The sword-bearer of Rossyeni had a difficult struggle with Panna
Aleksandra before she consented to go to that feast which the hetman
had prepared for his people. He had to implore almost with tears the
stubborn, bold girl, and swear that it was a question of his head; that
all, not only the military, but citizens dwelling in the region of
Kyedani, as far as Radzivill's hand reached, were obliged to appear
under terror of the prince's wrath: how then could they oppose who were
subject to the favor and disfavor of the terrible man? Olenka, not to
endanger her uncle, gave way.
The company was really not small, for he had forced many of the
surrounding nobles to come with their wives and daughters. But the
military were in the majority, and especially officers of the foreign
regiments, who remained nearly all with the prince. Before he showed
himself to the guests he prepared an affable countenance, as if no care
had weighed on him previously; he wished with that banquet to rouse
courage, not only in his adherents and the military, but to show that
most of the citizens were on his side, and only turbulent people
opposed the union with Sweden. He did not spare therefore trouble or
outlay to make the banquet lordly, that the echo of it might spread as
widely as possible through the land. Barely had darkness covered the
country when hundreds of barrels were set on fire along the road
leading to the castle and in the courtyard; from time to time cannons
were thundering, and soldiers were ordered to give forth joyous shouts.
Carriages and covered wagons followed one another on the road, bringing
personages of the neighborhood and the "cheaper" (smaller) nobility.
The courtyard was filled with equipages, horses, and servants, who had
either come with guests or belonged to the town. Crowds dressed in
velvet, brocade, and costly furs filled the so-called "Golden Hall;"
and when the prince appeared at last, all glittering from precious
stones, and with a welcoming smile on his face, usually gloomy, and
besides wrinkled at that time by sickness, the first officers shouted
in one voice,--
"Long live the prince hetman! Long live the voevoda of Vilna!"
Radzivill cast his eyes suddenly on the assembled citizens, wishing to
convince himself whether they repeated the cries of the soldiers. In
fact a few tens of voices from the most timid breasts repeated the cry;
the prince on his part began at once to bow, and to thank them for the
sincere and "unanimous" love.
"With you, gracious gentlemen!" said he, "we will manage those who
would destroy the country. God reward you! God reward you!"
And he went around through the hall, stopped before acquaintances, not
sparing titles in his speech,--"Lord brother," "dear neighbor;" and
more than one gloomy face grew bright under the warm rays of the
magnate's favor.
"But it is not possible," said those who till recently looked on his
deeds with dislike, "that such a lord, such a lofty senator should wish
ill to his country; either he could not act differently from what he
has acted, or there is some secret in this, which will come out for the
good of the Commonwealth."
"In fact, we have more rest already from one enemy who does not wish to
light about us with the Swedes."
"God grant that all turn out for the best."
Some, however, shook their heads, or said with a look to one another,
"We are here because they put the knife to our throats."
But these were silent; meanwhile others, more easily brought over, said
in loud voices, to be heard by the prince,--
"It is better to change the king than ruin the Commonwealth."
"Let the kingdom think of itself, but we will think of ourselves."
"Besides, who has given us an example, if not Great Poland? _Extrema
necessitas, extremis nititur rationibus! Tentanda omnia!_"
"Let us put all confidence in our prince, and trust him in everything.
Let him have Lithuania and the government in his hands."
"He deserves both. If he will not save us, we perish,--in him is
salvation."
"He is nearer to us than Yan Kazimir, for he is our blood."
Radzivill caught with an eager ear those voices, dictated by fear or
flattery, and did not consider that they came from the mouths of weak
persons, who in danger would be the first to desert him,--from the
mouths of persons whom every breath of wind might bend as a wave. And
he was charmed with those expressions, and tempted himself, or his own
conscience, repeating from the maxims he had heard that which seemed to
excuse him the most: "_Extrema necessitas, extremis nititur
rationibus!_"
But when passing a large group of nobles he heard from the lips of Pan
Yujits, "He is nearer to us than Yan Kazimir," his face grew bright
altogether. To compare him with the king, and then to prefer him,
flattered his pride; he approached Pan Yujits at once and said,--
"You are right, brothers, for in Yan Kazimir, in one pot of blood there
is a quart of Lithuanian, but in me there is nothing but Lithuanian. If
hitherto the quart has commanded the potful, it depends on you,
brothers, to change that condition."
"We are ready to drink a potful to your health," answered Pan Yujits.
"You have struck my mind. Rejoice, brothers; I would gladly invite
hither all Lithuania."
"It would have to be trimmed still better," said Pan Shchanyetski of
Dalnovo,--a bold man, and cutting with the tongue as with the sword.
"What do you mean by that?" asked the prince, fixing his eyes on him.
"That the heart of your highness is wider than Kyedani."
Radzivill gave a forced laugh and went farther.
At this moment the marshal of the castle approached him with the
announcement that the banquet was ready. Crowds began to flow, like a
river, after the prince to the same hall in which not long before the
union with Sweden was declared. The marshal seated the guests according
to dignity, calling each one by name and rank. But it was evident that
the orders of the prince had been issued in advance on this point, for
Kmita's place was between Billevich and Panna Aleksandra.
The hearts jumped in both when they heard their names called in
succession, and both hesitated at the first moment; but it occurred to
them that to refuse would be to draw on themselves the eyes of all
present, therefore they sat side by side. They were angry and ill at
ease. Pan Andrei determined to be as indifferent as if a stranger were
sitting next him; but soon he understood that he could not be so
indifferent, and that his neighbor was not such a stranger that they
could begin an ordinary conversation. But both saw that in that throng
of persons of the most varied feelings, interests, and passions, he
thinks only of her and she of him. For this very reason it was awkward
for them. They would not and could not tell sincerely, clearly, and
openly, what lay on their hearts. They had the past, but no future.
Recent feelings, confidence, even acquaintance, were all broken. There
was nothing between them save the feeling of disappointment and
offence. If this link should burst, they would be freer; but time only
could bring forgetfulness: it was too soon for that.
For Kmita it was so disagreeable that he almost suffered torments;
still he would not have yielded, for anything in the world, the place
which the marshal had given him. He caught with his ear the rustle of
her dress; he watched every movement of hers,--he watched while
feigning not to watch; he felt the warmth beating from her, and all
this caused him a certain painful delight.
At the same moment he discovered that she too was equally on the alert,
though she was as if not paying attention. An unconquerable desire of
looking at her drew him on; therefore he glanced sidewise, until he saw
her clear forehead, her eyes covered with dark lashes, and her fair
face, not touched by paint, as were those of other ladies. For him
there had always been something attractive in that face, so that the
heart in the poor knight was shivering from sorrow and pain. "To think
that such animosity could find a place with such beauty," thought he.
But the offence was too deep; hence he added soon in his soul, "I have
nothing to do with you; let some other man take you."
And he felt suddenly that if that "other" were merely to try to make
use of the permission, he would cut him into pieces as small as chopped
straw. At the very thought terrible anger seized him; but he calmed
himself when he remembered that he was still alone, that no "other" was
sitting near her, and that no one, at least at that moment, was trying
to win her.
"I will look at her once more and turn to the other side," thought he.
And again he cast a sidelong glance; but just at that moment she did
the same, and both dropped their eyes with all quickness, terribly
confused, as if they had been caught in a crime.
Panna Aleksandra too was struggling with herself. From all that had
happened, from the action of Kmita at Billeviche, from the words of
Zagloba and Pan Yan, she learned that Kmita erred, but that he was not
so guilty and did not deserve such contempt, such unreserved
condemnation, as she had thought previously. Besides, he had saved
those worthy men from death, and there was so much in him of a certain
grand pride that when he had fallen into their hands, having a letter
on his person sufficient to vindicate him, or at least to save him from
execution, he did not show that letter, he said not a word, but went to
death with head erect.
Olenka, reared by an old soldier who placed contempt for death above
all virtues, worshipped courage with her whole heart; therefore she
could not resist an involuntary admiration for that stern knightly
daring which could be driven from the body only with the soul.
She understood also that if Kmita served Radzivill he did so in perfect
good faith; what a wrong therefore to condemn him for intentional
treason! And still she had put that wrong on him, she had spared him
neither injustice nor contempt, she would not forgive him even in the
face of death.
"Right the wrong," said her heart; "all is finished between you, but it
is thy duty to confess that thou hast judged him unjustly. In this is
thy duty to thyself also."
But there was in this lady no little pride, and perhaps something of
stubbornness; therefore it came at once to her mind that that cavalier
was not worth such satisfaction, and a flush came to her face.
"If he is not worth it, let him go without it," said her mind.
But conscience said further that whether the injured one is worth
satisfaction or not, it is needful to give it; but on the other side
her pride brought forth continually new arguments,--
"If--which might be--he was unwilling to listen, she would have to
swallow her shame for nothing. And secondly, guilty or not guilty,
whether he acts purposely or through blindness, it is enough that he
holds with traitors and enemies of the country, and helps them to ruin
it. It is the same to the country whether he lacks reason or honesty.
God may forgive him; men must and ought to condemn, and the name of
traitor will remain with him. That is true! If he is not guilty, is she
not right in despising a man who has not the wit to distinguish wrong
from right, crime from virtue?"
Here anger began to carry the lady away, and her cheeks flushed.
"I will be silent!" said she to herself. "Let him suffer what he has
deserved. Until I see penitence I have the right to condemn him."
Then she turned her glance to Kmita, as if wishing to be convinced
whether penitence was yet to be seen in his face. Just then it was
that the meeting of their eyes took place, at which both were so
shame-stricken.
Olenka, it may be, did not see penitence in the face of the cavalier,
but she saw pain and suffering; she saw that face pale as after
sickness; therefore deep pity seized her, tears came perforce to her
eyes, and she bent still more over the table to avoid betraying
emotion.
Meanwhile the banquet was becoming animated. At first all were
evidently under a disagreeable impression, but with the cups came
fancy. The bustle increased. At last the prince rose,--
"Gracious gentlemen, I ask leave to speak."
"The prince wishes to speak! The prince wishes to speak!" was called
from every side.
"I raise the first toast to the Most Serene King of Sweden, who gives
us aid against our enemies, and ruling meanwhile this country, will not
leave it till he brings peace. Arise, gentlemen, for that health is
drunk standing."
The guests rose, except ladies, and filled their glasses, but without
shouts, without enthusiasm. Pan Shchanyetski of Dalnovo muttered
something to his neighbors, and they bit their mustaches to avoid
laughter. It was evident that he was jeering at the King of Sweden.
It was only when the prince raised the other toast to his "beloved
guests" kind to Kyedani, who had come even from distant places to
testify their confidence in the intentions of the host, that they
answered him with a loud shout,--
"We thank you from our hearts!"
"The health of the prince!"
"Our Hector of Lithuania!"
"May he live! Long life to the prince hetman, our voevoda."
Now Pan Yujits, a little drunk already, cried with all the strength of
his lungs, "Long life to Yanush I., Grand Prince of Lithuania!"
Radzivill blushed like a young lady at her betrothal, but remarking
that those assembled were stubbornly silent and looking at him with
astonishment, he said,--
"That is in your power; but your wishes are premature, Pan Yujits,
premature."
"Long live Yanush I., Grand Prince of Lithuania!" repeated Pan Yujits,
with the stubbornness of a drunken man.
Pan Shchanyetski rose in his turn and raised his glass. "True," said
he, coolly, "Grand Prince of Lithuania, King of Poland, and Emperor of
Germany!"
Again an interval of silence. Suddenly the company burst out into
laughter. All were staring, their mustaches were dancing on their
reddened faces, and laughter shook their bodies, echoed from the arches
of the hall, and lasted long; and as suddenly as it rose so suddenly
did it die on the lips of all at sight of the hetman's face, which was
changing like a rainbow.
Radzivill restrained the terrible anger which had seized his breast and
said, "Low jests, Pan Shchanyetski."
The noble pouted, and not at all disconcerted answered: "That also is
an elective throne, and we cannot wish your highness too much. If as a
noble your highness may become King of Poland, as a prince of the
Gorman Empire you might be raised to the dignity of Emperor. It is as
far or near for you to the one as to the other; and who does not wish
this to you, let him rise. I will meet him with the sabre." Here he
turned to the company: "Rise, whoso does not wish the crown of the
German Empire to the voevoda of Vilna!"
Of course no one rose. They did not laugh either, for in the voice of
Pan Shchanyetski there was so much insolent malice that an involuntary
disquiet came upon all as to what would happen.
Nothing happened, save that relish for the banquet was spoiled. In vain
did the servants of the castle fill the glasses every moment. Wine
could not scatter gloomy thoughts in the minds of the banqueters, nor
the disquiet increasing every moment. Radzivill concealed his anger
with difficulty, for he felt that, thanks to the toasts of Pan
Shchanyetski, he was belittled in the eyes of the assembled nobles, and
that, intentionally or not, that man had forced the conviction on those
present that the voevoda of Vilna was no nearer the throne of grand
prince than the crown of Germany. Everything was turned into jests,
into ridicule, while the banquet was given mainly to accustom men's
minds to the coming rule of the Radzivills. What is more, Radzivill was
concerned lest this ridicule of his hopes should make a bad impression
on the officers, admitted to the secret of his plans. In fact, deep
dissatisfaction was depicted on their faces.
Ganhoff filled glass after glass, and avoided the glance of the prince.
Kmita, however, did not drink, but looked at the table before him with
frowning brow, as if he were thinking of something, or lighting an
internal battle. Radzivill trembled at the thought that a light might
flash into that mind any moment, and bring forth truth from the
shadows, and then that officer, who furnished the single link binding
the remnants of the Polish squadrons with the cause of Radzivill, would
break the link, even if he had at the same time to drag the heart out
of his own breast.
Kmita had annoyed Radzivill already over much; and without the
marvellous significance given him by events, he would long since have
fallen a victim to his own impetuosity and the wrath of the hetman. But
the prince was mistaken in suspecting him of a hostile turn of thought,
for Pan Andrei was occupied wholly with Olenka and that deep dissension
which separated them.
At times it seemed to him that he loved that woman sitting at his side
beyond the whole world; then again he felt such hatred that he would
give death to her if he could but give it to himself as well.
Life had become so involved that for his simple nature it was too
difficult, and he felt what a wild beast feels when entangled in a net
from which it cannot escape.
The unquiet and gloomy humor of the whole banquet irritated him in the
highest degree. It was simply unendurable.
The banquet became more gloomy every moment. It seemed to those present
that they were feasting under a leaden roof resting on their heads.
At that time a new guest entered the hall. The prince, seeing him,
exclaimed,--
"That is Pan Suhanyets, from Cousin Boguslav! Surely with letters!"
The newly arrived bowed profoundly. "True, Most Serene Prince, I come
straight from Podlyasye."
"But give me the letters, and sit at the table yourself. The worthy
guests will pardon me if I do not defer the reading, though we are
sitting at a banquet, for there may be news which I shall need to
impart to you. Sir Marshal, pray think of the welcome envoy there."
Speaking thus, he took from the hands of Pan Suhanyets a package of
letters, and broke the seal of the first in haste.
All present fixed curious eyes on his face, and tried to divine the
substance of the letter. The first letter did not seem to announce
anything favorable, for the face of the prince was filled with blood,
and his eyes gleamed with wild anger.
"Brothers!" said the hetman, "Prince Boguslav reports to me that those
men who have chosen to form a confederation rather than march against
the enemy at Vilna, are ravaging at this moment my villages in
Podlyasye. It is easier of course to wage war with peasant women in
villages. Worthy knights, there is no denying that!--Never mind! Their
reward will not miss them."
Then he took the second letter, but had barely cast his eyes on it when
his face brightened with a smile of triumph and delight,--
"The province of Syeradz has yielded to the Swedes!" cried he, "and
following Great Poland, has accepted the protection of Karl Gustav."
And after a while another,--
"This is the latest dispatch. Good for us, worthy gentlemen, Yan
Kazimir is beaten at Vidava and Jarnov. The army is leaving him! He is
retreating on Cracow; the Swedes are pursuing. My cousin writes that
Cracow too must fall."
"Let us rejoice, gracious gentlemen," said Shchanyetski, with a strange
voice.
"Yes, let us rejoice!" repeated the hetman, without noticing the tone
in which Shchanyetski had spoken. And delight issued from the whole
person of the prince, his face became in one moment as it were younger,
his eyes gained lustre; with hands trembling from happiness, he broke
the seal of the last letter, looked, became all radiant as the sun, and
cried,--
"Warsaw is taken! Long life to Karl Gustav!"
Here he first noticed that the impression which these tidings produced
on those present was entirely different from that which he felt
himself. For all sat in silence, looking forward with uncertain glance.
Some frowned; others covered their faces with their hands. Even
courtiers of the hetman, even men of weak spirit, did not dare to
imitate the joy of the prince at the tidings that Warsaw was taken,
that Cracow must fall, and that the provinces, one after the other,
would leave their legal king and yield to the enemy. Besides, there was
something monstrous in the satisfaction with which the supreme leader
of half the armies of the Commonwealth, and one of its most exalted
senators, announced its defeats. The prince saw that it was necessary
to soften the impression.
"Gentlemen," said he, "I should be the first to weep with you, if harm
were coming to the Commonwealth; but here the Commonwealth suffers no
harm, it merely changes kings. Instead of the ill-fated Yan Kazimir we
shall have a great and fortunate warrior. I see all wars now finished,
and enemies vanquished."
"Your highness is right," answered Shchanyetski. "Cup for cup, the same
thing that Radzeyovski and Opalinski held forth at Uistsie. Let us
rejoice, gracious gentlemen! Death to Yan Kazimir!"
When he had said this, Shchanyetski pushed back his chair with a
rattle, and walked out of the hall.
"The best of wines that are in the cellar!" cried the prince.
The marshal hastened to carry out the order. In the hall it was as
noisy as in a hive. When the first impression had passed, the nobles
began to talk of the news and discuss. They asked Pan Suhanyets for
details from Podlyasye, and adjoining Mazovia, which the Swedes had
already occupied.
After a while pitchy kegs were rolled into the hall and opened. Spirits
began to grow brighter and improve by degrees.
More and more frequently voices were heard to repeat: "All is over!
perhaps it is for the best!" "We must bend to fortune!" "The prince will
not let us be wronged." "It is better for us than for others. Long life
to Yanush Radzivill, our voevoda, hetman, and prince!"
"Grand Prince of Lithuania!" cried again Pan Yujits.
But at this time neither silence nor laughter answered him; but a
number of tens of hoarse throats roared at once,--
"That is our wish,--from heart and soul our wish! Long life to him! May
he rule!"
The magnate rose with a face as red as purple. "I thank you, brothers,"
said he, seriously.
In the hall it had become as suffocating and hot, from lights and the
breath of people, as in a bath.
Panna Aleksandra bent past Kmita to her uncle. "I am weak," said she;
"let us leave here."
In truth her face was pale, and on her forehead glittered drops of
perspiration; but the sword-bearer of Rossyeni cast an unquiet glance
at the hetman, fearing lest it be taken ill of him to leave the table.
In the field he was a gallant soldier, but he feared Radzivill with his
whole soul.
At that moment, to complete the evil, the hetman said,--
"He is my enemy who will not drink all my toasts to the bottom, for I
am joyful to-day."
"You have heard?" asked Billevich.
"Uncle, I cannot stay longer, I am faint," said Olenka, with a
beseeching voice.
"Then go alone," answered Pan Tomash.
The lady rose, wishing to slip away unobserved; but her strength
failed, and she caught the side of the chair in her weakness.
Suddenly a strong knightly arm embraced her, and supported the almost
fainting maiden.
"I will conduct you," said Pan Andrei.
And without asking for permission he caught her form as if with an iron
hoop. She leaned on him more and more; before they reached the door,
she was hanging powerless on his arm.
Then he raised her as lightly as he would a child, and bore her out of
the hall.