Zagloba.
Meanwhile in the two sleighs the fates of both knights were in the
balance. Pan Michael was unable to utter a word for a long time; at
last he said to Krysia, “Do not think that I am a frivolous man, or
some kind of fop, for not such are my years.”
Krysia made no answer.
“Forgive me for what I did yesterday, for it was from the good
feeling which I have for you, which is so great that I was
altogether unable to restrain it. My gracious lady, my beloved
Krysia, consider who I am; I am a simple soldier, whose life
has been passed in wars. Another would have prepared an oration
beforehand, and then come to confidence; I have begun with
confidence. Remember this also, that if a horse, though trained,
takes the bit in his teeth and runs away with a man, why should
not love, whose force is greater, run away with him? Love carried
me away, simply because you are dear to me. My beloved Krysia, you
are worthy of castellans and senators; but if you do not disdain
a soldier, who, though in simple rank, has served the country not
without some glory, I fall at your feet, I kiss your feet, and I
ask, do you wish me? Can you think of me without repulsion?”
“Pan Michael!” answered Krysia. And her hand, drawn from her muff,
hid itself in the hand of the knight.
“Do you consent?” asked Volodyovski.
“I do!” answered Krysia; “and I know that I could not find a more
honorable man in all Poland.”
“God reward you! God reward you, Krysia!” said the knight, covering
the hand with kisses. “A greater happiness could not meet me. Only
tell me that you are not angry at yesterday’s confidence, so that I
may find relief of conscience.”
“I am not angry.”
“Oh that I could kiss your feet!” cried Pan Michael.
They remained some time in silence; the runners were whistling on
the snow, and snowballs were flying from under the horse’s feet.
Then Pan Michael said, “I marvel that you regard me.”
“It is more wonderful,” answered Krysia, “that you came to love me
so quickly.”
At this Pan Michael’s face grew very serious, and he said, “It may
seem ill to you that before I shook off sorrow for one, I fell in
love with another. I own to you also, as if I were at confession,
that in my time I have been giddy; but now it is different. I have
not forgotten that dear one, and shall never forget her; I love her
yet, and if you knew how much I weep for her, you would weep over
me yourself.”
Here voice failed the little knight, for he was greatly moved, and
perhaps for that reason he did not notice that these words did not
seem to make a very deep impression on Krysia.
Silence followed again, interrupted this time by the lady: “I will
try to comfort you, as far as my strength permits.”
“I loved you so soon,” said Pan Michael, “because you began from
the first day to cure my wounds. What was I to you? Nothing! But
you began at once, because you had pity in your heart for an
unfortunate. Ah! I am thankful to you, greatly thankful! Who does
not know this will perhaps reproach me, since I wished to be a monk
in November, and am preparing for marriage in December. First,
Pan Zagloba will be ready to jeer, for he is glad to do that when
occasion offers; but let the man jeer who is able! I do not care
about that, especially since the reproach will not fall on you, but
on me.”
Krysia began to look at the sky thoughtfully, and said at last,
“Must we absolutely tell people of our engagement?”
“What is your meaning?”
“You are going away, it seems, in a couple of days?”
“Even against my will, I must go.”
“I am wearing mourning for my father. Why should we exhibit
ourselves to the gaze of people? Let our engagement remain between
ourselves, and people need not know of it till you return from
Russia. Are you satisfied?”
“Then I am to say nothing to my sister?”
“I will tell her myself, but after you have gone.”
“And to Pan Zagloba?”
“Pan Zagloba would sharpen his wit on me. Ei, better say nothing!
Basia too would tease me; and she these last days is so whimsical
and has such changing humor as never before. Better say nothing.”
Here Krysia raised her dark-blue eyes to the heavens: “God is the
witness above us; let people remain uninformed.”
“I see that your wit is equal to your beauty. I agree. Then God is
our witness. Amen! Now rest your shoulder on me; for as soon as our
contract is made, modesty is not opposed to that. Have no fear!
Even if I wished to repeat yesterday’s act, I cannot, for I must
take care of the horse.”
Krysia gratified the knight, and he said, “As often as we are
alone, call me by name only.”
“Somehow it does not fit,” said she, with a smile. “I never shall
dare to do that.”
“But I have dared.”
“For Pan Michael is a knight, Pan Michael is daring, Pan Michael is
a soldier.”
“Krysia, you are my love!”
“Mich--” But Krysia had not courage to finish, and covered her face
with her muff.
After a while Pan Michael returned to the house; they did not
converse much on the road, but at the gate the little knight asked
again, “But after yesterday’s--you understand--were you very sad?”
“Oh, I was ashamed and sad, but had a wonderful feeling,” added
she, in a lower voice.
All at once they put on a look of indifference, so that no one
might see what had passed between them. But that was a needless
precaution, for no one paid heed to them. It is true that Zagloba
and Pan Michael’s sister ran out to meet the two couples, but their
eyes were turned only on Basia and Pan Adam.
Basia was red, certainly, but it was unknown whether from cold or
emotion; and Pan Adam was as if poisoned. Immediately after, too,
he took farewell of the lady of the house. In vain did she try to
detain him; in vain Pan Michael himself tried to persuade him to
remain to supper: he excused himself with service and went away.
That moment Pan Michael’s sister, without saying a word, kissed
Basia on the forehead; the young lady flew to her own chamber and
did not return to supper.
Only on the next day did Zagloba make a direct attack on her and
inquire, “Well, little haiduk, a thunderbolt, as it were, struck
Pan Adam?”
“Aha!” answered she, nodding affirmatively and blinking.
“Tell me what you said to him.”
“The question was quick, for he is daring; but so was the answer,
for I too am daring. Is it not true?”
“You acted splendidly! Let me embrace you! What did he say? Did he
let himself be beaten off easily?”
“He asked if with time he could not effect something. I was sorry
for him, but no, no; nothing can come of that!”
Here Basia, distending her nostrils, began to shake her forelock
somewhat sadly, as if in thought.
“Tell me your reasons,” said Zagloba.
“He too wanted them, but it was of no use; I did not tell him, and
I will tell no man.”
“But perhaps,” said Zagloba, looking quickly into her eyes, “you
bear some hidden love in your heart. Hei?”
“A fig for love!” cried Basia. And springing from the place, she
began to repeat quickly, as if wishing to cover her confusion, “I
do not want Pan Adam! I do not want Pan Adam! I do not want any
one! Why do you plague me? Why do you plague me, all of you?” And
on a sudden she burst into tears.
Zagloba comforted her as best he could, but during the whole day
she was gloomy and peevish. “Michael,” said he at dinner, “you are
going, and Ketling will come soon; he is a beauty above beauties. I
know not how these young ladies will defend themselves, but I think
this, when you come back, you will find them both dead in love.”
“Profit for us!” said Volodyovski. “We’ll give him Panna Basia at
once.”
Basia fixed on him the look of a wild-cat and said, “But why are
you less concerned about Krysia?”
The little knight was confused beyond measure at these words, and
said, “You do not know Ketling’s power, but you will discover it.”
“But why should not Krysia discover it? Besides, it is not I who
sing,--
‘The fair head grows faint;
Where will she hide herself?
How will the poor thing defend herself?’”
Now Krysia was confused in her turn, and the little wasp continued,
“In extremities I will ask Pan Adam to lend me his shield; but when
you go away, I know not with what Krysia will defend herself, if
peril comes on her.”
Pan Michael had now recovered, and answered somewhat severely,
“Perhaps she will find wherewith to defend herself better than you.”
“How so?”
“For she is less giddy, and has more sedateness and dignity.”
Pan Zagloba and the little knight’s sister thought that the keen
haiduk would come to battle at once; but to their great amazement,
she dropped her head toward the plate, and after a while said, in a
low voice, “If you are angry, I ask pardon of you and of Krysia.”