Meanwhile Basia was holding counsel from early morning with her
husband and Pan Zagloba how to unite two loving and straitened
hearts. The two men laughed at her enthusiasm, and did not cease to
banter her; still, yielding to her usually in everything, as to a
spoiled child, they promised at last to assist her.
“The best thing,” said Zagloba, “is to persuade old Novoveski not
to take the girl with him to Rashkoff; tell him that the frosts
have come, and that the road is not perfectly safe. Here the young
people will see each other often, and fall in love with all their
might.”
“That is a splendid idea,” cried Basia.
“Splendid or not,” said Zagloba, “do not let them out of your
sight. You are a woman, and I think this way,--you will solder them
at last, for a woman carries her point always; but see to it that
the Devil does not carry his point in the mean while. That would be
a shame for you, since the affair is on your responsibility.”
Basia began first of all to spit at Pan Zagloba, like a cat; then
she said, “You boast that you were a Turk in your youth, and you
think that every one is a Turk. Azya is not that kind.”
“Not a Turk, only a Tartar. Pretty image! She would vouch for
Tartar love.”
“They are both thinking more of weeping, and that from harsh
sorrow. Eva, besides, is a most honest maiden.”
“Still, she has a face as if some one had written on her forehead,
‘Here are lips for you!’ Ho! she is a daw. Yesterday I fixed it in
my mind that when she sits opposite a nice fellow, her sighs are
such that they drive her plate forward time after time, and she
must push it back again. A real daw, I tell you.”
“Do you wish me to go to my own room?” asked Basia.
“You will not go when it is a question of match-making. I know
you,--you’ll not go! But still ’tis too early for you to make
matches; for that is the business of women with gray hair. Pani
Boski told me yesterday that when she saw you returning from the
battle in trousers, she thought that she was looking at Pani
Volodyovski’s son, who had gone to the woods on an expedition. You
do not love dignity; but dignity, too, does not love you, which
appears at once from your slender form. You are a regular student,
as God is dear to me! There is another style of women in the world
now. In my time, when a woman sat down, the chair squeaked in such
fashion that you might think some one had sat on the tail of a dog;
but as to you, you might ride bareback on a tom-cat without great
harm to the beast. They say, too, that women who begin to make
matches will have no posterity.”
“Do they really say that?” asked the little knight, alarmed.
But Zagloba began to laugh; and Basia, putting her rosy face to
the face of her husband, said, in an undertone, “Ah, Michael, at
a convenient time we will make a pilgrimage to Chenstohova; then
maybe the Most Holy Lady will change matters.”
“That is the best way indeed,” said Zagloba.
Then they embraced at once, and Basia said, “But now let us talk of
Azya and poor Eva, of how we are to help them. We are happy; let
them be happy.”
“When Novoveski goes away, it will be easier for them,” said the
little knight; “for in his presence they could not see each other,
especially as Azya hates the old man. But if the old man were to
give him Eva, maybe, forgetting former offences, they would begin
to love each other as son-in-law and father-in-law. According to my
head, it is not a question of bringing the young people together,
for they love each other already, but of bringing over the old man.”
“He is a misanthrope!” said Basia.
“Baska,” said Zagloba, “imagine to yourself that you had a
daughter, and that you had to give her to some Tartar--”
“Azya is a prince.”
“I do not deny that Tugai Bey comes of high blood. Ketling was a
noble; still Krysia would not have married him if he had not been
naturalized.”
“Then try to obtain naturalization for Azya.”
“Is that an easy thing? Though some one were to admit him to his
escutcheon, the Diet would have to confirm the choice; and for
that, time and protection are necessary.”
“I do not like this,--that time is needed,--for we could find
protection. Surely the hetman would not refuse it to Azya, for he
loves soldiers. Michael, write to the hetman. Do you want ink, pen,
paper? Write at once! I’ll bring you everything, and a taper and
the seal; and you will sit down and write without delay.”
“O Almighty God!” cried he, “I asked a sedate, sober wife of Thee,
and Thou didst give me a whirlwind!”
“Talk that way, talk; then I’ll die.”
“Ah, your impatience!” cried the little knight, with
animation,--“your impatience, tfu! tfu! a charm for a dog!” Here he
turned to Zagloba: “Do you not know the words of a charm?”
“I know them, and I’ve told them,” said Zagloba.
“Write!” cried Basia, “or I shall jump out of my skin.”
“I would write twelve letters, to please you, though I know not
what good that would be, for in this case the hetman himself can
do nothing; even with protection, Azya can appear only at the
right time. My Basia, Panna Novoveski has revealed her secret to
you,--very well! But you have not spoken to Azya, and you do not
know to this moment whether he is burning with love for Eva or not.”
“He not burning! Why shouldn’t he be burning, when he kissed her in
the storehouse? Aha!”
“Golden soul!” said Zagloba, smiling. “That is like the talk of
a newly born infant, except that you turn your tongue better. My
love, if Michael and I had to marry all the women whom we happened
to kiss, we should have to join the Mohammedan faith at once, and I
should be Sultan of Turkey, and he Khan of the Crimea. How is that,
Michael, hei?”
“I suspected Michael before I was his,” said Basia; and thrusting
her finger up to his eye, she began to tease him. “Move your
mustaches; move them! Do not deny! I know, I know, and you know--at
Ketling’s.”
The little knight really moved his mustaches to give himself
courage, and at the same time to cover his confusion; at last,
wishing to change the conversation, he said, “And so you do not
know whether Azya is in love with Panna Eva?”
“Wait; I will talk to him alone and ask him. But he is in love, he
must be in love! Otherwise I don’t want to know him.”
“In God’s name! she is ready to talk him into it,” said Zagloba.
“And I will persuade him, even if I had to shut myself in with him
daily.”
“Inquire of him, to begin with,” said the little knight. “Maybe
at first he will not confess, for he is shy; that is nothing. You
will gain his confidence gradually; you’ll know him better; you’ll
understand him, and then only can you decide what to do.” Here
the little knight turned to Zagloba: “She seems giddy, but she is
quick.”
“Kids are quick,” said Zagloba, seriously.
Further conversation was interrupted by Pan Bogush, who rushed in
like a bomb, and had barely kissed Basia’s hands when he exclaimed,
“May the bullets strike that Azya! I could not close my eyes the
whole night. May the woods cover him!”
“What did Pan Azya bring against your grace?” asked Basia.
“Do you know what we were making yesterday?” And Pan Bogush,
staring, began to look around on those present.
“What?”
“History! As God is dear to me, I do not lie.”
“What history?”
“The history of the Commonwealth; that is, simply a great man. Pan
Sobieski himself will be astonished when I lay Azya’s ideas before
him. A great man, I repeat to you; and I regret that I cannot tell
you more, for I am sure that you would be as much astonished as I.
I can only say that if what he has in view succeeds, God knows what
he will be.”
“For example,” asked Zagloba, “will he be hetman?”
Pan Bogush put his hands on his hips: “That is it,--he will be
hetman. I am sorry that I cannot tell you more. He will be hetman,
and that’s enough.”
“Perhaps a dog hetman, or he will go with bullocks. Chabans have
their hetmans also. Tfu! what is this that your grace is saying.
Pan Under-Stolnik? That he is the son of Tugai Bey is true; but
if he is to become hetman, what am I to become, or what will Pan
Michael become, or your grace? Shall we become three kings at the
birth of Christ, waiting for the abdication of Caspar, Melchior,
and Baltazar? The nobles at least created me commander; I resigned
the office, however, out of friendship for Pavel,[19] but, as God
lives, I don’t understand your prediction.”
“But I tell you that Azya is a great man.”
“I said so,” exclaimed Basia, turning toward the door, through
which other guests at the stanitsa began to enter.
First came Pani Boski with the blue-eyed Zosia, and Pan Novoveski
with Eva, who, after a night of bad sleep, looked more charming
than usual. She had slept badly, for strange dreams had disturbed
her; she dreamed of Azya, only he was more beautiful and insistent
than of old. The blood rushed to her face at thought of this
dream, for she imagined that every one would guess it in her eyes.
But no one noticed her, since all had begun to say “good-day” to
Pani Volodyovski. Then Pan Bogush resumed his narrative touching
Azya’s greatness and destiny; and Basia was glad that Eva and Pan
Novoveski must listen to it. In fact, the old noble had blown
off his anger since his first meeting with the Tartar, and was
notably calmer. He spoke of him no longer as his man. To tell the
truth, the discovery that he was a Tartar prince and a son of
Tugai Bey imposed upon him beyond measure. He heard with wonder of
Azya’s uncommon bravery, and how the hetman had intrusted such an
important function to him as that of bringing back to the service
of the Commonwealth all the Lithuanian and Podolian Tartars. At
times it seemed even to Pan Novoveski that they were talking of
some one else besides Azya, to such a degree had the young Tartar
become uncommon.
But Pan Bogush repeated every little while, with a very mysterious
mien, “This is nothing in comparison with what is waiting for
him; but I am not free to speak of it.” And when the others shook
their heads with doubt, he cried, “There are two great men in the
Commonwealth,--Pan Sobieski and that Azya, son of Tugai Bey.”
“By the dear God,” said Pan Novoveski, made impatient at last,
“prince or not prince, what can he be in this Commonwealth, unless
he is a noble? He is not naturalized yet.”
“The hetman will get him ten naturalizations!” cried Basia.
Eva listened to these praises with closed eyes and a beating heart.
It is difficult to say whether it would have beaten so feverishly
for a poor and unknown Azya as for Azya the knight and man of great
future. But that glitter captivated her; and the old remembrance of
the kisses and the fresh dream went through her with a quiver of
delight.
“So great and so celebrated,” said Eva. “What wonder if he is as
quick as fire!”