A few hours later on old Krepetski took his son to Belchantska, though
the young man was unable to stand, and did not know clearly what was
happening. First of all the servants had washed him with great trouble,
and had put on him fresh linen, but after this had been done such
weakness came upon Martsian, that he fainted repeatedly, and thanks
only to the angelica and pimpernel bitters which Pani Dzvonkovski now
gave him was he brought back to consciousness. Pan Serafin advised to
place him in bed and defer the departure till recovery was perfect, but
Pan Krepetski, whose old heart was raging, did not wish to owe
gratitude to a man against whom he was planning a lawsuit for harboring
the young lady; hence he had them put hay in a wagon, and, placing a
rug, instead of a bed, under Martsian he moved toward Belchantska,
hurling threats at the Bukoyemskis and also Pan Serafin. While
threatening vengeance he was forced to accept Pan Serafin's assistance,
and borrow from him hay, clothing, and linen, but, blinded by anger, he
took no note of the strange situation. Pan Serafin himself had no mind
whatever for laughter; since the act of the four brothers disturbed and
concerned him very greatly.
At this juncture came Father Voynovski who had been summoned by letter.
The Bukoyemskis, now greatly confused, were sitting in the office, not
showing their noses, hence Pan Serafin had to tell all that had
happened. The priest struck the skirt of his soutane from time to time
as he listened, but he was not so grieved as Pan Serafin had expected.
"If Martsian dies," said he at length, "then woe to the Bukoyemskis,
but if, as I think, he squirms out of it, I suppose that they will take
private vengeance and not raise a lawsuit."
"Why so?"
"Because it is unpleasant to be ridiculed by the country. At the same
time his conduct toward Panna Anulka would be discovered. That would
give him no enviable reputation. His life is not laudable, hence he
should avoid the chance of letting witnesses tell in public what they
know of him."
"That may be true," said Pan Serafin, "but it is difficult to forgive
the Bukoyemskis tricks of such a character."
The priest waved his hand.
"The Bukoyemskis are the Bukoyemskis."
"How?" asked Pan Serafin, with astonishment. "I thought that your grace
would be more offended."
"My gracious sir," said the old man, "you have served in the army, but
I have served longer, and have seen so many soldiers' tricks during my
time that nothing common can surprise me. It is bad that such things
happen. I blame the Bukoyemskis, but I have seen worse things,
especially as in this case the question was of an orphan. I will go
still farther and say sincerely, that I should grieve more if
Martsian's deeds had gone unpunished. Think, we are old, but if we were
young our hearts too would boil up over deeds such as his are. That is
why I cannot blame the Bukoyemskis altogether."
"True, true, but still Martsian may not live until morning."
"That is in the hands of God; but you say he is not wounded?"
"He is not, but he is all one blue spot, and faints continually."
"Oh, he will get out of that; he fainted from fatigue. But I must go to
the Bukoyemskis and inquire how it happened."
The brothers received him with rapture, for they hoped that he would
take their part with Pan Serafin. They began to quarrel at once as to
who should tell the tale, and stopped only when the priest gave Mateush
the primacy.
Mateush resumed his voice and spoke as follows,--
"Father benefactor, God saw our innocence! For, when we learned from
Pani Dzvonkovski how that poor little orphan had blue lumps all over
her body, we came into this room in such grief that had it not been for
the mead which Pan Serafin sent us in a pitcher, our hearts would have
burst perhaps. And I say to your grace, we drank and shed tears--we
drank and shed tears. And we had this in mind too, that she was no
common girl, but a young lady descended from senators. It is known to
you, for example, that the higher blood a horse has, the thinner his
skin is; slash a common drudge with a whip, he will hardly feel it, but
strike a noble steed, and immediately a welt will come out on him.
Think, Father benefactor, what a thin, tender skin such a dear little
girl must have on her shoulders, and all over her body, just like a
wafer--say yourself--"
"What do I know of her skin?" cried Father Voynovski, in anger. "Tell
me better, how did ye plaster up Martsian."
"We promised Pan Serafin on oath not to cut him in pieces, but we knew
that old Krepetski would come here, and we guessed immediately that
Martsian would gallop out to meet him. So, according to arrangement,
two of us took down to the tar pit before daylight a great salt-barrel
filled with feathers, which we got from the wife of a forester. We
picked out at the place a cask of thick tar, and waited at the hut near
that tar pit. We look--old Krepetski is riding along--that is no harm,
let him ride! We wait, we wait till we are tired of waiting; then we
think about going to Belchantska. That moment a boy from the tar pit
tells us that Martsian is coming up the road. We ride out and halt
there in front of him. 'With the forehead! With the forehead!' 'But
whither?' 'Straight ahead,' says he, 'by the woods.' 'But to whose
harm?' 'To harm or to profit,' says he, 'get ye out of this!' And then
to the sabre. But we seized him by the neck. 'Oh! this cannot be!'
cried he. In a flash we had him down from the horse, which Yan took by
the bridle. He fell to screaming, to kicking, to biting, to gnawing,
but we, like a lightning flash, took him to the barrels which stood one
near the other, and said, 'Oh! thou son of such an one! thou wilt
injure orphans, threaten young ladies with infamy, disregard lofty
blood, beat an orphan on the shoulders, and think that no one will take
the part of thy victim; learn now that there are tender hearts in the
country.' And that moment we thrust him into the tar, head downward. We
raise him out, and again in with him. 'Learn that there are feeling
souls!' said we.--And in with him then among the feathers!--'Learn now
that there is chivalrous daring!' And again with him into the tar
barrel. 'Learn to know the Bukoyemskis!' And again with him into the
feathers! We wanted to give him another dose, but the tar boiler
shouted that he would smother; and indeed he was thickly coated, so
that neither his nose nor his eyes were visible to any one; we put him
then on the saddle and tied his feet firmly under the animal's belly
lest he fly from his position. We painted the horse, and scattered
feathers over him also, then lashing this rather wild beast with whips,
after we had taken off his bridle, we drove him ahead of us."
"And ye drove him up here?"
"As a strange beast, for we wished to console the young lady even a
little, and show her our brotherly affection."
"Ye gave her a lovely consolation. When she saw him through the window,
the fright nearly killed her."
"When she recovers she will think of us gratefully. Orphans always like
to feel guardianship over them."
"Ye have done her more harm than service. Who knows if the Krepetskis
will not take her away again?"
"How is that? By the dear God! will we let them?"
"But who will defend the girl when ye are in prison?"
When they heard this the brothers were greatly concerned, and looked
with anxious eyes at one another. But Lukash at last struck his
forehead. "We will not be imprisoned," said he, "for first we will go
to the army; but if it comes to that, if there is a question of Panna
Anulka's safety, help will be found."
"Found! Of course it will," cried out Marek.
"What help?" inquired Father Voynovski.
"We will challenge Martsian as soon as he recovers. He will not go
alive out of our hands."
"But if he dies now?"
"Then God will help us."
"But ye will pay with your lives!"
"Before that we will shell out the Turks, and the Lord Jesus will
reward us for that service. Only let your grace take our part with Pan
Serafin; for if Stanislav had been here he would have been with us
while giving this bath to that Martsian."
"But would not Yatsek give it?" inquired Mateush.
"Yatsek will give him a better bath!" cried the priest, as if
unwittingly.
Further converse was stopped by the coming of Pan Serafin, who appeared
with a ready and weighty decision.
"I have been thinking of what we should do," said he, very seriously.
"And does your grace know what I have decided? It is this, that we
should all go to Cracow with Panna Anulka. I know not if we shall see
our boys in that city, for no one knows where the regiments will be
quartered, or what will be the order of their marching. But we should
place the girl under protection of the king or the queen; or, if that
is not done, secure her in some cloister for a season. I have also
determined, as you know, to take the field in my old age and serve with
my son, or, if such be God's will, to die with him. During our absence
the girl would not be safe, even in Radom, under the protection of the
prelate Tvorkovski. These gentlemen"--here he pointed to the
Bukoyemskis "need to be under the hetman immediately. It is unknown
what might happen should they stay here. I have acquaintances at
court,--Pan Matchynski, Pan Gninski, Pan Grothus,--and shall get their
influence for the orphan, as I think. That done I will find
Zbierhovski's regiment, and go straight to my son where I shall see
Yatsek also. What think you of this, my benefactor?"
"As God lives," cried Father Voynovski, "this is a splendid idea! And I
will go with you--and I will go with you to Yatsek. And as to Panna
Anulka, oh, all will be well! The Sobieskis owe a great debt to the
Sieninskis. She will be out of danger in Cracow and nearer; for I am
certain that Yatsek has not forgotten her. And when the war ends that
will happen which God wishes. Give me a substitute here in my parish
from Radom, and I will be with you!"
"All together!" roared the Bukoyemskis with rapture "to Cracow!"
"And the field of glory!" cried Father Voynovski.