When Kmita had finished the trenches and secured Kyedani from sudden
attack, he was unable to delay further his expedition for the
sword-bearer and Olenka, especially since the command of the prince to
bring them to Kyedani was imperative. But still Pan Andrei loitered,
and when at last he did move at the head of fifty dragoons, he was as
unquiet as if going on a forlorn hope. He felt that he would not be
thankfully received, and he trembled at the thought that the old man
might try to resist, even with armed hand, and in such an event it
would be necessary to use force. But he determined first to persuade
and entreat. With the intent of stripping his visit of all semblance of
armed attack, he left the dragoons at an inn a quarter of a mile from
the village, and two from the house, and ordering the carriage to
follow a little later, rode ahead himself, with only the sergeant and
one attendant.
It was in the afternoon, and the sun was already well inclined toward
the west, but after a rainy and stormy night the day was beautiful and
the sky pure, only here and there was it variegated on the western side
by small rosy clouds which pushed slowly beyond the horizon, like a
flock of sheep leaving a field. Kmita rode through the village with
throbbing heart and as uneasy as the Tartar who entering a village
first, in advance of a chambul, looks around on every side to see if he
can discover armed men in ambush. But the three horsemen attracted no
attention. Barefooted little peasant boys merely jumped out of the road
before the horses; peasants seeing the handsome officer, bowed to him,
sweeping the ground with their caps. He rode on, and passing the
village saw ahead a large dwelling, the old Billevich nest; behind it
broad gardens ending far beyond in the flat fields.
Kmita slackened his pace still more, and began to talk with himself,
evidently framing answers to questions; and meanwhile he gazed with
anxious eye on the buildings rising before him. It was not at all a
lordly mansion, but at the first glance it would have been guessed that
a noble lived there of more than medium fortune. The house itself, with
its back to the gardens and front to the highway, was enormous, but of
wood. The pine of the walls had grown so dark with age that the panes
in the windows seemed white in contrast. Above the walls rose a
gigantic roof with four chimneys in the middle, and two dovecotes at
the gables. A whole cloud of white doves were collected on the roof,
now flying away with clapping of wings, now dropping, like snowy
kerchiefs, on the black ridges, now flapping around the pillars
supporting the entrance.
That entrance, adorned with a shield on which the Billevich arms were
painted, disturbed the proportions of the house, for it was not in the
middle, but toward one side of it. Evidently the house had once been
smaller, but new parts were added subsequently from one side, though
the added parts had grown so black with the passage of years as not to
differ in anything from the old. Two wings, of enormous length, rose on
both sides of the house proper, and formed as it were two arms of a
horseshoe. In these wings were guest-chambers used in time of great
gatherings, kitchens, store-houses, carriage-houses, stables for
carriage horses which the masters wished to keep near at hand, rooms
for officials, servants, and house Cossacks.
In the middle of the broad yard grew old linden-trees, on them were
storks' nests. Among the trees was a bear chained to a pillar. Two
well-sweeps at the sides of the yard, a cross with the Passion of the
Lord between two spears at the entrance, completed this picture of the
residence of a powerful, noble family. At the right of the house, in
the middle of frequent linden-trees, rose the straw roofs of stables,
cow-houses, sheep-houses, and granaries.
Kmita entered the gate, which was open on both sides; like the arms of
a noble awaiting the arrival of a guest. Then two dogs loitering
through the yard announced the stranger, and from a wing two boys ran
to take the horses.
At the same moment in the door of the main building stood a female
figure, in which Kmita recognized Olenka at once. His heart beat more
quickly, and throwing the reins to the servant, he went toward the
porch with uncovered head, holding in one hand his sabre, and in the
other his cap.
She stood before him like a charming vision, shading her eyes with her
hand against the setting sun, and then vanished on a sudden, as if
frightened by the sight of the approaching guest.
"Bad!" thought Pan Andrei; "she hides from me."
He was pained, and his pain was all the greater since just before the
mild sunset, the view of that house, and the calm so spread around it
filled his heart with hope, though perhaps Pan Andrei did not note
that.
He cherished as it were an illusion that he was going to his betrothed,
who would receive him with eyes gleaming from joy and a blush on her
cheeks.
And the illusion was broken. Scarcely had she seen him when she rushed
away, as if from an evil spirit; and straightway Pan Tomash came out to
meet him with a face at once unquiet and cloudy.
Kmita bowed and said, "I have long wished to express duly my devotion
to you, my benefactor; but I was unable to do so sooner in these times
of disturbance, though surely there was no lack in me of desire."
"I am very grateful, and I beg you to enter," answered the
sword-bearer, smoothing the forelock on his head,--an act usual with
him when confused or uncertain of himself. And he stepped aside from
the door to let the guest pass.
Kmita for a while did not wish to enter first, and they bowed to each
other on the threshold; at last Pan Andrei took the step before the
sword-bearer, and in a moment they were in the room.
They found there two nobles,--one, a man in the bloom of life, Pan
Dovgird of Plemborg, a near neighbor of the Billeviches; the other, Pan
Hudzynski, a tenant in Eyragoly. Kmita noticed that they had barely
heard his name when their faces changed and they seemed to act like
dogs at sight of a wolf; he looked at them first defiantly, and then
feigned not to see them.
A disagreeable silence succeeded.
Pan Andrei grew impatient and gnawed his mustaches; the guests looked
at him with a fixed frown, and the sword-bearer stroked his forelock.
"Will you drink a glass of poor nobles' mead with us?" asked he at
last, pointing to a decanter and a glass. "I request you--"
"I will drink with a gentleman!" said Kmita, rather abruptly.
Dovgird and Hudzynski began to puff, taking the answer as an expression
of contempt for them; but they would not begin a quarrel at once in a
friendly house, and that with a roisterer who had a terrible reputation
throughout all Jmud. Still the insult nettled them.
Meanwhile the sword-bearer clapped his hands for a servant, and ordered
him to bring a fourth glass; then he filled it, raised his own to his
lips, and said, "Into your hands-- I am glad to see you in my house."
"I should be sincerely glad were that true."
"A guest is a guest," said the sword-bearer, sententiously.
After awhile, conscious evidently of his duty as a host to keep up the
conversation, he asked, "What do you hear at Kyedani? How is the health
of the hetman?"
"Not strong," answered Kmita, "and in these unquiet times it cannot be
otherwise. The prince has a world of troubles and annoyances."
"I believe that!" said Pan Hudzynski.
Kmita looked at him for a while, then turned to the host and
continued,--
"The prince, being promised assistance by the Swedish King, expected to
move against the enemy at Vilna without delay, and take vengeance for
the ashes of that place, which have not yet grown cold. And it must be
known also to you that now it is necessary to search for Vilna in
Vilna, for it was burning seventeen days. They say that nothing is
visible among the ruins but the black holes of cellars from which smoke
is still rising continually."
"Misfortune!" said the sword-bearer.
"Of course a misfortune, which if it could not have been prevented
should be avenged and similar ruins made of the enemy's capital. In
fact, it was coming to this when disturbers, suspecting the best
intentions of an honorable man, proclaimed him a traitor, and resisted
him in arms instead of aiding him against the enemy. It is not to be
wondered, therefore, that the health of the prince totters, since he,
whom God predestined to great things, sees that the malice of man is
ever preparing new obstacles through which the entire undertaking may
come to naught. The best friends of the prince have deceived him; those
on whom he counted most have left him, or gone to the enemy."
"So it is," said the sword-bearer, seriously.
"That is very painful," continued Kmita, "and I myself have heard the
prince say, 'I know that honorable men pass evil judgments on me; but
why do they not come to Kyedani, why do they not tell me to my face
what they have against me, and listen to my reasons?'"
"Whom has the prince in mind?" asked the sword-bearer.
"In the first rank you, my benefactor, for whom he has a genuine
regard, and he suspects that you belong to the enemy."
The sword-bearer began to smooth his forelock quickly. At last, seeing
that the conversation was taking an undesirable turn, he clapped his
hands.
A servant appeared in the doorway.
"Seest not that it is growing dark? Bring lights!" cried Pan Tomash.
"God sees," continued Kmita, "that I had intended to lay before you
proper assurances of my own devotion separately, but I have come here
also at the order of the prince, who would have come in person to
Billeviche if the time were more favoring."
"Our thresholds are too lowly," said the sword-bearer.
"Do not say that, since it is customary for neighbors to visit one
another; but the prince has no time unoccupied, therefore he said to
me, 'Explain in my name to Pan Billevich that I am not able to visit
him, but let him come to me with his niece, and that of course without
delay, for to-morrow or the day following I know not where I shall be.'
So I have come with a request, and I trust that both of you are in good
health; for when I drove in here I saw Panna Aleksandra in the door,
but she vanished at once, like mist from the field."
"That is true," said the sword-bearer; "I sent her myself to see who
had come."
"I am waiting for your reply, my benefactor," said Kmita.
At that moment the attendant brought in a light and placed it on the
table; by the shining of the light it was seen that Billevich was
greatly confused.
"This is no small honor for me," said he, "but--I cannot go at once. Be
pleased to excuse me to the hetman--you see that I have guests."
"Oh, surely that will not hinder, for these gentlemen will yield to the
prince."
"We have our own tongues in our mouths, and can answer for ourselves,"
said Pan Hudzynski.
"Without waiting for others to make decisions concerning us," added
Dovgird.
"You see," continued Kmita, pretending to take in good part the
churlish words of the nobles, "I knew that these were polite cavaliers.
But to avoid slighting any one, I invite them also in the name of the
prince to come to Kyedani."
"Too much favor," said both; "we have something else to do."
Kmita looked on them with a peculiar expression, and then said coldly,
as if speaking to some fourth person, "When the prince invites, it is
not permitted to refuse."
At that they rose from their chairs.
"But is that constraint?" asked the sword-bearer.
"Pan Billevich, my benefactor," answered Kmita, quickly, "those
gentlemen will go whether they wish or not, for thus it has pleased me;
but I desire not to use force with you, and I beg most sincerely that
you will deign to gratify the prince. I am on service, and have an
order to bring you; but as long as I do not lose hope of effecting
something with entreaty, I shall not cease to entreat,--and I swear to
you that not a hair will fall from your head while there. The prince
wishes to talk with you, and wishes you to live in Kyedani during these
troubled times, when even peasants collect in crowds and plunder. This
is the whole affair! You will be treated with fitting respect in
Kyedani, as a guest and a friend; I give my word of honor for that."
"As a noble, I protest," said the sword-bearer, "and the law protects
me."
"And sabres!" cried Hudzynski and Dovgird.
Kmita laughed, frowned, and said, "Put away your sabres, gentlemen, or
I shall give the order to place you both against the barn and put a
bullet into the head of each one of you."
At this they grew timid, and began to look at each other and at Kmita;
but the sword-bearer cried,--
"The most outrageous violence against the freedom of nobles, against
privileges!"
"There will be no violence if you comply of your own will," said Kmita;
"and the proof is in this that I left dragoons in the village, and came
here alone to invite you as one neighbor another. Do not refuse, for
the times are such that it is difficult to pay attention to refusals.
The prince himself will excuse you therefore, and know that you will be
received as a neighbor and a friend. Understand, too, that could you be
received otherwise, I would a hundred times rather have a bullet in my
head than come here for you. Not a hair will fall from any Billevich
head while I am alive. Call to mind who I am, remember Heraclius
Billevich, remember his will, and consider whether the prince would
have selected me did he not intend to deal with you in sincerity."
"Why then does he use force, why have I to go under constraint? How am
I to trust him, when all Lithuania talks of the oppression under which
honorable citizens are groaning in Kyedani?"
Kmita drew breath; for, from his words and voice he knew that Billevich
was beginning to weaken in his resistance.
"Worthy benefactor," said he, almost joyously, "constraint among
neighbors often rises from affection. And when you order servants to
put the carriage-wheel of a welcome guest in the storehouse, or his
provision-chest in the larder, is not that constraint? And when you
force him to drink, even when wine is flowing out through his nostrils,
is not that constraint? And be assured that even had I to bind you and
take you bound to Kyedani among dragoons, that would be for your good.
Just think, insurgent soldiers are wandering about and committing
lawless deeds, peasants are mustering, Swedish troops are approaching,
and do you think to save yourself from accident in the uproar, or that
some of these will not come to-day or tomorrow, plunder and burn your
property, and attack your person? Is Billeviche a fortress? Can you
defend yourself here? What does the prince wish for you? Safety; for
Kyedani is the only place where you are not in danger. A detachment of
the prince's troops will guard your property here, as the eyes in their
heads, from all disorder of soldiers; and if one fork is lost, then
take my whole fortune."
Billevich began to walk through the room. "Can I trust your word?"
At that moment Panna Aleksandra entered the room. Kmita approached her
quickly, but suddenly remembered the events of Kyedani, and her cold
face fixed him to the floor; he bowed therefore from a distance, in
silence.
Pan Billevich stood before her. "We have to go to Kyedani," said he.
"And for what reason?" asked she.
"For the hetman invites."
"Very kindly,--as a neighbor," added Kmita.
"Yes, very kindly," said Billevich, with a certain bitterness; "but if
we do not go of our own will, this cavalier has the order to surround
us with dragoons and take us by force."
"God preserve us from that!" said Kmita.
"Have not I told you, Uncle," asked Panna Aleksandra, "that we ought to
flee as far as possible, for they would not leave us here undisturbed?
Now my words have come true."
"What's to be done, what's to be done? There is no remedy against
force," cried Billevich.
"True," answered the lady: "but we ought not to go to that infamous
house of our own will. Let murderers take us, bind us, and bear us. Not
we alone shall suffer persecution, not us alone will the vengeance of
traitors reach; but let them know that we prefer death to infamy."
Here she turned with an expression of supreme contempt to Kmita: "Bind
us, sir officer, or sir executioner, and take us with horses, for in
another way we will not go."
The blood rushed to Kmita's face; it seemed for a time that he would
burst forth in terrible anger, but he restrained himself.
"Ah, gracious lady," said he, with a voice stifled from excitement, "I
have not favor in your eyes, since you wish to make me a murderer, a
traitor, and a man of violence. May God judge who is right,--whether I
serving the hetman, or you insulting me as a dog. God gave you beauty,
but a heart venomous and implacable. You are glad to suffer yourself,
that you may inflict still greater pain on another. You exceed the
measure,--as I live, you exceed it,--and nothing will come of that."
"The maiden speaks well," cried Billevich, to whom daring came
suddenly; "we will not go of our own will. Take us with dragoons."
But Kmita paid no attention whatever to him, so much was he excited,
and so deeply touched.
"You are in love with the sufferings of people," continued he to
Olenka, "and you proclaim me a traitor without judgment, without
considering a reason, without permitting me to say a word in my own
defence. Let it be so. But you will go to Kyedani,--of your own will or
against your will; it is all one. There my intentions will become
evident; there you will know whether you have justly accused me of
wrong, there conscience will tell you who of us was whose executioner.
I want no other vengeance. God be with you, but I want that vengeance.
And I want nothing more of you, for you have bent the bow to the
breaking. There is a serpent under your beauty as under a flower."
"We will not go!" repeated Billevich, still more resolutely.
"As true as life we will not!" shouted Hudzynski and Dovgird.
Kmita turned to them; but he was very pale now, for rage was throttling
him, and his teeth chattered as in a fever.
"Ei! Try now to resist! My horses are to be heard,--my dragoons are
coming. Will some one say again that he will not go?"
In fact the tramp of numerous horses was heard. All saw that there was
no help, and Kmita said,--
"Young lady, within the time that a man could repeat the Lord's Prayer
twice you must be in the carriage, or your uncle will have a bullet in
his head."
And it was evident that the wild frenzy of anger was taking possession
more and more of Pan Andrei, for suddenly he shouted till the panes
rattled in the windows, "To the road!"
That same instant the door of the front chamber opened quietly, and
some strange voice inquired,--
"To what place, Cavalier?"
All became as stone from amazement, and every eye was turned to the
door, in which stood some small man in armor, and with a naked sabre in
his hand.
Kmita retreated a step, as if he had seen an apparition. "Pan
Volodyovski!" cried he.
"At your service!" answered the little man. And he advanced into the
middle of the chamber; after him entered in a crowd Mirski, Zagloba,
Pan Yan, Pan Stanislav, Stankyevich, Oskyerko and Roh Kovalski.
"Ha!" cried Zagloba; "the Cossack caught a Tartar, and the Tartar holds
him by the head!"
Billevich began to speak: "Whoever you are, gentlemen, save a citizen
whom in spite of law, birth, and office they wish to arrest and
confine. Save, brothers, the freedom of a noble, whoever you may be."
"Fear not!" answered Volodyovski, "the dragoons of this cavalier are
already in fetters, and now he needs rescue himself more than you do."
"But a priest most of all!" added Zagloba.
"Sir Knight," said Volodyovski, turning to Kmita, "you have no luck
with me; a second time I stand in your way. You did not expect me?"
"I did not! I thought you were in the hands of the prince."
"I have just slipped out of those hands,--this is the road to
Podlyasye. But enough! The first time that you bore away this lady I
challenged you to sabres, is it not true?"
"True," answered Kmita, reaching involuntarily to his head.
"Now it is another affair. Then you were given to fighting,--a thing
usual with nobles, and not bringing the last infamy. To-day you do not
deserve that an honest man should challenge you."
"Why is that?" asked Kmita; and raising his proud head, he looked
Volodyovski straight in the eyes.
"You are a traitor and a renegade," answered Volodyovski, "for you have
cut down, like an executioner, honest soldiers who stood by their
country,--for it is through your work that this unhappy land is
groaning under a new yoke. Speaking briefly, prepare for death, for as
God is in heaven your last hour has come."
"By what right do you judge and execute me?" inquired Kmita.
"Gracious sir," answered Zagloba, seriously, "say your prayers instead
of asking us about a right. But if you have anything to say in your
defence, say it quickly, for you will not find a living soul to take
your part. Once, as I have heard, this lady here present begged you
from the hands of Pan Volodyovski; but after what you have done now,
she will surely not take your part."
Here the eyes of all turned involuntarily to Panna Aleksandra, whose
face at that moment was as if cut from stone; and she stood motionless,
with downcast lids, icy-cold, but she did not advance a step or speak a
word.
The voice of Kmita broke the silence--"I do not ask that lady for
intercession."
Panna Aleksandra was silent.
"This way!" called Volodyovski, turning toward the door.
Heavy steps were heard, followed by the gloomy rattle of spurs; and six
soldiers, with Yuzva Butrym in front, entered the room.
"Take him!" commanded Volodyovski, "lead him outside the village and
put a bullet in his head."
The heavy hand of Butrym rested on the collar of Kmita, after that two
other hands.
"Do not let them drag me like a dog!" said Kmita to Volodyovski. "I
will go myself."
Volodyovski nodded to the soldiers, who released him at once, but
surrounded him; and he walked out calmly, not speaking to any man, only
whispering his prayers.
Panna Aleksandra went out also, through the opposite door, to the
adjoining rooms. She passed the first and the second, stretching out
her hand in the darkness before her; suddenly her head whirled, the
breath failed in her bosom, and she fell, as if dead, on the floor.
Among those who were assembled in the first room a dull silence reigned
for some time; at last Billevich broke it. "Is there no mercy for him?"
asked he.
"I am sorry for him," answered Zagloba, "for he went manfully to
death."
To which Mirski said, "He shot a number of officers out of my squadron,
besides those whom he slew in attack."
"And from mine too," added Stankyevich; "and he cut up almost all of
Nyevyarovski's men."
"He must have had orders from Radzivill," said Zagloba.
"Gentlemen," said Billevich, "you bring the vengeance of Radzivill on
my head."
"You must flee. We are going to Podlyasye, for there the squadrons have
risen against traitors; go with us. There is no other help. You can
take refuge in Byalovyej, where a relative of Pan Skshetuski is the
king's hunter. There no one will find you."
"But my property will be lost."
"The Commonwealth will restore it to you."
"Pan Michael," said Zagloba, suddenly, "I will gallop off and see if
there are not some orders of the hetman on that unfortunate man. You
remember what I found on Roh Kovalski."
"Mount a horse. There is time yet; later the papers will be bloody. I
ordered them to take him beyond the village, so that the lady might not
be alarmed at the rattle of muskets, for women are sensitive and given
to fright."
Zagloba went out, and after a while the tramp of the horse on which he
rode away was heard. Volodyovski turned to the host.
"What is the lady doing?"
"Beyond doubt she is praying for that soul which must go before God."
"May the Lord give him eternal rest!" said Pan Yan. "Were it not for
his willing service with Radzivill, I should be the first to speak in
his favor; but if he did not wish to stand by his country, he might at
least not have sold his soul to Radzivill."
"That is true!" added Volodyovski.
"He is guilty and deserves what has come upon him," said Pan Stanislav;
"but I would that Radzivill were in his place, or Opalinski--oh,
Opalinski!"
"Of how far he is guilty, you have best proof here," put in Oskyerko;
"this lady, who was his betrothed, did not find a word in his favor. I
saw clearly that she was in torment, but she was silent; for how could
she take the part of a traitor."
"She loved him once sincerely, I know that," said Billevich. "Permit
me, gentlemen, to go and see what has befallen her, as this is a
grievous trial for a woman."
"Make ready for the road!" cried the little knight, "for we shall
merely give rest to the horses. We move farther. Kyedani is too near
this place, and Radzivill must have returned already."
"Very well!" said the noble, and he left the room.
After a while his piercing cry was heard. The knights sprang toward the
sound, not knowing what had happened; the servants also ran in with the
lights, and they saw Billevich raising Olenka, whom he had found lying
senseless on the floor.
Volodyovski sprang to help him, and together they placed her on the
sofa. She gave no sign of life. They began to rub her. The old
housekeeper ran in with cordials, and at last the young lady opened her
eyes.
"Nothing is the matter," said the old housekeeper; "go ye to that room,
we will take care of her."
Billevich conducted his guests. "Would that this had not happened!"
said the anxious host. "Could you not take that unfortunate with you,
and put him out of the way somewhere on the road, and not on my place?
How can I travel now, how flee, when the young woman is barely alive,
on the brink of serious illness?"
"The illness is all over now," answered Volodyovski. "We will put the
lady in a carriage; you must both flee, for the vengeance of Radzivill
spares no man."
"The lady may recover quickly," said Pan Yan.
"A comfortable carriage is ready, with horses attached, for Kmita
brought it with him," said Volodyovski. "Go and tell the lady how
things are, and that it is impossible to delay flight. Let her collect
her strength. We must go, for before to-morrow morning Radzivill's
troops may be here."
"True," answered Billevich; "I go!"
He went, and after a while returned with his niece, who had not only
collected her strength, but was already dressed for the road. She had a
high color on her face, and her eyes were gleaming feverishly.
"Let us go, let us go!" repeated she, entering the room.
Volodyovski went out on the porch for a moment to send men for the
carriage; then he returned, and all began to make ready for the road.
Before a quarter of an hour had passed, the roll of wheels was heard
outside the windows, and the stamping of horses' hoofs on the pavement
with which the space before the entrance was covered.
"Let us go!" said Olenka.
"To the road!" cried the officers.
That moment the door was thrown open, and Zagloba burst into the room
like a bomb.
"I have stopped the execution!" cried he.
Olenka from being ruddy became in one moment as white as chalk; she
seemed ready to faint again; but no one paid attention to her, for all
eyes were turned on Zagloba, who was panting like a whale, trying to
catch breath.
"Have you stopped the execution?" inquired Volodyovski. "Why was that?"
"Why?--Let me catch breath. This is why,--without Kmita, without that
honorable cavalier, we should all of us be hanging on trees at Kyedani.
Uf! we wanted to kill our benefactor, gentlemen! Uf!"
"How can that be?" cried all, at once.
"How can it be? Read this letter; in it is the answer."
Here Zagloba gave a letter to Volodyovski. He began to read, stopping
every moment and looking at his comrades; for it was in fact the letter
in which Radzivill reproached Kmita bitterly because by his stubborn
persistence he had freed the colonels and Zagloba from death at
Kyedani.
"Well, what do you think?" repeated Zagloba, at each interval.
The letter ended, as we know, with the commission for Kmita to bring
Billevich and his niece to Kyedani. Pan Andrei had the letter with him,
apparently to show it to the sword-bearer in case of necessity, and it
had not come to that.
Above all there remained no shadow of doubt that but for Kmita the two
Skshetuskis, Volodyovski, and Zagloba would have been killed without
mercy in Kyedani, immediately after the famous treaty with Pontus de la
Gardie.
"Worthy gentlemen," said Zagloba, "if you wish now to shoot him, as God
is dear to me, I will leave your company and know you no longer."
"There is nothing more to be said here!" replied Volodyovski.
"Ah!" said Skshetuski, seizing his head with both hands, "what a
happiness that father read that letter at once, instead of bringing it
to us!"
"They must have fed you with starlings from childhood!" cried Mirski.
"Ha! what do you say to that?" asked Zagloba. "Every one else would
have put a bullet in his head. But the moment they brought me the paper
which they found on him, something touched me, because I have by nature
a universal curiosity. Two men were going ahead of me with lanterns,
and they were already in the field. Said I to them, 'Give me light
here; let me know what is in this!' I began to read. I tell you,
gentlemen, there was darkness before me as if some man had thumped my
bald head with his fist. 'In God's name!' said I, 'why did you not show
this letter?' And he answered, 'Because it did not suit me!' Such a
haughty fellow, even at the point of death! But didn't I seize him,
embrace him? 'Benefactor,' cried I, 'without you the crows would have
eaten us already!' I gave orders to bring him back and lead him here;
and I almost drove the breath out of the horse to tell you what had
happened as quickly as possible. Uf!"
"That is a wonderful man, in whom it is clear as much good as evil
resides," said Pan Stanislav. "If such would not--"
But before he had finished, the door opened and the soldiers came in
with Kmita.
"You are free," said Volodyovski, at once; "and while we are alive none
of us will attack you. What a desperate man you are, not to show us
that letter immediately! We would not have disturbed you."
Here he turned to the soldiers: "Withdraw, and every man to horse!"
The soldiers withdrew, and Pan Andrei remained alone in the middle of
the room. He had a calm face; but it was gloomy, and he looked at the
officers standing before him, not without pride.
"You are free!" repeated Volodyovski; "go whithersoever you please,
even to Radzivill, though it is painful to see a man of honorable blood
aiding a traitor to his country."
"Reflect well," answered Kmita, "for I say beforehand that I shall go
nowhere else but to Radzivill."
"Join us; let the thunderbolt crush that tyrant of Kyedani!" cried
Zagloba. "You will be to us a friend and dear comrade; the country,
your mother, will forgive your offences against her."
"It is no use," said Kmita, with energy. "God will decide who serves
the country better,--you who begin civil war on your own
responsibility, or I, serving a lord who alone can save this ill-fated
Commonwealth. Go your own way, I will go mine. It is not time to
convert you, and the attempt is vain; but I tell you from the depth of
my soul that you are ruining the country,--you who stand in the way of
its salvation. I do not call you traitors, for I know that your
intentions are honorable; but this is the position,--the country is
perishing, Radzivill stretches a hand to it, and you thrust swords into
that hand, and in blindness make traitors of him and all those who
stand by him."
"As God is true!" said Zagloba, "if I had not seen how manfully you
went to meet death, I should think that terror had disturbed your mind.
To whom have you given oath,--to Radzivill or Yan Kazimir, to Sweden or
the Commonwealth? You have lost your wits!"
"I knew that it would be vain to attempt to convert you. Farewell!"
"But wait," said Zagloba; "for here is a question of importance. Tell
me, did Radzivill promise that he would spare us when you interceded
for us in Kyedani?"
"He did," said Kmita. "You were to remain during the war in Birji."
"Know now your Radzivill, who betrays not only the country, not only
the king, but his own servants." When he had said this, Zagloba gave
the hetman's letter to Kmita. He took it, and began to run over it with
his eyes; and as he read, the blood came to his face, and a blush of
shame for his own leader covered his forehead more and more. All at
once he crushed the letter in his hand, and threw it on the floor.
"Farewell!" said he. "Better I had perished at your hands!" and he went
out of the room.
"Gentlemen," said Pan Yan, after a moment's silence, "an affair with
that man is difficult, for he believes in his Radzivill as a Turk in
Mohammed. I thought myself, as you do, that he was serving him for
profit or ambition, but that is not the case. He is not a bad man, only
an erring one."
"If he has had faith in his Mohammed hitherto, I have undermined that
faith infernally," said Zagloba. "Did you see how he threw down the
letter as soon as he had read it? There will be no small work between
them, for that cavalier is ready to spring at the eyes, not only of
Radzivill, but the devil. As God is dear to me, if a man had given me a
herd of Turkish horses I should not be so well pleased as I am at
having saved him from death."
"It is true he owes his life to you," said Billevich; "no one will deny
that."
"God be with him!" said Volodyovski; "let us take counsel what to do."
"But what? Mount and take the road; the horses have rested a little,"
answered Zagloba.
"True, we should go as quickly as possible! Are you going with us?"
asked Mirski of the sword-bearer.
"I cannot remain here in peace, I must go. But if you wish to take the
road at once, gentlemen, I say sincerely that it is not convenient to
tear away now with you. Since that man has left here alive, they will
not burn me up immediately, neither will they kill any one; and before
such a journey it is necessary to provide one's self with this thing
and that. God knows when I shall return. It is necessary to make one
arrangement and another,--to secrete the most valuable articles, send
my cattle to the neighbors, pack trunks. I have also a little ready
money which I would take with me. I shall be ready to-morrow at
daybreak; but to go now, in seize-grab fashion, I cannot."
"On our part we cannot wait, for the sword is hanging over our heads,"
said Volodyovski. "And where do you wish to take refuge?"
"In the wilderness, as you advised. At least, I shall leave the maiden
there; for I am not yet old, and my poor sabre may be of use to the
country and the king."
"Farewell! God grant us to meet in better times!"
"God reward you, gentlemen, for coming to rescue me. Doubtless we shall
see one another in the field."
"Good health!"
"Happy journey!"
They began to take farewell of one another, and then each came to bow
down before Panna Billevich.
"You will see my wife and little boys in the wilderness: embrace them
for me, and bloom in good health," said Pan Yan.
"Remember at times the soldier, who, though he had no success in your
eyes, is always glad to bend the skies for you."
After them others approached, and last Zagloba.
"Receive, charming flower, farewell from an old man too. Embrace Pani
Skshetuski and my little stumps. They are boys in a hundred!"
Instead of an answer, Olenka seized his hand, and pressed it in silence
to her lips.