A few days later the lieutenant with his escort pressed forward briskly
in the direction of Lubni. After the passage of the Dnieper, they
travelled by a broad steppe road which united Chigirin with Lubni,
passing through Juki, Semi Mogil, and Khorol. A similar road joined
Lubni with Kieff. In times past, before the campaign of the hetman
Jolkyevski against Solonitsa, these roads were not in existence. People
travelled to Kieff from Lubni by the desert and the steppe; the way to
Chigirin was by water, with return by land through Khorol. In general
the country beyond the Dnieper, the ancient land of the Pólovtsi, was
wild, scarcely more inhabited than the Wilderness, frequently visited
by the Tartars, and exposed to Zaporojian bands.
On the banks of the Sula immense forests, which had never been touched
by the foot of man, gave forth their voices; and in places also on the
low shores of the Sula, the Ruda, Sleporod, Korovai, Orjavets, Psel,
and other greater and smaller rivers and streams, marshes were formed,
partly grown over with dense thickets and pine forests, and partly open
in the form of meadows. In these pine woods and morasses wild beasts of
every kind found commodious refuge; and in the deepest forest gloom
lived in countless multitudes the bearded aurochs, bears, with wild
boars, and near them wolves, lynxes, martens, deer, and wild goats. In
the swamps and arms of rivers beavers built their dams. There were
stories current among the Zaporojians that of these beavers were some a
century old and white as snow from age.
On the elevated dry steppes roamed herds of wild horses, with shaggy
foreheads and bloodshot eyes. The rivers were swarming with fish and
water-fowl. It was a wonderful land, half asleep, but bearing traces of
the former activity of man. It was everywhere filled with the ruins of
towns of previous generations; Lubni and Khorol were raised from such
ruins as these. Everywhere the country was full of grave-mounds,
ancient and modern, covered already with a growth of pine. Here, as in
the Wilderness, ghosts and vampires rose up at night. Old Zaporojians,
sitting around their fires, told marvellous tales of what took place
in those forest depths, from which issued the howling of unknown
beasts,--cries half human, half brute,--terrible sounds as of battle or
the chase. Under water was heard the ringing of bells in submerged
cities. The land was inhospitable, little accessible, in places too
soft, in places suffering from lack of water,--parched, dry, and
dangerous to live in; for when men settled down there anyhow and began
to cultivate the land, they were swept away by Tartar raids. But it was
frequently visited by Zaporojians while hunting--or, as they phrased
it, while at "industry"--along all the rivers, ravines, forests, and
reedy marshes, searching for beavers in places of which even the
existence was known to few.
And still settled life struggled to cling to those regions, like a
plant which seizes the ground with its roots wherever it can, and
though torn out repeatedly, springs up anew. On desert sites rose
towns, settlements, colonies, hamlets, and single dwellings. The earth
was fruitful in places, and freedom was enticing. But life bloomed up
first when these lands came into possession of the princes
Vishnyevetski. Prince Michael, after his marriage with a Moldavian
lady, began to put his domain beyond the Dnieper into careful order. He
brought in people, settled waste regions, gave exemption from service
for thirty years, built monasteries, and introduced his princely
authority. Even a settler in that country from a time of unreckoned
priority, who considered that he was on his own ground, was willing to
descend to the status of a tribute-payer, since for his tribute he came
under the powerful protection of the prince who guarded him,--defended
him from the Tartars and the men from below, who were often worse than
the Tartars. But real activity commenced under the iron hand of young
Prince Yeremi. His possessions began immediately outside Chigirin, and
ended at Konotóp and Komni. This did not constitute all the wealth of
the prince, for beginning at Sandomir his lands lay in the voevodstvos
of Volynia, Russia, and Kieff; but his domain beyond the Dnieper was as
the eye in his head to the victor of Putívl.
The Tartar lay long in wait on the Oryól or the Vorskla, and sniffed
like a wolf before he ventured to urge his horse to the north. The men
from below did not attempt attack. The local disorderly bands entered
service. Wild, plundering people, who had long subsisted by violence
and raids, now held in check, occupied outposts on the borders, and
lying on the boundaries of the state, were like a bull-dog on his
chain, threatening intruders with his teeth.
Everything flourished and was full of life. Roads were laid out on the
trace of ancient highways; rivers were blocked with dams, built by the
captive Tartar or men from below caught robbing with armed hand. The
mill now resounded where the wind used to play wildly at night in the
reeds, and where wolves howled in company with the ghosts of drowned
men. More than four hundred wheels, not counting the numerous
windmills, ground grain beyond the Dnieper. More than forty thousand
men were tributary to the prince's treasury. The woods swarmed with
bees. On the borders new villages, hamlets, and single dwellings were
rising continually. On the steppes, by the side of wild herds, grazed
whole droves of domestic cattle and horses. The endless monotony of
pine groves and steppes was varied by the smoke of cottages, the gilded
towers of churches,--Catholic and orthodox. The desert was changed into
a peopled land.
Lieutenant Skshetuski travelled on gladly, and without hurry, as if
going over his own ground, having plenty of leisure secured to him on
the road. It was the beginning of January, 1648; but that wonderful,
exceptional winter gave no sign of its approach. Spring was breathing
in the air; the earth was soft and shining with the water of melted
snow, the fields were covered with green, and the sun shone with such
heat on the road at midday that fur coats burdened the shoulders as in
summer.
The lieutenant's party was increased considerably in Chigirin, for it
was joined by a Wallachian embassy which the hospodar sent to Lubni in
the person of Pan Rozvan Ursu. The embassy was attended by an escort,
with wagons and servants. Our acquaintance, Pan Longin Podbipienta,
with the shield of Zervikaptur, his long sword under his arm, and with
a few servants, travelled with Pan Yan.
Sunshine, splendid weather, and the odor of approaching spring filled
the heart with gladness; and the lieutenant was the more rejoiced,
since he was returning from a long journey to the roof of the prince,
which was at the same time his own roof. He was returning having
accomplished his mission well, and was therefore certain of a good
reception.
There were other causes, also, for his gladness. Besides the good-will
of the prince, whom the lieutenant loved with his whole soul, there
awaited him in Lubni certain dark eyes. These eyes belonged to Anusia
Borzobogata Krasenska, lady-in-waiting to Princess Griselda, the most
beautiful maiden among all her attendants; a fearful coquette, for whom
every one was languishing in Lubni, while she was indifferent to all.
Princess Griselda was terribly strict in deportment and excessively
austere in manner, which, however, did not prevent young people from
exchanging ardent glances and sighs. Pan Yan, in common with the
others, sent his tribute to the dark eyes, and when alone in his
quarters he would seize a lute and sing,--
"Thou'rt the daintiest of the dainty;"
or,
"The Tartar seizes people captive;
Thou seizest captive hearts."
But being a cheerful man, and, besides, a soldier thoroughly devoted to
his profession, he did not take it too much to heart that Anusia smiled
on Pan Bykhovets of the Wallachian regiment, or Pan Vurtsel of the
artillery, or Pan Volodyovski of the dragoons, as well as on him, and
smiled even on Pan Baranovski of the huzzars, although he was already
growing gray, and lisped since his palate had been wounded by a
musket-ball. Our lieutenant had even had a sabre duel with Volodyovski
for the sake of Anusia; but when obliged to remain too long at Lubni
without an expedition against the Tartars, life was tedious there, even
with Anusia, and when he had to go on an expedition, he went gladly,
without regret or remembrance.
He returned joyfully, however, for he was on his way from the Crimea
after a satisfactory arrangement of affairs. He hummed a song merrily,
and urged his horse, riding by the side of Pan Longin, who, sitting on
an enormous Livonian mare, was thoughtful and serious as usual. The
wagons of the embassy escort remained considerably in the rear.
"The envoy is lying in the wagon like a block of wood, and sleeps all
the time," said the lieutenant. "He told me wonders of his Wallachian
land till he grew tired. I listened, too, with curiosity. It is a rich
country,--no use in denying that,--excellent climate, gold, wine,
dainties, and cattle in abundance. I thought to myself meanwhile: Our
prince is descended from a Moldavian mother, and has as good a right to
the throne of the hospodar as any one else; which rights, moreover,
Prince Michael claimed. Wallachia is no new country to our warriors;
they have beaten the Turks, Tartars, Wallachians, and Transylvanians."
"But the people are of weaker temper than with us, as Pan Zagloba told
me in Chigirin," said Pan Longin. "If he is not to be believed;
confirmation of what he says may be found in prayer-books."
"How in prayer-books?"
"I have one myself, and I can show it to you, for I always carry one
with me."
Having said this, he unbuckled the saddle-straps in front of him, and
taking out a small book carefully bound in calfskin, kissed it
reverentially; then turning over a few leaves, said, "Read."
Skshetuski began: "'We take refuge under thy protection, Holy Mother of
God--' Where is there anything here about Wallachia? What are you
talking of? This is an antiphone!"
"Read on farther."
"'That we may be worthy of the promises of Christ our Lord. Amen.'"
"Well, here we've got a question."
Skshetuski read: "'Question: Why is Wallachian cavalry called light?
Answer: Because it is light-footed in flight. Amen.' H'm! this is true.
Still, there is a wonderful mixture of matters in this book."
"It is a soldiers' book, where, side by side with prayers, a variety of
military information is given, from which you may gain knowledge of all
nations,--which of them is noblest, and which mean. As to the
Wallachians, it appears that they are cowardly fellows, and terrible
traitors besides."
"That they are traitors is undoubted, for that is proven by the
adventures of Prince Michael. I have heard as a fact that their
soldiers are nothing to boast of by nature. But the prince has an
excellent Wallachian regiment, in which Bykhovets is lieutenant; but to
tell the truth, I don't think it contains even two hundred
Wallachians."
"Well, Lieutenant, what do you think? Has the prince many men under
arms?"
"About eight thousand, not counting the Cossacks that are at the
outposts. But Zatsvilikhovski tells me that new levies are ordered."
"Well, may God give us a campaign under the prince!"
"It is said that a great war against Turkey is in preparation, and that
the king himself is going to march with all the forces of the
Commonwealth. I know, too, that gifts are withheld from the Tartars,
who, I may add, are afraid to stir. I heard of this even in the Crimea,
where on this account, I suppose, I was received with such honor; for
the report is, that if the king moves with the hetmans, Prince Yeremi
will strike the Crimea and wipe out the Tartars. It is quite certain
they will not confide such an undertaking to any one else."
Pan Longin raised his hands and eyes to heaven.
"May the God of mercy grant such a holy war for the glory of
Christianity and our nation, and permit me, sinful man, to fulfil my
vow, so that I may receive joy in the struggle or find a praiseworthy
death!"
"Have you made a vow, then, concerning the war?"
"I will disclose all the secrets of my soul to such a worthy knight,
though the story is a long one; but since you incline a willing ear I
will begin. You are aware that the motto on my shield is 'Tear cowl;'
and this has the following origin: When my ancestor, Stoveiko
Podbipienta, at the battle of Grünwald saw three knights in monks'
cowls riding in a row, he dashed up to them and cut the heads off all
three with one blow. Touching this glorious deed, the old chroniclers
write in great praise of my ancestor."
"Your ancestor had not a lighter hand than you, and he was justly 'Tear
cowl.'"
"To him the king granted a coat of arms, and upon it three goat-heads
on a silver field in memory of those knights, because the same heads
were depicted on their shields. Those arms, together with this sword,
my ancestor, Stoveiko Podbipienta, left to his descendants with the
injunction to strive to uphold the glory of their race and sword."
"It is not to be denied that you come of gentle stock."
Here Pan Longin began to sigh earnestly; and when he had comforted
himself somewhat he continued:--
"Being the last of my race, I made a vow in Troki to the Most Holy Lady
to live in continence and not marry till, in emulation of my ancestor
Stoveiko Podbipienta, I should sweep off with this same sword three
heads at one blow. Oh, merciful God, thou seest that I have done all in
my power. I have preserved my purity to this day; I have commanded a
tender heart to be still; I have sought war and I have fought, but
without good fortune."
The lieutenant smiled under his mustache. "And you have not taken off
three heads?"
"'No! it has not come to pass! No luck! Two at a blow I have taken more
than once, but never three. I've never been able to come up to them,
and it would be hard to ask enemies to stand in line for a blow. God
knows my grief. There is strength in my bones, I have wealth, youth is
passing away, I am approaching my forty-fifth year, my heart rushes
forth in affection, my family is coming to an end, and still the three
heads are not there! Such a Zervikaptur am I. A laughing-stock for the
people, as Pan Zagloba truly remarks. All of which I endure patiently
and offer to the Lord."
The Lithuanian began again to sigh, noticing which his Livonian mare
from sympathy for her master fell to groaning and snorting.
"Well, I can only tell you," said the lieutenant, "if you do not find
an opportunity under Prince Yeremi, then you will find it nowhere."
"God grant!" answered Podbipienta; "this is why I am going to beg a
favor of the prince."
Further conversation was interrupted by an unusual sound of wings. As
has been stated, birds of passage did not go beyond the sea that
winter; the rivers did not freeze over, therefore the whole country was
full of water-fowl, especially over the marshes. Just as the lieutenant
and Pan Longin were approaching the bank of the Kagamlik there was a
sudden rushing noise above their heads of a whole flock of storks,
which flew so near the ground that it was almost possible to strike
them with a stick. The flock flew with a tremendous outcry, and instead
of settling in the reeds rose unexpectedly through the air.
"They rush as if hunted," said Skshetuski.
"Ah, see!" said Pan Longin, pointing to a white bird which, cutting the
air in sidelong flight, tried to overtake the flock.
"A falcon stops them from alighting," said the lieutenant. "The envoy
has a falcon; it must be that he has let her out."
At that moment Pan Rozvan Ursu rode up at full speed on a black
Anatolian steed, and after him a number of his service.
"I beg you to come to the sport, Lieutenant," said he.
"This falcon is yours, then?"
"Yes, and a very noble bird, as you will see."
All three rushed forward, followed by the Wallachian falconer with a
hoop, who, fixing his eyes on the bird, shouted with all his might,
urging her to the struggle.
The valiant bird immediately forced the flock to rise in the air, and
then in a flash shot up still higher and hung over it. The storks
arranged themselves in one enormous circle, making the noise of a storm
with their wings. They filled the air with terrible cries, stretched
their necks, pointed their bills upward like lances, and waited the
attack. The falcon circled above them, at one time descending, at
another rising, as if hesitating to sweep down since a hundred sharp
beaks were waiting for her breast. Her white plumage, shone on by rays
of light, gleamed like the sun itself on the clear blue of the sky.
Suddenly, instead of rushing on the flock, the falcon darted like an
arrow into the distance, and disappeared at once behind the trees and
the reeds.
Skshetuski at first rushed after her at full speed. The envoy, the
falconer, and Longin followed his example.
At the crossing of the roads the lieutenant checked his horse. A new
and wonderful sight met his eye. In the middle of the road a carriage
lay on its side with a broken axle. Horses detached from the carriage
were held by two Cossacks. There was no driver at hand; he had
evidently gone for assistance. At the side of the carriage stood two
women. One wore a fox-skin cloak and a round-topped cap of the same
material; her face was stern and masculine. The other was a young lady
of tall stature, and gentle features of great regularity. On the
shoulder of the young lady the falcon was sitting quietly. Having
parted the feathers on her breast, the bird was stroking them with her
bill.
The lieutenant reined in his horse till its hoofs dug into the sand of
the road, and raised his hand to his cap in uncertainty, not knowing
what to say,--whether to greet the ladies or to speak to the falcon.
He was confused also because there looked upon him from under a
marten-skin hood eyes such as he had never seen in his life,--black,
satinlike, liquid, full of life and fire,--near which the eyes of
Anusia Borzobogata would be as a tallow candle before a torch. Above
those eyes dark velvety brows were defined in two delicate arches; her
blushing face bloomed like the most beautiful flower, and through her
slightly opened lips of raspberry hue were seen teeth like pearls, and
from under her hood flowed out rich dark tresses.
"Are you Juno in person or some other divinity?" thought the
lieutenant, seeing the form straight as an arrow, the swelling bosom,
and the white falcon on her shoulder. Our lieutenant stood with
uncovered head and forgot himself as before a marvellous image; his
eyes gleamed, and something, as if with a hand, seized his heart, and
he was about to begin, "If you are a mortal and not a divinity," when
the envoy, the falconer with his hoop, and Pan Longin came up. On
seeing them the goddess held her hand to the falcon, which, leaving the
shoulder, came to the hand at once, shifting from foot to foot.
The lieutenant, anticipating the falconer, wished to remove the bird,
when suddenly a wonderful omen was seen. The falcon, leaving one foot
on the hand of the lady, caught with the other the hand of the
lieutenant, and instead of going to it began to scream joyfully and
pull the hands together with such power that they touched. A quiver ran
over the lieutenant. The bird allowed herself to be taken only after
being hooded by the falconer. Then the old lady began to speak.
"Gentlemen!" said she, "whoever you are, you will not deny your
assistance to women who, left helpless on the road, know not themselves
what to do. It is no more than fifteen miles to our house; but the
carriage is broken, and we shall surely have to spend the night in the
field. I hurried off the driver to have my sons send even a wagon; but
before he reaches the house and returns, darkness will come, and it is
a terrible thing to be out in this place, for there are graves in the
neighborhood."
The old lady spoke rapidly and with such a rough voice that the
lieutenant was astonished; still he answered politely,--
[Illustration: "THE FALCON BEGAN TO DRAW THE HANDS TOGETHER."]
Copyright, 1898, by Little, Brown, and Company.
_From a drawing by J. Wagrez_.
"Do not think that we should leave you and your beautiful daughter
without assistance. We are going to Lubni, for we are soldiers in the
service of Prince Yeremi, and likely our roads are in the same
direction; and even if they are not, we shall be glad to go out of our
way in case our assistance is acceptable. As to a carriage I have none,
for with my companions I am travelling, soldier-fashion, on horseback;
but the envoy has, and being an affable gentleman will be glad, I
think, to put it at the service of yourself and your daughter."
The envoy removed his sable cap, for knowing the Polish language he
understood the conversation, and with a delicate compliment as became a
gracious boyar, he yielded his carriage to the ladies, and straightway
ordered the falconer to gallop for it to the wagons, which had lagged
considerably in the rear. Meanwhile the lieutenant looked at the young
lady, who, unable to endure his eager glance, dropped her eyes; and the
elderly lady, who had a Cossack face, continued,--
"God reward you, gentlemen, for your assistance; and since there is
still a long road to Lubni, do not reject my roof and that of my sons,
under which we shall be glad to see you. We are from Rozlogi-Siromakhi.
I am the widow of Prince Kurtsevich Bulyga; and this is not my
daughter, but the daughter of the elder Kurtsevich, brother of my
husband, who left his orphan to our care. My sons are not all at home
this moment, and I am returning from Cherkasi, where I was performing
devotions at the altar of the Holy Mother, and on our way back this
accident has met us, and were it not for your politeness, gentlemen, we
should undoubtedly have to pass the night on the road."
The princess would have said still more, but at that moment the wagons
appeared in the distance, approaching at a trot, surrounded by a crowd
of the envoy's retinue and the soldiers of Pan Yan.
"Then you are the widow of Prince Vassily Kurtsevich?" asked the
lieutenant.
"No!" retorted the princess, quickly and as if in anger; "I am the
widow of Constantine, and this is the daughter of Vassily," said she,
pointing to the young lady.
"They speak of Prince Vassily often in Lubni. He was a great soldier,
and a confidant of the late Prince Michael."
"I have not been in Lubni," said she, with a certain haughtiness. "Of
his military virtues I have no knowledge. There is no need of
mentioning his later acts, since all know what they were."
Hearing this, Princess Helena dropped her head on her breast like a
flower cut with a scythe, and the lieutenant answered quickly,--
"Do not say that, madam. Prince Vassily, sentenced, through a terrible
error in the administration of human justice, to the loss of life and
property, was forced to save himself by flight; but later his entire
innocence was discovered. By the publication of this innocence he was
restored to honor as a virtuous man; and the greater the injustice done
him, the greater should be his glory."
The princess glanced quickly at the lieutenant, and in her disagreeable
sharp face anger was clearly expressed. But though Skshetuski was a
young man, he had so much knightly dignity and such a clear glance that
she did not dare to dispute him; she turned instead to Princess Helena.
"It is not proper for you to hear these things," said she. "Go and see
that the luggage is removed from our carriage to the equipage in which,
with the permission of these gentlemen, we are to ride."
"You will allow me to help you," said the lieutenant to Princess
Helena.
Both went to the carriage; but as soon as they stood opposite, at the
doors on each side of it, the princess raised the lashes of her eyes,
and her glance fell upon the face of the lieutenant like a bright, warm
ray of the sun.
"How can I thank you," said she, in a voice which to him seemed music
as sweet as the sound of lyres and flutes,--"How can I thank you for
defending the good name of my father against the injustice which is put
upon it by his nearest relatives?"
The lieutenant felt his heart melting like snow in springtime, and
answered: "May God be as good to me as I am ready to rush into the fire
or shed my blood for such thanks, though the service is so slight that
I ought not to accept a reward."
"If you contemn my thanks, then I, poor orphan, have no other way to
show my gratitude."
"I do not contemn them," said he, with growing emphasis; "but for such
favor I wish to perform true and enduring service, and I only beg you
to accept me for that service."
The princess, hearing these words, blushed, was confused, then suddenly
grew pale, raised her hands to her face, and said in a sad voice: "Such
a service could bring only misfortune to you."
The lieutenant bent through the door of the carriage, and spoke quietly
and feelingly: "Let it bring what God gives; even should it bring
suffering, still I am ready to fall at your feet and beg for it."
"It cannot be that you, who have just seen me for the first time,
should conceive such a great desire for that service."
"I had scarcely seen you when I had forgotten myself altogether, and I
see that it has come to the soldier hitherto free to be changed to a
captive; but such clearly is the will of God. Love is like an arrow
which pierces the breast unexpectedly; and now I feel its sting, though
yesterday I should not have believed this if any man had told it me."
"If you could not have believed it yesterday, how am I to believe it
to-day?"
"Time will convince you best; but you can see my sincerity even now,
not only in my words but in my face."
Again the princess raised her eyes, and her glance met the manly and
noble face of the young soldier, and his look, so full of rapture that
a deep crimson covered her face. But she did not lower her glance, and
for a time he drank in the sweetness of those wonderful eyes, and they
looked at each other like two beings who, though they have met merely
on the highroad through the steppe, feel in a flash that they have
chosen each other, and that their souls begin to rush to a meeting like
two doves.
The moment of exaltation was disturbed for them by the sharp voice of
Constantine's widow calling to the princess. The carriages had arrived.
The attendants began to transfer the packages from the carriages, and
in a moment everything was ready. Pan Rozvan Ursu, the gracious boyar,
gave up his own carriage to the two ladies, the lieutenant mounted his
horse, and all moved forward.
The day was nearing its rest. The swollen waters of the Kagamlik were
bright with gold of the setting sun, and purple of the evening light.
High in the heavens flocks of small clouds reddening drifted slowly to
the horizon, as if, tired from flying through the air, they were going
to sleep somewhere in an unknown cradle.
Pan Yan rode by the side of Princess Helena, but without conversation,
since he could not speak to her before strangers as he had spoken a few
moments before, and frivolous words would not pass his lips now. But in
his heart he felt happiness, and in his head something sounding as if
from wine.
The whole caravan pushed on briskly, and quiet was broken only by the
snorting of the horses or the clank of stirrup against stirrup. After a
time the escort at the rear wagons began a plaintive Wallachian song;
soon, however, they stopped, and immediately the nasal voice of Pan
Longin was heard singing piously,--
"In heaven I caused an endless light to dwell,
And mist I spread o'er all the earth."
That moment it grew dark, the stars twinkled in the sky, and from the
damp plains white mists rose, boundless as the sea.
They entered a forest, but had gone only a few furlongs when the sound
of horses' feet was heard and five riders appeared before the caravan.
They were the young princes, who, informed by the driver of the
accident which had happened to their mother, were hurrying to meet her,
bringing a wagon drawn by four horses.
"Is that you, my sons?" called out the old princess.
The riders approached the carriage. "We, mother!"
"Come this way! Thanks to these gentlemen, we need no more assistance.
These are my sons, whom I commend to your favor, gentlemen,--Simeon,
Yury, Andrei, Nikolai-- And who is the fifth?" asked she, looking
around attentively. "Oh! if my old eyes can see in the darkness, it is
Bogun."
The princess drew back quickly to the depth of the carriage.
"Greetings to you, Princess, and to you, Princess Helena!" said the
fifth.
"Ah, Bogun! You have come from the regiment, my falcon? And have you
brought your lute? Welcome, welcome! Well, my sons, I have asked these
gentlemen to spend the night with us at Rozlogi; and now greet them! A
guest in the house is God in the house. Be gracious to our house,
gentlemen!"
The young men removed their caps. "We entreat you most respectfully to
cross our lowly threshold."
"They have already promised me,--the envoy has promised and the
lieutenant. We shall receive honorable guests, but I am not sure that
our poor fare will be savory for men accustomed to castle dainties."
"We are reared on the fare of soldiers, not of castles," said
Skshetuski.
And Pan Rozvan added: "I have tried the hospitality of country-houses,
and know that it is better than that of castles."
The carriages moved on, and the old princess continued: "Our best days
have passed long ago. In Volynia and Lithuania there are still members
of the Kurtsevich family who have retinues of attendants and live in
lordly fashion, but they do not recognize their poor relations, for
which God punish them. We live in real Cossack poverty, which you must
overlook, and accept with a good heart what we offer with sincerity. I
and my five sons live on one village and a few hamlets, and in addition
we have this young lady to care for."
These words astonished the lieutenant not a little, for he had heard in
Lubni that Rozlogi was no small estate, and also that it belonged to
Prince Vassily, the father of Helena. He did not deem it proper,
however, to inquire how the place had passed into the hands of
Constantine and his widow.
"Then you have five sons, Princess?" asked Pan Rozvan Ursu.
"I had five, all like lions," answered she; "but the infidels in
Bélgorod put out the eyes of the eldest, Vassily, with torches,
wherefore his mind has failed him. When the young men go on an
expedition I stay at home with him and this young lady, with whom I
have more suffering than comfort."
The contemptuous tone with which the princess spoke of her niece was so
evident that it did not escape the attention of the lieutenant. His
breast boiled up in anger, and he had almost allowed an unseemly oath
to escape him; but the words died on his lips when he looked at the
young princess, and in the light of the moon saw her eyes filled with
tears.
"What has happened? Why do you weep?" asked he, in a low voice.
She was silent.
"I cannot endure to see you weep," said Pan Yan, and bent toward her.
Seeing that the old princess was conversing with the envoy and not
looking toward him, he continued: "In God's name, speak but one word,
for I would give blood and health to comfort you!"
All at once he felt one of the horsemen press against him so heavily
that the horses began to rub their sides together. Conversation with
the princess was interrupted. Skshetuski, astonished and also angered,
turned to the intruder. By the light of the moon he saw two eyes, which
looked at him insolently, defiantly, sneeringly. Those terrible eyes
shone like those of a wolf in a dark forest.
"What devil is that?" thought the lieutenant,--"a demon or who?" And
then, looking closely into those burning eyes, he asked: "Why do you
push on me with your horse, and dig your eyes into me?"
The horseman did not answer, but continued to look with equal
persistence and insolence.
"If it is dark, I can strike a light; and if the road is too narrow,
then to the steppe with you!" said the lieutenant, in a distinct voice.
"Off with you from the carriage, Pole, if you see the steppe!" answered
the horseman.
The lieutenant, being a man quick of action, instead of an answer
struck his foot into the side of his enemy's horse with such force that
the beast groaned and in a moment was on the very edge of the road.
The rider reined him in on the spot, and for a moment it seemed that he
was about to rush on the lieutenant; but that instant the sharp,
commanding voice of the old princess resounded.
"Bogun, what's the matter?"
These words had immediate effect. Bogun whirled his horse around, and
passed to the other side of the carriage to the princess, who
continued: "What is the matter? You are not in Pereyasláv nor the
Crimea, but in Rozlogi. Remember this! But now gallop ahead for me,
conduct the carriages; the ravine is at hand, and it is dark. Hurry on,
you vampire!"
Skshetuski was astonished, as well as vexed. Bogun evidently sought a
quarrel and would have found it; but why did he seek it,--whence this
unexpected attack? The thought flashed through the lieutenant's mind
that Princess Helena had something to do with this; and he was
confirmed in the thought, for, looking at her face, he saw, in spite of
the darkness, that it was pale, and evident terror was on it.
Bogun spurred forward immediately in obedience to the command of the
princess, who, looking after him, said half to herself and half to Pan
Yan,--
"That's a madcap, a Cossack devil."
"It is evident that he is not in his full mind," answered the
lieutenant, contemptuously. "Is that Cossack in the service of your
sons?"
The old princess threw herself back in the seat.
"What do you mean? Why, that is Bogun, lieutenant-colonel, a famous
hero, a friend of my sons, and adopted by me as a sixth son. Impossible
that you have not heard his name, for all know of him."
This name was, in fact, well known to Pan Yan. From among the names of
various colonels and Cossack atamans this one had come to the top, and
was on every lip on both banks of the Dnieper. Blind minstrels sang
songs of Bogun in market-places and shops, and at evening meetings they
told wonders about the young leader. Who he was, whence he had come,
was known to no man. This much was certain,--the steppes, the Dnieper,
the Cataracts, and Chertomelik, with its labyrinth of narrows, arms,
islands, rocks, ravines, and reeds, had been his cradle. From childhood
he had lived and communed with that wild world.
In time of peace he went with others to fish and hunt, battered through
the windings of the Dnieper, wandered over swamps and reeds with a
crowd of half-naked comrades; then again he spent whole months in
forest depths. His school was in raids to the Wilderness on the herds
of the Tartars, in ambushes, battles, campaigns against Tartar coast
towns, against Bélgorod, Wallachia, or with boats on the Black Sea. He
knew no days but days on his horse, no nights but nights at a steppe
fire.
Soon he became the favorite of the entire lower country, a leader of
others, and surpassed all men in daring. He was ready to go with a
hundred horse even to Bagche Sarai, and start up a blaze under the very
eyes of the Khan; he burned Tartar towns and villages, exterminated the
inhabitants, tore captive murzas to pieces with horses, came down like
a tempest, passed by like death. On the sea he fell upon Turkish
galleys with frenzy, swept down upon the centre of Budjak,--rushed into
the lion's mouth, as 'tis said. Some of his expeditions were simple
madness. Men less daring, less fond of danger, perished impaled on
stakes in Stamboul, or rotted at the oar on Turkish galleys; he always
escaped unhurt, and with rich booty. It was said that he had collected
immense treasures, which he had hidden in the reeds of the Dnieper; but
it was also seen more than once how with muddy boots he had stamped
upon cloth of gold, and spread carpets under the hoofs of his
horse,--how, dressed in satin, he had spotted himself with tar, on
purpose to show Cossack contempt for these lordly stuffs.
He never warmed any place long. Caprice was the motive of his deeds. At
times, when he came to Chigirin, Cherkasi, or Pereyasláv, he had
terrible frolics with other Zaporojians; at times he lived like a monk,
spoke to no man, escaped to the steppe. Then again he surrounded
himself with blind minstrels, and listened to their songs and stories
for days at a time, heaping gold on them. Among nobles he knew how to
be a polished cavalier; among Cossacks he was the wildest of Cossacks.
In knightly company he was a knight; among robbers, a robber. Some held
him to be insane; for he was an unbridled, mad spirit. Why he was
living in the world, what he wanted, whither he was tending, whom he
served, he knew not himself. He served the steppes, the whirlwinds,
war, love, his own fancy. This fancy of his distinguished him from all
the other rude leaders, and from the whole robber herd who had only
plunder as an object, and for whom it was the same whether they
plundered Tartars or their own. Bogun took plunder, but preferred war
to pillage; he was in love with peril for its own charm; he gave gold
for songs; he hunted for glory, and cared for no more.
Of all leaders, he alone personified best the Cossack knight; therefore
songs had sought him out as a favorite, and his name was celebrated
throughout the whole Ukraine.
He had recently become the Pereyasláv lieutenant-colonel, but he
exercised the power of colonel; for old Loboda held the baton feebly in
his stiffening hand.
Pan Yan, therefore, knew well who Bogun was, and if he asked the old
princess whether the Cossack was in the service of her sons, he did it
through studied contempt; for he felt in him an enemy, and in spite of
all the reputation of Bogun, his blood boiled up because the Cossack
had begun with him so insolently. He understood, too, that what had
been begun would not end in a trifle. But Skshetuski was as unbending
as an axle, self-confident to excess, yielding before nothing, and
really eager for danger. He was ready even that moment to urge his
horse after Bogun, but he rode near the princess. Besides, the wagon
had already passed the ravine, and lights were gleaming in Rozlogi.