Independent detachments, occupied in robbery on both banks of the
Dniester, were made up of men of all nationalities inhabiting
the neighboring countries. Runaway Tartars from the Dobrudja
and Belgrod hordes, wilder still and braver than their Crimean
brethren, always preponderated in them; but there were not lacking
either Wallachians, Cossacks, Hungarians, Polish domestics escaped
from stanitsas on the banks of the Dniester. They ravaged now on
the Polish, now on the Moldavian side, crossing and recrossing
the boundary river, as they were hunted by the perkulab’s forces
or by the commandants of the Commonwealth. They had their almost
inaccessible hiding-places in ravines, forests, and caves. The
main object of their attacks was the herds of cattle and horses
belonging to the stanitsas; these herds did not leave the steppes
even in winter, seeking sustenance for themselves under the snow.
But, besides, the robbers attacked villages, hamlets, settlements,
smaller commands, Polish and even Turkish merchants, intermediaries
going with ransom to the Crimea. These bands had their own order
and their leaders, but they joined forces rarely. It happened often
even that larger bands cut down smaller ones. They had increased
greatly everywhere in the Russian regions, especially since the
time of the Cossack wars, when safety of every kind vanished in
those parts. The bands on the Dniester, reinforced by fugitives
from the horde, were peculiarly terrible. Some appeared numbering
five hundred. Their leaders took the title of “bey.” They ravaged
the country in a manner thoroughly Tartar, and more than once
the commandants themselves did not know whether they had to do
with bandits or with advance chambuls of the whole horde. Against
mounted troops, especially the cavalry of the Commonwealth, these
bands could not stand in the open field; but, caught in a trap,
they fought desperately, knowing well that if taken captive the
halter was waiting for them. Their arms were various. Bows and guns
were lacking them, which, however, were of little use in night
attacks. The greater part were armed with daggers and Turkish
yataghans, sling-shots, Tartar sabres, and with horse-skulls
fastened to oak clubs with cords. This last weapon, in strong
hands, did terrible service, for it smashed every sabre. Some had
very long forks pointed with iron, some spears; these in sudden
emergencies they used against cavalry.
The band which had halted at Sirotski Brod must have been numerous
or must have been in extreme peril on the Moldavian side, since
it had ventured to approach the command at Hreptyoff, in spite
of the terror which the name alone of Pan Volodyovski roused in
the robbers on both sides of the boundary. In fact, another party
brought intelligence that it was composed of more than four hundred
men, under the leadership of Azba Bey, a famous ravager, who for
a number of years had filled the Polish and Moldavian banks with
terror.
Pan Volodyovski was delighted when he knew with whom he had to
do, and issued proper orders at once. Besides Mellehovich and Pan
Motovidlo, the squadron of the starosta of Podolia went, and that
of the under-stolnik of Premysl. They set out in the night, and, as
it were, in different directions; for as fishermen who cast their
nets widely, in order afterward to meet at one opening, so those
squadrons, marching in a broad circle, were to meet at Sirotski
Brod about dawn.
Basia assisted with beating heart at the departure of the troops,
since this was to be her first expedition; and the heart rose
in her at sight of those old wolves of the steppe. They went so
quietly that in the fortalice itself it was possible not to hear
them: the bridle-bits did not rattle; stirrup did not strike
against stirrup, sabre against sabre; not a horse neighed. The
night was calm and unusually bright. The full moon lighted clearly
the heights of the stanitsa and the steppe, which was somewhat
inclined toward every side; still, barely had a squadron left the
stockade, barely had it glittered with silver sparks, which the
moon marked on the sabres, when it had vanished from the eye like
a flock of partridges into waves of grass. It seemed to Basia that
they were sportsmen setting out on some hunt, which was to begin at
daybreak, and were going therefore quietly and carefully, so as not
to rouse the game too early. Hence great desire entered her heart
to take part in that hunt.
Pan Michael did not oppose this, for Zagloba had inclined him to
consent. He knew besides that it was necessary to gratify Basia’s
wish sometime; he preferred therefore to do it at once, especially
since the ravagers were not accustomed to bows and muskets. But
they moved only three hours after the departure of the first
squadrons, for Pan Michael had thus planned the whole affair. Pan
Mushalski, with twenty of Linkhauz’s dragoons and a sergeant, went
with them,--all Mazovians, choice men, behind whose sabres the
charming wife of the commandant was as safe as in her husband’s
room.
Basia herself, having to ride on a man’s saddle, was dressed
accordingly; she wore pearl-colored velvet trousers, very wide,
looking like a petticoat, and thrust into yellow morocco boots; a
gray overcoat lined with white Crimean sheepskin and embroidered
ornamentally at the seams; she carried a silver cartridge-box,
of excellent work, a light Turkish sabre on a silk pendant, and
pistols in her holsters. Her head was covered with a cap, having a
crown of Venetian velvet, adorned with a heron-feather, and bound
with a rim of lynx-skin; from under the cap looked forth a bright
rosy face, almost childlike, and two eyes curious and gleaming like
coals.
Thus equipped, and sitting on a chestnut pony, swift and gentle
as a deer, she seemed a hetman’s child, who, under guard of old
warriors, was going to take the first lesson. They were astonished
too at her figure. Pan Zagloba and Pan Mushalski nudged each other
with their elbows, each kissing his hand from time to time, in
sign of unusual homage for Basia; both of them, together with Pan
Michael, allayed her fear as to their late departure.
“You do not know war,” said the little knight, “and therefore
reproach us with wishing to take you to the place when the battle
is over. Some squadrons go directly; others must make a detour,
so as to cut off the roads, and then they will join the others in
silence, taking the enemy in a trap. We shall be there in time, and
without us nothing will begin, for every hour is reckoned.”
“But if the enemy takes alarm and escapes between the squadrons?”
“He is cunning and watchful, but such a war is no novelty to us.”
“Trust in Michael,” cried Zagloba; “for there is not a man of
more practice than he. Their evil fate sent those bullock-drivers
hither.”
“In Lubni I was a youth,” said Pan Michael; “and even then they
committed such duties to me. Now, wishing to show you this
spectacle, I have disposed everything with still greater care.
The squadrons will appear before the enemy together, will shout
together, and gallop against the robbers together, as if some one
had cracked a whip.”
“I! I!” piped Basia, with delight; and standing in the stirrups,
she caught the little knight by the neck. “But may I gallop, too?
What, Michael, what?” asked she, with sparkling eyes.
“Into the throng I will not let you go, for in the throng an
accident is easy, not to mention this,--that your horse might
stumble; but I have ordered to give rein to our horses immediately
the band driven against us is scattered, and then you may cut down
two or three men, and attack always on the left side, for in that
way it will be awkward for the fugitive to strike across his horse
at you, while you will have him under your hand.”
“Ho! ho! never fear. You said yourself that I work with the sabre
far better than Uncle Makovetski; let no one give me advice!”
“Remember to hold the bridle firmly,” put in Zagloba. “They have
their methods; and it may be that when you are chasing, the
fugitive will turn his horse suddenly and stop, then before you can
pass, he may strike you. A veteran never lets his horse out too
much, but reins him in as he wishes.”
“And never raise your sabre too high, lest you be exposed to a
thrust,” said Pan Mushalski.
“I shall be near her to guard against accident,” said the little
knight. “You see, in battle the whole difficulty is in this, that
you must think of all things at once,--of your horse, of the
enemy, of your bridle, the sabre, the blow, and the thrust, all
at one time. For him who is trained this comes of itself; but at
first even renowned fencers are frequently awkward, and any common
fellow, if in practice, will unhorse a new man more skilled than
himself. Therefore I will be at your side.”
“But do not rescue me, and give command to the men that no one is
to rescue me without need.”
“Well, well! we shall see yet what your courage will be when it
comes to a trial,” answered the little knight, laughing.
“Or if you will not seize one of us by the skirts,” finished
Zagloba.
“We shall see!” said Basia, with indignation.
Thus conversing, they entered a place covered here and there with
thicket. The hour was not far from daybreak, but it had become
darker, for the moon had gone down. A light fog had begun to rise
from the ground and conceal distant objects. In that light fog and
gloom, the indistinct thickets at a distance took the forms of
living creatures in the excited imagination of Basia. More than
once it seemed to her that she saw men and horses clearly.
“Michael, what is that?” asked she, whispering, and pointing with
her finger.
“Nothing; bushes.”
“I thought it was horsemen. Shall we be there soon?”
“The affair will begin in something like an hour and a half.”
“Ha!”
“Are you afraid?”
“No; but my heart beats with great desire. I, fear! Nothing and
nothing! See, what hoar-frost lies there! It is visible in the
dark.”
In fact, they were riding along a strip of country on which the
long dry stems of steppe-grass were covered with hoar-frost. Pan
Michael looked and said,--
“Motovidlo has passed this way. He must be hidden not more than a
couple of miles distant. It is dawning already!”
In fact, day was breaking. The gloom was decreasing. The sky and
earth were becoming gray; the air was growing pale; the tops of
the trees and the bushes were becoming covered, as it were, with
silver. The farther clumps began to disclose themselves, as if some
one were raising a curtain from before them one after another.
Meanwhile from the next clump a horseman came out suddenly.
“From Pan Motovidlo?” asked Volodyovski, when the Cossack stopped
right before them.
“Yes, your grace.”
“What is to be heard?”
“They crossed Sirotski Brod, turned toward the bellowing of the
bullocks, and went in the direction of Kalusik. They took the
cattle, and are at Yurgove Polye.”
“And where is Pan Motovidlo?”
“He has stopped near the hill, and Pan Mellehovich neat Kalusik.
Where the other squadrons are I know not.”
“Well,” said Volodyovski, “I know. Hurry to Pan Motovidlo and carry
the command to close in, and dispose men singly as far as halfway
from Pan Mellehovich. Hurry!”
The Cossack bent in the saddle and shot forward, so that the flanks
of his horse quivered at once, and soon he was out of sight. They
rode on still more quietly, still more cautiously. Meanwhile it had
become clear day. The haze which had risen from the earth about
dawn fell away altogether, and on the eastern side of the sky
appeared a long streak, bright and rosy, the rosiness and light of
which began to color the air on high land, the edges of distant
ravines, and the hill-tops. Then there came to the ears of the
horsemen a mingled croaking from the direction of the Dniester; and
high in the air before them appeared, flying eastward, an immense
flock of ravens. Single birds separated every moment from the
others, and instead of flying forward directly began to describe
circles, as kites and falcons do when seeking for prey. Pan Zagloba
raised his sabre, pointing the tip of it to the ravens, and said to
Basia,--
“Admire the sense of these birds. Only let it come to a battle in
any place, straightway they will fly in from every side, as if
some one had shaken them from a bag. But let the same army march
alone, or go out to meet friends, the birds will not come; thus are
these creatures able to divine the intentions of men, though no
one assists them. The wisdom of nostrils is not sufficient in this
case, and so we have reason to wonder.”
Meanwhile the birds, croaking louder and louder, approached
considerably; therefore Pan Mushalski turned to the little knight
and said, striking his palm on the bow, “Pan Commandant, will it be
forbidden to bring down one, to please the lady? It will make no
noise.”
“Bring down even two,” said Volodyovski, seeing how the old soldier
had the weakness of showing the certainty of his arrows.
Thereupon the incomparable bowman, reaching behind his shoulder,
took out a feathered arrow, put it on the string, and raising the
bow and his head, waited.
The flock was drawing nearer and nearer. All reined in their horses
and looked with curiosity toward the sky. All at once the plaintive
wheeze of the string was heard, like the twitter of a sparrow; and
the arrow, rushing forth, vanished near the flock. For a while it
might be thought that Mushalski had missed, but, behold, a bird
reeled head downward, and was dropping straight toward the ground
over their heads, then tumbling continually, approached nearer and
nearer; at last it began to fall with outspread wings, like a leaf
opposing the air. Soon it fell a few steps in front of Basia’s
pony. The arrow had gone through the raven, so that the point was
gleaming above the bird’s back.
“As a lucky omen,” said Mushalski, bowing to Basia, “I will have
an eye from a distance on the lady commandress and my great
benefactress; and if there is a sudden emergency, God grant me
again to send out a fortunate arrow. Though it may buzz near by, I
assure you that it will not wound.”
“I should not like to be the Tartar under your aim,” answered Basia.
Further conversation was interrupted by Volodyovski, who said,
pointing to a considerable eminence some furlongs away, “We will
halt there.”
After these words they moved forward at a trot. Halfway up, the
little knight commanded them to lessen their pace, and at last, not
far from the top, he held in his horse.
“We will not go to the very top,” said he, “for on such a bright
morning the eye might catch us from a distance; but dismounting, we
will approach the summit, so that a few heads may look over.”
When he had said this, he sprang from his horse, and after him
Basia, Pan Mushalski, and a number of others. The dragoons remained
below the summit, holding their horses; but the others pushed on to
where the height descended in wall form, almost perpendicularly, to
the valley. At the foot of this wall, which was a number of tens of
yards in height, grew a somewhat dense, narrow strip of brushwood,
and farther on extended a low level steppe; of this they were able
to take in an enormous expanse with their eyes from the height.
This plain, cut through by a small stream running in the direction
of Kalusik, was covered with clumps of thicket in the same way that
it was near the cliff. In the thickest clumps slender columns of
smoke were rising to the sky.
“Yon see,” said Pan Michael to Basia, “that the enemy is hidden
there.”
“I see smoke, but I see neither men nor horses,” said Basia, with a
beating heart.
“No; for they are concealed by the thickets, though a trained eye
can see them. Look there: two, three, four, a whole group of horses
are to be seen,--one pied, another all white, and from here one
seems blue.”
“Shall we go to them soon?”
“They will be driven to us; but we have time enough, for to that
thicket it is a mile and a quarter.”
“Where are our men?”
“Do you see the edge of the wood yonder? The chamberlain’s squadron
must be touching that edge just now. Mellehovich will come out of
the other side in a moment. The accompanying squadron will attack
the robbers from that cliff. Seeing people, they will move toward
us, for here it is possible to go to the river under the slope; but
on the other side there is a ravine, terribly steep, through which
no one can go.”
“Then they are in a trap?”
“As you see.”
“For God’s sake! I am barely able to stand still!” cried Basia; but
after a while she inquired, “Michael, if they were wise, what would
they do?”
“They would rush, as if into smoke, at the men of the chamberlain’s
squadron and go over their bellies. Then they would be free. But
they will not do that, for, first, they do not like to rush into
the eyes of regular cavalry; secondly, they will be afraid that
more troops are waiting in the forest; therefore they will rush to
us.”
“Bah! But we cannot resist them; we have only twenty men.”
“But Motovidlo?”
“True! Ha! but where is he?”
Pan Michael, instead of an answer, cried suddenly, imitating a
hawk. Straightway numerous calls answered him from the foot of the
cliff. These were Motovidlo’s Cossacks, who were secreted so well
in the thicket that Basia, though standing right above their heads,
had not seen them at all. She looked for a while with astonishment,
now downward, now at the little knight; suddenly her eyes flashed
with fire, and she seized her husband by the neck.
“Michael, you are the first leader on earth.”
“I have a little training, that is all,” answered Volodyovski,
smiling. “But do not pat me here with delight, and remember that a
good soldier must be calm.”
But the warning was useless; Basia was as if in a fever. She
wished to sit straightway on her horse and ride down from the
height to join Motovidlo’s detachment; but Volodyovski delayed,
for he wished her to see the beginning clearly. Meanwhile the
morning sun had risen over the steppe and covered with a cold,
pale yellow light the whole plain. The nearer clumps of trees were
brightening cheerfully; the more distant and less distinct became
more distinct; the hoar-frost, lying in the low places in spots,
was disappearing every moment; the air had grown quite transparent,
and the glance could extend to a distance almost without limit.
“The chamberlain’s squadron is coming out of the grove,” said
Volodyovski; “I see men and horses.”
In fact, horses began to emerge from the edge of the wood, and
seemed black in a long line on the meadow, which was thickly
covered with hoar-frost near the wood. The white space between
them and the wood began to widen gradually. It was evident that
they were not hurrying too much, wishing to give time to the other
squadrons. Pan Michael turned then to the left side.
“Mellehovich is here too,” said he. And after a while he said
again, “And the men of the under-stolnik of Premysl are coming. No
one is behind time two ‘Our Fathers.’ Not a foot should escape! Now
to horse!”
They turned quickly to the dragoons, and springing into the saddles
rode down along the flank of the height to the thicket below, where
they found themselves among Motovidlo’s Cossacks. Then they moved
in a mass to the edge of the thicket, and halted, looking forward.
It was evident that the enemy had seen the squadron of the
chamberlain, for at that moment crowds of horsemen rushed out of
the grove growing in the middle of the plain, as deer rush when
some one has roused them. Every moment more of them came out.
Forming a line, they moved at first over the steppe by the edge of
the grove; the horsemen bent to the backs of the horses, so that
from a distance it might be supposed that that was merely a herd
moving of itself along the grove. Clearly, they were not certain
yet whether the squadron was moving against them, or even saw them,
or whether it was a detachment examining the neighborhood. In the
last event they might hope that the grove would hide them from the
eyes of the on-coming party.
From the place where Pan Michael stood, at the head of Motovidlo’s
men, the uncertain and hesitating movements of the chambul could
be seen perfectly, and were just like the movements of wild beasts
sniffing danger. When they had ridden half the width of the grove,
they began to go at a light gallop. When the first ranks reached
the open plain, they held in their beasts suddenly, and then the
whole party did the same. They saw approaching from that side
Mellehovich’s detachment. Then they described a half-circle in the
direction opposite the grove, and before their eyes appeared the
whole Premysl squadron, moving at a trot.
Now it was clear to the robbers that all the squadrons knew
of their presence and were marching against them. Wild cries
were heard in the midst of the party, and disorder began. The
squadrons, shouting also, advanced on a gallop, so that the plain
was thundering from the tramp of their horses. Seeing this, the
robber chambul extended in the form of a bench in the twinkle of
an eye, and chased with what breath was in the breasts of their
horses toward the elevation near which the little knight stood with
Motovidlo and his men. The space between them began to decrease
with astonishing rapidity.
Basia grew somewhat pale from emotion at first, and her heart
thumped more powerfully in her breast; but knowing that people
were looking at her, and not noticing the least alarm on any face,
she controlled herself quickly. Then the crowd, approaching like
a whirlwind, occupied all her attention. She tightened the rein,
grasped her sabre more firmly, and the blood again flowed with
great impulse from her heart to her face.
“Good!” said the little knight.
She looked only at him; her nostrils quivered, and she whispered,
“Shall we move soon?”
“There is time yet,” answered Pan Michael.
But the others are chasing on, like a gray wolf who feels dogs
behind him. Now not more than half a furlong divides them from the
thicket; the outstretched heads of the horses are to be seen, with
ears lying down, and over them Tartar faces, as if grown to the
mane. They are nearer and nearer. Basia hears the snorting of the
horses; and they, with bared teeth and staring eyes, show that they
are going at such speed that their breath is stopping. Volodyovski
gives a sign, and the Cossack muskets, standing hedge-like, incline
toward the onrushing robbers.
“Fire!”
A roar, smoke: it was as if a whirlwind had struck a pile of chaff.
In one twinkle of an eye the party flew apart in every direction,
howling and shouting. With that the little knight pushed out of
the thicket, and at the same time Mellehovich’s squadron, and
that of the chamberlain, closing the circle, forced the scattered
enemy to the centre again in one group. The horde seek in vain
to escape singly; in vain they circle around; they rush to the
right, to the left, to the front, to the rear; the circle is closed
up completely; the robbers come therefore more closely together
in spite of themselves. Meanwhile the squadrons hurry up, and a
horrible smashing begins.
The ravagers understood that only he would escape with his life
who could batter his way through; hence they fell to defending
themselves with rage and despair, though without order and each
for himself independently. In the very beginning they covered the
field thickly, so great was the fury of the shock. The soldiers,
pressing them and urging their horses on in spite of the throng,
hewed and thrust with that merciless and terrible skill which only
a soldier by profession can have. The noise of pounding was heard
above that circle of men, like the thumping of flails wielded by a
multitude quickly on a threshing-space. The horde were slashed and
cut through their heads, shoulders, necks, and through the hands
with which they covered their heads; they were beaten on every
side unceasingly, without quarter or pity. They too struck, each
with what he had, with daggers, with sabres, with sling-shots,
with horse-skulls. Their horses, pushed to the centre, rose on
their haunches, or fell on their backs. Others, biting and whining,
kicked at the throng, causing confusion unspeakable. After a
short struggle in silence, a howl was torn from the breasts of
the robbers; superior numbers were bending them, better weapons,
greater skill. They understood that there was no rescue for them;
that no man would leave there, not only with plunder, but with
life. The soldiers, warming up gradually, pounded them with growing
force. Some of the robbers sprang from their saddles, wishing to
slip away between the legs of the horses. These were trampled with
hoofs, and sometimes the soldiers turned from the fight and pierced
the fugitives from above; some fell on the ground, hoping that
when the squadrons pushed toward the centre, they, left beyond the
circle, might escape by flight.
In fact, the party decreased more and more, for every moment
horses and men fell away. Seeing this, Azba Bey collected, as far
as he was able, horses and men in a wedge, and threw himself with
all his might on Motovidlo’s Cossacks, wishing to break the ring
at any cost. But they hurled him back, and then began a terrible
slaughter. At that same time Mellehovich, raging like a flame,
split the party, and leaving the halves to two other squadrons,
sprang himself on the shoulders of those who were fighting with the
Cossacks.
It is true that a part of the robbers escaped from the ring to the
field through this movement and rushed apart over the plain, like
a flock of leaves; but soldiers in the rear ranks who could not
find access to the battle, through the narrowness of the combat,
rushed after them straightway in twos and threes or singly. Those
who were unable to break out went under the sword in spite of their
passionate defence and fell near each other, like grain which
harvesters are reaping from opposite sides.
Basia moved on with the Cossacks, piping with a thin voice to give
herself courage, for at the first moment it grew a little dark in
her eyes, both from the speed and the mighty excitement. When she
rushed up to the enemy, she saw before her at first only a dark,
moving, surging mass. An overpowering desire to close her eyes
altogether was bearing her away. She resisted the desire, it is
true; still she struck with her sabre somewhat at random. Soon her
daring overcame her confusion; she had clear vision at once. In
front she saw heads of horses, behind them inflamed and wild faces;
one of these gleamed right there before her; Basia gave a sweeping
cut, and the face vanished as quickly as if it had been a phantom.
That moment the calm voice of her husband came to her ears.
“Good!”
That voice gave her uncommon pleasure; she piped again more thinly,
and began to extend disaster, and now with perfect presence
of mind. Behold, again some terrible head, with flat nose and
projecting cheek-bones, is gnashing its teeth before her. Basia
gives a blow at that one. Again a hand raises a sling-shot. Basia
strikes at that. She sees some face in a sheepskin; she thrusts at
that. Then she strikes to the right, to the left, straight ahead;
and whenever she cuts, a man flies to the ground, tearing the
bridle from his horse. Basia wonders that it is so easy; but it is
easy because on one side rides, stirrup to her stirrup, the little
knight, and on the other Pan Motovidlo. The first looks carefully
after her, and quenches a man as he would a candle; then with his
keen blade he cuts off an arm together with its weapon; at times
he thrusts his sword between Basia and the enemy, and the hostile
sabre flies upward as suddenly as would a winged bird.
Pan Motovidlo, a phlegmatic soldier, guarded the other side of the
mettlesome lady; and as an industrious gardener, going among trees,
trims or breaks off dry branches, so he time after time brings down
men to the bloody earth, fighting as coolly and calmly as if his
mind were in another place. Both knew when to let Basia go forward
alone, and when to anticipate or intercept her. There was watching
over her from a distance still a third man,--the incomparable
archer, who, standing purposely at a distance, put every little
while the butt of an arrow on the string, and sent an unerring
messenger of death to the densest throng.
But the pressure became so savage that Pan Michael commanded
Basia to withdraw from the whirl with some men, especially as
the half-wild horses of the horde began to bite and kick. Basia
obeyed quickly; for although eagerness was bearing her away, and
her valiant heart urged her to continue the struggle, her woman’s
nature was gaining the upper hand of her ardor; and in presence
of that slaughter and blood, in the midst of howls, groans, and
the agonies of the dying, in an atmosphere filled with the odor
of flesh and sweat, she began to shudder. Withdrawing her horse
slowly, she soon found herself behind the circle of combatants;
hence Pan Michael and Pan Motovidlo, relieved from guarding her,
were able to give perfect freedom at last to their soldierly wishes.
Pan Mushalski, standing hitherto at a distance, approached Basia.
“Your ladyship, my benefactress, fought really like a cavalier,”
said he. “A man not knowing that you were there might have thought
that the Archangel Michael had come down to help our Cossacks, and
was smiting the dog brothers. What an honor for them to perish
under such a hand, which on this occasion let it not be forbidden
me to kiss.” So saying, Pan Mushalski seized Basia’s hand and
pressed it to his mustache.
“Did you see? Did I do well, really?” inquired Basia, catching the
air in her distended nostrils and her mouth.
“A cat could not do better against rats. The heart rose in me at
sight of you, as I love the Lord God. But you did well to withdraw
from the fight, for toward the end there is more chance for an
accident.”
“My husband commanded me; and when leaving home, I promised to obey
him at once.”
“May my bow remain? No! it is of no use now; besides, I will rush
forward with the sabre. I see three men riding up; of course the
colonel has sent them to guard your worthy person. Otherwise I
would send; but I will go to the foot of the cliff, for the end
will come soon, and I must hurry.”
Three dragoons really came to guard Basia; seeing this, Pan
Mushalski spurred his horse and galloped away. For a while Basia
hesitated whether to remain in that place or ride around the steep
cliff, and go to the eminence from which they had looked on the
plain before the battle. But feeling great weariness, she resolved
to remain.
The feminine nature rose in her more and more powerfully. About two
hundred yards distant they were cutting down the remnant of the
ravagers without mercy, and a black mass of strugglers was whirling
with growing violence on the bloody place of conflict. Despairing
cries rent the air; and Basia, so full of eagerness shortly before,
had grown weak now in some way. Great fear seized her, so that she
came near fainting, and only shame in presence of the dragoons
kept her in the saddle; she turned her face from them to hide her
pallor. The fresh air brought back her strength slowly and her
courage, but not to that degree that she had the wish to spring in
anew among the combatants. She would have done so to implore mercy
for the rest of the horde. But knowing that that would be useless,
she waited anxiously for the end of the struggle. And there they
were cutting and cutting. The sound of the hacking and the cries
did not cease for a moment. Half an hour perhaps had passed; the
squadrons were closing in with greater force. All at once a party
of ravagers, numbering about twenty, tore themselves free of the
murderous circle, and rushed like a whirlwind toward the eminence.
Escaping along the cliff, they might in fact reach a place where
the eminence was lost by degrees in the plain, and find on the
high steppe their salvation; but in their way stood Basia with
the dragoons. The sight of danger gave strength to Basia’s heart
at this moment, and self-control to her mind. She understood
that to stay where she was was destruction; for the robbers with
impetus alone could overturn and trample her and her guards, not to
mention that they would bear them apart on sabres. The old sergeant
of dragoons was clearly of this view, for he seized the bridle
of Basia’s pony, turned the beast, and cried with voice almost
despairing,--
“On, on! serene lady!”
Basia shot away like the wind; but the three faithful soldiers
stood like a wall on the spot, to hold back the enemy even
one moment, and give the beloved lady time to put herself at
a distance. Meanwhile soldiers galloped after that band in
immediate pursuit; but the circle hitherto enclosing the ravagers
hermetically was thereby broken; they began to escape in twos, in
threes, and then more numerously. The enormous majority were lying
on the field, but some tens of them, together with Azba Bey, were
able to flee. All these rushed on in a body as fast as their horses
could gallop toward the eminence.
Three dragoons could not detain all the fugitives,--in fact, after
a short struggle they fell from their saddles; but the cloud,
running on behind Basia, turned to the slope of the eminence and
reached the high steppe. The Polish squadrons in the front ranks
and the nearer Lithuanian Tartars rushed with all speed some tens
of steps behind them. On the high steppe, which was cut across
thickly by treacherous clefts and ravines, was formed a gigantic
serpent of those on horseback, the head of which was Basia, the
neck the ravagers, and the continuation of the body Mellehovich
with the Lithuanian Tartars and dragoons, at the head of which
rushed Volodyovski, with his spurs in the side of his horse, and
terror in his soul.
At the moment when the handful of robbers had torn themselves free
of the ring, Volodyovski was engaged on the opposite side of it;
therefore Mellehovich preceded him in the pursuit. The hair was
standing on his head at the thought that Basia might be seized
by the fugitives; that she might lose presence of mind, and rush
straight toward the Dniester; that any one of the robbers might
reach her with a sabre, a dagger, or a sling-shot,--and the heart
was sinking in him from fear for her life. Lying almost on the neck
of the horse, he was pale, with set teeth, a whirlwind of ghastly
thoughts in his head; he pricked his steed with armed heels, struck
him with the side of his sword, and flew like a bustard before he
rises to soar.
“God grant Mellehovich to come up! He is on a good horse. God grant
him!” repeated he, in despair.
But his fears were ill founded, and the danger was not so great as
it seemed to the loving knight. The question of their own skins was
too near to the robbers; they felt the Lithuanian Tartars too close
to their shoulders to pursue a single rider, even were that rider
the most beautiful houri in the Mohammedan paradise, escaping in a
robe set with jewels. Basia needed only to turn toward Hreptyoff to
escape from pursuit; for surely the fugitives would not return to
the jaws of the lion for her, while they had before them a river,
with its reeds in which they could hide. The Lithuanian Tartars had
better horses, and Basia was sitting on a pony incomparably swifter
than the ordinary shaggy beasts of the horde, which were enduring
in flight, but not so swift as horses of high blood. Besides, she
not only did not lose presence of mind, but her daring nature
asserted itself with all force, and knightly blood played again in
her veins. The pony stretched out like a deer; the wind whistled
in Basia’s ears, and instead of fear, a certain feeling of delight
seized her.
“They might hunt a whole year, and not catch me,” thought she.
“I’ll rush on yet, and then turn, and either let them pass, or if
they have not stopped pursuing, I will put them under the sabre.”
It came to her mind that if the ravagers behind her were scattered
greatly over the steppe, she might, on turning, meet one of them
and have a hand-to-hand combat.
“Well, what is that?” said she to her valiant soul. “Michael has
taught me so that I may venture boldly; if I do not, they will
think that I am fleeing through fear, and will not take me on
another expedition; and besides, Pan Zagloba will make sport of me.”
Saying this to herself, she looked around at the robbers, but they
were fleeing in a crowd. There was no possibility of single combat;
but Basia wished to give proof before the eyes of the whole army
that she was not fleeing at random and in frenzy. Remembering that
she had in the holsters two excellent pistols carefully loaded by
Michael himself before they set out, she began to rein in her pony,
or rather to turn him toward Hreptyoff, while slacking his speed.
But, oh, wonder! at sight of this the whole party of ravagers
changed the direction of their flight somewhat, going more to the
left, toward the edge of the eminence. Basia, letting them come
within a few tens of steps, fired twice at the nearest horses;
then, turning, urged on at full gallop toward Hreptyoff.
But the pony had run barely some yards with the speed of a sparrow,
when suddenly there darkened in front a cleft in the steppe. Basia
pressed the pony with her spurs without hesitation, and the noble
beast did not refuse, but sprang forward; only his fore feet caught
somewhat the bank opposite. For a moment he strove violently to
find support on the steep wall with his hind feet; but the earth,
not sufficiently frozen yet, fell away, and the horse went down
through the opening, with Basia. Fortunately the horse did not fall
on her; she succeeded in freeing her feet from the stirrups, and,
leaning to one side with all force, struck on a thick layer of
moss, which covered the bottom of the chasm as if with a lining;
but the shock was so violent that she fainted.
Pan Michael did not see the fall, for the horizon was concealed by
the Lithuanian Tartars; but Mellehovich shouted with a terrible
voice at his men to pursue the ravagers without stopping, and
running himself to the cleft, disappeared in it. In a twinkle he
was down from the saddle, and seized Basia in his arms. His falcon
eyes saw her all in one moment, looking to see if there was blood
anywhere; then they fell on the moss, and he understood that this
had saved her and the pony from death. A stifled cry of joy was
rent from the mouth of the young Tartar. But Basia was hanging in
his arms; he pressed her with all his strength to his breast; then
with pale lips he kissed her eyes time after time, as if wishing
to drink them out of her head. The whole world whirled with him in
a mad vortex; the passion concealed hitherto in the bottom of his
breast, as a dragon lies concealed in a cave, carried him away like
a storm.
But at that moment the tramp of many horses was heard in an echo
from the lofty steppe, and approached more and more swiftly.
Numerous voices were crying, “Here! in this cleft! Here!”
Mellehovich placed Basia on the moss, and called to those riding
up,--
“This way, this way!”
A moment later, Pan Michael was at the bottom of the cleft; after
him Pan Zagloba, Mushalski, and a number of other officers.
“Nothing is the matter,” cried the Tartar. “The moss saved her.”
Pan Michael grasped his insensible wife by the hands; others ran
for water, which was not near. Zagloba, seizing the temples of the
unconscious woman, began to cry,--
“Basia, Basia, dearest! Basia!”
“Nothing is the matter with her,” said Mellehovich, pale as a
corpse.
Meanwhile Zagloba clapped his side, took a flask, poured gorailka
on his palm, and began to rub her temples. Then he put the flask to
her lips; this acted evidently, for before the men returned with
water, she had opened her eyes and began to catch for air, coughing
meanwhile, for the gorailka had burned the roof of her mouth and
her throat. In a few moments she had recovered completely.
Pan Michael, not regarding the presence of officers and soldiers,
pressed her to his bosom, and covered her hands with kisses,
saying, “Oh, my love, the soul came near leaving me! Has nothing
hurt? Does nothing pain you?”
“Nothing is the matter,” said Basia. “Aha! I remember now that it
grew dark in my eyes, for my horse slipped. But is the battle over?”
“It is. Azba Bey is killed. We will go home at once, for I am
afraid that fatigue may overcome you.”
“I feel no fatigue whatever.” Then, looking quickly at those
present, she distended her nostrils, and said, “But do not think,
gentlemen, that I fled through fear. Oho! I did not even dream of
it. As I love Michael, I galloped ahead of them only for sport, and
then I fired my pistols.”
“A horse was struck by those shots, and we took one robber alive,”
put in Mellehovich.
“And what?” asked Basia. “Such an accident may happen any one in
galloping, is it not true? No experience will save one from that,
for a horse will slip sometimes. Ha! it is well that you watched
me, gentlemen, for I might have lain here a long time.”
“Pan Mellehovich saw you first, and first saved you; for we were
galloping behind him,” said Volodyovski.
Basia, hearing this, turned to Mellehovich and reached her hand to
him. “I thank you for good offices.”
He made no answer, only pressed the hand to his mouth, and then
embraced with submission her feet, like a peasant.
Meanwhile more of the squadron assembled at the edge of the cleft;
Pan Michael simply gave orders to Mellehovich to form a circle
around the few robbers who had hidden from pursuit, and then
started for Hreptyoff. On the road Basia saw the field of battle
once more from the height. The bodies of men and horses lay in
places in piles, in places singly. Through the blue sky flocks
of ravens were approaching more and more numerously, with great
cawing, and coming down at a distance, waited till the soldiers,
still going about on the plain, should depart.
“Here are the soldiers’ gravediggers!” said Zagloba, pointing at
the birds with his sabre; “let us only go away, and wolves will
come too, with their orchestra, and will ring with their teeth over
these dead men. This is a notable victory, though gained over such
a vile enemy; for that Azba has ravaged here and there for a number
of years. Commandants have hunted him like a wolf, always in vain,
till at last he met Michael, and the black hour came on him.”
“Is Azba Bey killed?”
“Mellehovich overtook him first; and I tell you if he did not cut
him over the ear! The sabre went to his teeth.”
“Mellehovich is a good soldier,” said Basia. Here she turned to
Zagloba, “And have you done much?”
“I did not chirp like a cricket, nor jump like a flea, for I leave
such amusement to insects. But if I did not, men did not look for
me among moss, like mushrooms; no one pulled my nose, and no one
touched my face.”
“I do not like you!” said Basia, pouting, and reaching
involuntarily to her nose, which was red.
And he looked at her, smiled, and muttered, without ceasing to
joke, “You fought valiantly, you fled valiantly, you went valiantly
heels over head; and now, from pain in your bones, you will put
away kasha so valiantly that we shall be forced to take care of
you, lest the sparrows eat you up with your valor, for they are
very fond of kasha.”
“You are talking in that way so that Michael may not take me on
another expedition. I know you perfectly!”
“But, but I will ask him to take you nutting always, for you are
skilful, and do not break branches under you. My God, that is
gratitude to me! And who persuaded Michael to let you go? I. I
reproach myself now severely, especially since you pay me so for my
devotion. Wait! you will cut stalks now on the square at Hreptyoff
with a wooden sword! Here is an expedition for you! Another woman
would hug the old man; but this scolding Satan frightens me first,
and threatens me afterward.”
Basia, without hesitating long, embraced Zagloba. He was greatly
delighted, and said, “Well, well! I must confess that you helped
somewhat to the victory of to-day; for the soldiers, since each
wished to exhibit himself, fought with terrible fury.”
“As true as I live,” cried Pan Mushalski, “a man is not sorry to
die when such eyes are upon him.”
“Vivat our lady!” cried Pan Nyenashinyets.
“Vivat!” cried a hundred voices.
“God give her health!”
Here Zagloba inclined toward her and muttered, “After faintness!”
And they rode forward joyously, shouting, certain of a feast in the
evening. The weather became wonderful. The trumpeters played in the
squadrons, the drummers beat their drums, and all entered Hreptyoff
with an uproar.