Next morning Krysia was calmer; for among intricate and tangled
paths she had chosen for herself an immensely difficult, but not
a false one. Entering upon it, she saw at least whither she was
going. But, first of all, she determined to have an interview with
Ketling and speak with him for the last time, so as to guard him
from every mishap. This did not come to her easily, for Ketling
did not show himself for a number of consecutive days, and did not
return at night.
Krysia began to rise before daylight and walk to the neighboring
church of the Dominicans, with the hope that she would meet him
some morning and speak to him without witnesses. In fact, she met
him a few days later at the very door. When he saw her, he removed
his cap and bent his head in silence. He stood motionless; his face
was wearied by sleeplessness and suffering, his eyes sunk; on his
temples there were yellowish spots; the delicate color of his face
had become waxlike; he looked like a flower that is withering.
Krysia’s heart was rent at sight of him; and though every decisive
step cost her very much, for she was not bold by nature, she was
the first to extend the hand, and said,--
“May God comfort you and send you forgetfulness!”
Ketling took her hand, raised it to his forehead, then to his lips,
to which he pressed it long and with all his force; then he said
with a voice full of mortal sadness and of resignation, “There is
for me neither solace nor forgetfulness.”
There was a moment when Krysia needed all her self-control to
restrain herself from throwing her arms around his neck and
exclaiming, “I love thee above everything! take me.” She felt that
if weeping were to seize her she would do so; therefore she stood
a long time before him in silence, struggling with her tears. At
last she conquered herself and began to speak calmly, though very
quickly, for breath failed her:--
“It may bring you some relief if I say that I shall belong to no
one, I go behind the grating. Do not judge me harshly at any time,
for as it is I am unhappy. Promise me, give me your word, that you
will not mention your love for me to any one: that you will not
acknowledge it; that you will not disclose to friend or relative
what has happened. This is my last prayer. The time will come
when you will know why I do this; then at least you will have the
explanation. To-day I will tell you no more, for my sorrow is such
that I cannot. Promise me this,--it will comfort me; if you do not,
I may die.”
“I promise, and give my word,” answered Ketling.
“God reward you, and I thank you from my whole heart! Besides,
show a calm face in presence of people, so that no one may have
a suspicion. It is time for me to go. Your kindness is such that
words fail to describe it. Henceforth we shall not see each other
alone, only before people. Tell me further that you have no feeling
of offence against me; for to suffer is one thing and to be
offended another. You yield me to God, to no one else; keep this in
mind.”
Ketling wished to say something; but since he was suffering beyond
measure, only indefinite sounds like groans came from his mouth;
then he touched Krysia’s temples with his fingers and held them for
a while as a sign that he forgave her and blessed her. They parted
then; she went to the church, and he to the street again, so as not
to meet in the inn an acquaintance.
Krysia returned only in the afternoon; and when she came she found
a notable guest, Bishop Olshovski, the vice-chancellor. He had
come unexpectedly on a visit to Pan Zagloba, wishing, as he said
himself, to become acquainted with such a great cavalier, “whose
military pre-eminence was an example, and whose reason was a guide
to the knights of that whole lordly Commonwealth.” Zagloba was, in
truth, much astonished, but not less gratified, that such a great
honor had met him in presence of the ladies; he plumed himself
greatly, was flushed, perspired, and at the same time endeavored
to show Pani Makovetski that he was accustomed to such visits from
the greatest dignitaries in the country, and that he made nothing
of them. Krysia was presented to the prelate, and kissing his hands
with humility, sat near Basia, glad that no one could see the
traces of recent emotion on her face.
Meanwhile the vice-chancellor covered Zagloba so bountifully and
so easily with praises that he seemed to be drawing new supplies
of them continually from his violet sleeves embroidered with lace.
“Think not, your grace,” said he, “that I was drawn hither by
curiosity alone to know the first man in the knighthood; for though
admiration is a just homage to heroes, still men make pilgrimages
for their own profit also to the place where experience and quick
reason have taken their seats at the side of manfulness.”
“Experience,” said Zagloba, modestly, “especially in the military
art, comes only with age; and for that cause perhaps the late
Pan Konyetspolski, father of the banneret, asked me frequently
for counsel, after him Pan Nikolai Pototski, Prince Yeremi
Vishnyevetski, Pan Sapyeha, and Pan Charnyetski; but as to the
title ‘Ulysses,’ I have always protested against that from
considerations of modesty.”
“Still, it is so connected with your grace that at times no one
mentions your real name, but says, ‘Our Ulysses,’ and all divine
at once whom the orator means. Therefore, in these difficult and
eventful times, when more than one wavers in his thoughts and does
not know whither to turn, whom to uphold, I said to myself, ‘I
will go and hear convictions, free myself from doubt, enlighten my
mind with clear counsel.’ You will divine, your grace, that I wish
to speak of the coming election, in view of which every estimate
of candidates may lead to some good; but what must one be which
flows from the mouth of your grace? I have heard it repeated with
the greatest applause among the knighthood that you are opposed
to those foreigners who are pushing themselves on to our lordly
throne. In the veins of the Vazas, as you explained, there flowed
Yagellon blood,--hence they could not be considered as strangers;
but those foreigners, as you said, neither know our ancient Polish
customs nor will they respect our liberties, and hence absolute
rule may arise easily. I acknowledge to your grace that these are
deep words; but pardon me if I inquire whether you really uttered
them, or is it public opinion that from custom ascribes all
profound sentences to you in the first instance?”
“These ladies are witness,” answered Zagloba; “and though this
subject is not suited to their judgment, let them speak, since
Providence in its inscrutable decrees has given them the gift of
speech equally with us.”
The vice-chancellor looked involuntarily on Pani Makovetski, and
then on the two young ladies nestled up to each other. A moment of
silence followed. Suddenly the silvery voice of Basia was heard,--
“I did not hear anything!”
Then she was confused terribly and blushed to her very ears,
especially when Zagloba said at once, “Pardon her, your dignity.
She is young, therefore giddy. But as to candidates, I have said
more than once that our Polish liberty will weep by reason of these
foreigners.”
“I fear that myself,” said the prelate; “but even if we wished
some Pole, blood of our blood and bone of our bone, tell me, your
grace, to what side should we turn our hearts? Your grace’s very
thought of a Pole is great, and is spreading through the country
like a flame; for I hear that everywhere in the diets which are not
fettered by corruption one voice is to be heard, ‘A Pole, a Pole!’”
“Justly, justly!” interrupted Zagloba.
“Still,” continued the vice-chancellor, “it is easier to call for
a Pole than to find a fit person; therefore let your grace be not
astonished if I ask whom you had in mind.”
“Whom had I in mind?” repeated Zagloba, somewhat puzzled; and
pouting his lips, he wrinkled his brows. It was difficult for him
to give a sudden answer, for hitherto not only had he no one in
mind, but in general he had not those ideas at all which the keen
prelate had attributed to him. Besides, he knew this himself, and
understood that the vice-chancellor was inclining him to some side;
but he let himself be inclined purposely, for it flattered him
greatly. “I have insisted only in principle that we need a Pole,”
said he at last; “but to tell the truth, I have not named any man
thus far.”
“I have heard of the ambitious designs of Prince Boguslav
Radzivill,” muttered the prelate, as if to himself.
“While there is breath in my nostrils, while the last drop of blood
is in my breast,” cried Zagloba, with the force of deep conviction,
“nothing will come of that! I should not wish to live in a nation
so disgraced as to make a traitor and a Judas its king.”
“That is the voice not only of reason, but of civic virtue,”
muttered the vice-chancellor, again.
“Ha!” thought Zagloba, “if you wish to draw me, I will draw you.”
Then the vice-chancellor began anew: “When wilt thou sail in,
O battered ship of my country? What storms, what rocks are in
wait for thee? In truth, it will be evil if a foreigner becomes
thy steersman; but it must be so evidently, if among thy sons
there is no one better.” Here he stretched out his white hands,
ornamented with glittering rings, and inclining his head, said
with resignation, “Then Condé, or he of Lorraine, or the Prince of
Neuberg? There is no other outcome!”
“That is impossible! A Pole!” answered Zagloba.
“Who?” inquired the prelate.
Silence followed. Then the prelate began to speak again: “If there
were even one on whom all could agree! Where is there a man who
would touch the heart of the knighthood at once, so that no one
would dare to murmur against his election? There was one such, the
greatest, who had rendered most service,--your worthy friend, O
knight, who walked in glory as in sunlight. There was such a--”
“Prince Yeremi Vishnyevetski!” interrupted Zagloba.
“That is true. But he is in the grave.”
“His son lives,” replied Zagloba.
The vice-chancellor half closed his eyes, and sat some time in
silence; all at once he raised his head, looked at Zagloba, and
began to speak slowly: “I thank God for having inspired me with
the idea of knowing your grace. That is it! the son of the great
Yeremi is alive,--a prince young and full of hope, to whom the
Commonwealth has a debt to pay. Of his gigantic fortune nothing
remains but glory,--that is his only inheritance. Therefore in
the present times of corruption, when every man turns his eyes
only to where gold is attracting, who will mention his name, who
will have the courage to make him a candidate? You? True! But will
there be many like you? It is not wonderful that he whose life has
been passed in heroic struggles on all fields will not fear to
give homage to merit with his vote on the field of election; but
will others follow his example?” Here the vice-chancellor fell to
thinking, then raised his eyes and spoke on: “God is mightier than
all. Who knows His decisions, who knows? When I think how all the
knighthood believe and trust you, I see indeed with wonderment
that a certain hope enters my heart. Tell me sincerely, has the
impossible ever existed for you?”
“Never!” answered Zagloba, with conviction.
“Still, it is not proper to advance that candidacy too decidedly
at first. Let the name strike people’s ears, but let it not seem
too formidable to opponents; let them rather laugh at it, and
sneer, so that they may not raise too serious impediments. Perhaps,
too, God will grant it to succeed quickly, when the intrigues of
parties bring them to mutual destruction. Smooth the road for it
gradually, your grace, and grow not weary in labor; for this is
your candidate, worthy of your reason and experience. God bless you
in these plans!”
“Am I to suppose,” inquired Zagloba, “that your dignity has been
thinking also of Prince Michael?”
The vice-chancellor took from his sleeve a small book on which the
title “Censura Candidatorum” stood in large black letters, and
said, “Read, your grace; let this letter answer for me.”
Then the vice-chancellor began preparations for going; but Zagloba
detained him and said, “Permit me, your dignity, to say something
more. First of all, I thank God that the lesser seal is in hands
which can bend men like wax.”
“How is that?” asked the vice-chancellor, astonished.
“Secondly, I will tell your dignity in advance that the candidacy
of Prince Michael is greatly to my heart, for I knew his father,
and loved him and fought under him with my friends; they too will
be delighted in soul at the thought that they can show the son
that love which they had for the father. Therefore I seize at this
candidacy with both hands, and this day I will speak with Pan
Krytski,--a man of great family and my acquaintance, who is in high
consideration among the nobles, for it is difficult not to love
him. We will both do what is in our power; and God grant that we
shall effect something!”
“May the angels attend you!” said the prelate; “if you do that, we
have nothing more to say.”
“With the permission of your dignity I have to speak of one thing
more; namely, that your dignity should not think to yourself
thuswise: ‘I have put my own wishes into his mouth; I have talked
into him this idea that he has found out of his own wit the
candidacy of Prince Michael,--speaking briefly, I have twisted the
fool in my hand as if he were wax.’ Your dignity, I will advance
the cause of Prince Michael, because it is to my heart,--that is
what the case is; because, as I see, it is to the heart also of
your dignity,--that is what the case is! I will advance it for the
sake of his mother, for the sake of my friends; I will advance it
because of the confidence which I have in the head” (here Zagloba
inclined) “from which that Minerva sprang forth, but not because I
let myself be persuaded, like a little boy, that the invention is
mine; and in fine, not because I am a fool, but for the reason that
when a wise man tells me a wise thing, old Zagloba says, ‘Agreed!’”
Here the noble inclined once more. The vice-chancellor was confused
considerably at first; but seeing the good-humor of the noble and
that the affair was taking the turn so much desired, he laughed
from his whole soul, then seizing his head with both hands, he
began to repeat,--
“Ulysses! as God is dear to me, a genuine Ulysses! Lord brother,
whoso wishes to do a good thing must deal with men variously; but
with you I see it is requisite to strike the quick straightway. You
have pleased my heart immensely.”
“As Prince Michael has mine.”
“May God give you health! Ha! I am beaten, but I am glad. You must
have eaten many a starling in your youth. And this signet ring,--if
it will serve to commemorate our _colloquium_--”
“Let that ring remain in its own place,” said Zagloba.
“You will do this for me--”
“I cannot by any means. Perhaps another time--later on--after the
election.”
The vice-chancellor understood, and insisted no more; he went out,
however, with a radiant face.
Zagloba conducted him to the gate, and returning, muttered, “Ha!
I gave him a lesson! One rogue met another. But it is an honor.
Dignitaries will outrun one another in coming to these gates. I am
curious to know what the ladies think of this!”
The ladies were indeed full of admiration; and Zagloba grew to the
ceiling, especially in the eyes of Pan Michael’s sister, so that he
had barely shown himself when she exclaimed with great enthusiasm,
“You have surpassed Solomon in wisdom.”
And Zagloba was very glad. “Whom have I surpassed, do you say?
Wait, you will see hetmans, bishops, and senators here; I shall
have to escape from them or hide behind the curtains.”
Further conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Ketling.
“Ketling, do you want promotion?” cried Zagloba, still charmed with
his own significance.
“No!” answered the knight, in sadness; “for I must leave you again,
and for a long time.”
Zagloba looked at him more attentively. “How is it that you are so
cut down?”
“Just for this, that I am going away.”
“Whither?”
“I have received letters from Scotland, from old friends of my
father and myself. My affairs demand me there absolutely; perhaps
for a long time. I am grieved to part with all here--but I must.”
Zagloba, going into the middle of the room, looked at Pan Michael’s
sister, then at the young ladies, and asked, “Have you heard? In
the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!”