Volodyovski kept his word; in three weeks he finished the buildings
and sent a notable escort,--one hundred Lithuanian Tartars from
the squadron of Pan Lantskoronski and one hundred of Linkhauz’s
dragoons, who were led by Pan Snitko, of the escutcheon Hidden
Moon. The Tartars were led by Capt. Azya Mellehovich, who was
descended from Lithuanian Tartars,--a very young man, for he had
barely reached twenty and some years. He brought a letter which the
little knight had written, as follows, to his wife:--
“Baska, beloved of my heart! You may come now, for without
you it is as if without bread; and if I do not wither away
before you are here, I shall kiss your rosy face off. I am
not stingy in sending men and experienced officers; but
give priority in all to Pan Snitko, and admit him to our
society, for he is _bene natus_ (well-born), an inheritor
of land, and an officer. As to Mellehovich, he is a good
soldier, but God knows who he is. He could not become an
officer in any squadron but the Tartar, for it would be
easier elsewhere for any man to fling low birth at him. I
embrace you with all my strength; I kiss your hands and
feet. I have built a fortalice with one hundred circular
openings. We have immense chimneys. For you and me there
are several rooms in a house apart. There is an odor of
rosin everywhere, and such legions of crickets that when
they begin to chirp in the evening the dogs start up from
sleep. If we had a little pea-straw, they might be got
rid of quickly; perhaps you will have some placed in the
wagons. There was no glass to be had, so we put membrane
in the windows; but Pan Byaloglovski has a glazier in his
command among the dragoons. You can get glass in Kamenyets
from the Armenians; but, for God’s sake! let it be handled
with care to avoid breaking. I have had your room fitted
with rugs, and it has a respectable look. I have had the
robbers whom we caught in the ravines hanged, nineteen
of them; and before you come, the number will reach half
three-score. Pan Snitko will tell you how we live. I
commend you to God and the Most Holy Lady, my dear soul.”
Basia, after reading the letter, gave it to Zagloba, who, when
he had glanced over it, began at once to show more consideration
to Pan Snitko,--not so great, however, that the other should not
feel that he was speaking to a most renowned warrior and a great
personage, who admitted him to confidence only through kindness.
Moreover, Pan Snitko was a good-natured soldier, joyous and most
accurate in service, for his life had passed in the ranks. He
honored Volodyovski greatly, and in view of Zagloba’s fame he felt
small, and had no thought of exalting himself.
Mellehovich was not present at the reading of the letter, for when
he had delivered it, he went out at once, as if to look after his
men, but really from fear that they might command him to go to the
servants’ quarters.
Zagloba, however, had time to examine him; and having the words
of Pan Michael fresh in his head, he said to Snitko, “We are glad
to see you. I pray you, Pan Snitko, I know the escutcheon Hidden
Moon,--a worthy escutcheon. But this Tartar, what is his name?”
“Mellehovich.”
“But this Mellehovich looks somehow like a wolf. Michael writes
that he is a man of uncertain origin, which is a wonder, for all
our Tartars are nobles, though Mohammedans. In Lithuania I saw
whole villages inhabited by them. There people call them Lipki;
but those here are known as Cheremis. They have long served the
Commonwealth faithfully in return for their bread; but during the
time of the peasant incursion many of them went over to Hmelnitski,
and now I hear that they are beginning to communicate with the
horde. That Mellehovich looks like a wolf. Has Pan Volodyovski
known him long?”
“Since the last expedition,” said Pan Snitko, putting his feet
under the table, “when we were acting with Pan Sobieski against
Doroshenko and the horde; they went through the Ukraine.”
“Since the last expedition! I could not take part in that, for
Sobieski confided other functions to me, though later on he was
lonely without me. But your escutcheon is the Hidden Moon! From
what place is Mellehovich?”
“He says that he is a Lithuanian Tartar; but it is a wonder to me
that none of the Lithuanian Tartars knew him before, though he
serves in their squadron. From this come stories of his uncertain
origin, which his lofty manners have not been able to prevent.
But he is a good soldier, though sullen. At Bratslav and Kalnik
he rendered great service, for which the hetman made him captain,
though he was the youngest man in the squadron. The Tartars love
him greatly, but he has no consideration among us, and why? Because
he is very sullen, and, as you say, has the look of a wolf.”
“If he is a great soldier and has shed blood,” said Basia, “it is
proper to admit him to our society, which my husband in his letter
does not forbid.” Here she turned to Pan Snitko: “Does your grace
permit it?”
“I am the servant of my benefactress,” said Snitko.
Basia vanished through the door; and Zagloba, drawing a deep
breath, asked Pan Snitko, “Well, and how does the colonel’s wife
please you?”
The old soldier, instead of an answer, put his fists to his eyes,
and bending in the chair, repeated, “Ai! ai! ai!” Then he stared,
covered his mouth with his broad palm, and was silent, as if
ashamed of his own enthusiasm.
“Sweet cakes, isn’t she?” asked Zagloba.
Meanwhile “sweet cakes” appeared in the door, conducting
Mellehovich, who was as frightened as a wild bird, and saying to
him, “From my husband’s letter and from Pan Snitko we have heard
so much of your manful deeds that we are glad to know you more
intimately. We ask you to our society, and the table will be laid
presently.”
“I pray you to come nearer,” said Zagloba.
The sullen but handsome face of the young Tartar did not brighten
altogether, but it was evident that he was thankful for the good
reception, and because he was not commanded to remain in the
servants’ quarters. Basia endeavored of purpose to be kind to him,
for with a woman’s heart she guessed easily that he was suspicious
and proud, that the chagrin which beyond doubt he had to bear often
by reason of his uncertain descent pained him acutely. Not making,
therefore, between him and Snitko any difference save that enjoined
by Snitko’s riper age, she inquired of the young captain touching
those services owing to which he had received promotion at Kalnik.
Zagloba, divining Basia’s wish, spoke to him also frequently
enough; and he, though at first rather distant in bearing, gave
fitting answers, and his manners not only did not betray a vulgar
man, but were even astonishing through a certain courtliness.
“That cannot be peasant blood, for not such would the spirit be,”
thought Zagloba to himself. Then he inquired aloud, “In what parts
does your father live?”
“In Lithuania,” replied Mellehovich, blushing.
“Lithuania is a large country. That is the same as if you had said
in the Commonwealth.”
“It is not in the Commonwealth now, for those regions have fallen
away. My father has an estate near Smolensk.”
“I had considerable possessions there too, which came to me from
childless relatives; but I chose to leave them and side with the
Commonwealth.”
“I act in the same way,” said Mellehovich.
“You act honorably,” put in Basia.
But Snitko, listening to the conversation, shrugged his shoulders
slightly, as if to say, “God knows who you are, and whence you
came.”
Zagloba, noticing this, turned again to Mellehovich, “Do you
confess Christ, or do you live,--and I speak without offence,--live
in vileness?”
“I have received the Christian faith, for which reason I had to
leave my father.”
“If you have left him for that reason, the Lord God will not leave
you; and the first proof of His kindness is that you can drink
wine, which you could not do if you had remained in error.”
Snitko smiled; but questions touching his person and descent were
clearly not to the taste of Mellehovich, for he grew reserved
again. Zagloba, however, paid little attention to this, especially
since the young Tartar did not please him much, for at times he
reminded him, not by his face, it is true, but by his movements and
glance, of Bogun, the famed Cossack leader.
Meanwhile dinner was served. The rest of the day was occupied in
final preparations for the road. They started at daybreak, or
rather when it was still night, so as to arrive at Hreptyoff in one
day.
Nearly twenty wagons were collected, for Basia had determined to
supply the larders of Hreptyoff bountifully; and behind the wagons
followed camels and horses heavily laden, bending under the weight
of meal and dried meat; behind the caravan moved a number of tens
of oxen of the steppe and a flock of sheep. The march was opened
by Mellehovich with his Tartars; the dragoons rode near a covered
carriage in which sat Basia with Pan Zagloba. She wished greatly to
ride a trained palfrey; but the old noble begged her not to do so,
at least during the beginning and end of the journey.
“If you were to sit quietly,” said he, “I should not object; but
you would begin right away to make your horse prance and show
himself, and that is not proper to the dignity of the commander’s
wife.”
Basia was happy and joyous as a bird. From the time of her marriage
she had two great desires in life: one was to give Michael a son;
the other to live with the little knight, even for one year, at
some stanitsa near the Wilderness, and there, on the edge of
the desert, to lead a soldier’s life, to pass through war and
adventures, to take part in expeditions, to see with her own eyes
those steppes, to pass through those dangers of which she had heard
so much from her youngest years. She dreamed of this when still
a girl; and behold, those dreams were now to become reality, and
moreover, at the side of a man whom she loved and who was the most
famous partisan in the Commonwealth, of whom it was said that he
could dig an enemy from under the earth.
Hence the young woman felt wings on her shoulders, and such a
great joy in her breast that at moments the desire seized her to
shout and jump; but the thought of decorum restrained her, for she
had promised herself to be dignified and to win intense love from
the soldiers. She confided these thoughts to Zagloba, who smiled
approvingly and said,--
“You will be an eye in his head, and a great wonder, that is
certain. A woman in a stanitsa is a marvel.”
“And in need I will give them an example.”
“Of what?”
“Of daring. I fear only one thing,--that beyond Hreptyoff there
will be other commands in Mohiloff and Rashkoff, on to Yampol, and
that we shall not see Tartars even for medicine.”
“And I fear only this,--of course not for myself, but for
you,--that we shall see them too often. Do you think that the
chambuls are bound strictly to come through Rashkoff and Mohiloff?
They can come directly from the East, from the steppes, or by
the Moldavian side of the Dniester, and enter the boundaries of
the Commonwealth wherever they wish, even in the hills beyond
Hreptyoff, unless it is reported widely that I am living in
Hreptyoff; then they will keep aside, for they know me of old.”
“But don’t they know Michael, or won’t they avoid him?”
“They will avoid him unless they come with great power, which may
happen. But he will go to look for them himself.”
“I am sure of that. But is it a real desert in Hreptyoff? The place
is not so far away!”
“It could not be more real. That region was never thickly settled,
even in time of my youth. I went from farm to farm, from village
to village, from town to town. I knew everything, was everywhere.
I remember when Ushytsa was what is called a fortified town. Pan
Konyetspolski, the father, made me starosta there; but after that
came the invasion of the ruffians, and all went to ruin. When we
went there for Princess Helena, it was a desert; and after that
chambuls passed through it twenty times. Pan Sobieski has snatched
it again from the Cossacks and the Tartars, as a morsel from the
mouth of a dog. There are only a few people there now, but robbers
are living in the ravines.”
Here Zagloba began to look at the neighborhood and nod his head,
remembering old times. “My God!” said he, “when we were going for
Helena, it seemed to me that old age was behind my girdle; and now
I think that I was young then, for nearly twenty-four years have
passed. Michael was a milksop at that time, and had not many more
hairs on his lip than I have on my fist. And this region stands in
my memory as if the time were yesterday. Only these groves and pine
woods have grown in places deserted by tillers of the land.”
In fact, just beyond Kitaigrod they entered dense pine woods with
which at that time the region was covered for the greater part.
Here and there, however, especially around Studyenitsa, were open
fields; and then they saw the Dniester and a country stretching
forward from that side of the river to the heights, touching the
horizon on the Moldavian side. Deep ravines, the abodes of wild
beasts and wild men, intercepted their road; these ravines were at
times narrow and precipitous, at times wider, with sides gently
sloping and covered with thick brush. Mellehovich’s Tartars sank
into them carefully; and when the rear of the convoy was on the
lofty brink, the van was already, as it were, under the earth.
It came frequently to Basia and Zagloba to leave the carriage;
for though Pan Michael had cleared the road in some sort, these
passages were dangerous. At the bottom of the ravine springs
were flowing, or swift rivulets were rushing, which in spring
were swollen with water from the snow of the steppes. Though the
sun still warmed the pine woods and steppes powerfully, a harsh
cold was hidden in those stone gorges, and seized travellers on
a sudden. Pine-trees covered the rocky sides and towered on the
banks, gloomy and dark, as if desiring to screen that sunken
interior from the golden rays of the sun; but in places the edges
were broken, trees thrown in wild disorder upon one another,
branches twisted and broken into heaps, entirely dried or covered
with red leaves and spines.
“What has happened to this forest?” asked Basia of Zagloba.
“In places there may be old fellings made by the former inhabitants
against the horde, or by the ruffians against our troops; again in
places the Moldavian whirlwinds rush through the woods; in these
whirlwinds, as old people say, vampires, or real devils, fight
battles.”
“But has your grace ever seen devils fighting?”
“As to seeing, I have not seen them; but I have heard how devils
cry to each other for amusement, ‘U-há! U-há!’ Ask Michael; he has
heard them.”
Basia, though daring, feared evil spirits somewhat, therefore she
began to make the sign of the cross at once. “A terrible place!”
said she.
And really in some ravines it was terrible; for it was not only
dark, but forbidding. The wind was not blowing; the leaves and
branches of trees made no rustle; there was heard only the tramp
and snorting of horses, the squeak of wagons, and cries uttered
by drivers in the most dangerous places. At times too, the
Tartars or dragoons began to sing; but the desert itself was not
enlivened with one sound of man or beast. If the ravines made a
gloomy impression, the upper country, even where the pine woods
extended, was unfolded joyously before the eyes of the caravan.
The weather was autumnal, calm. The sun moved along the plain of
heaven, unspotted by a cloud, pouring bountiful rays on the rocks,
on the fields and the forest. In that gleam the pine-trees seemed
ruddy and golden; and the spider-webs attached to the branches
of trees, to the reeds and the grass, shone brightly, as if they
were woven from sunbeams. October had come to the middle of its
days; therefore, many birds, especially those sensitive to cold,
had begun to pass from the Commonwealth to the Black Sea; in the
heavens were to be seen rows of storks flying with piercing cries,
geese, and flocks of teal.
Here and there floated high in the blue, on outspread wings,
eagles, terrible to inhabitants of the air; here and there falcons,
eager for prey, were describing circles slowly. But there were not
lacking, especially in the open fields, those birds also which
keep to the earth, and hide gladly in tall grass. Every little
while flocks of rust-colored partridges flew noisily from under the
steeds of the Tartars; a number of times also Basia saw, though
from a distance, bustards standing on watch, at sight of which her
cheeks flushed, and her eyes began to glitter.
“I will go coursing with Michael!” cried she, clapping her hands.
“If your husband were a sitter at home,” said Zagloba, “his beard
would be gray soon from such a wife; but I knew to whom I gave you.
Another woman would be thankful at least, wouldn’t she?”
Basia kissed Zagloba straightway on both cheeks, so that he was
moved and said, “Loving hearts are as dear to a man in old age as
a warm place behind the stove.” Then he was thoughtful for a while
and added, “It is a wonder how I have loved the fair sex all my
life; and if I had to say why, I know not myself, for often they
are bad and deceitful and giddy. But because they are as helpless
as children, if an injustice strikes one of them, a man’s heart
pipes from pity. Embrace me again, or not!”
Basia would have been glad to embrace the whole world; therefore
she satisfied Zagloba’s wish at once, and they drove on in
excellent humor. They went slowly, for the oxen, going behind,
could not travel faster, and it was dangerous to leave them in
the midst of those forests with a small number of men. As they
drew near Ushytsa, the country became more uneven, the desert more
lonely, and the ravines deeper. Every little while something was
injured in the wagons, and sometimes the horses were stubborn;
considerable delays took place through this cause. The old road,
which led once to Mohiloff, was grown over with forests during
twenty years, so that traces of it could barely be seen here and
there; consequently they had to keep to the trails beaten by
earlier and later passages of troops, hence frequently misleading,
and also very difficult. The journey did not pass either without
accident.
On the slope of a ravine the horse stumbled under Mellehovich,
riding at the head of the Tartars, and fell to the stony bottom,
not without injury to the rider, who cut the crown of his head so
severely that consciousness left him for a time. Basia and Zagloba
mounted led palfreys; and Basia gave command to put the Tartar in
the carriage and drive carefully. Afterward she stopped the march
at every spring, and with her own hands bound his head with cloths
wet with cold spring-water. He lay for a time with closed eyes, but
opened them at last; and when Basia bent over him and asked how he
felt, instead of an answer he seized her hand and pressed it to his
white lips. Only after a pause, as if collecting his thoughts and
presence of mind, did he say in Russian,--
“Oh, I am well, as I have not been for a long time.”
The whole day passed in a march of this kind. The sun, growing red
at last and seeming immense, was descending on the Moldavian side;
the Dnieper was gleaming like a fiery ribbon, and from the east,
from the Wilderness, darkness was moving on slowly.
Hreptyoff was not far away, but it was necessary to give rest to
the horses, therefore they stopped for a considerable halt. This
and that dragoon began to chant prayers; the Tartars dismounted,
spread sheepskins on the ground, and fell to praying on their
knees, with faces turned eastward. At times “Allah! Allah!” sounded
through all the ranks; then again they were quiet; holding their
palms turned upward near their faces, they continued in attentive
prayer, repeating only from time to time drowsily and as if with a
sigh, “Lohichmen ah lohichmen!” The rays of the sun fell on them
redder and redder; a breeze came from the west, and with it a great
rustling in the trees, as if they wished to honor before night Him
who brings out on the dark heavens thousands of glittering stars.
Basia looked with great curiosity at the praying of the Tartars;
but at the thought that so many good men, after lives full of toil,
would go straightway after death to hell’s fire, her heart was
oppressed, especially since they, though they met people daily who
professed the true faith, remained of their own will in hardness of
heart.
Zagloba, more accustomed to those things, only shrugged his
shoulders at the pious considerations of Basia, and said, “These
sons of goats are not admitted to heaven, lest they might take with
them vile insects.”
Then, with the assistance of his attendant, he put on a coat
lined with hanging threads,--an excellent defence against evening
cold,--and gave command to move on; but barely had the march begun
when on the opposite heights five horsemen appeared. The Tartars
opened ranks at once.
“Michael!” cried Basia, seeing the man riding in front.
It was indeed Volodyovski, who had come out with a few horsemen
to meet his wife. Springing forward, they greeted each other with
great joy, and then began to tell what had happened to each.
Basia related how the journey had passed, and how Pan Mellehovich
had “sprained his reason[17] against a stone.” The little knight
made a report of his activity in Hreptyoff, in which, as he stated,
everything was ready and waiting to receive her, for five hundred
axes had been working for three weeks on buildings. During this
conversation Pan Michael bent from the saddle every little while,
and seized his young wife in his arms; she, it was clear, was not
very angry at that, for she rode at his side there so closely that
the horses were nearly rubbing against each other.
The end of the journey was not distant; meanwhile a beautiful
night came down, illuminated by a great golden moon. But the moon
grew paler as it rose from the steppes to the sky, and at last its
shining was darkened by a conflagration which blazed up brightly in
front of the caravan.
“What is that?” inquired Basia.
“You will see,” said Volodyovski, “as soon as you have passed that
forest which divides us from Hreptyoff.”
“Is that Hreptyoff already?”
“You would see it as a thing on your palm, but the trees hide it.”
They rode into a small forest; but they had not ridden halfway
through it when a swarm of lights appeared on the other edge like
a swarm of fireflies, or glittering stars. Those stars began to
approach with amazing rapidity; and suddenly the whole forest was
quivering with shouts,--
“Vivat the lady! Vivat her great mightiness! vivat our commandress!
vivat, vivat!”
These were soldiers who had hastened to greet Basia. Hundreds of
them mingled in one moment with the Tartars. Each held on a long
pole a burning taper, fixed in a split at the end of the pole.
Some had iron candlesticks on pikes, from which burning rosin was
falling in the form of long fiery tears.
Basia was surrounded quickly with throngs of mustached faces,
threatening, somewhat wild, but radiant with joy. The greater
number of them had never seen Basia in their lives; many expected
to meet an imposing person; hence their delight was all the greater
at sight of that lady, almost a child in appearance, who was riding
on a white palfrey and bent in thanks to every side her wonderful,
rosy face, small and joyous, but at the same time greatly excited
by the unlooked-for reception.
“I thank you, gentlemen,” said she; “I know that this is not for
me.” But her silvery voice was lost in the _vivats_, and the forest
was trembling from shouts.
The officers from the squadron of the starosta of Podolia and the
chamberlain of Premysl, Motovidlo’s Cossacks and the Tartars,
mingled together. Each wished to see the lady commandress, to
approach her; some of the most urgent kissed the edge of her skirt
or her foot in the stirrup. For these half-wild partisans, inured
to raids and man-hunting, to bloodshed and slaughter, that was a
sight so unusual, so new, that in presence of it their hard hearts
were moved, and some kind of feeling, new and unknown to them, was
roused in their breasts. They came to meet her out of love for Pan
Michael, wishing to give him pleasure, and perhaps to flatter him;
and behold! sudden tenderness seizes them. That smiling, sweet,
and innocent face, with gleaming eyes and distended nostrils,
became dear to them in one moment. “That is our child!” cried old
Cossacks, real wolves of the steppe. “A cherub, Pan Commander.”
“She is a morning dawn! a dear flower!” shouted the officers. “We
will fall, one after another, for her!” And the Tartars, clicking
with their tongues, put their palms to their broad breasts and
cried, “Allah! Allah!” Volodyovski was greatly touched, but glad;
he put his hands on his hips and was proud of his Basia.
Shouts were heard continually. At last the caravan came out of the
forest, and before the eyes of the newly arrived appeared firm
wooden buildings, erected in a circle on high ground. That was the
stanitsa of Hreptyoff, as clearly seen then as in daylight, for
inside the stockade enormous piles were burning, on which whole
logs had been thrown. The square was full of fires, but smaller, so
as not to burn up the place. The soldiers quenched their torches;
then each drew from his shoulder, one a musket, another a gun, a
third a pistol, and thundered in greeting to the lady. Musicians
came too in front of the stockade: the starosta’s band with crooked
horns, the Cossacks with trumpets, drums, and various stringed
instruments, and at last the Tartars, pre-eminent for squeaking
pipes. The barking of the garrison dogs and the bellowing of
terrified cattle added still to the uproar.
The convoy remained now in the rear, and in front rode Basia,
having on one side her husband, and on the other Zagloba. Over
the gate, beautifully ornamented with birch boughs, stood black,
on membranes of bladder smeared with tallow and lighted from the
inside, the inscription:--
“May Cupid give you many happy moments!
Dear guests, _crescite, multiplicamini!_”
“Vivant, floreant!” cried the soldiers, when the little knight and
Basia halted to read the inscription.
“For God’s sake!” said Zagloba, “I’m a guest too; but if that wish
for multiplication concerns me, may the crows pluck me if I know
what to do with it.”
But Pan Zagloba found a special transparency intended for himself,
and with no small pleasure he read on it,--
“Long live our great mighty Onufry Zagloba,
The highest ornament of the whole knighthood!”
Pan Michael was very joyful; the officers were invited to sup with
him; and for the soldiers he gave command to roll out one and
another keg of spirits. A number of bullocks fell also; these the
men began at once to roast at the fires. They sufficed for all
abundantly. Long into the night the stanitsa was thundering with
shouts and musket-shots, so that fear seized the bands of robbers
hidden in the ravines of Ushytsa.