Two days later Yatsek went to Radom with the ten ducats to dress
himself decently before the journey. Father Voynovski remained at home
brooding over this problem: "Whence am I to get money enough for the
equipment of a warrior, for a wagon, for horses, a saddle-horse, and an
attendant, all of which Yatsek must have if he cares for respect, and
does not wish men to consider him nobody?"
Especially did it become Yatsek to appear in that form, since he bore a
great, famous name, though somewhat forgotten in the Commonwealth.
A certain day Father Voynovski sat down at his small table, wrinkled
his brows till his white hair fell over his forehead, and began then to
reckon how much would be needed. His "animalia," that is, the dog
Filus, the tame fox, and a badger, were rolling balls near his feet;
but he gave them no attention whatever, so tremendously was he occupied
and troubled, for the "reckoning" refused to come out in any way, and
failed every moment. It failed not merely in details, but in the main
principles. The old man rubbed his forehead more and more violently and
at last he spoke audibly.
"He took ten ducats with him. Very well; of that, beyond doubt, he will
bring nothing back. Let us count farther: from Kondrat, the brewer,
five as a loan, from Slonka, three. From Dudu six Prussian thalers and
a borrowed saddle-horse, to be paid for in barley if there is a
harvest. Total, eight golden ducats, six thalers, and twenty ducats of
mine--too little! Even if I should give him the Wallachian as an
attendant, that would be, counting his own mount, two horses; and for a
wagon two more are needed--and for Yatsek at least two more. It is
impossible to go with fewer, for, if one horse should die he must have
another. And a uniform for his man, and supplies for the wagon, kettles
and cover and camp chest--tfu! He could only join the dragoons with
such money."
Then he turned to the animals which were raising a considerable uproar.
"Be quiet, ye traitors, or your hides will be sold to Jew hucksters!"
And again talk began:
"Yatsek is right, he will have to sell Vyrambki. Still, if he does, he
will have nothing to answer when any one asks him: 'Whence dost thou
come?' 'Whence?' 'From Wind.' 'Which Wind?' 'Wind in the Field.'
Immediately every one will slight such a person. It would be better to
mortgage the place if a man could be found to give money. Pan Gideon
would be the most suitable person, but Yatsek would not hear of Pan
Gideon, and I myself would not talk with him on the subject--My God!
People are mistaken when they say: 'poor as a church mouse!' A man is
often much poorer. A church mouse has Saint Stephen;[3] he lives in
comfort, and has his wax at all seasons. O Lord Jesus, who multiplied
loaves and fishes, multiply these few ruddy ducats, and these few
thalers, for to thee, O Lord, nothing will be diminished, and Thou wilt
help the last of the Tachevskis."
Then it occurred to him that the Prussian thalers, since they came from
a Lutheran country, could rouse only abhorrence in heaven; as to the
ducats he hesitated whether to put them under Christ's feet for the
night would he find them there multiplied in the morning? He did not
feel worthy of a miracle, and even he struck himself a number of times
on the breast in repentance for his insolent idea. He could not dwell
on this longer, however, for some one had come to the front of his
dwelling.
After a while the door opened and a tall, gray haired man entered. He
had black eyes and a wise, kindly countenance. The man bowed on the
threshold.
"I am Tsyprianovitch of Yedlinka," said he.
"Yes. I saw you in Prityk, at the festival, but only at a distance, for
the throng there was great," said the priest, approaching his guest
with vivaciousness. "I greet you on my lowly threshold with gladness."
"I have come hither with gladness," answered Pan Serafin. "It is an
important and pleasant duty to salute a knight so renowned, and a
priest who is so saintly."
Then he kissed the old man on the shoulder and the hand, though the
priest warded off these acts, saying,--
"Ho, what saintliness! These beasts here may have before God greater
merit than I have."
But Pan Serafin spoke so sincerely and with such simplicity that he won
the priest straightway. They began at once, therefore, to speak
pleasant words which were heartfelt.
"I know your son," said the priest; "he is a cavalier of worth
and noble manners. In comparison, those Bukoyemskis seem simply
serving-men. I will say to you that Yatsek Tachevski has conceived such
a love for Pan Stanislav that he praises him always."
"And my Stashko treats him in like manner. It happens frequently that
men fight and later on love each other. None of us feel offence toward
Pan Tachevski, nay, we should like to conclude with him real
friendship. I have just been at his house in Vyrambki, expecting to
find him. I wished to invite to Yedlinka you, my benefactor, and Pan
Tachevski."
"Yatsek is in Radom, but he will return and would be glad, doubtless,
to serve you-- But have you seen, your grace, how they treated him at
Pan Gideon's?"
"They have seen that themselves," said Pan Serafin, "and are sorry, not
Pan Gideon, however, but the women."
"There are few men so stubborn as Pan Gideon, and he incurs a serious
account before the Lord sometimes for this reason--as for the
women--God be with them-- Let them go, what is the use in hiding this:
that one of them caused the duel?"
"I divined that before my son told me. But the cause is innocent."
"They are all innocent-- Do you know what Ecclesiastes says of women?"
Pan Serafin did not know, so the priest took down the Vulgate and read
an extract from Ecclesiastes.
"What do you think of that?" asked he.
"There are women even of that kind."
"Yatsek is going into the world for no other cause, and I am far from
dissuading him. On the contrary, I advise him to go."
"Do you? Is he going soon? The war will come only next summer."
"Do you know that to a certainty?"
"I do, for I inquired and I inquired because I cannot keep my own son
from it."
"No, because he is a noble. Yatsek is going immediately, for, to tell
the truth, it is painful for him to remain here."
"I understand, I understand everything. Haste is the best cure in such
a case."
"He will stay only as long as may be needed to mortgage Vyrambki, or
sell it. It is only a small strip of land. I advise Yatsek not to sell
but to mortgage. Though he may never come back, he can sign himself
always as from it, and that is more decent for a man of his name and
his origin."
"Must he sell or mortgage in every case?"
"He must. The man is poor, quite poor. You know how much it costs to go
to a war, and he cannot serve in a common dragoon regiment."
Pan Serafin thought a while, and said,--
"My benefactor, perhaps I would take a mortgage on Vyrambki."
Father Voynovski blushed as does a maiden when a young man confesses on
a sudden that for which she is yearning beyond all things; but the
blush flew over his face as swiftly as summer lightning through the sky
of evening; then he looked at Pan Serafin, and asked,--
"Why do you take it?"
Pan Serafin answered with all the sincerity of an honest spirit:
"I want it since I wish, without loss to myself, to render an honorable
young man a service, for which I shall gain his gratitude. And, Father
benefactor, I have still another idea. I will send my one son to that
regiment in which Pan Yatsek is to serve, and I think that my Stashko
will find in him a good friend and comrade. You know how important a
comrade is and what a true friend at one's side means in camp where a
quarrel comes easily, and in war where death comes still more easily.
God has not, in my case been sparing of fortune, and He has given me
only one son. Pan Yatsek is brave, sober, a master at the sabre, as has
been shown--and he is virtuous, for you have reared him. Let him and my
son be like Orestes and Pylades--that is my reckoning."
Father Voynovski opened his arms to him widely.
"God himself sent you! For Yatsek I answer as I do for myself. He is a
golden fellow, and his heart is as grateful as wheat land. God sent
you! My dear boy can now show himself as befits the Tachevski
escutcheon, and most important of all, he can, after seeing the wide
world, forget altogether that girl for whom he has thrown away so many
years, and suffered such anguish."
"Has he loved her then from of old?"
"Well, to tell the truth, he has loved her since childhood. Even now he
says nothing, he sets his teeth, but he squirms like an eel beneath a
knife edge. Let him go at the earliest, for nothing could or can come
from this love of his."
A moment of silence followed, then the old man continued,--
"But we must speak of these matters more accurately. How much can you
lend on Vyrambki? It is a poor piece of land."
"Even one hundred ducats."
"Fear God, your grace!"
"But why? If Pan Yatsek ever pays me it will be all the same how much I
lend him. If he does not pay I shall get my own also, for though the
land about here is poor, that new soil must be good beyond the forest.
To-day I will take my son and the Bukoyemskis to Yedlinka, and you will
do us the favor to come as soon as Pan Yatsek returns to you from
Radom. The money will be ready."
"Your grace came from heaven with your golden heart and your money,"
said Father Voynovski.
Then he commanded to bring mead which he poured out himself, and they
drank with much pleasure as men do who have joy at their heart strings.
With the third glass the priest became serious.
"For the assistance, for the good word, for the honesty, let me pay,"
said he, "even with good advice."
"I am listening."
"Do not settle your son in Vyrambki. The young lady is beautiful beyond
every description. She may also be honorable, I say naught against
that; but she is a Sieninski, not she alone, but Pan Gideon is so proud
of this that if any man, no matter who, were to ask for her, even
Yakobus our king's son, he would not seem too high to Pan Gideon. Guard
your son, do not let him break his young heart on that pride, or wound
himself mortally like Yatsek. Out of pure and well-wishing friendship
do I say this, desiring to pay for your kindness with kindness."
Pan Serafin drew his palm across his forehead as he answered,--
"They dropped down on us at Yedlinka as from the clouds because of what
happened on the journey. I went once to Pan Gideon's on a neighborly
visit, but he did not return it. Noting his pride and its origin I have
not sought his acquaintance or friendship. What has come came of
itself. I will not settle my son in Vyrambki, nor let him be foolish at
Pan Gideon's mansion. We are not such an ancient nobility as the
Sieninskis, nor perhaps as Pan Gideon, but our nobility grew out of
war, out of that which gives pain, as Charnyetski described it. We
shall be able to preserve our own dignity--my son is not less keen on
that point than I am. It is hard for a young man to guard against
Cupid, but I will tell you, my benefactor, what Stashko told me when
recently at Pan Gideon's. I inquired touching Panna Anulka. 'I would
rather,' said he, 'not pluck an apple than spring too high after it,
for if I should not reach the fruit, shame would come of my effort.'"
"Ah! he has a good thought in his head!" exclaimed Father Voynovski.
"He has been thus from his boyhood," added Pan Serafin with a certain
proud feeling. "He told me also, that when he had learnt what the girl
had been to Tachevski, and what he had passed through because of her,
he would not cross the road of so worthy a cavalier. No, my benefactor,
I do not take a mortgage on Vyrambki to have my son near Pan Gideon's.
May God guard my Stanislav, and preserve him from evil."
"Amen! I believe you as if an angel were speaking. And now let some
third man take the girl, even one of the Bukoyemskis, who boast of such
kinsfolk."
Pan Serafin smiled, drank out his mead, took farewell, and departed.
Father Voynovski went to the church to thank God for that unexpected
assistance, and then he waited for Yatsek impatiently.
When at last Yatsek came, the old man ran out to the yard and seized
him by the shoulders.
"Yatsek," exclaimed he, "thou canst give ten ducats for a crupper. Thou
hast one hundred ducats, as it were, on the table, and Vyrambki remains
to thee."
Yatsek fixed on Father Voynovski eyes that were sunken from
sleeplessness and suffering, and asked, with astonishment,--
"What has happened?"
"A really good thing, since it came from the heart of an honest man."
Father Voynovski noted with the greatest consolation that Yatsek in
spite of his terrible suffering, and all his heart tortures, received,
as it were, a new spirit on learning of the agreement with Pan Serafin.
For some days he spoke and thought only of horses, wagons, outfit, and
servants, so that it seemed as though there was no place for aught else
in him.
"Here is thy medicine, thy balsam; here are thy remedies," repeated the
priest to himself; "for if a man entrapped by a woman and never so
unhappy were going to the army he would have to be careful not to buy a
horse that had heaves or was spavined; he would have to choose sabres,
and fit on his armor, try his lance once and a second time, and,
turning from the woman to more fitting objects, find relief for his
heart in them."
And he remembered how, when young, he himself had sought in war either
death or forgetfulness. But since war had not begun yet, death was
still distant from Yatsek in every case; meantime he was filled with
his journey, and with questions bound up in it.
There was plenty to do. Pan Serafin and his son came again to the
priest with whom Yatsek was living. Then all went to the city together
to draw up the mortgage. There, also, they found a part of Yatsek's
outfit; the remainder, the experienced and clear-headed priest advised
to search out in Warsaw or Cracow. This beginning of work took up some
days, during which young Stanislav, whose slight wound was almost
healed, gave earnest assistance to Yatsek, with whom he contracted a
more and more intimate acquaintance and friendship. The old men were
pleased at this, for both held it extremely important. The honest Pan
Serafin even began to be sorry that Yatsek was going so promptly, and
to persuade the priest not to hasten his departure.
"I understand," said he, "I understand well, my benefactor, why you
wish to send him away at the earliest; but in truth I must tell you
that I think no ill of that Panna Anulka. It is true that immediately
after the duel she did not receive Pan Yatsek very nicely, but remember
that she and Pani Vinnitski were snatched from the jaws of the wolves
by my son and the Bukoyemskis. What wonder, then, that, at sight of the
blood and the wounds of those gentlemen, she was seized with an anger,
which Pan Gideon roused in her purposely, as I know. Pan Gideon is a
stubborn man, truly; but when I was there the poor girl came to me
perfectly penitent. 'I see,' said she, 'that we did not act justly, and
that some reparation is due to Pan Yatsek.' Her eyes became moist
immediately, and pity seized me, because that face of hers is comely
beyond measure. Besides, she has an honest soul and despises
injustice."
"By the dear God! let not Yatsek hear of this; for his heart would rush
straightway to death again, and barely has he begun to breathe now in
freedom. He ran away from Pan Gideon's bareheaded; he swore that he
would never go back to that mansion, and God guard him from doing so.
Women, your grace, are like will-o'-the-wisps which move at night over
swamp lands at Yedlinka. If you chase one it flees, if you flee it
pursues you. That is the way of it!"
"That is a wise statement, which I must drive into Stashko," said Pan
Serafin.
"Let Yatsek go at the earliest. I have written letters already to
various acquaintances, and to dignitaries whom I knew before they were
dignitaries, and to warriors the most famous. In those letters your
son, too, is recommended as a worthy cavalier; and when his turn comes
to go he shall have letters also, though he may not need them, since
Yatsek will prepare the way for him. Let the two serve together."
"From my whole soul I thank you, my benefactor. Yes! let them serve
together, and may their friendship last till their lives end. You have
mentioned the regiment of Alexander, the king's son, which is under
Zbierhovski. That is a splendid regiment,--perhaps the first among the
hussars,--so I should like Stashko to join it; but he said to me: 'The
light-horse for six days in the week, and the hussars, as it were, only
on Sunday.'"
"That is true generally," answered the priest. "Hussars are not sent on
scouting expeditions, and it is rare also that they go skirmishing, as
it is not fitting that such men should meet all kinds of faces; but
when their turn comes, they so press on and trample that others do not
spill so much blood in six days as they do on their Sunday. But then,
war, not the warriors, command; hence sometimes it happens that hussars
perform every-day labor."
"You, my benefactor, know that beyond any man."
Father Voynovski closed his eyes for a moment, as if wishing to recall
the past more in detail; then he raised them, looked at the mead,
swallowed one mouthful, then a second, and said,--
"So it was when toward the end of the Swedish war we went to punish
that traitor, the Elector, for his treaties with Carolus. Pan
Lyubomirski, the marshal, took fire and sword to the outskirts of
Berlin. I was then in his own regiment, in which Viktor was lieutenant
commander. The Brandenburger[4] met us as best he was able, now with
infantry, now with general militia in which were German nobles; and I
tell you that at last, on our side, the arms of the hussars and the
Cossacks of the household seemed almost as if moving on hinges."
"Was it such difficult work then?"
"It was not difficult, for at the mere sight of us muskets and spears
trembled in the hands of those poor fellows as tree branches tremble
when the wind blows around them; but there was work daily from morning
till twilight. Whether a man thrusts his spear into a breast or a back,
it is labor. Ah! but that was a lovely campaign! for, as people said,
it was active, and in my life I have never seen so many men's backs and
so many horse rumps as in that time. Even Luther was weeping in hell,
for we ravaged one half of Brandenburg thoroughly."
"It is pleasant to remember that treason came to just punishment."
"Of course it is pleasant. The Elector appeared then and begged peace
of Lyubomirski. I did not see him, but later on soldiers told me that
the marshal walked along the square with his hands on his hips while
the Elector tripped after him like a whip-lash. The Elector bowed so
that he almost touched the ground with his wig, and seized the knees of
the marshal. Nay! they even said that he kissed him wherever it
happened; but I give no great faith to that statement, though the
marshal, who had a haughty heart, loved to bend down the enemy; but he
was a polite man in every case, and would not permit things of that
kind."
"God grant that it may happen with the Turks this time as it did then
with the Elector."
"My experience, though not lofty, is long, and I will say to you
sincerely that it will go, I think, as well or still better. The
marshal was a warrior of experience and especially a lucky one, but
still, we could not compare Lyubomirski with His Grace the King
reigning actually."
Then they mentioned all the victories of Sobieski and the battles in
which they themselves had taken part. And so they drank to the health
of the king, and rejoiced, knowing that with him as a leader the young
men would see real war; not only that, but, since the war was to be
against the ancient enemy of the cross, they would win immense glory.
In truth no one knew accurately anything yet about the question. It was
not known whether the Turkish power would turn first on the
Commonwealth or the Empire. The question of a treaty with Austria was
to be raised at the Diet. But in provincial diets and the meetings of
nobles men spoke of war only. Statesmen who had been in Warsaw, and at
the court, foretold it with conviction, and besides, the whole people
had been seized by a feeling that it must come--a feeling almost
stronger than certainty, and brought out as well by the former deeds of
the king as by the general desire and the destiny of the nation.