Mellehovich was regaining health slowly; but because he had taken
no part in expeditions and was sitting confined to his room, no
one was thinking of the man. All at once an incident turned the
attention of all to him.
Pan Motovidlo’s Cossacks seized a Tartar lurking near the stanitsa
in a certain strange manner, and brought him to Hreptyoff. After
a strict examination it came out that he was a Lithuanian Tartar,
but of those who, deserting their service and residence in the
Commonwealth, had gone under the power of the Sultan. He came
from beyond the Dniester, and had a letter from Krychinski to
Mellehovich.
Pan Michael was greatly disturbed at this, and called the officers
to council immediately. “Gracious gentlemen,” said he, “you know
well how many Tartars, even of those who have lived for years
immemorial in Lithuania and here in Russia, have gone over recently
to the horde, repaying the Commonwealth for its kindness with
treason. Therefore we should not trust any one of them too much,
and should follow their acts with watchful eye. We have here too
a small Tartar squadron, numbering one hundred and fifty good
horse, led by Mellehovich. I do not know this Mellehovich from
of old; I know only this, that the hetman has made him captain
for eminent services, and sent him here with his men. It was a
wonder to me, too, that no one of you gentlemen knew him before
his entrance into service, or heard of him. This fact, that our
Tartars love him greatly and obey him blindly, I explained by his
bravery and famous deeds; but even they do not know whence he is,
nor who he is. Relying on the recommendation of the hetman, I have
not suspected him of anything hitherto, nor have I examined him,
though he shrouds himself in a certain secrecy. People have various
fancies; and this is nothing to me, if each man performs his own
duty. But, you see, Pan Motovidlo’s men have captured a Tartar who
was bringing a letter from Krychinski to Mellehovich; and I do not
know whether you are aware, gentlemen, who Krychinski is?”
“Of course!” said Pan Nyenashinyets. “I know Krychinski personally,
and all know him now from his evil fame.”
“We were at school together--” began Pan Zagloba; but he stopped
suddenly, remembering that in such an event Krychinski must be
ninety years old, and at that age men were not usually fighting.
“Speaking briefly,” continued the little knight, “Krychinski is a
Polish Tartar. He was a colonel of one of our Tartar squadrons;
then he betrayed his country and went over to the Dobrudja horde,
where he has, as I hear, great significance, for there they hope
evidently that he will bring over the rest of the Tartars to the
Pagan side. With such a man Mellehovich has entered into relations,
the best proof of which is this letter, the tenor of which is as
follows.” Here the little knight unfolded the letter, struck the
top of it with his hand, and began to read:--
BROTHER GREATLY BELOVED OF MY SOUL,--Your messenger came to
us and delivered--
“He writes Polish?” interrupted Zagloba.
“Krychinski, like all our Tartars, knows only Russian and Polish,”
said the little knight; “and Mellehovich also will surely not gnaw
in Tartar. Listen, gentlemen, without interruption.”
--and delivered your letter. May God bring about that all
will be well, and that you will accomplish what you desire!
We take counsel here often with Moravski, Aleksandrovich,
Tarasovski, and Groholski, and write to other brothers,
taking their advice too, touching the means through which
that which you desire may come to pass most quickly. News
came to us of how you suffered loss of health; therefore
I send a man to see you with his eyes and bring us
consolation. Maintain the secret carefully, for God forbid
that it should be known prematurely! May God make your race
as numerous as stars in the sky!
KRYCHINSKI.
Volodyovski finished, and began to cast his eyes around on those
present; and since they kept unbroken silence, evidently weighing
the gist of the letter with care, he said: “Tarasovski, Moravski,
Groholski, and Aleksandrovich are all former Tartar captains, and
traitors.”
“So are Poturzynski, Tvorovski, and Adurovich,” added Pan Snitko.
“Gentlemen, what do you say of this letter?”
“Open treason! there is nothing here upon which to deliberate,”
said Pan Mushalski. “He is simply conspiring with Mellehovich to
take our Tartars over to their side.”
“For God’s sake! what a danger to our command!” cried a number of
voices. “Our Tartars too would give their souls for Mellehovich;
and if he orders them, they will attack us in the night.”
“The blackest treason under the sun!” cried Pan Deyma.
“And the hetman himself made that Mellehovich a captain!” said Pan
Mushalski.
“Pan Snitko,” said Zagloba, “what did I say when I looked at
Mellehovich? Did I not tell you that a renegade and a traitor were
looking with the eyes of that man? Ha! it was enough for me to
glance at him. He might deceive all others, but not me. Repeat my
words, Pan Snitko, but do not change them. Did I not say that he
was a traitor?”
Pan Snitko thrust his feet back under the bench and bent his head
forward, “In truth, the penetration of your grace is to be wondered
at; but what is true, is true. I do not remember that your grace
called him a traitor. Your grace said only that he looked out of
his eyes like a wolf.”
“Ha! then you maintain that a dog is a traitor, and a wolf is not a
traitor; that a wolf does not bite the hand which fondles him and
gives him to eat? Then a dog is a traitor? Perhaps you will defend
Mellehovich yet, and make traitors of all the rest of us?”
Confused in this manner, Pan Snitko opened his eyes and mouth
widely, and was so astonished that he could not utter a word for
some time.
Meanwhile Pan Mushalski, who formed opinions quickly, said at once,
“First of all, we should thank the Lord God for discovering such
infamous intrigues, and then send six dragoons with Mellehovich to
put a bullet in his head.”
“And appoint another captain,” added Nyenashinyets. “The reason is
so evident that there can be no mistake.”
To which Pan Michael added: “First, it is necessary to examine
Mellehovich, and then to inform the hetman of these intrigues, for
as Pan Bogush from Zyembitse told me, the Lithuanian Tartars are
very dear to the marshal of the kingdom.”
“But, your grace,” said Pan Motovidlo, “a general inquiry will be a
favor to Mellehovich, since he has never before been an officer.”
“I know my authority,” said Volodyovski, “and you need not remind
me of it.”
Then the others began to exclaim, “Let such a son stand before our
eyes, that traitor, that betrayer!”
The loud calls roused Zagloba, who had been dozing somewhat; this
happened to him now continually. He recalled quickly the subject of
the conversation and said: “No, Pan Snitko; the moon is hidden in
your escutcheon, but your wit is hidden still better, for no one
could find it with a candle. To say that a dog, a faithful dog, is
a traitor, and a wolf is not a traitor! Permit me, you have used up
your wit altogether.”
Pan Snitko raised his eyes to heaven to show how he was
suffering innocently, but he did not wish to offend the old man
by contradiction; besides, Volodyovski commanded him to go for
Mellehovich; he went out, therefore, in haste, glad to escape
in that way. He returned soon, conducting the young Tartar,
who evidently knew nothing yet of the seizure of Krychinski’s
messenger. His dark and handsome face had become very pale, but he
was in health and did not even bind his head with a kerchief; he
merely covered it with a Crimean cap of red velvet. The eyes of all
were as intent on him as on a rainbow; he inclined to the little
knight rather profoundly, and then to the company rather haughtily.
“Mellehovich!” said Volodyovski, fixing on the Tartar his quick
glance, “do you know Colonel Krychinski?”
A sudden and threatening shadow flew over the face of Mellehovich.
“I know him!”
“Read,” said the little knight, giving him the letter found on the
messenger.
Mellehovich began to read; but before he had finished, calmness
returned to his face. “I await your order,” said he, returning the
letter.
“How long have you been plotting treason, and what confederates
have you?”
“Am I accused, then, of treason?”
“Answer; do not inquire,” said the little knight, threateningly.
“Then I will give this answer: I have plotted no treason; I have no
confederates; or if I have, gentlemen, they are men whom you will
not judge.”
Hearing this, the officers gritted their teeth, and straightway a
number of threatening voices called, “More submissively, dog’s son,
more submissively! You are standing before your betters!”
Thereupon Mellehovich surveyed them with a glance in which cold
hatred was glittering. “I am aware of what I owe to the commandant,
as my chief,” said he, bowing a second time to Volodyovski. “I know
that I am held inferior by you, gentlemen, and I do not seek your
society. Your grace” (here he turned to the little knight) “has
asked me of confederates; I have two in my work: one is Pan Bogush,
under-stolnik of Novgrod, and the other is the grand hetman of the
kingdom.”
When they heard these words, all were astonished greatly, and for a
time there was silence; at last Pan Michael inquired, “In what way?”
“In this way,” answered Mellehovich; “Krychinski, Moravski,
Tvorovski, Aleksandrovich, and all the others went to the horde
and have done much harm to the country; but they did not find
fortune in their new service. Perhaps too their consciences are
moved; it is enough that the title of traitor is bitter to them.
The hetman is well aware of this, and has commissioned Pan Bogush,
and also Pan Myslishevski, to bring them back to the banner of
the Commonwealth. Pan Bogush has employed me in this mission, and
commanded me to come to an agreement with Krychinski. I have at my
quarters letters from Pan Bogush which your grace will believe more
quickly than my words.”
“Go with Pan Snitko for those letters and bring them at once.”
Mellehovich went out.
“Gracious gentlemen,” said the little knight, quickly,
“we have offended this soldier greatly through over-hasty
judgment; for if he has those letters, he tells the truth,
and I begin to think that he has them. Then he is not
only a cavalier famous through military exploits, but a
man sensitive to the good of the country, and reward, not
unjust judgments, should meet him for that. As God lives!
this must be corrected at once.”
The others were sunk in silence, not knowing what to say; but
Zagloba closed his eyes, feigning sleep this time.
Meanwhile Mellehovich returned and gave the little knight Bogush’s
letter. Volodyovski read as follows:--
“I hear from all sides that there is no one more fitted
than you for such a service, and this by reason of the
wonderful love which those men bear to you. The hetman is
ready to forgive them, and promises forgiveness from the
Commonwealth. Communicate with Krychinski as frequently as
possible through reliable people, and promise him a reward.
Guard the secret carefully, for if not, as God lives, you
would destroy them all. You may divulge the affair to Pan
Volodyovski, for your chief can aid you greatly. Do not
spare toil and effort, seeing that the end crowns the work,
and be certain that our mother will reward your good-will
with love equal to it.”
“Behold my reward!” muttered the young Tartar, gloomily.
“By the dear God! why did you not mention a word of this to any
one?” cried Pan Michael.
“I wished to tell all to your grace, but I had no opportunity,
for I was ill after that accident. Before their graces” (here
Mellehovich turned to the officers) “I had a secret which I was
prohibited from telling; this prohibition your grace will certainly
enjoin on them now, so as not to ruin those other men.”
“The proofs of your virtue are so evident that a blind man could
not deny them,” said the little knight. “Continue the affair with
Krychinski. You will have no hindrance in this, but aid, in proof
of which I give you my hand as to an honorable cavalier. Come to
sup with me this evening.”
Mellehovich pressed the hand extended to him, and inclined for
the third time. From the corners of the room other officers moved
toward him, saying, “We did not know you; but whoso loves virtue
will not withdraw his hand from you to-day.”
But the young Tartar straightened himself suddenly, pushed his head
back like a bird of prey ready to strike, and said, “I am standing
before my betters.” Then he went out of the room.
It was noisy after his exit. “It is not to be wondered at,” said
the officers among themselves; “his heart is indignant yet at the
injustice, but that will pass. We must treat him differently. He
has real knightly mettle in him. The hetman knew what he was doing.
Miracles are happening; well, well!”
Pan Snitko was triumphing in silence; at last he could not restrain
himself and said, “Permit me, your grace, but that wolf was not a
traitor.”
“Not a traitor?” retorted Zagloba. “He was a traitor, but a
virtuous one, for he betrayed not us, but the horde. Do not lose
hope, Pan Snitko; I will pray to-day for your wit, and perhaps the
Holy Ghost will have mercy.”
Basia was greatly comforted when Zagloba related the whole affair
to her, for she had good-will and compassion for Mellehovich.
“Michael and I must go,” said she, “on the first dangerous
expedition with him, for in this way we shall show our confidence
most thoroughly.”
But the little knight began to stroke Basia’s rosy face and said,
“O suffering fly, I know you! With you it is not a question of
Mellehovich, but you would like to buzz off to the steppe and
engage in a battle. Nothing will come of that!”
“Mulier insidiosa est (woman is insidious)!” said Zagloba, with
gravity.
At this time Mellehovich was sitting in his own room with the
Tartar messenger and speaking in a whisper. The two sat so near
each other that they were almost forehead to forehead. A taper of
mutton-tallow was burning on the table, casting yellow light on
the face of Mellehovich, which, in spite of its beauty, was simply
terrible; there were depicted on it hatred, cruelty, and a savage
delight.
“Halim, listen!” whispered Mellehovich.
“Effendi,” answered the messenger.
“Tell Krychinski that he is wise, for in the letter there was
nothing that could harm me; tell him that he is wise. Let him never
write more clearly. They will trust me now still more, all of them,
the hetman himself, Bogush, Myslishevski, the command here,--all!
Do you hear? May the plague stifle them!”
“I hear, Effendi.”
“But I must be in Rashkoff first, and then I will return to this
place.”
“Effendi, young Novoveski will recognize you.”
“He will not. He saw me at Kalnik, at Bratslav, and did not know
me. He will look at me, wrinkle his brows, but will not recognize
me. He was fifteen years old when I ran away from the house. Eight
times has winter covered the steppes since that hour. I have
changed. The old man would know me, but the young one will not know
me. I will notify you from Rashkoff. Let Krychinski be ready, and
hold himself in the neighborhood. You must have an understanding
with the perkulabs. In Yampol, also, is our squadron. I will
persuade Bogush to get an order from the hetman for me, that it
will be easier for me to act on Krychinski from that place. But I
must return hither,--I must! I do not know what will happen, how I
shall manage. Fire burns me; in the night sleep flies from me. Had
it not been for her, I should have died.”
Mellehovich’s lips began to quiver; and bending still again to the
messenger, he whispered, as if in a fever, “Halim, blessed be her
hands, blessed her head, blessed the earth on which she walks! Do
you hear, Halim? Tell them there that through her I am well.”