Consultations now followed touching the expedition; for not only were
there no voices against it, but Father Voynovski was searching for a
vicar in Radom. This plan, however, was an old one, modified by adding
to it the person of Panna Anulka, who would be taken to Cracow and
secured from the Krepetskis through protection from the king or the
cloister. Pan Serafin saw that the king, occupied as he was with the
war, would have no time to talk about private questions; but there
remained the queen, to whom access might be easy through notable
dignitaries, related for the greater part to the Sieninskis and the
Tachevskis.
There was fear also that the Krepetskis might attack Yedlinka when Pan
Serafin and the Bukoyemskis had gone, and seize on rich property in
furniture and silver. But Vilchopolski guaranteed that with the
servants and the foresters he would defend the place and not let the
Krepetskis touch anything. Pan Serafin, however, took the silver to
Radom and left it in the Bernardine cloister, where he had placed money
before that in large sums, not wishing to keep it at home near the edge
of great forests.
Meanwhile, he kept an attentive ear toward Belchantska for much
depended on that place. If Martsian died the Bukoyemskis would have to
give a grave answer; if he recovered hope existed that there would not
be even a lawsuit, since it was difficult to admit that the Krepetskis
would expose themselves willingly to ridicule. Pan Serafin considered
it as more likely that the old man would not leave him at peace
touching Panna Anulka but he thought that if the orphan were in the
care of the king the kernel of a lawsuit would be lost to the
Krepetskis.
He learned, through the butler, that the old man had gone to Radom and
Lublin, and remained rather long in those places.
For the first week Martsian suffered grievously, and there was fear
that the tar which he had swallowed might choke him, or stop his
intestines. But the second week he grew better. He did not, it is true,
leave the bed, for he had not strength to stand unassisted, his bones
pained him greatly, and he was mortally weary; but he began to curse
the Bukoyemskis, and to take keen delight in projects of vengeance. In
fact, after two weeks had passed, his "revellers from Radom" began to
visit him, various gallows-birds with sabres held up by hempen cords,
men with holes in their boots, and gaunt stomachs, thirsty and hungry
at all hours. Meanwhile he counselled with these, and was plotting not
only against the Bukoyemskis and Pan Serafin, but against the young
lady, of whom he could not think without gnashing of teeth; and he
developed such monstrous inventions against her, that his father
forewarned him, that they were of criminal nature.
The echo of those plots and threats went to Yedlinka, and produced
various impressions on different people. Pan Serafin, a man of much
courage, but prudent, was somewhat alarmed by them, especially when he
remembered that this enmity of wicked and dangerous people would strike
his son also. Father Voynovski, who had hotter blood in his veins, was
keenly indignant, and prophesied that the Krepetskis would meet a vile
ending. At the same time, though entirely won over to Anulka, he turned
from time to time to Pan Serafin, and then to the Bukoyemskis.
"Who caused the Trojan war? A woman! Who causes quarrels and battles at
all times? A woman! And it is the same now! Innocent or guilty, a
woman!"
But the Bukoyemskis cared little for the danger which threatened every
one from Martsian, and even promised themselves various amusements
because of it. They were warned, however, seriously from many sides.
The Sulgostovskis, the Silnitskis, the Kohanovskis, and others, all
greatly indignant at Martsian, came, one after the other, with tidings
to Yedlinka. They said that he was gathering a party, and even bandits
of the forest. They offered assistance, but the brothers wished no
assistance. Lukash, who spoke most frequently in the name of the other
three replied thus to Rafal Silnitski, who implored them to be
careful,--
"There is no harm in thinking before war of our arms, and also of
methods in which, from disuse, we have grown somewhat rusty, straighten
ourselves out, and have practice. Belchantska is no fortress, so let
Martsian see to his own safety, for who knows what may strike him. But
if he wishes to nourish us with ingratitude, let him try it!"
Pan Silnitski looked with astonishment at Lukash, and asked,--
"Nourish with ingratitude? But, as I think, he owes you no gratitude."
Lukash was sincerely indignant.
"How not owe? Could we not have cut him to pieces? Who gave him life?
Pani Krepetski once, but a second time our moderation; if he is going
to count on it always, tell him that he is mistaken."
"And tell him that he will see Panna Anulka as much as he will see his
own ears," added Marek.
"Why should he not see her, then?" finished Yan. "It is not difficult
for a man to see his own ears if they are cut from him."
The conversation then ended. The brothers repeated it to Panna Anulka
to calm her, which was superfluous, for the lady was not timid by
nature. Her fear, too, of the Krepetskis, and especially of Martsian,
was measured by her conviction that no danger threatened her in
Yedlinka. When, on the day after her arrival at Pan Serafin's, she saw
through the window Martsian in feathers, looking like some filthy
beast, urged on with whips by the Bukoyemskis, in the first moment of
her dreadful surprise, which was mixed with amazement and even
compassion, she conceived so much confidence in the power of the
brothers, that she could not even imagine how any one could avoid
fearing them. Martsian passed for a terrible person and a fighter, and
see what they did with him. It is true that Yatsek in his time had cut
up all those brothers, but Yatsek in her eyes had grown now beyond
common estimate altogether, and in general he appeared to her before
the last parting from a side so mysterious that she did not know with
what measure to esteem him. The remarks which were made about him by
the Bukoyemskis themselves, and Pan Serafin, with the words of the
priest, who spoke of him oftenest, confirmed in her only wonder for
that friend of her childhood, who had been so near to her once, but was
now so remote and so different. These accounts fixed in her that
longing, and that still sweeter feeling toward Yatsek, which, confessed
to the priest in a moment of excitement, she concealed again in the
depth of her heart, as a pearl is concealed in a mussel shell.
With all this she had in her soul a conviction, unshaken by anything,
that she must meet him, and that she would meet him even in the near
future. She had torn herself from the house of the Krepetskis; she felt
above her the powerful hands of well-wishing people; hence that
certainty became the joy and the root of her existence. It restored to
her health with contentment, and she bloomed afresh, as a flower blooms
in springtime. That Yedlinka mansion which had been hitherto so serious
was now bright from her presence. She had taken possession of Pani
Dzvonkovski, of Pan Serafin, and the Bukoyemskis. The whole house was
filled with her, and wherever she showed her little confident nose and
her young, gladsome eyes, delight and smiles followed. But she feared
Father Voynovski a little, since it seemed to her that he held in his
hand her fate and also Yatsek's. Hence she looked upon him with a
certain submissiveness. But with his compassionate heart, which in
general was as wax for all God's creation, he loved her sincerely, and
besides, when he learned to know her more closely, he esteemed her pure
spirit increasingly, though at times he called her a jaybird and a
squirrel, because, as he said, she was this moment here and the next in
another place.
After that first confession they spoke no further of Yatsek, just as if
they had agreed not to do so; both felt it too delicate a matter. Pan
Serafin made no mention of Yatsek to her in the presence of people, but
when no one was with them he was not ceremonious on that point; and
once, when she asked if he would meet his son quickly in Cracow, he
answered with a question,--
"And would you not like to meet some one there also?"
He thought that she would wind out of it jestingly, but to her bright
face came a shade of sadness, and she answered then seriously,--
"I should be glad to beg pardon, as soon as is possible, of any one
whom I have injured."
He looked at her with some emotion, but after a while it was clear that
another idea had come to him, for he stroked her bright face, and then
added,--
"Ei! thou hast the wherewithal to reward so that the king himself could
not reward better."
When she heard this she lowered her eyes in his presence, and was
wonderful as she stood there and blushed like the dawn of the morning.