The little knight, as Basia had foreseen, cried out against her
plans at once when he learned them, said he never would agree to
them, for he could not go himself and he would not let her go
without him; but on all sides began then prayers and insistence
which were soon to bend his decision.
Basia insisted less, indeed, than he expected, for she wished
greatly to go with her husband, and without him the journey lost
a part of its charm; but Eva knelt before the little knight, and
kissing his hands implored him by his love for Basia to permit her
to go.
“No other will dare approach my father,” said she, “and mention
such an affair,--neither I, nor Azya, nor even my brother. Basia
alone can do it, for he refuses her nothing.”
“Basia is no matchmaker,” said Pan Michael, “and, besides, you must
come back here; let her do this at your return.”
“God knows what will happen before the return,” answered Eva, with
weeping,--“it is certain only that I shall die of suffering; but
for such an orphan for whom no one has pity, death is best of all.”
The little knight had a heart tender beyond measure, hence he began
to walk up and down in the room. He wished above all not to part
with his Basia, even for a day, and what must it be for two weeks!
Still, it was clear that the prayers moved him deeply, for in a
couple of days after those attacks he said one evening,--
“If I could only go with you! But that cannot be, for service
detains me.”
Basia sprang to him, and putting her rosy mouth to his cheek began
to cry,--
“Go, Michael, go, go!”
“It is not possible by any means,” answered Pan Michael, with
decision.
And again two days passed. During this time the little knight asked
advice of Zagloba as to what he ought to do; but Zagloba refused to
give advice.
“If there are no other obstacles but your feelings,” said he,
“what have I to say? Decide yourself. The house will be empty here
without the haiduk. Were it not for my age and the hard road, I
would go myself, for there is no life without her.”
“But you see there is really no hindrance: the weather is a little
frosty, that is all; for the rest, it is quiet, there are commands
along the road everywhere.”
“In that case decide for yourself.”
After that conversation Pan Michael began to hesitate again, and
to weigh two things. He was sorry for Eva. He paused also over
this,--is it proper to send the girl alone with Azya on such a long
road? and still more over another point,--is it proper to withhold
help from devoted people when the opportunity to give it is so
easy? For what was the real difficulty? Basia’s absence for two or
three weeks. Even if it were only a question of pleasing Basia,
by letting her see Mohiloff, Yampol, and Rashkoff, why not please
her? Azya, in one event or another, must go with his squadron to
Rashkoff; hence there would be a strong and even a superfluous
guard in view of the destruction of the robbers, and the quiet
during winter from the horde.
The little knight yielded more and more, seeing which the ladies
renewed their insistence,--one representing the affair as a good
deed and a duty, the other weeping and lamenting. Finally Azya
bowed down before the commandant. He knew, he said, that he was
unworthy of such a favor, but still he had shown so much devotion
and attachment to the Volodyovskis that he made bold to beg for
it. He owed much gratitude to both, since they did not permit men
to insult him, even when he was not known as the son of Tugai Bey.
He would never forget that the wife of the commandant had dressed
his wounds, and had been to him not only a gracious lady, but as it
were a mother. He had given proofs of his gratitude recently in the
battle with Azba Bey, and with God’s help in future he would lay
down his head and shed the last drop of his blood for the life of
the lady, if need be.
Then he began to tell of his old and unfortunate love for Eva. He
could not live without that maiden; he had loved her through whole
years of separation, though without hope, and he would never cease
to love her. But between him and old Pan Novoveski there was an
ancient hatred, and the previous relation of servant and master
separated them, as it were, by a broad ravine. The lady alone could
reconcile them to each other; and if she could not do that, she
could at least shelter the dear girl from her father’s tyranny,
from confinement and the lash.
Pan Michael would have preferred, perhaps, that Basia had not
interfered in the matter; but as he himself loved to do good to
people, he did not wonder at his wife’s heart. Still, he did not
answer Azya affirmatively yet; he resisted even additional tears
from Eva; but he locked himself up in the chancery and fell to
thinking.
At last he came out to supper on a certain evening with an
agreeable expression of face, and after supper he asked Azya
suddenly, “Azya, when is it time for you to go?”
“In a week, your great mightiness,” answered the Tartar, unquietly.
“Halim, it must be, will have concluded negotiations with
Krychinski by that time.”
“Give orders to repair the great sleigh, for you must take two
ladies to Rashkoff.”
When she heard this, Basia began to clap her hands, and rushed
headlong to her husband. After her hurried Eva; after Eva, Azya
bowed down to the little knight’s knees with a wild outburst of
delight, so that Pan Michael had to free himself.
“Give me peace!” said he; “what is there wonderful? When it’s
possible to help people, it is hard not to help them, unless one is
altogether heartless; and I am no tyrant. But do you, Basia, return
quickly, my love; and do you, Azya, guard her faithfully; in this
way you will thank me best. Well, well, give me peace!”
Here his mustaches began to quiver, and then he said more joyously,
to give himself courage,--
“The worst are those tears of women; when I see tears there is
nothing left of me. But you, Azya, must thank not only me and my
wife, but this young lady, who has followed me like a shadow,
exhibiting her sorrow continually before my eyes. You must pay her
for such affection.”
“I will pay her; I will pay her!” said Azya, with a strange voice;
and seizing Eva’s hands, he kissed them so violently that it might
be thought he wished rather to bite them.
“Michael!” cried Zagloba, suddenly, pointing to Basia, “what shall
we do here without her?”
“Indeed it will be grievous,” said the little knight, “God knows it
will!” Then he added more quietly: “But the Lord God may bless my
good action later. Do you understand?”
Meanwhile Basia pushed in between them her bright head full of
curiosity.
“What are you saying?”
“Nothing,” replied Zagloba; “we said that in spring the storks
would come surely.”
Basia began to rub her face to her husband’s like a real cat.
“Michael dear! I shall not stay long,” said she, in a low voice.
After this conversation new councils were held during several days
touching the journey. Pan Michael looked after everything himself,
gave orders to arrange the sleigh in his presence, and line it with
skins of foxes killed in autumn. Zagloba brought his own lap-robe,
so that she might have wherewith to cover her feet on the road.
Sleighs were to go with a bed and provisions; and Basia’s pony was
to go, so that she might leave her sleigh in dangerous places; for
Pan Michael had a particular fear of the entrance to Mohiloff,
which was really a breakneck descent. Though there was not the
slightest likelihood of an attack, the little knight commanded
Azya to take every precaution: to send men always a couple of
furlongs in advance, and never pass the night on the road but in
places where there were commands; to start at daylight, and not to
loiter on the way. To such a degree did the little knight think of
everything, that with his own hand he loaded the pistols for the
holsters in Basia’s saddle.
The moment of departure came at last. It was still dark when two
hundred horse of the Lithuanian Tartars were standing ready on
the square. In the chief room of the commandant’s house movement
reigned also. In the chimneys pitchy sticks were shooting up
bright flames. The little knight, Pan Zagloba, Pan Mushalski,
Pan Nyenashinyets, Pan Hromyka, and Pan Motovidlo, and with them
officers from the light squadrons, had come to say farewell. Basia
and Eva, warm yet and ruddy from sleep, were drinking heated wine
for the road. Pan Michael, sitting by his wife, had his arm around
her waist; Zagloba poured out to her, repeating at each addition,
“Take more, for the weather is frosty.” Basia and Eva were dressed
in male costume, for women travelled generally in that guise on
the frontiers. Basia had a sabre; a wild-cat skin shuba bound with
weasel-skin; an ermine cap with earlaps; very wide trousers looking
like a skirt; and boots to her knees, soft and lined. To all this
were to be added warm cloaks and shubas with hoods to cover the
faces. Basia’s face was uncovered yet, and astonished people as
usual with its beauty. Some, however, looked appreciatively at Eva,
who had a mouth formed as it were for kisses; and others did not
know which to prefer, so charming seemed both to the soldiers, who
whispered in one another’s ears,--
“It is hard for a man to live in such a desert! Happy commandant,
happy Azya! Uh!”
The fire crackled joyfully in the chimneys; the crowing of cocks
began; day approached gradually, rather frosty and clear; the roofs
of the sheds and the quarters of the soldiers, covered with deep
snow, took on a bright rose color.
From the square was heard the snorting of horses and the squeaking
steps of soldiers and dragoons who had assembled from the sheds and
lodgings to take farewell of Basia and the Tartars.
“It is time!” said Pan Michael at last.
Hearing this, Basia sprang from her place and fell into her
husband’s arms. He pressed his lips to hers, then held her with
all his strength to his breast, kissed her eyes and forehead, and
again her mouth. That moment was long, for they loved each other
immensely.
After the little knight the turn came to Zagloba; then the other
officers approached to kiss her hand, and she repeated with her
childish voice, resonant as silver,--
“Be in good health, gentlemen; be in good health!”
She and Eva put on cloaks with openings instead of sleeves, and
then shubas with hoods, and the two vanished altogether under these
robes. The broad door was thrown open, a frosty steam rushed in,
then the whole assembly found itself on the square.
Outside everything was becoming more and more visible from the snow
and daylight.
Hoar-frost had settled on the hair of the horses and the sheepskin
coats of the men; it seemed as though the whole squadron were
dressed in white, and were sitting on white horses.
Basia and Eva took their seats in the fur-lined sleigh. The
dragoons and the soldiers shouted for a happy journey to the
departing.
At that sound a numerous flock of crows and ravens, which a severe
winter had driven in near the dwellings of people, flew from the
roofs, and with low croaking began to circle in the rosy air.
The little knight bent over the sleigh and hid his face in the hood
covering the face of his wife. Long was that moment; at last he
tore himself away from Basia, and, making the sign of the cross,
exclaimed,--
“In the name of God!”
Now Azya rose in the stirrups; his wild face was gleaming from
delight and the dawn. He waved his whirlbat, so that his burka rose
like the wings of a bird of prey, and he cried with a piercing
voice:--
“Move on!”
The hoofs squeaked on the snow; abundant steam came from the
nostrils of the horses. The first rank moved slowly; after that the
second, the third, and the fourth, then the sleigh, then the ranks
of the whole detachment began to move across the sloping square to
the gate.
The little knight blessed them with the Holy Cross; at last, when
the sleigh had passed the gate, he put his hands around his mouth,
and called, “Be well, Basia!”
But only the voices of muskets and the loud cawing of the dark
birds gave him answer.