The prince did not show himself to the nobles that day till evening,
for he dined with the envoys and some dignitaries with whom he had held
previous counsel. But orders had come to the colonels to have the
regiments of Radzivill's guard ready, and especially the infantry under
foreign officers. It smelt of powder in the air. The castle, though not
fortified, was surrounded with troops as if a battle was to be fought
at its walls. Men expected that the campaign would begin on the
following morning at latest; of this there were visible signs, for the
countless servants of the prince were busied with packing into wagons
arms, valuable implements, and the treasury of the prince.
Harasimovich told the nobles that the wagons would go to Tykotsin in
Podlyasye, for it was dangerous to leave the treasury in the undefended
castle of Kyedani. Military stores were also prepared to be sent after
the army. Reports went out that Gosyevski was arrested because he would
not join his squadrons stationed at Troki with those of Radzivill, thus
exposing the whole expedition to evident destruction. Moreover
preparations for the march, the movement of troops, the rattle of
cannon drawn out of the castle arsenal, and all that turmoil which ever
accompanies the first movements of military expeditions, turned
attention in another direction, and caused the knights to forget the
arrest of Pan Gosyevski and cavalier Yudytski.
The nobles dining in the immense lower halls attached to the castle
spoke only of the war, of the fire at Vilna, now burning ten days and
burning with ever-growing fury, of news from Warsaw, of the advance of
the Swedes, and of the Swedes themselves, against whom, as against
faith-breakers attacking a neighbor in spite of treaties still valid
for six years, hearts and minds were indignant and souls filled with
rancor. News of swift advances, of the capitulation of Uistsie, of the
occupation of Great Poland and the large towns, of the threatened
invasion of Mazovia and the inevitable capture of Warsaw, not only did
not cause alarm, but on the contrary roused daring and a desire for
battle. This took place since the causes of Swedish success were
evident to all. Hitherto the Swedes had not met a real army once, or a
real leader. Radzivill was the first warrior by profession with whom
they had to measure strength, and who at the same time roused in the
nobility absolute confidence in his military gifts, especially as his
colonels gave assurance that they would conquer the Swedes in the open
field.
"Their defeat is inevitable!" said Pan Stankyevich, an old and
experienced soldier. "I remember former wars, and I know that they
always defended themselves in castles, in fortified camps, and in
trenches. They never dared to come to the open field, for they feared
cavalry greatly, and when trusting in their numbers they did come out,
they received a proper drilling. It was not victory that gave Great
Poland into their hands, but treason and the imbecility of general
militia."
"True," said Zagloba. "The Swedish people are weak, for their land is
terribly barren, and they have no bread; they grind pine cones, and of
that sort of flour make ash-cakes which smell of resin. Others go to
the seashore and devour whatever the waves throw up, besides fighting
about it as a tidbit. Terrible destitution! so there are no people more
greedy for their neighbors' goods. Even the Tartars have horse-flesh in
plenty, but these Swedes do not see meat once a year, and are pinched
with hunger unless when a good haul of fish comes."
Here Zagloba turned to Stankyevich: "Have you ever made the
acquaintance of the Swedes?"
"Under Prince Krishtof, the father of the present hetman."
"And I under Konyetspolski, the father. We gave Gustavus Adolphus many
crushing defeats in Prussia, and took no small number of prisoners;
there I became acquainted with them through and through, and learned
all their methods. Our men wondered at them not a little, for you must
know that the Swedes as a people always wading in water and having
their greatest income from the sea, are divers _exquisitissimi_. What
would you, gentlemen, say to what we made them do? We would throw one
of the rascals into a hole in the ice, and he would swim out through
another hole with a live herring in his mouth."
"In God's name, what do you tell us?"
"May I fall down a corpse on this spot if with my own eyes I have not
seen this done at least a hundred times, as well as other wonderful
customs of theirs! I remember also that as soon as they fed on Prussian
bread, they did not want to go home. Pan Stankyevich says truly that
they are not sturdy soldiers. They have infantry which is so-so; but
the cavalry--God pity us! for there are no horses in their country, and
they cannot train themselves to riding from childhood."
"Probably we shall not attack them first, but march on Vilna," said Pan
Shchyt.
"True, I gave that advice to the prince myself, when he asked what I
thought of this matter," answered Zagloba. "But when we have finished
with the others,[19] we will go against the Swedes. The envoys upstairs
must be sweating!"
"They are received politely," said Pan Zalenski, "but they will not
effect the least thing; the best proof of that is that orders are
issued to the army."
"Dear God, dear God!" said Pan Tvarkovski, judge of Rossyeni, "how
alacrity comes with danger! We were well-nigh despairing when we had to
do with one enemy, but now we have two."
"Of course," answered Stankyevich. "It happens not infrequently, that
we let ourselves be beaten till patience is lost, and then in a moment
vigor and daring appear. Is it little that we have suffered, little
endured? We relied on the king and the general militia of the kingdom,
not counting on our own force, till we are in a dilemma; now we must
either defeat both enemies or perish completely."
"God will assist us! We have had enough of this delay."
"They have put the dagger to our throats."
"We too will put it to theirs; we'll show the kingdom fellows what sort
of soldiers we are! There will be no Uistsie with us, as God is in
heaven!"
In the measure of the cups, heads became heated, and warlike ardor
increased. At the brink of a precipice the last effort often brings
safety; this was understood by those crowds of soldiers and that
nobility whom so recently Yan Kazimir had called to Grodno with
despairing universals to form the general militia. Now all hearts, all
minds were turned to Radzivill; all lips repeated that terrible name,
which till recently had ever been coupled with victory. In fact, he had
but to collect and move the scattered and drowsy strength of the
country, to stand at the head of a power sufficient to end both wars
with victory.
After dinner the colonels were summoned to the prince in the following
order: Mirski, lieutenant of the armored squadron of the hetman; and
after him Stankyevich, Ganhoff, Kharlamp, Volodyovski, and Sollohub.
Old soldiers wondered a little that they were asked singly, and not
collectively to counsel; but it was a pleasant surprise, for each came
out with some reward, with some evident proof of the prince's favor; in
return the prince asked only loyalty and confidence, which all offered
from heart and soul. The hetman asked anxiously also if Kmita had
returned, and ordered that Pan Andrei's arrival be reported to him.
Kmita came, but late in the evening, when the hall was lighted and the
guests had begun to assemble. He went first to the barracks to change
his uniform; there he found Volodyovski, and made the acquaintance of
the rest of the company.
"I am uncommonly glad to see you and your famous friends," said he,
shaking the hand of the little knight, "as glad as to see a brother!
You may be sure of this, for I am unable to pretend. It is true that
you went through my forehead in evil fashion, but you put me on my feet
afterward, which I shall not forget till death. In presence of all, I
say that had it not been for you I should be at this moment behind the
grating. Would more such men were born! Who thinks differently is a
fool, and may the devil carry me off if I will not clip his ears."
"Say no more!"
"I will follow you into fire, even should I perish. Let any man come
forward who does not believe me!"
Here Pan Andrei cast a challenging look on the officers. But no one
contradicted him, for all loved and respected Pan Michael; but Zagloba
said,--
"This is a sulphurous sort of soldier; give him to the hangman! It
seems to me that I shall have a great liking to you for the love you
bear Pan Michael, for I am the man to ask first how worthy he is."
"Worthier than any of us!" said Kmita, with his usual abruptness. Then
he looked at the Skshetuskis, at Zagloba, and added: "Pardon me,
gentlemen, I have no wish to offend any one, for I know that you are
honorable men and great knights; be not angry, for I wish to deserve
your friendship."
"There is no harm done," said Pan Yan; "what's in the heart may come to
the lip."
"Let us embrace!" cried Zagloba.
"No need to say such a thing twice to me!"
They fell into each other's arms. Then Kmita said, "To-day we must
drink, it cannot be avoided!"
"No need to say such a thing twice to me!" said Zagloba, like an echo.
"We'll slip away early to the barracks, and I'll make provision."
Pan Michael began to twitch his mustaches greatly. "You will have no
great wish to slip out," thought he, looking at Kmita, "when you see
who is in the hall tonight." And he opened his mouth to tell Kmita that
the sword-bearer of Rossyeni and Olenka had come; but he grew as it
were faint at heart, and turned the conversation. "Where is your
squadron?" asked he.
"Here, ready for service. Harasimovich was with me, and brought an
order from the prince to have the men on horseback at midnight. I asked
him if we were all to march; he said not. I know not what it means. Of
other officers some have the same order, others have not. But all the
foreign infantry have received it."
"Perhaps a part of the army will march to-night and a part in the
morning," said Pan Yan.
"In every case I will have a drink here with you, gentlemen. Let the
squadron go on by itself; I can come up with it afterward in an hour."
At that moment Harasimovich rushed in. "Serene great mighty banneret of
Orsha!" cried he, bowing in the doorway.
"What? Is there a fire? I am here!" said Kmita.
"To the prince! to the prince!"
"Straightway, only let me put on my uniform. Boy, my coat and belt, or
I'll kill thee!"
The boy brought the rest of the uniform in a twinkle; and a few minutes
later Pan Kmita, arrayed as for a wedding, was hurrying to the prince.
He was radiant, he seemed so splendid. He had a vest of silver brocade
with star-shaped buttons, from which there was a gleam over his whole
figure; the vest was fastened at the neck with a great sapphire. Over
that a coat of blue velvet; a white belt of inestimable value, so thin
that it might be drawn through a finger-ring. A silver-mounted sword
set with sapphires hung from the belt by silk pendants; behind the belt
was thrust the baton, which indicated his office. This dress became the
young knight wonderfully, and it would have been difficult in that
countless throng gathered at Kyedani to find a more shapely man.
Pan Michael sighed while looking at him; and when Kmita had vanished
beyond the door of the barracks he said to Zagloba, "With a fair head
there is no opposing a man like that."
"But take thirty years from me," answered Zagloba.
When Kmita entered, the prince also was dressed, attended by two
negroes; he was about to leave the room. The prince and Pan Andrei
remained face to face.
"God give you health for hurrying!" said the hetman.
"At the service of your highness."
"But the squadron?"
"According to order."
"The men are reliable?"
"They will go into fire, to hell."
"That is good! I need such men,--and such as you, equal to anything. I
repeat continually that on no one more than you do I count."
"Your highness, my services cannot equal those of old soldiers; but if
we have to march against the enemy of the country, God sees that I
shall not be in the rear."
"I do not diminish the services of the old," said the prince, "though
there may come such perils, such grievous junctures, that the most
faithful will totter."
"May he perish for nothing who deserts the person of your highness in
danger!"
The prince looked quickly into the face of Kmita. "And you will not
draw back?"
The young knight flushed. "What do you wish to say, your princely
highness? I have confessed to you all my sins, and the sum of
them is such that I thank only the fatherly heart of your highness
for forgiveness. But in all these sins one is not to be
found,--ingratitude."
"Nor disloyalty. You confessed to me as to a father; I not only forgave
you as a father, but I came to love you as that son--whom God has not
given me, for which reason it is often oppressive for me in the world.
Be then a friend to me."
When he had said this, the prince stretched out his hand. The young
knight seized it, and without hesitation pressed it to his lips.
They were both silent for a long time; suddenly the prince fixed his
eyes on the eyes of Kmita and said, "Panna Billevich is here!"
Kmita grew pale, and began to mutter something unintelligible.
"I sent for her on purpose so that the misunderstanding between you
might be at an end. You will see her at once, as the mourning for her
grandfather is over. To-day, too, though God sees that my head is
bursting from labor, I have spoken with the sword-bearer of Rossyeni."
Kmita seized his head. "With what can I repay your highness, with what
can I repay?"
"I told him emphatically that it is my will that you and she should be
married, and he will not be hostile. I commanded him also to prepare
the maiden for it gradually. We have time. All depends upon you, and I
shall be happy if a reward from my hand goes to you; and God grant you
to await many others, for you must rise high. You have offended because
you are young; but you have won glory not the last in the field, and
all young men are ready to follow you everywhere. As God lives, you
must rise high! Small offices are not for such a family as yours. If
you know, you are a relative of the Kishkis, and my mother was a
Kishki. But you need sedateness; for that, marriage is the best thing.
Take that maiden if she has pleased your heart, and remember who gives
her to you."
"Your highness, I shall go wild, I believe! My life, my blood belongs
to your highness. What must I do to thank you,--what? Tell me, command
me!"
"Return good for good. Have faith in me, have confidence that what I do
I do for the public good. Do not fall away from me when you see the
treason and desertion of others, when malice increases, when--" Here
the prince stopped suddenly.
"I swear," said Kmita, with ardor, "and give my word of honor to remain
by the person of your highness, my leader, father, and benefactor, to
my last breath."
Then Kmita looked with eyes full of fire at the prince, and was alarmed
at the change which had suddenly come over him. His face was purple,
the veins swollen, drops of sweat were hanging thickly on his lofty
forehead, and his eyes cast an unusual gleam.
"What is the matter, your highness?" asked the knight, unquietly.
"Nothing! nothing!"
Radzivill rose, moved with hurried step to a kneeling desk, and taking
from it a crucifix, said with powerful, smothered voice, "Swear on this
cross that you will not leave me till death."
In spite of all his readiness and ardor, Kmita looked for a while at
him with astonishment.
"On this passion of Christ, swear!" insisted the hetman.
"On this passion of Christ, I swear!" said Kmita, placing his finger on
the crucifix.
"Amen!" said the prince, with solemn voice.
An echo in the lofty chamber repeated somewhere under the arch, "Amen,"
and a long silence followed. There was to be heard only the breathing
of the powerful breast of Radzivill. Kmita did not remove from the
hetman his astonished eyes.
"Now you are mine," said the prince, at last.
"I have always belonged to your highness," answered the young knight,
hastily; "but be pleased to explain to me what is passing. Why does
your highness doubt? Or does anything threaten your person? Has any
treason, have any machinations been discovered?"
"The time of trial is approaching," said the prince, gloomily, "and as
to enemies do you not know that Pan Gosyevski, Pan Yudytski, and the
voevoda of Vityebsk would be glad to bury me in the bottom of the pit?
This is the case! The enemies of my house increase, treason spreads,
and public defeats threaten. Therefore, I say, the hour of trial draws
near."
Kmita was silent; but the last words of the prince did not disperse the
darkness which had settled around his mind, and he asked himself in
vain what could threaten at that moment the powerful Radzivill. For he
stood at the head of greater forces than ever. In Kyedani itself and in
the neighborhood there were so many troops that if the prince had such
power before he marched to Shklov the fortune of the whole war would
have come out differently beyond doubt.
Gosyevski and Yudytski were, it is true, ill-wishers, but he had both
in his hands and under guard, and as to the voevoda of Vityebsk he was
too virtuous a man, too good a citizen to give cause for fear of any
opposition or machinations from his side on the eve of a new expedition
against enemies.
"God knows I understand nothing!" cried Kmita, being unable in general
to restrain his thoughts.
"You will understand all to-day," said Radzivill, calmly. "Now let us
go to the hall."
And taking the young colonel by the arm, he turned with him toward the
door. They passed through a number of rooms. From a distance out of the
immense hall came the sound of the orchestra, which was directed by a
Frenchman brought on purpose by Prince Boguslav. They were playing a
minuet which at that time was danced at the French court. The mild
tones were blended with the sound of many voices. Prince Radzivill
halted and listened.
"God grant," said he, after a moment, "that all these guests whom I
have received under my roof will not pass to my enemies to-morrow."
"Your highness," said Kmita, "I hope that there are no Swedish
adherents among them."
Radzivill quivered and halted suddenly.
"What do you wish to say?"
"Nothing, worthy prince, but that honorable soldiers are rejoicing
there."
"Let us go on. Time will show, and God will decide who is honorable.
Let us go!"
At the door itself stood twenty pages,--splendid lads, dressed in
feathers and satin. Seeing the hetman, they formed in two lines. When
the prince came near, he asked, "Has her princely highness entered the
hall?"
"She has, your highness."
"And the envoys?"
"They are here also."
"Open!"
Both halves of the door opened in the twinkle of an eye; a flood of
light poured in and illuminated the gigantic form of the hetman, who
having behind him Kmita and the pages, went toward the elevation on
which were placed chairs for the most distinguished guests.
A movement began in the hall; at once all eyes were turned to the
prince, and one shout was wrested from hundreds of breasts: "Long live
Radzivill! long live! Long live the hetman! long live!"
The prince bowed with head and hand, then began to greet the guests
assembled on the elevation, who rose the moment he entered. Among the
best known, besides the princess herself, were the two Swedish envoys,
the envoy of Moscow, the voevoda of Venden, Bishop Parchevski, the
priest Byalozor, Pan Komorovski, Pan Myerzeyevski, Pan Hlebovich,
starosta of Jmud, brother-in-law of the hetman, a young Pats, Colonel
Ganhoff, Colonel Mirski, Weisenhoff, the envoy of the Prince of
Courland, and ladies in the suite of the princess.
The hetman, as was proper for a welcoming host, began by greeting the
envoys, with whom he exchanged a few friendly words; then he greeted
others, and when he had finished he sat on the chair with a canopy of
ermine, and gazed at the hall in which shouts were still sounding:
"May he live! May he be our hetman! May he live!"
Kmita, hidden behind the canopy, looked also at the throng. His glance
darted from face to face, seeking among them the beloved features of
her who at that moment held all the soul and heart of the knight. His
heart beat like a hammer.
"She is here! After a while I shall see her, I shall speak to her,"
said he in thought. And he sought and sought with more and more
eagerness, with increasing disquiet. "There! beyond the feathers of a
fan some dark brows are visible, a white forehead and blond hair. That
is she!" Kmita held his breath, as if fearing to frighten away the
picture; then the feathers moved and the face was disclosed. "No! that
is not Olenka, that is not that dear one, the dearest." His glance
flies farther, embraces charming forms, slips over feathers and satin,
faces blooming like flowers, and is mistaken each moment. That is she,
not she! Till at last, see! in the depth, near the drapery of the
window, something white is moving, and it grew dark in the eyes of the
knight; that was Olenka, the dear one, the dearest.
The orchestra begins to play; again throngs pass. Ladies are moving
around, shapely cavaliers are glittering; but he, like one blind and
deaf, sees nothing, only looks at her as eagerly as if beholding her
for the first time. She seems the same Olenka from Vodokty, but also
another. In that great hall and in that throng she seems, as it were,
smaller, and her face more delicate, one would say childlike. You might
take her all in your arms and caress her! And then again she is the
same, though different,--the very same features, the same sweet lips,
the same lashes casting shade on her cheeks, the same forehead, clear,
calm, beloved. Here memory, like lightning-flashes, began to bring
before the eyes of Pan Andrei that servants' hall in Vodokty where he
saw her the first time, and those quiet rooms in which they had sat
together. What delight only just to remember! And the sleigh-ride to
Mitruny, the time that he kissed her! After that, people began to
estrange them, and to rouse her against him.
"Thunderbolts crush it!" cried Kmita, in his mind. "What have I had and
what have I lost? How near she has been and how far is she now!"
She sits there far off, like a stranger; she does not even know that he
is here. Wrath, but at the same time immeasurable sorrow seized Pan
Andrei,--sorrow for which he had no expression save a scream from his
soul, but a scream that passed not his lips: "O thou Olenka!"
More than once Kmita was so enraged at himself for his previous deeds
that he wished to tell his own men to stretch him out and give him a
hundred blows, but never had he fallen into such a rage as that time
when after long absence he saw her again, still more wonderful than
ever, more wonderful indeed than he had imagined. At that moment he
wished to torture himself; but because he was among people, in a worthy
company, he only ground his teeth, and as if wishing to give himself
still greater pain, he repeated in mind: "It is good for thee thus,
thou fool! good for thee!"
Then the sounds of the orchestra were silent again, and Pan Andrei
heard the voice of the hetman: "Come with me."
Kmita woke as from a dream.
The prince descended from the elevation, and went among the guests. On
his face was a mild and kindly smile, which seemed still more to
enhance the majesty of his figure. That was the same lordly man who in
his time, while receiving Queen Marya Ludwika in Nyeporente,
astonished, amazed, and eclipsed the French courtiers, not only by his
luxury, but by the polish of his manners,--the same of whom Jean La
Boureur wrote with such homage in the account of his journey. This time
he halted every moment before the most important matrons, the most
respectable nobles and colonels, having for each of the guests some
kindly word, astonishing those present by his memory and winning in a
twinkle all hearts. The eyes of the guests followed him wherever he
moved. Gradually he approached the sword-bearer of Rossyeni, Pan
Billevich, and said,--
"I thank you, old friend, for having come, though I had the right to be
angry. Billeviche is not a hundred miles from Kyedani, but you are a
_rara avis_ (rare bird) under my roof."
"Your highness," answered Pan Billevich, bowing low, "he wrongs the
country who occupies your time."
"But I was thinking to take vengeance on you by going myself to
Billeviche, and I think still you would have received with hospitality
an old comrade of the camp."
Hearing this, Pan Billevich flushed with delight, and the prince
continued,--
"Time, time is ever lacking! But when you give in marriage your
relative, the granddaughter of the late Pan Heraclius, of course I
shall come to the wedding, for I owe it to you and to her."
"God grant that as early as possible," answered the sword-bearer.
"Meanwhile I present to you Pan Kmita, the banneret of Orsha, of those
Kmitas who are related to the Kishkis and through the Kishkis to the
Radzivills. You must have heard his name from Heraclius, for he loved
the Kmitas as brothers."
"With the forehead, with the forehead!" repeated the sword-bearer, who
was awed somewhat by the greatness of the young cavalier's family,
heralded by Radzivill himself.
"I greet the sword-bearer, my benefactor, and offer him my services,"
said Pan Andrei, boldly and not without a certain loftiness. "Pan
Heraclius was a father and a benefactor to me, and though his work was
spoiled later on, still I have not ceased to love all the Billeviches
as if my own blood were flowing in them."
"Especially," said the prince, placing his hand confidentially on the
young man's shoulder, "since he has not ceased to love a certain Panna
Billevich, of which fact he has long since informed us."
"And I will repeat it before every one's face," said Kmita, with
vehemence.
"Quietly, quietly!" said the prince. "This you see, worthy
sword-bearer, is a cavalier of sulphur and fire, therefore he has made
some trouble; but because he is young and under my special protection,
I hope that when we petition together we shall obtain a reversal of the
sentence from that charming tribunal."
"Your highness will accomplish what you like," answered Pan Billevich.
"The maiden must exclaim, as that pagan priestess did to Alexander the
Great, 'Who can oppose thee?'"
"And we, like that Macedonian, will stop with that prophecy," replied
the prince, smiling. "But enough of this! Conduct us now to your
relative, for I shall be glad to see her. Let that work of Pan
Heraclius which was spoiled be mended."
"I serve your highness-- There is the maiden; she is under the
protection of Pani Voynillovich, our relative. But I beg pardon if she
is confused, for I have not had time to forewarn her."
The foresight of Pan Billevich was just. Luckily that was not the first
moment in which Olenka saw Pan Andrei at the side of the hetman; she
was able therefore to collect herself somewhat, but for an instant
presence of mind almost left her, and she looked at the young knight as
if she were looking at a spirit from the other world. And for a long
time she could not believe her eyes. She had really imagined that that
unfortunate was either wandering somewhere through forests, without a
roof above his head, deserted by all, hunted by the law, as a wild
beast is hunted by man, or enclosed in a tower, gazing with despair
through the iron grating on the glad world of God. The Lord alone knew
what terrible pity sometimes gnawed her heart and her eyes for that
lost man; God alone could count the tears which in her solitude she had
poured out over his fate, so terrible, so cruel, though so deserved;
but now he is in Kyedani, free, at the side of the hetman, proud,
splendid, in silver brocade and in velvet, with the baton of a colonel
at his belt, with head erect, with commanding, haughty, heroic face,
and the grand hetman Radzivill himself places his hand confidentially
on his shoulder. Marvellous and contradictory feelings interwove
themselves at once in the heart of the maiden; therefore a certain
great relief, as if some one had taken a weight from her shoulders, and
a certain sorrow as well that so much pity and grief had gone for
naught; also the disappointment which every honest soul feels at sight
of perfect impunity for grievous offences and sins; also joy, with a
feeling of personal weakness, with admiration bordering on terror,
before that young hero who was able to swim out of such a whirlpool.
Meanwhile the prince, the sword-bearer, and Kmita had finished
conversation and were drawing near. The maiden covered her eyes with
her lids and raised her shoulders, as a bird does its wings when
wishing to hide its head. She was certain that they were coming to her.
Without looking she saw them, felt that they were nearer and nearer,
that they were before her. She was so sure of this that without raising
her lids, she rose suddenly and made a deep courtesy to the prince.
He was really before her, and said: "By the passion of the Lord! Now I
do not wonder at this young man, for a marvellous flower has bloomed
here. I greet you, my lady, I greet you with my whole heart and soul,
beloved granddaughter of my Billevich. Do you know me?"
"I know your highness," answered the maiden.
"I should not have known you; you were still a young, unblossomed thing
when I saw you last, not in this ornament in which I see you now. But
raise those lashes from your eyes. As God lives! fortunate is the diver
who gets such a pearl, ill-fated he who had it and lost it. Here he
stands before you, so despairing, in the person of this cavalier. Do
you know him?"
"I know," whispered Olenka, without raising her eyes.
"He is a great sinner, and I have brought him to you for confession.
Impose on him what penance you like, but refuse not absolution, for
despair may bring him to still greater sins."
Here the prince turned to the sword-bearer and Pani Voynillovich: "Let
us leave the young people, for it is not proper to be present at a
confession, and also my faith forbids me."
After a moment Pan Andrei and Olenka were alone. The heart beat in
Olenka's bosom as the heart of a dove over which a falcon is hovering,
and he too was moved. His usual boldness, impulsiveness, and
self-confidence had vanished. For a long time both were silent. At last
he spoke in a low, stifled voice,--
"You did not expect to see me, Olenka?"
"I did not," whispered the maiden.
"As God is true! you would be less alarmed if a Tartar were standing
here near you. Fear not! See how many people are present. No harm will
meet you from me. And though we were alone you would have nothing to
fear, for I have given myself an oath to respect you. Have confidence
in me."
For a moment she raised her eyes and looked at him, "How can I have
confidence?"
"It is true that I sinned, but that is past and will not be repeated.
When on the bed and near death, after that duel with Volodyovski, I
said to myself: 'Thou wilt not take her by force, by the sabre, by
fire, but by honorable deeds wilt thou deserve her and work out thy
forgiveness. The heart in her is not of stone, and her anger will pass;
she will see thy reformation and will forgive.' Therefore I swore to
reform, and I will hold to my oath. God blessed me at once, for
Volodyovski came and brought me a commission. He had the power not to
give it; but he gave it,--he is an honorable man! Now I need not appear
before the courts, for I am under the hetman's jurisdiction. I
confessed all my offences to the prince, as to a father; he not only
forgave me, but promised to settle everything and to defend me against
the malice of men. May God bless him! I shall not be an outlaw, I shall
come to harmony with people, win glory, serve the country, repair the
wrongs I have committed. What will you answer? Will you not say a good
word to me?" He gazed at Olenka and put his hands together as if
praying to her.
"Can I believe?"
"You can, as God is dear to me; it is your duty to believe. The hetman
believed, and Pan Volodyovski too. All my acts are known to them, and
they believed me. You see they did. Why should you alone have no trust
in me?"
"Because I have seen the result of your deeds,--people's tears, and
graves not yet grown over with grass."
"They will be grown over, and I will moisten them with tears."
"Do that first."
"Give me only the hope that when I do that I shall win you. It is easy
for you to say, 'Do that first.' Well, I do it; meanwhile you have
married another. May God not permit such a thing, for I should go wild.
In God's name I implore you, Olenka, to give me assurance that I shall
not lose you before I come to terms with your nobles. Do you remember?
You have written me of this yourself. I keep the letter, and when my
soul is deeply downcast I read it. I ask you only to tell me again that
you will wait, that you will not marry another."
"You know that by the will I am not free to marry another. I can only
take refuge in a cloister."
"Oh, that would be a treat for me! By the living God, mention not the
cloister, for the very thought of it makes me shudder. Mention it not,
Olenka, or I will fall down here at your feet in the presence of all,
and implore you not to do so. You refused Volodyovski, I know, for he
told me himself. He urged me to win you by good deeds. But what use in
them if you are to take the veil? If you tell me that virtue should be
practised for its own sake, I will answer that I love you to
distraction, and I will hear of nothing else. When you left Vodokty, I
had barely risen from the bed but I began to search for you. When I was
enlisting my squadron every moment was occupied; I had not time to eat
food, to sleep at night, but I ceased not to seek you. I was so
affected that without you there was neither life for me nor rest. I was
so deeply in the toils that I lived only on sighs. At last I learned
that you were in Billeviche with the sword-bearer. Then I tell you I
wrestled with my thoughts as with a bear. 'To go or not to go?' I dared
not go, lest I should be treated to gall. I said to myself at last: 'I
have done nothing good yet, I will not go.' Finally the prince, my dear
father, took pity on me, and sent to invite you and your uncle to
Kyedani, so that I might fill even my eyes with my love. Since we are
going to the war, I do not ask you to marry me to-morrow; but if with
God's favor I hear a good word from you, I shall feel easier,--you, my
only soul! I have no wish to die; but in battle death may strike any
man, and I shall not hide behind others; therefore 'tis your duty to
forgive me as a man before death."
"May God preserve you and guide you," responded the maiden, in a mild
voice, by which Pan Andrei knew at once that his words had produced
their effect.
"You, my true gold! I thank you even for that. But you will not go to
the cloister?"
"I will not go yet."
"God bless you!"
And as snow melts in spring-time, their mutual distrust was now
melting, and they felt nearer to each other than a moment before. Their
hearts were easier, and in their eyes it grew clear. But still she had
promised nothing, and he had the wit to ask for nothing that time. But
she felt herself that it was not right for her to close the road to the
reform of which he had spoken so sincerely. Of his sincerity she had no
doubt for a moment, for he was not a man who could pretend. But the
great reason why she did not repulse him again, why she left him hope,
was this,--that in the depth of her heart she loved yet that young
hero. Love had brought her a mountain of bitterness, disillusion, and
pain; but love survived ever ready to believe and forgive without end.
"He is better than his acts," thought the maiden, "and those are living
no longer who urged him to sin; he might from despair permit himself to
do something a second time; he must never despair." And her honest
heart was rejoiced at the forgiveness which it had given. On Olenka's
cheeks a flush came forth as fresh as a rose under the morning dew; her
eyes had a gleam sweet and lively, and it might be said that brightness
issued from them to the hall. People passed and admired the wonderful
pair; for in truth such a noble couple it would have been difficult to
find in that hall, in which, however, were collected the flower of the
nobility.
Besides both, as if by agreement, were dressed in like colors, for she
wore silver brocade fastened with sapphire and a sacque of blue
Venetian velvet. "Like a brother and sister," said persons who did not
know them; but others said straightway, "Impossible, for his eyes are
too ardent toward her."
Meanwhile in the hall the marshal announced that it was time to be
seated at table, and at once there was unusual movement. Count
Löwenhaupt, all in lace, went in advance, with the princess on his arm;
her train was borne by two very beautiful pages. Next after them Baron
Schitte escorted Pani Hlebovich; next followed Bishop Parchevski with
Father Byalozor, both looking troubled and gloomy.
Prince Yanush, who in the procession yielded to the guests, but at the
table took the highest place next to the princess, escorted Pani Korf,
wife of the voevoda of Venden, who had been visiting about a week at
Kyedani. And so the whole line of couples moved forward, like a
hundred-colored serpent, unwinding and changing. Kmita escorted Olenka,
who rested her arm very lightly on his; but he glanced sidewise at the
delicate face, was happy, gleaming like a torch,--the greatest magnate
among those magnates, since he was near the greatest treasure.
Thus moving to the sound of the orchestra, they entered the
banqueting-hall, which looked like a whole edifice by itself. The table
was set in the form of a horseshoe, for three hundred persons, and was
bending under silver and gold. Prince Yanush, as having in himself a
portion of kingly majesty and being the blood relative of so many
kings, took the highest place, at the side of the princess; and all
when passing him, bowed low and took their places according to rank.
But evidently, as it seemed to those present, the hetman remembered
that this was the last feast before an awful war in which the destiny
of great states would be decided, for his face was not calm. He
simulated a smile and joyousness, but he looked as if a fever were
burning him. At times a visible cloud settled on his menacing forehead,
and those sitting near him could see that that forehead was thickly
covered with drops of sweat; at times his glance ran quickly over the
assembled faces, and halted questioningly on the features of various
colonels; then again those lion brows frowned on a sudden, as if pain
had pierced them, or as if this or that face had roused in him wrath.
And, a wonderful thing! the dignitaries sitting near the prince, such
as the envoys, Bishop Parchevski, Father Byalozor, Pan Komorovski, Pan
Myerzeyevski, Pan Hlebovich, the voevoda of Venden, and others, were
equally distraught and disturbed. The two sides of the immense
horseshoe sounded with a lively conversation, and the bustle usual at
feasts; but the centre of it was gloomy and silent, whispered rare
words, or exchanged wandering and as it were alarmed glances.
But there was nothing wonderful in that, for lower down sat colonels
and knights whom the approaching war threatened at most with death. It
is easier to fall in a war than to bear the responsibility for it. The
mind of the soldier is not troubled, for when he has redeemed his sins
with his blood, he flies from the battlefield to heaven; he alone bends
his head heavily who in his soul must satisfy God and his own
conscience, and who on the eve of the decisive day knows not what
chalice the country will give him to drink on the morrow.
This was the explanation which men gave themselves at the lower parts
of the table.
"Always before each war he talks thus with his own soul," said the old
Colonel Stankyevich to Zagloba; "but the gloomier he is the worse for
the enemy, for on the day of battle he will be joyful to a certainty."
"The lion too growls before battle," said Zagloba, "so as to rouse in
himself fierce hatred for the enemy. As to great warriors, each has his
custom. Hannibal used to play dice; Scipio Africanus declaimed verses;
Pan Konyetspolski the father always conversed about fair heads; and I
like to sleep an hour or so before battle, though I am not averse to a
glass with good friends."
"See, gentlemen, Bishop Parchevski is as pale as a sheet of paper!"
said Stanislav Skshetuski.
"For he is sitting at a Calvinist table, and may swallow easily
something unclean in the food," explained Zagloba, in a low voice. "To
drinks, the old people say, the devil has no approach, and those can be
taken everywhere; but food, and especially soups, one should avoid. So
it was in the Crimea, when I was there in captivity. The Tartar mullahs
or priests knew how to cook mutton with garlic in such a way that
whoever tasted it was willing that moment to desert his faith and
accept their scoundrel of a prophet." Here Zagloba lowered his voice
still more: "Not through contempt for the prince do I say this, but I
advise you, gentlemen, to let the food pass, for God protects the
guarded."
"What do you say? Whoso commends himself to God before eating is safe;
with us in Great Poland there is no end of Lutherans and Calvinists,
but I have not heard that they bewitched food."
"With you in Great Poland there is no end of Lutherans, and so they
sniffed around at once with the Swedes," said Zagloba, "and are in
friendship with them now. In the prince's place, I would hunt those
envoys away with dogs, instead of filling their stomachs with dainties.
But look at that Löwenhaupt; he is eating just as if he were to be
driven to the fair with a rope around his leg before the month's end.
Besides, he will stuff his pockets with dried fruit for his wife and
children. I have forgotten how that other fellow from over the sea is
called. Oh, may thou--"
"Father, ask Michael," said Yan.
Pan Michael was sitting not far away; but he heard nothing, he saw
nothing, for he was between two ladies. On his left sat Panna
Syelavski, a worthy maiden about forty years old, and on his right
Olenka, beyond whom sat Kmita. Panna Syelavski shook her feather-decked
head above the little knight, and narrated something with great
rapidity. He looked at her from time to time with a vacant stare, and
answered continually, "As true as life, gracious lady!" but understood
not a word she said, for all his attention was turned to the other
side. He was seizing with his ear the sound of Olenka's words, the
flutter of her silver dress, and from sorrow moving his mustaches in
such fashion as if he wished to frighten away Panna Syelavski with
them.
"Ah, that is a wonderful maiden! Ah, but she is beautiful!" said he, in
his mind. "O God, look down on my misery, for there is no lonelier
orphan than I. My soul is piping within me to have my own beloved, and
on whomsoever I look another soldier stands quartered there. Where
shall I go, ill-fated wanderer?"
"And after the war, what do you think of doing?" inquired Panna
Syelavski, all at once pursing up her mouth and fanning herself
violently.
"I shall go to a monastery!" said the little knight, testily.
"Who mentions monastery here at the banquet?" cried Kmita, joyously,
bending in front of Olenka. "Oh, that is Pan Volodyovski."
"There is nothing like that in your head," retorted Pan Michael; "but I
think I shall go."
Then the sweet voice of Olenka sounded in his ear: "Oh, no need to
think of that! God will give you a wife beloved of your heart, and
honest as you are."
The good Pan Michael melted at once: "If any one were to play on a
flute to me, it would not be sweeter to my ear."
The increasing bustle stopped further conversation, for it had come now
to the glasses. Excitement increased. Colonels disputed about the
coming war, frowning and casting fiery glances.
Pan Zagloba was describing to the whole table the siege of Zbaraj; and
the ardor and daring of the hearers rose till the blood went to their
faces and hearts. It might seem that the spirit of the immortal
"Yarema"[20] was flying above that hall, and had filled the souls of
the soldiers with heroic inspiration.
"That was a leader!" said the famous Mirski, who led all Radzivill's
hussars. "I saw him only once, but to the moment of my death I shall
remember it."
"Jove with thunderbolts in his grasp!" cried old Stankyevich. "It would
not have come to this were he alive now!"
"Yes; think of it! Beyond Romni he had forests cut down to open a way
for himself to the enemy."
"The victory at Berestechko was due to him."
"And in the most serious moment God took him."
"God took him," repeated Pan Yan, in a loud voice; "but he left a
testament behind him for all coming leaders and dignitaries and for the
whole Commonwealth. This is it: to negotiate with no enemy, but to
fight them all."
"Not to negotiate; to fight!" repeated a number of powerful voices,
"fight! fight!"
The heat became great in the hall, and the blood was boiling in the
warriors; therefore glances began to fall like lightning-flashes, and
the heads shaven on the temples and lower forehead began to steam.
"Our prince, our hetman, will be the executioner of that will!" said
Mirski.
Just at that moment an enormous clock in the upper part of the hall
began to strike midnight, and at the same time, the walls trembled, the
window-panes rattled plaintively, and the thunder of cannon was heard
saluting in the courtyard.
Conversation was stopped, silence followed. Suddenly at the head of the
table they began to cry: "Bishop Parchevski has fainted! Water!"
There was confusion. Some sprang from their seats to see more clearly
what had happened. The bishop had not fainted, but had grown very weak,
so that the marshal supported him in his chair by the shoulders, while
the wife of the voevoda of Venden sprinkled his face with water.
At that moment the second discharge of cannon shook the window-panes;
after it came a third, and a fourth.
"Live the Commonwealth! May its enemies perish!" shouted Zagloba.
But the following discharges drowned his speech. The nobles began to
count: "Ten, eleven, twelve!"
Each time the window-panes answered with a mournful groan. The candles
quivered from the shaking.
"Thirteen, fourteen! The bishop is not used to the thunder. With his
timidity he has spoiled the entertainment; the prince too is uneasy.
See, gentlemen, how swollen he is! Fifteen, sixteen!--Hei, they are
firing as if in battle! Nineteen, twenty!"
"Quiet there! the prince wants to speak!" called the guests at once,
from various parts of the table. "The prince wishes to speak!"
There was perfect silence; and all eyes were turned to Radzivill, who
stood, like a giant, with a cup in his hand. But what a sight struck
the eyes of those feasting! The face of the prince was simply terrible
at that moment, for it was not pale, but blue and twisted, as if in a
convulsion, by a smile which he strove to call to his lips. His
breathing, usually short, became still shorter; his broad breast welled
up under the gold brocade, his eyes were half covered with their lids,
and there was a species of terror and an iciness on that powerful face
such as are usual on features stiffening in the moments before death.
"What troubles the prince? what is taking place here?" was whispered
unquietly around; and an ominous foreboding straitened all hearts,
startled expectation was on every face.
He began to speak, with a short voice broken by asthma: "Gracious
gentlemen! this toast will astonish many among you,--or simply it will
terrify them,--but whoso trusts and believes in me, whoso really wishes
the good of the country, whoso is a faithful friend of my house, will
drink it with a will, and repeat after me, 'Vivat Carolus Gustavus Rex,
from this day forth ruling over us graciously!'"
"Vivat!" repeated the two envoys, Löwenhaupt and Schitte; then some
tens of officers of the foreign command.
But in the hall there reigned deep silence. The colonels and the nobles
gazed at one another with astonishment, as if asking whether the prince
had not lost his senses. A number of voices were heard at last at
various parts of the table: "Do we hear aright? What is it?" Then there
was silence again.
Unspeakable horror coupled with amazement was reflected on faces, and
the eyes of all were turned again to Radzivill; but he continued to
stand, and was breathing deeply, as if he had cast off some immense
weight from his breast. The color came back by degrees to his face;
then he turned to Pan Komorovski, and said,--
"It is time to make public the compact which we have signed this day,
so that those present may know what course to take. Read, your grace!"
Komorovski rose, unwound the parchment lying before him, and began to
read the terrible compact, beginning with these words:--
"Not being able to act in a better and more proper way in this most
stormy condition of affairs, after the loss of all hope of assistance
from the Most Serene King, we the lords and estates of the Grand
Principality of Lithuania, forced by extremity, yield ourselves to the
protection of the Most Serene King of Sweden on these conditions:--
"1. To make war together against mutual enemies, excepting the king and
the kingdom of Poland.
"2. The Grand Principality of Lithuania will not be incorporated with
Sweden, but will be joined to it in such manner as hitherto with the
kingdom of Poland; that is, people shall be equal to people, senate to
senate, and knighthood to knighthood in all things.
"3. Freedom of speech at the diets shall not be prohibited to any man.
"4. Freedom of religion is to be inviolable--"
And so Pan Komorovski read on further, amid silence and terror, till he
came to the paragraph: "This act we confirm with our signature for
ourselves and our descendants, we promise and stipulate--" when a
murmur rose in the hall, like the first breath of a storm shaking the
pine-woods. But before the storm burst, Pan Stankyevich, gray as a
pigeon, raised his voice and began to implore,--
"Your highness, we are unwilling to believe our own ears! By the wounds
of Christ! must the labor of Vladislav and Sigismund Augustus come to
nothing? Is it possible, is it honorable, to desert brothers, to desert
the country, and unite with the enemy? Remember the name which you
bear, the services which you have rendered the country, the fame of
your house, hitherto unspotted; tear and trample on that document of
shame. I know that I ask not in my own name alone, but in the names of
all soldiers here present and nobles. It pertains to us also to
consider our own fate. Gracious prince, do not do this; there is still
time! Spare yourself, spare us, spare the Commonwealth!"
"Do it not! Have pity, have pity!" called hundreds of voices.
All the colonels sprang from their places and went toward him; and the
gray Stankyevich knelt down in the middle of the hall between the two
arms of the table, and then was heard more loudly: "Do that not! spare
us!"
Radzivill raised his powerful head, and lightnings of wrath began to
fly over his forehead; suddenly he burst out,--
"Does it become you, gentlemen, first of all to give an example of
insubordination? Does it become soldiers to desert their leader, their
hetman, and bring forward protests? Do you wish to be my conscience? Do
you wish to teach me how to act for the good of the country? This is
not a diet, and you are not called here to vote; but before God I take
the responsibility!"
And he struck his broad breast with his fist, and looking with flashing
glance on the officers, after a while he shouted again: "Whoso is not
with me is against me! I knew you, I knew what would happen! But know
ye that the sword is hanging over your heads!"
"Gracious prince! our hetman!" implored old Stankyevich, "spare
yourself and spare us!"
But his speech was interrupted by Stanislav Skshetuski, who seizing his
own hair with both hands, began to cry with despairing voice: "Do not
implore him; that is vain. He has long cherished this dragon in his
heart! Woe to thee, O Commonwealth! woe to us all!"
"Two dignitaries at the two ends of the Commonwealth have sold the
country!" cried Yan Skshetuski. "A curse on this house, shame and God's
anger!"
Hearing this, Zagloba shook himself free from amazement and burst out:
"Ask him how great was the bribe he took from the Swedes? How much have
they paid him? How much have they promised him yet? Oh, gentlemen, here
is a Judas Iscariot. May you die in despair, may your race perish, may
the devil tear out your soul, O traitor, traitor, thrice traitor!"
With this Stankyevich, in an ecstasy of despair, drew the colonel's
baton from his belt, and threw it with a rattle at the feet of the
prince. Mirski threw his next; the third was Yuzefovich; the fourth,
Hoshchyts; the fifth, pale as a corpse, Volodyovski; the sixth,
Oskyerko,--and the batons rolled on the floor. Meanwhile in that den of
the lion these terrible words were repeated before the eyes of the lion
from more and more mouths every moment: "Traitor! traitor!"
All the blood rushed to the head of the haughty magnate. He grew blue;
it seemed that he would tumble next moment a corpse under the table.
"Ganhoff and Kmita, to me!" bellowed he, with a terrible voice.
At that moment four double doors leading to the hall opened with a
crash, and in marched divisions of Scottish infantry, terrible, silent,
musket in hand. Ganhoff led them from the main door.
"Halt!" cried the prince. Then he turned to the colonels: "Whoso is
with me, let him go to the right side of the hall!"
"I am a soldier, I serve the hetman; let God be my judge!" said
Kharlamp, passing to the right side.
"And I!" added Myeleshko. "Not mine will be the sin!"
"I protested as a citizen; as a soldier I must obey," added a third,
Nyevyarovski, who, though he had thrown down his baton before, was
evidently afraid of Radzivill now.
After them passed over a number of others, and quite a large group of
nobles; but Mirski, the highest in office, and Stankyevich, the oldest
in years, Hoshchyts, Volodyovski, and Oskyerko remained where they
were, and with them the two Skshetuskis, Zagloba, and a great majority
as well of the officers of various heavy and light squadrons as of
nobles. The Scottish infantry surrounded them like a wall.
Kmita, the moment the prince proposed the toast in honor of Karl
Gustav, sprang up from his seat with all the guests, stared fixedly and
stood as if turned to stone, repeating with pallid lips, "God! God!
God! what have I done?"
At the same time a low voice, but for his ear distinct, whispered near
by, "Pan Andrei!"
He seized suddenly his hair with his hands. "I am cursed for the ages!
May the earth swallow me!"
A flame flashed out on Olenka's face; her eyes bright as stars were
fixed on Kmita. "Shame to those who remain with the hetman! Choose! O
God, All Powerful!--What are you doing? Choose!"
"Jesus! O Jesus!" cried Kmita.
Meanwhile the hall was filled with cries. Others had thrown their
batons at the feet of the prince, but Kmita did not join them; he did
not move even when the prince shouted, "Ganhoff and Kmita, to me!" nor
when the Scottish infantry entered the hall; and he stood torn with
suffering and despair, with wild look, with blue lips.
Suddenly he turned to Panna Billevich and stretched his hands to her.
"Olenka! Olenka!" repeated he, with a sorrowful groan, like a child
whom some wrong is confronting.
But she drew back with aversion and fear in her face. "Away, traitor!"
she answered with force.
At that moment Ganhoff commanded, "Forward!" and the division of Scots
surrounding the prisoners moved toward the door.
Kmita began to follow them like one out of his mind, not knowing where
he was going or why he was going.
The banquet was ended.