On the road to Radom Father Voynovski had invited Pan Serafin and
Stanislav to his house for a rest, after which he and Yatsek were to
visit them at Yedlinka. During this visit three of the Bukoyemskis
appeared, unexpectedly. Marek, whose shoulder-blade had been cut, could
not move yet, but Mateush, Lukash, and Yan came to bow down before the
old man and thank him for his care of them when wounded. Yan had lost a
little finger, and the older brothers had big scars, one man on his
cheek, the other on his forehead, but their wounds had then healed and
they were as healthy as mushrooms.
Two days before they went on a hunt to the forest, smoked out a sleepy
she-bear, speared her, and took her cub which they brought as a gift to
Father Voynovski, whose fondness for wild beasts was known by all
people.
The priest whom they had pleased as "innocent boys" was amused with
them and the little bear very greatly. He shed tears from laughter when
the cub seized a glass filled with mead for a guest, and began to roar
in heaven-piercing notes to rouse proper terror, and thus save the
booty.
On seeing that no one wished the mead, the bear stood on its hind-legs
and drank out the cup in man fashion. This roused still greater
pleasure in the audience. The priest was amused keenly, and added,--
"I will not make this cub my butler or beekeeper."
"Ha!" cried Stanislav, laughing, "the beast was a short time at school
with the Bukoyemskis, but learned more in one day from them than it
would all its life in the forest."
"Not true," put in Lukash, "for this beast has by nature such wit that
it knows what is good without learning. Barely had we brought the cub
from the forest when it gulped down as much vodka (whiskey) right off
as if it had drunk the stuff every morning with its mother, and then
gave a whack on the snout to a dog, as if saying 'This for thee--don't
sniff at me'--after that it went off and slept soundly."
"Thank you, gentlemen. I will have real pleasure from this bear," said
the priest, "but I will not make the creature my butler or beekeeper,
for though knowing drinks well, it would stay too near them."
"Bears can do more than one thing. Father Glominski at Prityk has a
bear which pumps the organ they say. But some people are scandalized,
for at times he roars, especially when any one punches him."
"Well, there is no cause for scandal in that," replied Father
Voynovski; "birds build nests in churches and sing to the glory of God;
no one is scandalized. Every beast serves God, and the Saviour was born
in a stable."
"They say, besides," added Mateush, "that the Lord Jesus turned a
miller into a bear, so maybe there is a human soul in him."
"In that case you killed the miller's wife, and must answer," said Pan
Serafin. "His Grace the King is very jealous of his bears and does not
keep foresters to kill them."
When they heard this the three brothers grew anxious, but it was only
after long thinking that Mateush, who wished to say something in
self-defence, answered,--
"Pshaw! are we not nobles? The Bukoyemskis are as good as the
Sobieskis."
But a happy thought came to Lukash, and his face brightened.
"We gave our knightly word," said he, "not to shoot bears, and we shoot
no bears; we spear them."
"His Grace the King is not thinking of bears at the present," said Yan;
"and besides, no one will tell him. Let any forester here say a word.
It is a pity, however, that we boasted in presence of Pan Gideon and
Pan Grothus, for Pan Grothus has just gone to Warsaw, and as he sees
the king often, he may mention this accidentally."
"But when did ye see Pan Gideon?" asked the priest.
"Yesterday. He was conducting Pan Grothus; You know, benefactor, the
inn called Mordovnia? They stopped there to let their beasts rest. Pan
Gideon asked about many things, and he talked also of Yatsek."
"About me?" inquired Yatsek.
"Yes. 'Is it true,' asked he, 'that Tachevski is going to the army?'
'True,' we answered.
"'But when?'
"'Soon, we think.'
"Then Pan Gideon said again: 'That is well. Of course he will join the
infantry?'
"At that we all became angry, and Mateush said. 'Do not say that, your
grace, for Yatsek is our friend now, and we must be on his side.' And
as we began to pant, he restrained himself. 'I do not mention this out
of any ill-will, but I know that Vyrambki is not an estate of the
crown,'" said he.
"An estate, or not, what is that to him?" cried the priest. "He need
not trouble his head with it!"
But it was clear that Pan Gideon thought otherwise, and did trouble his
head about Yatsek; for an hour later the youth who brought in a
decanter of mead brought a sealed letter also.
"There is a messenger to your grace from Pan Gideon," said he.
Father Voynovski took the letter, broke the seal, opened it, struck the
paper with the back of his hand, and, approaching the window, began to
read.
Yatsek grew pale from emotion; he looked at the letter as at a rainbow,
for he divined that there must be mention of him in it. Thoughts flew
through his head as swallows fly. "Well," thought he, "the old man is
penitent; here is his excuse. It must be so and even cannot be
otherwise. Pan Gideon has no more cause now to be angry than those men
who suffered in the duel, so his conscience has spoken. He has
recognized the injustice of his conduct. He understands how grievously
he injured an innocent person, and he desires to correct the
injustice."
Yatsek's heart began to beat like a hammer. "Oh! I will go to the war,"
said he in his soul--"not for me is happiness over there. Though I
forgive her I cannot forget. But to see once more, before going, that
beloved Anulka, who is so cruel, to have a good look once again at her,
to hear her voice anew. O Gracious God, refuse not this blessing!"
And his thoughts flew with still greater swiftness than swallows; but
before they had stopped flying something took place which no man there
had expected: on a sudden Father Voynovski crushed the letter in his
hand and grasped toward his left side as if seeking a sabre. His face
filled with blood, his neck swelled, and his eyes shot forth lightning.
He was simply so terrible that Pan Serafin, his son, and the
Bukoyemskis looked at him with amazement, as if he had been turned into
some other person through magic.
Deep silence reigned in the chamber.
Meanwhile the priest bent toward the window, as if gazing at some
object outside it, then he turned away looked first at the walls and
then at his guests. It was clear that he had been struggling with
himself and had come to his mind again, for his face had grown pale,
and the flame was now dim in his eyeballs.
"Gracious gentlemen," said he, "that man is not merely passionate, but
evil altogether. To say in excitement more than justice permits befalls
every man, but to continue committing injustice and trampling on those
who are offended is not the deed of a noble, or a Catholic." Then,
stooping, he raised the crumpled letter and turned to Tachevski.
"Yatsek, if there is still in thy heart any splinter, take this knife
and cut it out thoroughly. Read, poor boy, read aloud, it is not for
thee to be ashamed, but for him who wrote this letter. Let these
gentlemen learn what kind of man is Pan Gideon."
Yatsek seized the letter with trembling hands, opened it and read:
"My very gracious Priest, Pastor, Benefactor, Etc., Etc.,--Having
learned that Tachevski of Vyrambki, who has frequented my house, is to
join the army during these days, I, in memory of the bread with which I
nourished his poverty, and for the services in which sometimes I was
able to use him, send the man a horse, and a ducat to shoe the beast,
with the advice not to waste the money on other and needless objects.
"Offering at the same time to you my willing and earnest services, I
inscribe myself, etc., etc."
Yatsek grew so very pale after reading the letter that the men present
had fears for him, especially the priest who was not sure that that
pallor might not be the herald of some outburst of madness, for he knew
how terrible was that young man in his anger, though usually so mild.
He began therefore at once to restrain him.
"Pan Gideon is old, and has lost one arm," said he quickly, "thou canst
not challenge him!"
But Yatsek did not burst out, for at the first moment immeasurable and
painful amazement conquered all other feelings.
"I cannot challenge him," repeated he, as an echo, "but why does he
continue to trample me?"
Thereupon Pan Serafin rose, took both Yatsek's hands, shook them
firmly, kissed him on the forehead, and added,--
"Pan Gideon has injured, not thee, but himself, and if thou drop
revenge every man will wonder all the more at thy noble soul which
deserves the high blood in thee."
"Those are wise words!" cried the priest, "and thou must deserve them."
Pan Stanislav now embraced Yatsek.
"In truth," said he, "I love thee more and more."
This turn of affairs was not at all pleasing to the Bukoyemskis, who
had not ceased to grit their teeth from the moment of hearing the
letter. Following Stanislav they embraced Yatsek also.
"No matter how things are," said Lukash at last, "I should do
differently in Yatsek's place."
"How?" asked the two brothers with curiosity.
"That is just it. I don't know how, but I should think out something,
and would not yield my position."
"Since thou knowst not do not talk."
"But ye, do ye know anything?"
"Be quiet!" said the priest. "Be sure I shall not leave the letter
unanswered. Still, to drop revenge is a Christian and a Catholic
action."
"Oh but! Even you, father, snatched for a sabre the first moment."
"Because I carried a sabre too long. _Mea Culpa!_ Still, as I have
said, this fact comes in also. Pan Gideon is old, he has only one arm;
iron rules are not in place here. And I tell you, gentlemen, that for
this very reason I am disgusted to the last degree with this raging old
fellow who makes use of his impunity so unjustly."
"Still, it will be too narrow for him in our neighborhood," said Yan
Bukoyemski. "Our heads for this: that not a living foot will go under
that roof of his."
"Meanwhile an answer is needed," said Father Voynovski, "and
immediately."
For a time yet they considered as to who should write,--Yatsek, at whom
the letter was aimed, or the priest to whom it was directed. Yatsek
settled the question by saying,--
"For me that whole house and all people in it are as if dead, and it is
well for them that in my soul this is settled."
"It is well that the bridges are burnt!" said the priest; as he sought
pen and paper.
"It is well that the bridges are burnt," repeated Yan Bukoyemski, "but
it would be better that the mansion rose in smoke! This was our way in
the Ukraine: when some strange man came in and knew not how to live
with us, we cut him to pieces and up in smoke went his property."
No one turned attention to these words save Pan Serafin, who waved his
hands with impatience, and answered,--
"You, gentlemen, came in here from the Ukraine, I, from Lvoff, and Pan
Gideon from Pomorani; according to your wit Pan Tachevski might count
us all as intruders; but know this, that the Commonwealth is a great
mansion occupied by a family of nobles, and a noble is at home in every
corner."
Silence followed, except that from the alcove came the squeaking of a
pen and words in an undertone which the priest was dictating to
himself. Yatsek rested his forehead on his palms and sat motionless for
some time; all at once he straightened himself, looked at those
present, and said,--
"There is something in this beyond my understanding."
"We do not understand, either," added Lukash, "but if thou wilt pour
out more mead we will drink it."
Yatsek poured into the glasses mechanically, following at the same time
the course of his own thoughts.
"Pan Gideon," said he, "might be offended because the duel began at his
mansion, though such things happen everywhere; but now he knows that I
did not challenge, he knows that he offended me under my own roof
unjustly, he knows that with you I am now in agreement, and that I
shall not appear at his house again,--still he pursues me, still he is
trying to trample me."
"True, there is some kind of special animosity in this," said Pan
Serafin.
"Ha! then there is as you think something in it?"
"In what?" asked the priest, who had come out with a letter now
written, and heard the last sentence.
"In this special hatred against me."
The priest looked at a shelf on which among other books was the Holy
Bible, and said,--
"That which I will say to thee now I said long ago: there is a woman in
it." Here he turned to those present. "Have I repeated to you,
gentlemen, what Ecclesiastes says about woman?"
But he could not finish, for Yatsek sprang up as if burnt by living
fire. He thrust his fingers through his hair and almost screamed, for
immense pain had seized him.
"Still more do I fail to understand; for if any one in the world--if to
any one in the world--if there be any one of such kind--then with my
whole soul--"
But he could not say a word more, for the pain in his heart had gripped
his throat as if in a vice of iron, and rose to his eyes as two bitter,
burning tears, which flowed down his cheeks. The priest understood him
then perfectly.
"My Yatsek," advised he, "better burn out the wound, even with awful
pain than let it fester. For this reason I do not spare thee. I, in my
time, was a soldier of this world, and understand many things. I know
that regret and remembrance, no matter how far a man travels, drag like
dogs after him, and howl in the night-time. They give him no chance to
sleep because of this howling. What must he do then? Kill those dogs
straightway. Thou at this moment feelest that thou wouldst have given
all thy blood over there; for which reason it seems to thee so
marvellous and terrible that from that side alone vengeance pursues
thee. The thing seems to thee impossible; but it is possible--for if
thou hast wounded the pride and self-love of a woman, if she thought
that thou wouldst whine and thou hast not whined when she beat thee,
and thou didst not fawn in her presence, but hast tugged at thy chain
and hast broken it, know that she will never and never forgive thee,
and her hatred, more raging than that of any man living, will always
pursue thee. Against this there is only one refuge: crush the love,
even on thy own heart, and hurl it, like a broken bow, far from
thee--that is thy one refuge!"
Again there was a moment of silence. Pan Serafin nodded, confirming the
priest, and, as a man of experience, he admired all the wisdom of his
statement.
"It is true," added Yatsek, "that I have tugged at the chain, and have
broken it. So it is not Pan Gideon who pursues me!"
"I know what I should do," said Lukash, on a sudden.
"Tell, do not hide!" cried the other two.
"Do ye know what the hare said?"
"What hare? Art thou drunk?"
"Why that hare at the boundary ridge."
And, evidently encouraged, he stood up, put his hand on his hip and
began to sing:
"A hare was just sitting for pleasure,
Just sitting at the boundary ridge.
But the hunters did not see him,
Did not know
That he was sitting lamenting
And making his will
At the boundary ridge."
Here he turned to his brothers and asked them,--
"Do ye know the will made by that hare at the boundary ridge?"
"We know, but it is pleasant to hear it repeated."
"Then listen.
"Kiss me all ye horsemen and hunters,
Kiss me at the boundary ridge.
"This is what I would write to all at Belchantska if I were in Yatsek's
position; and if he does not write it, may the first Janissary
disembowel me if I do not write it in my own name and yours to Pan
Gideon."
"Oh, as God is dear to me, that is a capital idea!" cried Yan, much
delighted.
"It is to the point and full of fancy!"
"Let Yatsek write that!"
"No," said the priest, made impatient by the talk of the brothers. "I
am writing, not Yatsek, and it would not become me to take your words."
Here he turned to Pan Serafin and Stanislav and Yatsek. "The task was
difficult, for I had to twist the horns of his malice and not abandon
politeness, and also to show him that we understood whence the sting
came. Listen, therefore, and if any one of you gentlemen has made a
nice judgment I beg you to criticise this letter." And he began,--
"Great mighty benefactor, and to me very dear Sir and Brother."
Here he struck the letter with the back of his hand, and said,--
"You will observe, gentlemen, that I do not call him 'my very
gracious,' but 'my very dear.'"
"He will have enough!" said Pan Serafin, "read on, my benefactor."
"Then listen: 'It is known to all citizens of our Commonwealth that
only those people know how to observe due politeness in every position
who have lived from youth upward among polite people, or who, coming of
great blood, have brought politeness into the world with them. Neither
the one nor the other has come to your grace as a portion, while on the
contrary the Mighty Lord Pan Yatsek Tachevski inherited from renowned
ancestors both blood and a lordly spirit. He forgives you your peasant
expressions and sends back your peasant gifts. Rustics keep inns in
cities and also eating-houses on country roads for the entertainment of
people. If you will send to the great Lord Pan Yatsek Tachevski the
bill for such entertainment as he received at your house he will pay
it, and add such gratuity as seems proper to his generous nature.'"
"Oh, as God is dear to me!" exclaimed Pan Serafin, "Pan Gideon will
have a rush of blood!"
"Ha! it was necessary to bring down his pride, and at the same time to
burn the bridges. Yatsek himself wanted that-- Now listen to what I
write from myself to him: 'I have inclined Pan Tachevski to see that
though the bow is yours, the poisoned arrow with which you wished to
strike that worthy young gentleman was not in your own quiver. Since
reason in men, and strength in their bones, weaken with years, and
senile old age yields easily to suggestions from others, it deserves
more indulgence. With this I end, adding as a priest and a servant of
God, this: that the greater the age, the nearer life's end, the less
should a man be a servant of hatred and haughtiness. On the contrary,
he should think all the more of the salvation of his soul, a thing
which I wish your grace. Amen. Herewith remaining, etc. I subscribe
myself, etc.'"
"All is written out accurately," said Pan Serafin; "nothing to be
added, nothing taken away."
"Ha!" said the priest, "do you think that he gets what he deserves?"
"Oi! certain words burnt me."
"And me," added Lukash. "It is sure that when a man hears such speeches
he wants to drink, just as on a hot day."
"Yatsek, attend to those gentlemen. I will seal the letter and send it
away."
So saying he took the ring from his finger and went to the alcove. But
while sealing the letter some other thought came to his head, as it
happened, for when he returned, he said,--
"It is done. The affair is over. But do you not think it too cutting?
The man is old, it may cost him his health. Wounds given by the pen are
no less effective than those by the sword or the bullet."
"True! true!" said Yatsek, and he gritted his teeth.
But just this exclamation of pain decided the matter. Pan Serafin
added,--
"My revered benefactor, your scruples are honorable, but Pan Gideon had
no scruples whatever; his letter struck straight at the heart, while
yours strikes only at malice and pride. I think, therefore, that it
ought to be sent."
And the letter was sent. After that still more hurried preparations
were made for Yatsek's departure.