Pan Zagloba knew perfectly that the little knight was more inclined
toward Krysia than Basia; but for that very reason he resolved to
set Krysia aside. Knowing Pan Michael through and through, he was
convinced that if he had no choice, he would turn infallibly to
Basia, with whom the old noble himself was so blindly in love that
he could not get it into his head how any man could prefer another
to her. He understood also that he could not render Pan Michael a
greater service than to get him his haiduk, and he was enchanted at
thought of that match. He was angry at Pan Michael, at Krysia also;
it was true he would prefer that Pan Michael should marry Krysia
rather than no one, but he determined to do everything to make
him marry the haiduk. And precisely because the little knight’s
inclination toward Krysia was known to him, he determined to make a
Ketling of her as quickly as possible.
Still, the answer which Zagloba received a few days later from
Pan Yan staggered him somewhat in his resolution. Pan Yan advised
him to interfere in nothing, for he feared that in the opposite
case great troubles might rise easily between the friends. Zagloba
himself did not wish this, therefore certain reproaches made
themselves heard in him; these he stilled in the following manner:--
“If Michael and Krysia were betrothed, and I had thrust Ketling
between them like a wedge, then I say nothing. Solomon says, ‘Do
not poke your nose into another man’s purse,’ and he is right. But
every one is free to wish. Besides, taking things exactly, what
have I done? Let any one tell me what.”
When he had said this, Zagloba put his hands on his hips, pouted
his lips, and looked challengingly on the walls of his chamber,
as if expecting reproaches from them; but since the walls made no
answer, he spoke on: “I told Ketling that I had predestined the
haiduk to Michael. But is this not permitted me? Maybe it is not
true that I have predestined her! If I wish any other woman for
Michael, may the gout bite me!”
The walls recognized the justice of Zagloba in perfect silence; and
he continued further: “I told the haiduk that Ketling was brought
down by Krysia; maybe that is not true? Has he not confessed; has
he not sighed, sitting near the fire, so that the ashes were flying
through the room! And what I saw, I have told others. Pan Yan has
sound sense; but no one will throw my wit to the dogs. I know
myself what may be told, and what would be better left in silence.
H’m! he writes not to interfere in anything. That may be done also.
Hereafter I will interfere in nothing. When I am a third party in
presence of Krysia and Ketling, I will go out and leave them alone.
Let them help themselves without me. In fact, I think they will be
able. They need no help, for now they are so pushed toward each
other that their eyes are growing white; and besides, the spring
is coming, at which time not only the sun, but desires begin to
grow warm. Well! I will leave them alone; but I shall see what the
result will be.”
And, in truth, the result was soon to appear. During Holy Week the
entire company at Ketling’s house went to Warsaw and took lodgings
in the hotel on Dluga Street, to be near the churches and perform
their devotions at pleasure, and at the same time to sate their
eyes with the holiday bustle of the city. Ketling performed here
the honors of host, for though a foreigner by origin, he knew the
capital thoroughly and had many acquaintances in every quarter,
through whom he was able to make everything easy. He surpassed
himself in politeness, and almost divined the thoughts of the
ladies he was escorting, especially Krysia. Besides, all had taken
to loving him sincerely. Pan Michael’s sister, forewarned by
Zagloba, looked on him and Krysia with a more and more favorable
eye; and if she had said nothing to the maiden so far, it was
only because he was silent. But it seemed to the worthy “auntie”
a natural thing and proper that the cavalier should win the lady,
especially as he was a cavalier really distinguished, who was met
at every step by marks of respect and friendship, not only from
the lower but from the higher people; he was so capable of winning
all to his side by his truly wonderful beauty, bearing, dignity,
liberality, mildness in time of peace, and manfulness in war.
“What God will give, and my husband decide, will come to pass,”
said Pani Makovetski to herself; “but I will not cross these two.”
Thanks to this decision, Ketling found himself oftener with Krysia
and stayed with her longer than when in his own house. Besides, the
whole company always went out together. Zagloba generally gave his
arm to Pan Michael’s sister, Ketling to Krysia, and Basia, as the
youngest, went alone, sometimes hurrying on far ahead, then halting
in front of shops to look at goods and various wonders from beyond
the sea, such as she had never seen before. Krysia grew accustomed
gradually to Ketling; and now when she was leaning on his arm, when
she listened to his conversation or looked at his noble face, her
heart did not beat in her breast with the former disquiet, presence
of mind did not leave her, and she was seized not by confusion,
but by an immense and intoxicating delight. They were continually
by themselves; they knelt near each other in the churches; their
voices were mingled in prayer and in pious hymns.
Ketling knew well the condition of his heart. Krysia, either from
lack of decision or because she wished to tempt herself, did not
say mentally, “I love him;” but they loved each other greatly.
A friendship had sprung up between them; and besides love, they
had immense regard for each other. Of love itself they had not
spoken yet; time passed for them as a dream, and a serene sky was
above them. Clouds of reproaches were soon to hide it from Krysia;
but the present was a time of repose. Specially through intimacy
with Ketling, through becoming accustomed to him, through that
friendship which with love bloomed up between them, Krysia’s alarms
were ended, her impressions were not so violent, the conflicts of
her blood and imagination ceased. They were near each other; it
was pleasant for them in the company of each other; and Krysia,
yielding herself with her whole soul to that agreeable present,
was unwilling to think that it would ever end, and that to scatter
those illusions it needed only one word[14] from Ketling, “I love.”
That word was soon uttered. Once, when Pan Michael’s sister and
Basia were at the house of a sick relative, Ketling persuaded
Krysia and Pan Zagloba to visit the king’s castle, which Krysia
had not seen hitherto, and concerning whose curiosities wonders
were related throughout the whole country. They went, then, three
in company. Ketling’s liberality had opened all doors, and Krysia
was greeted by obeisances from the doorkeepers as profound as if
she were a queen entering her own residence. Ketling, knowing the
castle perfectly, conducted her through lordly halls and chambers.
They examined the theatre, the royal baths; they halted before
pictures representing the battles and victories gained by Sigismund
and Vladislav over the savagery of the East; they went out on the
terraces, from which the eye took in an immense stretch of country.
Krysia could not free herself from wonder; he explained everything
to her, but was silent from moment to moment, and looking into her
dark-blue eyes, he seemed to say with his glance, “What are all
these wonders in comparison with thee, thou wonder? What are all
these treasures in comparison with thee, thou treasure?” The young
lady understood that silent speech. He conducted her to one of the
royal chambers, and stood before a door concealed in the wall.
“One may go to the cathedral through this door. There is a long
corridor, which ends with a balcony not far from the high altar.
From this balcony the king and queen hear Mass usually.”
“I know that way well,” put in Zagloba, “for I was a confidant of
Yan Kazimir. Marya Ludovika loved me passionately; therefore both
invited me often to Mass, so that they might take pleasure in my
company and edify themselves with piety.”
“Do you wish to enter?” asked Ketling, giving a sign to the
doorkeeper.
“Let us go in,” said Krysia.
“Go alone,” said Zagloba; “you are young and have good feet; I
have trotted around enough already. Go on, go on; I will stay here
with the doorkeeper. And even if you should say a couple of ‘Our
Fathers,’ I shall not be angry at the delay, for during that time I
can rest myself.”
They entered. Ketling took Krysia’s hand and led her through a
long corridor. He did not press her hand to his heart; he walked
calmly and collectedly. At intervals the side windows threw light
on their forms, then they sank again in the darkness. Her heart
beat somewhat, because they were alone for the first time; but his
calmness and mildness made her calm also. They came out at last
to the balcony on the right side of the church, not far from the
high altar. They knelt and began to pray. The church was silent
and empty. Two candles were burning before the high altar, but all
the deeper part of the nave was buried in impressive twilight.
Only from the rainbow-colored panes of the windows various gleams
entered and fell on the two wonderful faces, sunk in prayer, calm,
like the faces of cherubim.
Ketling rose first and began to whisper, for he dared not raise
his voice in the church, “Look,” said he, “at this velvet-covered
railing; on it are traces where the heads of the royal couple
rested. The queen sat at that side, nearer the altar. Rest in her
place.”
“Is it true that she was unhappy all her life?” whispered Krysia,
sitting down. “I heard her history when I was still a child, for it
is related in all knightly castles. Perhaps she was unhappy because
she could not marry him whom her heart loved.”
Krysia rested her head on the place where the depression was made
by the head of Marya Ludovika, and closed her eyes. A kind of
painful feeling straitened her breast; a certain coldness was blown
suddenly from the empty nave and chilled that calm which a moment
before filled her whole being.
Ketling looked at Krysia in silence; and a stillness really
churchlike set in. Then he sank slowly to her feet, and began to
speak thus with a voice that was full of emotion, but calm:--
“It is not a sin to kneel before you in this holy place; for where
does true love come for a blessing if not to the church? I love you
more than life; I love you beyond every earthly good; I love you
with my soul, with my heart; and here before this altar I confess
that love to you.”
Krysia’s face grew pale as linen. Resting her head on the velvet
back of the prayer-stool, the unhappy lady stirred not, but he
spoke on:--
“I embrace your feet and implore your decision. Am I to go from
this place in heavenly delight, or in grief which I am unable to
bear, and which I can in no way survive?”
He waited awhile for an answer; but since it did not come, he bowed
his head till he almost touched Krysia’s feet, and evident emotion
mastered him more and more, for his voice trembled, as if breath
were failing his breast,--
“Into your hands I give my happiness and life. I expect mercy, for
my burden is great.”
“Let us pray for God’s mercy!” exclaimed Krysia, suddenly, dropping
on her knees.
Ketling did not understand her; but he did not dare to oppose that
intention, therefore he knelt near her in hope and fear. They began
to pray again. From moment to moment their voices were audible in
the empty church, and the echo gave forth wonderful and complaining
sounds.
“God be merciful!” said Krysia.
“God be merciful!” repeated Ketling.
“Have mercy on us!”
“Have mercy on us!”
She prayed then in silence; but Ketling saw that weeping shook her
whole form. For a long time she could not calm herself; and then,
growing quiet, she continued to kneel without motion. At last she
rose and said, “Let us go.”
They went out again into that long corridor. Ketling hoped that on
the way he would receive some answer, and he looked into her eyes,
but in vain. She walked hurriedly, as if wishing to find herself as
soon as possible in that chamber in which Zagloba was waiting for
them. But when the door was some tens of steps distant, the knight
seized the edge of her robe.
“Panna Krysia!” exclaimed he, “by all that is holy--”
Then Krysia turned away, and grasping his hand so quickly that he
had not time to show the least resistance, she pressed it in the
twinkle of an eye to her lips. “I love you with my whole soul; but
I shall never be yours!” and before the astonished Ketling could
utter a word, she added, “Forget all that has happened.”
A moment later they were both in the chamber. The doorkeeper was
sleeping in one armchair, and Zagloba in the other. The entrance of
the young people roused them. Zagloba, however, opened his eye and
began to blink with it half consciously; but gradually memory of
the place and the persons returned to him.
“Ah, that is you!” said he, drawing down his girdle, “I dreamed
that the new king was elected, but that he was a Pole. Were you at
the balcony?”
“We were.”
“Did the spirit of Marya Ludovika appear to you, perchance?”
“It did!” answered Krysia, gloomily.