At last the long-wished-for day of his happiness came to Tachevski. In
Cracow a report had gone out among the citizens, and was repeated with
wonder, that in the army was a knight who would marry on one day and
mount his horse the day following. When the report went out also that
the king and queen would be at the marriage, crowds began from early
morning to assemble in the church and outside it. At length the crowd
was so great that the king's men had to bring order to the square so
that the marriage guests might have a free passage. Tachevski's
comrades assembled to a man; this they did out of good-will and
friendship, and also because it was dear to each one of them to be seen
in a company where the king himself would be present, and to belong, as
it were, to his private society. Many dignitaries appeared also, even
men who had never heard of Tachevski, for it was known that the queen
favored the marriage, and at the court much depended on her inclination
and favor.
To some of the lords it was not less wonderful than to the citizens
that the king should find time to be at the marriage of a simple
officer, while on that king's shoulders the fate of the whole world was
then resting, and day after day couriers from foreign lands were flying
in on foaming horses; hence some considered this as coming from the
kindness of the monarch and his wish to win the army, while others made
suppositions that there existed some near bond of kinship, difficult to
be acknowledged; others ridiculed these suppositions, stating justly
that in such a case the queen, who had so little condescension for the
failings of cavaliers that the king more than once had been forced to
make explanations, would not have been so anxious for the union of the
lovers.
People remembered little of the Sieninskis, so to avoid every calumny
and gossip the king declared that the Sobieskis owed much to that
family. Then people of society were concerned with Panna Anulka, and,
as is usual at courts, at one time they pitied, at another time they
were moved by her sufferings, and next they lauded her virtue and
comeliness. Reports of her beauty spread widely even among citizens,
but when at last they saw her no one was disappointed.
She came to the church with the queen, hence all glances went first to
that lofty lady whose charms were still brilliant, like the bright sun
before evening; but when they were turned to the bride, all men among
dignitaries, the military, the nobles, and citizens whispered, and even
loud voices were heard.
"Wonderful, wonderful! That man owes much to his eyes, who has beheld
once in life such a woman."
And this was true. Not always in those times was a maiden dressed in
white for her marriage, but the young ladies and the assistants arrayed
Anulka in white, for such was her wish, and that was the color of her
finest robe also. So in white, with a green wreath on her golden hair,
and with a face confused a trifle, and pale, with downcast eyes, she,
silent, and slender, looked like a snowy swan, or simply like a white
lily. Even Yatsek himself, to whom she seemed in some sort a new
person, was astonished at sight of her. "In God's name!" said he to
himself, "how can I approach her? She is a genuine queen, or entirely
an angel with whom it is sinful to speak unless kneeling." And he was
almost awestruck. But when at last he and she knelt side by side before
the altar, and heard the voice of Father Voynovski full of emotion, as
he began with the words: "I knew you both as little children," and
joined their hands with his stole, when he heard his own low voice: "I
take thee as wife," and the hymn, _Veni Creator_ burst forth a moment
later, it seemed to Yatsek that happiness would burst his bosom, and
that all the easier since he was not wearing his armor. He had loved
this woman from childhood, and he knew that he loved her, but now, for
the first time, he understood how he loved her without measure or
limit. And again he began to say to himself: I must die, for if a man
during life were to have so much happiness, what more could there be
for him in heaven? But he thought that before he died he must thank
God; and all at once there flew before the eyes of his soul Turkish
warriors in legions, beards, turbans, sashes, crooked sabres, horsetail
standards. So from his heart was rent the shout to God: "I will thank
to the full, to the full!" And he felt, that for those enemies of the
cross and the faith, he would become a destroying lion. That vision
lasted only one twinkle, then his breast was filled with a boundless
wave of love and rapture.
Meanwhile the ceremony was ended, the retinue moved to the dwelling
prepared for the young couple by Stanislav, and ornamented by his
comrades in the regiment. For one moment only could Yatsek press to his
heart the young Pani Tachevski, for straightway both ran to meet the
king and queen, who had come from the church to them. Two high
armchairs had been fixed for the royal pair at the table, so, after the
blessing, during which the young people knelt before majesty, Yatsek
begged the gracious lord and lady to the wedding feast, but the king
had to give a refusal.
"Dear comrade," said he, "I should be glad to talk with thee, and still
more with thee, my relative," here he turned to Pani Tachevski, "and
discuss the coming dowry. I will remain a moment and drink a health to
you, but I may not sit down, for I have so much on my head, that every
hour now is precious."
"We believe that!" cried a number of voices.
Tachevski seized the feet of the king, who took a filled goblet from
the table.
"Gracious gentlemen!" said he, "the health of the young couple!"
A shout was heard: "_Vivant! crescant, floreant!_" Then the king again
spoke,--
"Enjoy your happiness quickly," said he to Tachevski, "for it deserves
that, and it will not be long. Thou shouldst remain here a few days,
but then thou must follow on quickly for we shall not wait for thee."
"It is easier for her to hold out without thee, than Vienna without
us," said Pan Marek Matchynski, smiling at Yatsek.
"But Lyubomirski is shelling out the Turks there," said one of the
hussars.
"I have good news from our men," said the king. "This I have commanded
Matchynski to bring, to be read to you, and gladden the hearts of our
warriors. It is what the Duke of Lorraine, commander-in-chief for the
emperor, writes me of the battle near Presburg."
And he read somewhat slowly, for he read to the nobles in Polish, and
the letter was in the French language.
"'The emperor's cavalry advanced with effect and enthusiasm, but the
action was ended by the Poles who left no work to the Germans. I cannot
find words sufficient to praise the strength, valor, and bearing of the
officers and soldiers led by Pan Lyubomirski.[8]
"'The battle,' writes the Duke of Lorraine, 'was a great one, and our
glory not small.'"
"We will show that we are not worse," cried the warriors.
"I believe and am confident, but we must hasten, for later letters
portend evil. Vienna is barely able to breathe, and all Christianity
has its eyes on us. Shall we be there in season?"
"Few regiments have remained here, the main forces are at the Tarnovski
Heights waiting, as I have heard, under the hetmans," said Father
Voynovski, "but though our hands are needed at Vienna, they are not
needed so much as a leader like your Royal Grace."
Sobieski smiled at this and answered,--
"That, word for word, is what the Duke of Lorraine writes. So,
gentlemen, keep the bridles in hand, for any hour I may order the
sounding of trumpets."
"When, gracious lord?" called a number of voices.
The king grew impressive in a moment.
"I will send off to-morrow those regiments which are still with me,"
then he glanced quickly at Tachevski, as if testing him. "Since her
grace the queen will go to the Heights with us to see the review there,
thou, unless thou ask of us an entirely new office, may remain here, if
thou engage to overtake us exactly."
Yatsek, putting his arm around his wife, pushed one step toward the
king with her.
"Gracious lord," said he, "if the German empire, or even the kingdom of
France were offered me in exchange for this lady, God, who sees my
whole heart, knows that I would not accept either, and that I would not
give her for any treasure in existence. But God forbid that I should
abandon my service, or lose an opportunity, or neglect a war for
religion, or desert my own leader for the sake of private happiness. If
I did I should despise myself, and she, for I know her, would also
despise me. O gracious lord, if ill luck or misfortune were to bar the
road and I could not join thee I should burn up from shame and from
anguish." Here tears dimmed his eyes, blushes came to his cheeks, and,
in a voice trembling from emotion, he added: "To-day I blasphemed
before the altar, for I said: 'O God, I will thank to the full, to the
full for this.'--But only with my life, with my blood, with my labor
could I return thanks for the happiness which has met me. For this very
reason I shall ask no new office, and when thou shalt move, gracious
leader and king, I will not delay even one day behind thee. I will go
at the same hour, though I were to fall on the morrow." And he knelt at
the feet of Sobieski, who, bending forward, embraced his head and then
answered,--
"Give me more of such men, and the Polish name will go through the
world thundering."
Father Voynovski had tears in his eyes, the Bukoyemskis were weeping
like beavers. Emotion and enthusiasm seized every man present.
"On the pagans, for the faith!" roared many voices. And then began
rattling of sabres. But when it had grown somewhat quiet Pani Tachevski
bent to the ear of her husband and, with pale lips, whispered into
it,--
"O Yatsek, wonder not at my tears, for if thou go I may never see thee
hereafter--but go!"