A time of serious labor began now for Volodyovski,--of letter-writing
and journeying. The week following he transferred his head-quarters to
Upita, where he began the levy. The nobles flocked to him willingly,
both great and small, for he had a wide reputation. But especially came
the Lauda men, for whom horses had to be provided. Volodyovski hurried
around as if in boiling water; but since he was active and spared no
pains, everything went on successfully enough. Meanwhile he visited in
Lyubich Pan Kmita, who had advanced considerably toward health; and
though he had not risen yet from his bed, it was known that he would
recover.
Kmita recognized the knight at once, and turned a little pale at sight
of him. Even his hand moved involuntarily toward the sabre above his
head; but he checked himself when he saw a smile on the face of his
guest, put forth his thin hand, and said,--
"I thank you for the visit. This is courtesy worthy of such a
cavalier."
"I have come to inquire if you cherish ill feeling against me," said
Pan Michael.
"I have no ill feeling; for no common man overcame me, but a swordsman
of the first degree. Hardly have I escaped."
"And how is your health?"
"It is surely a wonder to you that I have come out alive. I confess
myself that it is no small exploit." Here Kmita laughed. "Well, the
affair is not lost. You may finish me at your pleasure."
"I have not come with such intent--"
"You must be the devil," interrupted Kmita, "or must have a captive
spirit. God knows I am far from self-praise at this moment, for I am
returning from the other world; but before meeting you I thought, 'If I
am not the best sabre in the Commonwealth, I am the second.' But I
could not have warded off the first blow if you had not wished it. Tell
me where did you learn so much?"
"I had some little innate capacity, and my father taught me from
boyhood. He said many a time, 'God has given you insignificant stature;
if men do not fear you, they will laugh at you.' Later on, while
serving with the voevoda of Rus, I finished my course. With him were a
few men who could stand boldly before me."
"But could there be such?"
"There could, for there were. There was Pan Podbipienta, a Lithuanian
of high birth, who fell at Zbaraj,--the Lord light his soul!--a man of
such strength that there were no means to stop him, for he could cut
through opponent and weapons. Then there was Skshetuski, my heartfelt
friend and confidant, of whom you must have heard."
"Of course! He came out of Zbaraj, and burst through the Cossacks. So
you are of such a brace, and a man of Zbaraj! With the forehead! with
the forehead! Wait a moment; I have heard of you at the castle of
Radzivill, voevoda of Vilna. Your name is Michael?"
"Exactly; I am Michael. My first name is Yerzi; but since Saint Michael
leads the whole host of heaven, and has gamed so many victories over
the banners of hell, I prefer him as a patron."
"It is sure that Yerzi is not equal to Michael. Then you are that same
Volodyovski of whom it is said that he cut up Bogun?"
"I am he."
"Well, to receive a slash on the head from such a man is not a
misfortune. If God would grant us to be friends! You called me a
traitor, 'tis true, but you were mistaken." When he said this, Kmita
frowned as if his wound caused him pain again.
"I confess my mistake," answered Volodyovski. "I do not learn that from
you; your men told me. And know that if I had not learned it I should
not have come here."
"Tongues have cut me and cut me," said Kmita, with bitterness. "Let
come what may, I confess more than one mark is against me; but in this
neighborhood men have received me ungraciously."
"You injured yourself most by burning Volmontovichi, and by the last
seizure."
"Now they are crushing me with lawsuits. I am summoned to courts. They
will not give a sick man time to recover. I burned Volmontovichi, 'tis
true, and cut down some people; but let God judge me if I did that from
caprice. The same night, before the burning I made a vow to live with
all men in peace, to attract to myself these homespuns around here, to
satisfy the basswood barks in Upita, for there I really played the
tyrant. I returned to my house, and what did I find? I found my
comrades cut up like cattle, lying at the wall. When I learned that the
Butryms had done this, the devil entered me, and I took stern
vengeance. Would you believe why they were cut up, why they were
slaughtered? I learned myself later from one of the Butryms, whom I
found in the woods. Behold, it was for this,--that they wanted to dance
with the women of the nobles in a public house! Who would not have
taken vengeance?"
"My worthy sir," answered Volodyovski, "it is true that they acted
severely with your comrades; but was it the nobles who killed them? No;
their previous reputation killed them,--that which they brought with
them; for if orderly soldiers had wished to dance, surely they would
not have slain them."
"Poor fellows!" said Kmita, following his own thoughts, "while I was
lying here now in a fever, they came in every evening through that door
from the room outside. I saw them around this bed as if living, blue,
hacked up, and groaning continually, 'Yendrus! give money to have a
Mass for our souls; we are in torments!' Then I tell you the hair stood
on my head, for the smell of sulphur from them was in the room. I gave
money for a Mass. Oh, may it help them!"
A moment of silence then followed.
"As to the carrying off," continued Kmita, "no one could have told you
about that; for in truth she saved my life when the nobles were hunting
me, but afterward she ordered me to depart and not show myself before
her eyes. What was there left for me after that?"
"Still it was a Tartar method."
"You know not what love is, and to what despair it may bring a man when
he loses that which he prizes most dearly."
"I know not what love is?" cried Volodyovski, with excitement. "From
the time that I began to carry a sabre I was in love. It is true that
the object changed, for I was never rewarded with a return. Were it not
for that, there could have been no Troilus more faithful than I."
"What kind of love can that be when the object is changing?" said
Kmita.
"I will tell you something else which I saw with my own eyes. In the
first period of the Hmelnitski affair, Bogun, the same who next to
Hmelnitski has now the highest respect of the Cossacks, carried off
Princess Kurtsevich, a maiden loved by Skshetuski above all things.
That was a love! The whole army was weeping in view of Skshetuski's
despair; for his beard at some years beyond twenty grew gray, and can
you guess what he did?"
"I have no means of knowing."
"Well, because the country was in need, in humiliation, because the
terrible Hmelnitski was triumphing, he did not go to seek the girl. He
offered his suffering to God, and fought under Prince Yeremi in all the
battles, including Zbaraj, and covered himself with such glory that
to-day all repeat his name with respect. Compare his action with your
own and see the difference."
Kmita was silent, gnawed his mustache. Volodyovski continued,--
"Then God rewarded and gave him the maiden. They married immediately
after Zbaraj, and now have three children, though he has not ceased to
serve. But you by making disturbance have given aid to the enemy and
almost lost your own life, not to mention that a few days ago you might
have lost the lady forever."
"How is that?" asked Kmita, sitting up in the bed; "what happened to
her?"
"Nothing; but there was found a man who asked for her hand and wanted
to marry her."
Kmita grew very pale; his hollow eyes began to shoot flames. He wanted
to rise, even struggled for a moment; then cried, "Who was this devil's
son? By the living God, tell me!"
"I," said Pan Volodyovski.
"You,--you?" asked Kmita, with astonishment, "Is it possible?"
"It is."
"Traitor! that will not go with you! But she--what--tell me everything.
Did she accept?"
"She refused me on the spot, without thinking."
A moment of silence followed. Kmita breathed heavily, and fixed his
eyes on Volodyovski, who said,--
"Why call me traitor? Am I your brother or your best man? Have I broken
faith with you? I conquered you in battle, and could have done what I
liked."
"In old fashion one of us would seal this with his blood,--if not with
a sabre, with a gun. I would shoot you; then let the devils take me."
"Then you would have shot me, for if she had not refused I should not
have accepted a second duel. What had I to fight for? Do you know why
she refused me?"
"Why?" repeated Kmita, like an echo.
"Because she loves you."
That was more than the exhausted strength of the sick man could bear.
His head fell on the pillows, a copious sweat came out on his forehead,
and he lay there in silence.
"I am terribly weak," said he, after a while. "How do you know that she
loves me?"
"Because I have eyes and see, because I have reason and observe; just
after I had received the refusal my head became clear. To begin with,
when after the duel I came to tell her that she was free, for I had
slain you, she was dazed, and instead of showing gratitude she ignored
me entirely; second, when the Domasheviches were bringing you in, she
carried your head like a mother; and third, because when I visited her,
she received me as if some one were giving me a slap in the face. If
these explanations are not sufficient, it is because your reason is
shaken and your mind impaired."
"If that is true," said Kmita, with a feeble voice, "many plasters are
put on my wounds; better balsam than your words there could not be."
"But a traitor applies this balsam."
"Oh, forgive me! Such happiness cannot find place in my mind, that she
has a wish for me still."
"I said that she loves you; I did not say that she has a wish for
you,--that is altogether different."
"If she has no wish for me, I will break my head against the wall; I
cannot help it."
"You might if you had a sincere desire of effacing your faults. There
is war now; you may go, you may render important services to our dear
country, you may win glory with bravery, and mend your reputation. Who
is without fault? Who has no sin on his conscience? Every one has. But
the road to penance and correction is open to all. You sinned through
violence, then avoid it henceforth; you offended against the country by
raising disturbance in time of war, save the country now; you committed
wrongs against men, make reparation for them. This is a better and a
surer way for you than breaking your head."
Kmita looked attentively at Volodyovski; then said, "You speak like a
sincere friend of mine."
"I am not your friend, but in truth I am not your enemy; and I am sorry
for that lady, though she refused me and I said a sharp word to her in
parting. I shall not hang myself by reason of the refusal; it is not
the first for me, and I am not accustomed to treasure up offences. If I
persuade you to the right road, that will be to the country a service
on my part, for you are a good and experienced soldier."
"Is there time for me to return to this road? How many summonses are
waiting for me? I shall have to go from the bed to the court--unless I
flee hence, and I do not wish to do that. How many summonses, and every
case a sure sentence of condemnation!"
"Look, here is a remedy!" said Volodyovski, taking out the commission.
"A commission!" cried Kmita; "for whom?"
"For you! You need not appear at any court, for you are in the hetman's
jurisdiction. Hear what the prince voevoda writes me."
Volodyovski read to Kmita the private letter of Radzivill, drew breath,
moved his mustaches, and said, "Here, as you see, it depends on me
either to give you the commission or to retain it."
Uncertainty, alarm, and hope were reflected on Kmita's face. "What will
you do?" asked he, in a low voice.
"I will give the commission," said Volodyovski.
Kmita said nothing at first; he dropped his head on the pillow, and
looked some time at the ceiling. Suddenly his eyes began to grow moist;
and tears, unknown guests in those eyes, were hanging on the lashes.
"May I be torn with horses," said he at last, "may I be pulled out of
my skin, if I have seen a more honorable man! If through me you have
received a refusal,--if Olenka, as you say, loves me,--another would
have taken vengeance all the more, would have pushed me down deeper;
but you give your hand and draw me forth as it were from the grave."
"Because I will not sacrifice to personal interests the country, to
which you may render notable service. But I say that if you had
obtained those Cossacks from Trubetskoi or Hovanski, I should have kept
the commission. It is your whole fortune that you did not do that."
"It is for others to take an example from you," said Kmita. "Give me
your hand. God permit me to repay you with some good, for you have
bound me in life and in death."
"Well, we will speak of that later. Now listen! There is no need of
appearing before any court, but go to work. If you will render service
to the Commonwealth, these nobles will forgive you, for they are very
sensitive to the honor of the State. You may blot out your offences
yet, win reputation, walk in glory as in sunlight, and I know of one
lady who will give you a lifelong reward."
"Hei!" cried Kmita, in ecstasy, "why should I rot here in bed when the
enemy is trampling the country? Hei! is there any one there? Come, boy,
give me my boots; come hither! May the thunderbolts strike me in this
bed if I stay here longer in uselessness!"
Volodyovski smiled with satisfaction and said, "Your spirit is stronger
than your body, for the body is not able to serve you yet."
When he had said this he began to take farewell; but Kmita would not
let him go, thanked him, and wished to treat him with wine. In fact, it
was well toward evening when the little knight left Lyubich and
directed his course to Vodokty.
"I will reward her in the best fashion for her sharp word," said he to
himself, "when I tell her that Kmita will rise, not only from his bed,
but from evil fame. He is not ruined yet, only very passionate. I shall
comfort her wonderfully too, and I think she will meet me better this
time than when I offered myself to her."
Here our honest Pan Michael sighed and muttered: "Could it be known
that there is one in the world predestined to me?"
In the midst of such meditations he came to Vodokty. The tow-headed man
of Jmud ran out to the gate, but made no hurry to open; he only said,--
"The heiress is not at home."
"Has she gone away?"
"She has gone away."
"Whither?"
"Who knows?"
"When will she come back?"
"Who knows?"
"Speak in human fashion. Did she not say when she would return?"
"Maybe she will not return at all, for she went away with wagons and
bags. From that I think she has gone far for a long time."
"Is that true?" muttered Pan Michael. "See what I have done!"