The Kurtsevichi Bulygi were of an ancient princely stock which used the
escutcheon of Kurts, claimed to be from Koryat, but was really from
Rurik. Of the two main lines, one lived in Lithuania, the other in
Volynia, till Prince Vassily, one of the numerous descendants of the
Volynian line, settled beyond the Dnieper. Being poor, he did not wish
to remain among his powerful relatives, and entered the service of
Prince Michael Vishnyevetski, father of the renowned "Yarema."[6]
Having covered himself with glory in that service, he received from the
latter, as a permanent possession, Krasnie Rozlogi, which subsequently,
by reason of its vast number of wolves, was called Volchie Rozlogi; and
there he settled for good. He went over to the Latin rite in 1629, and
married a lady of a distinguished Austrian family of Italian descent.
From that marriage a daughter, Helena, came into the world a year
later, her mother dying at her birth. Prince Vassily, without thinking
of a second marriage, gave himself up altogether to the management of
his land and the rearing of his only daughter. He was a man of great
character and uncommon virtue. Having acquired a moderate fortune
rather rapidly, he remembered at once his eldest brother Constantine,
who, rejected by his powerful family, remained in Volynia, and was
obliged to live on rented land. He brought him, with his wife and five
sons, to Rozlogi, and shared every bit of bread with him.
The two Kurtsevichi lived in this way quietly till the end of 1634,
when Vassily went with King Vladislav to the siege of Smolensk, where
that unfortunate event took place which caused his ruin. In the royal
camp was intercepted a letter written to Sheyin (the Russian
commander), signed with the name of the prince, with the seal of Kurts
added. Such a clear proof of treason on the part of a knight who till
then had enjoyed an unspotted fame, astonished and confounded every
one. It was in vain that Vassily called God to witness that neither the
hand nor the signature on the paper was his; the arms of Kurts on
the seal removed every doubt, no one believed that the seal had been
lost,--which was the prince's explanation,--and finally the unfortunate
prince, sentenced _pro crimine perduelionis_ to the loss of his honor
and his head, was forced to seek safety in flight.
Arriving at Rozlogi in the night, Vassily implored his brother
Constantine, by all that was holy, to care for Helena as his own
daughter, and then he disappeared forever. It was said that he wrote a
letter from Bar to Vishnyevetski, entreating the prince not to take the
bread out of Helena's mouth, and to leave her in peace at Rozlogi under
the care of Constantine; after that there was no more word of him.
There was a report that he had died suddenly, also that he had joined
the imperial army and had perished in battle in Germany. No one,
however, had certain knowledge of him; but he must have died, since he
inquired no further for his daughter. Soon mention of his name ceased,
and he was only remembered when his innocence became evident. A certain
Kuptsevich from Vytebsk confessed on his death-bed that he had written,
at the siege of Smolensk, the letter to Sheyin, and sealed it with the
seal found in camp. In the face of such testimony, pity and confusion
seized all hearts. The sentence was revoked, the name of Prince Vassily
restored to honor, but for Vassily himself the reward for his
sufferings came too late. As to Rozlogi, Yeremi did not think of
confiscating that; for the Vishnyevetskis, knowing Vassily better than
others, were never entirely convinced of his guilt. He might even have
remained under their powerful protection and laughed at the sentence;
and if he fled, it was because he was unable to endure disgrace.
Helena grew up quietly at Rozlogi under the tender care of her uncle,
and only after his death did painful times begin for her. The wife of
Constantine, from a family of dubious origin, was a stern, impulsive,
and energetic woman, whom her husband alone was able to keep within
bounds. After his death she gathered into her iron hand the management
of Rozlogi. The serving-men trembled before her, the house-servants
feared her as fire, and soon she made herself known to the neighbors.
During the third year of her management she attacked the Sivinskis of
Brovarki twice with armed hand, dressed in male attire and on
horseback, leading her servants with hired Cossacks. Once when the
regiments of Prince Yeremi scattered Tartar bands, plundering in the
neighborhood of Semi Mogil, the princess at the head of her people cut
to pieces the remnant that had escaped as far as Rozlogi. She had
settled for good in Rozlogi, and began to consider the place as the
property of herself and her sons. She loved these sons as the wolf
loves her young, but being rude she had no thought of a proper
education for them. A monk of the Greek rite from Kieff taught them to
read and write; here their education ended. It was not far to Lubni,
where Vishnyevetski's court was, at which the young princes might have
acquired polish and trained themselves to public business in the
Chancery, or entered the school of knighthood under his banners. The
princess, however, had reasons of her own for not sending the young men
to Lubni.
Prince Yeremi might remember to whom Rozlogi belonged, and might look
into the guardianship of Helena, or in memory of Vassily might take
that guardianship upon himself; then she would undoubtedly have to move
away from Rozlogi. The princess preferred, therefore, that in Lubni
they should forget there were Kurtsevichi on earth. So the young
princes were reared half wild, more as Cossacks than as nobles. While
still young, they took part in the quarrels of the old princess, in
attacks on the Sivinskis, and in her expeditions against Tartars.
Feeling an innate aversion to books and letters, they fired arrows from
bows for whole days, or took exercise in the management of their fists
or sabres and lariats. They never occupied themselves with the estate,
for their mother would not let that out of her own hands. It was sad to
look at those descendants of a noted stock in whose veins princely
blood was flowing, but whose manners were harsh and rude, and whose
ideas and dull hearts reminded one of the uncultivated steppe.
Meanwhile they were growing up like young oaks; seeing their own
ignorance, they were ashamed to live with the nobility; on the
contrary, the companionship of wild Cossack leaders was more agreeable.
When old enough, therefore, they went with companies to the lower
country, where they were considered as comrades. Sometimes they stayed
half a year in the Saitch; went to "industry" with the Cossacks, took
part in campaigns against the Turks and Tartars, which finally became
their chief and favorite occupation.
Their mother was not opposed to this, for they often brought back
abundant booty. But in one of these campaigns the eldest, Vassily, fell
into pagan hands. His brothers, it is true, with the aid of Bogun and
the Zaporojians, rescued him, but without his eyes. From that time
Vassily was forced to remain at home; as formerly he had been the
wildest of all, so then he became very mild and was sunk in meditation
and religious exercises. The young men continued their warlike
occupations, which at last obtained for them the surname of
Prince-Cossacks.
A glance at Rozlogi-Siromakhi was enough to enable one to guess what
kind of people lived there. When the envoy and Pan Yan drove through
the gate with their wagons, they saw, not a castle, but rather a roomy
shed built of enormous oak planks, with narrow windows like port-holes.
Dwellings for servants and Cossacks, the stables, the granaries, and
store-rooms were attached directly to the house, composing an irregular
building made up of many parts, some high and some low. It would have
been difficult to consider such a poor and rude exterior as a human
dwelling, but for the lights in the windows. On the square in front of
the house were two well-cranes; nearer the gate was a post with a ring
on the top, to which was chained a bear. A strong gate of the same kind
of planks as the house afforded entrance to the square, which was
surrounded by a ditch and a palisade.
Evidently it was a fortified place, secure against attacks and
incursions. It recalled in every regard the Cossack posts of the
frontier; and though the majority of nobles on the border had no houses
of fashion different from this, still this was more like some species
of robber's nest than any of them. The attendants who came out with
torches to meet the guests were bandits in appearance, rather than
servants. Great dogs on the square tugged at their chains as if to
break away and rush at the newly arrived. From the stable was heard the
neighing of horses. The young Bulygi and their mother began to call to
the servants with commands and curses.
In the midst of this hurly-burly the guests entered the house. But now
Pan Rozvan Ursu, who had almost regretted his promise to pass the night
there when he saw the wildness and wretchedness of the place, was
really astonished at the sight that met his eyes. The inside of the
house answered in no way to the unseemly exterior. First they entered a
broad ante-room, the walls of which were almost entirely covered with
armor, weapons, and skins of wild beasts. Logs of wood were blazing in
two enormous fireplaces, and by their bright light were to be seen, on
one wall, horse-trappings, shining armor, Turkish steel shirts on which
here and there were glittering precious stones; chain-mail with gilt
knobs on the buckles, half armor, breast-pieces, neck-pieces, steel
armor of great value, Polish and Turkish helmets, steel caps with
silver tips. On the opposite wall hung shields, no longer used in that
age; near them Polish lances and Oriental javelins, also edged weapons
in plenty,--from sabres to daggers and yatagans,--the hilts of which
glittered in the firelight with various colors, like stars. In the
corners hung bundles of skins of bears, wolves, foxes, martens, and
ermine, gained by the hunting of the princes. Farther away, near the
walls, dozing on their rings were hawks, falcons, and great golden
eagles; the last, brought from the distant steppes of the East, were
used in the wolf-hunt.
From that antechamber the guests passed to a spacious reception-room,
and here in a chimney with a depression in front burned a brisk fire.
In this room there was still greater luxury than in the antechamber.
The bare planks of the walls were covered with woven stuffs. On the
floor lay splendid Oriental carpets. In the centre of the room stood a
long, cross-legged table, made of common planks, on which were goblets,
gilt or cut from Venetian glass. At the walls were smaller tables,
bureaus, and shelves on which were caskets, bottle-cases inlaid with
bronze, brass candlesticks and clocks, taken in their time by the Turks
from the Venetians and by the Cossacks from the Turks. The whole room
was crowded with superfluous objects, of a use very often unknown to
the possessor. Everywhere was luxury blended with the extreme rudeness
of the steppe. Costly Turkish bureaus, inlaid with bronze, ebony,
mother-of-pearl, were standing at the side of unplaned shelves; simple
wooden chairs at the side of soft sofas. Cushions lying in Eastern
fashion on sofas had covers of brocade or silk stuff, but were rarely
filled with down, oftener with hay or pea-stalks. Costly stuffs and
superfluous objects were the so-called Turkish or Tartar goods, partly
bought for a trifle from the Cossacks, partly obtained in numerous wars
by old Prince Vassily, partly during expeditions with men of the lower
country by the young Bulygi, who chose rather to go with boats to the
Black Sea than to marry or manage the land.
All this roused no surprise in Skshetuski, who was well acquainted with
houses on the border; but the Wallachian boyar was astonished to see in
the midst of all this luxury the Kurtsevichi in leather boots and fur
coats not much better than those worn by the servants. Pan Longin
Podbipienta, accustomed to a different order of things in Lithuania,
was equally astonished.
Meanwhile the young princes received the guests heartily and with great
welcome. Being little trained in society, they did this in so awkward a
manner that the lieutenant was scarcely able to restrain his laughter.
The eldest, Simeon, said,--
"We are glad to see you, and are thankful for your kindness. Our house
is your house; therefore make yourselves at home. We bow to you,
gentlemen, at our lowly thresholds."
And though no humility was observable in the tone of his speech, nor a
recognition that he received persons superior to himself, he bowed in
Cossack fashion to the girdle; and after him bowed the younger
brothers, thinking that politeness required it.
"The forehead to you, gentlemen, the forehead."
Just then the princess, seizing Bogun by the sleeve, led him to another
room.
"Listen, Bogun," said she, hurriedly, "I've no time for long speeches:
I saw you attack that young noble. You are seeking a quarrel with him."
"Mother," answered the Cossack, kissing the old woman's hand, "the
world is wide,--one road to him, another to me. I have not known him,
nor heard of him; but let him not draw near the princess, or as I live
I'll flash my sabre in his eyes."
"Oh! are you mad? Where, Cossack, is your head? What has come upon you?
Do you want to ruin yourself and us? He is a soldier of Prince Yeremi,
a lieutenant, a person of distinction, for he was sent as envoy from
the prince to the Khan. Let a hair fall from his head while under our
roof, do you know what will happen? The prince will turn his eyes to
Rozlogi, will avenge this man, send us to the four winds, take Helena
to Lubni,--and then what? Will you quarrel with Vishnyevetski, or
attack Lubni? Try it if you want to taste an impaling stake, lost
Cossack! Whether he comes near the girl or not, he will leave here as
he came, and there will be peace. But restrain yourself! If not, then
be off to where you came from, for you will bring misfortune to us if
you stay."
The Cossack gnawed his mustache, frowned, but saw that the princess was
right.
"They will go away in the morning, mother, and I will restrain myself;
only let the princess stay in her own rooms."
"Why do you ask this? So that they should think I keep her in
confinement? She will appear, because I wish it. Give no orders to me
in this house, for you are not master here!"
"Be not angry. Princess! Since it cannot be otherwise, I will be as
sweet to them as Turkish tidbits. I'll not grind my teeth nor touch my
head, even though anger were consuming me, though my soul were ready to
groan. Let your will be done."
"Oh, that's your talk! Take your lyre, play, sing; then you will feel
easier. But now meet the guests."
They returned to the reception-room, in which the princes, not knowing
how to entertain the guests, continued to ask them to make themselves
at home, and were bowing to the girdle before them.
Skshetuski looked sharply and haughtily into the eyes of Bogun as soon
as he came, but he saw in them neither quarrel nor defiance. The face
of the youthful leader was lighted up with good-humor, so well
simulated that it might have deceived the most experienced eye. The
lieutenant looked at him carefully, for previously he had been unable
to distinguish his features in the darkness. He saw now a young hero,
straight as a poplar, with splendid brunette face, and rich, dark,
drooping mustache. On that face gladness burst through the pensive mood
of the Ukraine, as the sun through a mist. The leader had a lofty
forehead, on which his dark hair drooped as a mane above his powerful
brow. An aquiline nose, dilated nostrils, and white teeth, shining at
every smile, gave the face a slight expression of rapacity; but on the
whole it was a model of Ukraine beauty, luxuriant, full of character
and defiance. His splendid dress also distinguished this hero of the
steppe from the princes dressed in skins. Bogun wore a tunic of silver
brocade and a scarlet kontush, which color was worn by all the
Pereyasláv Cossacks. His loins were girt with a silken sash from which
depended a rich sabre; but the sabre and the dress paled before the
Turkish dagger at his belt. This dagger was so thickly studded with
jewels that sparks flew from it. Arrayed in this fashion, he would have
been easily taken by any one for a scion of some great house rather
than a Cossack, especially since his freedom and his lordly manners
betrayed no low descent.
Approaching Pan Longin, he listened to the story of his ancestor
Stoveiko and the cutting off of the three heads. He turned to the
lieutenant, and said with perfect indifference, just as if nothing had
happened between them,--
"You are on your way from the Crimea, I hear."
"From the Crimea," answered the lieutenant, dryly.
"I have been there too, though I did not go to Baktche Serai; but I
think I shall be there if the favorable news we hear comes true."
"Of what news are you speaking?"
"It is said that if the king opens war against the Turks, Prince
Vishnyevetski will visit the Crimea with fire and sword. This report
brings great joy through the whole Ukraine and the lower country, for
if under such a leader we do not frolic in Baktche Serai, then under
none."
"We will frolic, as God is in heaven!" cried the young princes.
The respect with which Bogun spoke of the prince captivated the
lieutenant; so he smiled and said in a more friendly voice,--
"I see that you are not satisfied yet with the expeditions which you
have had with men of the lower country, which however have covered you
with glory."
"Small war, small glory! Konashevich Sahaidachni did not win it on
boats, but in Khotím."
At that moment a door opened, and Vassily, the eldest of the
Kurtsevichi, came slowly into the room, led by Helena. He was a man of
ripe years, pale and emaciated, with a sad ascetic countenance,
recalling the Byzantine pictures of saints. His long hair, prematurely
gray from misfortune and pain, came down to his shoulders, and instead
of his eyes were two red depressions. In his hand he held a bronze
cross, with which he began to bless the room and all present.
"In the name of God the Father, in the name of the Saviour and of the
Holy Most Pure," said he, "if you are apostles and bring good tidings,
be welcome on Christian thresholds!"
"Be indulgent, gentlemen," muttered the princess; "his mind is
disturbed."
But Vassily continued to bless them with the cross, and added: "As it
is said in the 'Dialogues of the Apostles,' 'Whoso sheds his blood for
the faith will be saved; he who dies for gain or booty will be damned.'
Let us pray! Woe to you, brothers, woe to me, since we made war for
booty! God be merciful to us, sinners! God be merciful! And you, men
who have come from afar, what tidings do you bring? Are you apostles?"
He was silent, and appeared to wait for an answer; therefore the
lieutenant replied,--
"We are far from such a lofty mission. We are only soldiers ready to
lay down our lives for the faith."
"Then you will be saved," said the blind man; "but for us the hour of
liberation has not come. Woe to you, brothers! woe to me!"
He uttered the last words almost with a groan, and such deep despair
was depicted on his countenance that the guests were at a loss what to
do. Helena seated him straightway on a chair, and hastening to the
anteroom, returned in a moment with a lute in her hand.
Low sounds were heard in the apartment, and the princess began to sing
a hymn as accompaniment,--
"By night and by day I call thee, O Lord!
Relieve thou my torment, and dry my sad tears;
Be a merciful Father to me in my sins;
Oh, hear thou my cry!"
The blind man threw his head back and listened to the words of the
song, which appeared to act as a healing balm, for the pain and terror
disappeared by degrees from his face. At last his head fell upon his
bosom, and he remained as if half asleep and half benumbed.
"If the singing is continued, he will become altogether pacified. You
see, gentlemen, his insanity consists in this, that he is always
waiting for apostles; and if visitors appear, he comes out immediately
to ask if they are apostles."
Helena continued:--
"Show me the way, Lord above Lords!
I'm like one astray in a waste without end,
Or a ship in the waves of a measureless sea,
Lost and alone."
Her sweet voice grew louder and louder. With the lute in her hands, and
eyes raised to heaven, she was so beautiful that the lieutenant could
not take his eyes from her. He looked, was lost in her, and forgot the
world. He was roused from his ecstasy only by the words of the old
princess,--
"That's enough! He will not wake soon. But now I request you to supper,
gentlemen."
"We beg you to our bread and salt," said the young princes after their
mother.
Pan Rozvan, as a man of polished manners, gave his arm to the lady of
the house. Seeing this, Skshetuski hurried to the Princess Helena. His
heart grew soft within him when he felt her hand on his arm, till fire
flashed in his eyes, and he said,--
"The angels in heaven do not sing more beautifully than you."
"It is a sin for you to compare my singing to that of angels," answered
Helena.
"I don't know whether I sin or not; but one thing is sure,--I would
give my eyes to hear your singing till death. But what do I say? If
blind, I could have no sight of you, which would be the same as torture
beyond endurance."
"Don't say that, for you will leave here to-morrow, and to-morrow
forget me."
"That will not be. My love is such that to the end of life I can love
no one else."
The face of the princess grew scarlet; her breast began to heave. She
wished to answer, but her lips merely trembled. Then Pan Yan
continued,--
"But you will forget me in the presence of that handsome Cossack, who
will accompany your singing on a balalaika."
"Never, never!" whispered the maiden. "But beware of him; he is a
terrible man."
"What is one Cossack to me? Even if the whole Saitch were behind him, I
should dare everything for your sake. You are for me like a jewel
without price,--you are my world. But tell me, have you the same
feeling for me?"
A low "Yes" sounded like music of paradise in the ears of Pan Yan, and
that moment it seemed to him as if ten hearts, at least, were beating
in his breast; in his eyes all things grew bright, as if a ray of
sunlight had come to the world; he felt an unknown power within
himself, as if he had wings on his shoulders.
During supper Bogun's face, which was greatly changed and pale, glared
several times. The lieutenant, however, possessing the affection of
Helena, cared not for his rival. "The devil take him!" thought he. "Let
him not get in my way; if he does, I'll rub him out."
But his mind was not on Bogun. He felt Helena sitting so near that he
almost touched her shoulder with his own; he saw the blush which never
left her face, from which warmth went forth; he saw her swelling bosom,
and her eyes, now drooping and covered with their lids, now flashing
like a pair of stars,--for Helena, though cowed by the old princess and
living in orphanhood, sadness, and fear, was still of the Ukraine and
hot-blooded. The moment a warm ray of love fell on her she bloomed like
a flower, and was roused at once to new and unknown life. Happiness
with courage gleamed in her eyes, and those impulses struggling with
her maiden timidity painted her face with the beautiful colors of the
rose.
Pan Yan was almost beside himself. He drank deeply, but the mead had no
effect on him; he was already drunk from love. He saw no one at the
table save her who sat at his side. He saw not how Bogun grew paler
each moment, and, touching the hilt of his dagger, gave no ear to Pan
Longin, who for the third time told of his ancestor Stoveiko, nor to
Kurtsevich, who told about his expedition for "Turkish goods."
All drank except Bogun; and the best example was given by the old
princess, who raised a goblet, now to the health of her guests, now to
the health of Vishnyevetski, now to the health of the hospodar Lupul.
There was talk, too, of blind Vassily and his former knightly deeds, of
his unlucky campaign and his present insanity, which Simeon, the
eldest, explained as follows:--
"Just think! the smallest bit of anything in the eye prevents sight;
why should not great drops of pitch reaching the brain cause madness?"
"Oh, it is a very delicate organ," said Pan Longin.
At this moment the old princess noticed the changed face of Bogun.
"What is the matter, my falcon?"
"My soul is suffering, mother," said he, gloomily; "but a Cossack word
is not smoke. I will endure."
"Hold out, my son; there will be a feast."
Supper came to an end, but mead was poured into the goblets
unsparingly. Cossacks called to the dance came, therefore, with greater
readiness. The balalaikas and drums, to which the drowsy attendants
were to dance, began to sound. Later on, the young princes dropped into
the prisyadka. The old princess, putting her hands on her sides, began
to keep time with her foot and hum. Pan Yan, seeing this, took Helena
to the dance. When he embraced her with his arm it seemed to him that
he was drawing part of heaven toward his breast. In the whirl of the
dance her long tresses swept around his neck, as if she wished to bind
him to herself forever. He did not restrain himself; and when he saw
that no one was looking, he bent and kissed her lips with all his
might.
Late at night, when alone with Longin in their sleeping-room, the
lieutenant, instead of going to rest, sat on the wooden bedstead and
began: "You will go to Lubni tomorrow with another man."
Podbipienta, who had just finished his prayers, opened wide his eyes
and asked: "How is that? Are you going to stay here?"
"I shall not stay, but my heart will remain, and only the _dulcis
recordatio_ will go with me. You see in me a great change, since from
tender desires I am scarcely able to listen to a thing."
"Then you have fallen in love with the princess?"
"Nothing else, as true as I am alive before you. Sleep flees from my
lids, and I want nothing but sighs, from which I am ready to vanish
into vapor. I tell you this, because, having a tender heart famishing
for love, you will easily understand my torture."
Pan Longin began to sigh, in token that he understood the torments of
love, and after a time he inquired mournfully: "Maybe you have also
made a vow of celibacy?"
"Your inquiry is pointless, for if all made such vows the _genus
humanum_ would soon be at an end."
The entrance of a servant interrupted further conversation. It was an
old Tartar, with quick black eyes and a face as wrinkled as a dried
apple. After he came in he cast a significant look at Pan Yan and
asked,--
"Don't you wish for something? Perhaps a cup of mead before going to
bed?"
"No, 'tis not necessary."
The Tartar approached Skshetuski and muttered: "I have a word from the
young princess for you."
"Then be my gift-giver! You may speak before this knight, for he knows
everything."
The Tartar took a ribbon from his sleeve, saying, "The lady has sent
you this scarf, with a message that she loves you with her whole soul."
The lieutenant seized the scarf, kissed it with ecstasy, and pressed it
to his bosom. After he had become calmer, he asked: "What did the
princess tell you to say?"
"That she loved you with her whole soul."
"Here is a thaler for your message. She said, then, that she loved me?"
"Yes."
"Here is another thaler for you. May God bless her, for she is most
dear to me. Tell her, too--But wait, I'll write to her. Bring me ink,
pen, and paper."
"What?" asked the Tartar.
"Ink, pen, and paper."
"We have none in the house. In the time of Prince Vassily we had, and
afterward when the young princes learned to write from the monk; but
that is a long time ago."
Pan Yan clasped his hands. "Haven't you ink and pen?" asked he of
Podbipienta.
The Lithuanian opened his hands and raised his eyes to heaven.
"Well, plague take it!" said the lieutenant; "what can I do?"
The Tartar had squatted before the fire. "What is the use of writing?"
said he, gathering up the coals. "The young lady has gone to sleep. And
what you would write to her now, you can tell her in the morning."
"In that case I need no ink. You are a faithful servant to the young
lady, as I see. Here is a third thaler for you. Are you long in her
service?"
"It is now fourteen years since Prince Vassily took me captive, and
since that time I have served faithfully. The night he went away
through losing his name he left his little child to Constantine, and
said to me: 'You will not desert the little girl, and you will be as
careful of her as the eye in your head."
"Are you doing what he told you?"
"Yes, I am; I will care for her."
"Tell me what you see. How is she living here?"
"They have evil designs against her, for they wish to give her to
Bogun, and he is a cursed dog."
"Oh, nothing will come of that! A man will be found to take her part."
"Yes!" said the old man, pushing the glowing coals. "They want to give
her to Bogun, to take and bear her away as a wolf bears a lamb, and
leave them in Rozlogi; for Rozlogi is not theirs, but hers from her
father, Prince Vassily. Bogun is willing to do this, for he has more
gold and silver in the reeds than there is sand in Rozlogi; but she
holds him in hatred from the time he brained a man before her face.
Blood has fallen between them, and hatred has sprung up. God is one!"
The lieutenant was unable to sleep that night. He paced the apartment,
gazed at the moon, and had many thoughts on his mind. He penetrated the
game of the Bulygi. If a nobleman of the vicinity were to marry the
princess, he would remember Rozlogi, and justly, for it belonged to
her; and he might demand also an account of the guardianship. Therefore
the Bulygi, already turned Cossacks, decided to give the young woman to
a Cossack. While thinking of this, Skshetuski clinched his fists and
sought the sword at his side. He resolved to baffle these plots, and
felt that he had the power to do so. Besides, the guardianship of
Helena belonged to Prince Yeremi,--first, because Rozlogi was given
by the Vishnyevetskis to old Vassily; secondly, because Vassily
himself wrote a letter to the prince from Bar, requesting this
guardianship. The pressure of public business alone--wars and great
undertakings--could have prevented the prince from looking into the
guardianship. But it would be sufficient to remind him with a word, and
he would have justice done.
The gray of dawn was appearing when Skshetuski threw himself on the
bed. He slept soundly, and in the morning woke with a finished plan. He
and Pan Longin dressed in haste, all the more since the wagons were
ready and the soldiers on horseback waiting to start. He breakfasted in
the reception-room with the young princes and their mother, but Bogun
was not there; it was unknown whether he was sleeping yet or had gone.
After he had refreshed himself Skshetuski said: "Worthy princess! time
flies, and we must be on horseback in a moment; but before we thank you
with grateful hearts for your entertainment, I have an important affair
on which I should like to say a few words to you and your sons apart."
Astonishment was visible on the face of the princess. She looked at her
sons, at the envoy, and Pan Longin, as if trying to divine from their
faces what the question might be; and with a certain alarm in her voice
she said: "I am at your service."
The envoy wished to retire, but she did not permit him. They went at
once to the room which was hung with armor and weapons. The young
princes took their places in a row behind their mother, who, standing
opposite Skshetuski, asked: "Of what affair do you wish to speak, sir?"
The lieutenant fastened a quick and indeed severe glance on her, and
said: "Pardon me, Princess, and you, young Princes, that I act contrary
to custom, and instead of speaking through ambassadors of distinction,
I am the advocate in my own cause. But it cannot be otherwise; and
since no man can battle with necessity, I present my humble request to
you as guardians to be pleased to give me Princess Helena as wife."
If at that moment of the winter season lightning had descended in front
of the house at Rozlogi, it would have caused less astonishment to the
princess and her sons than those words of the lieutenant. For a time
they looked with amazement on the speaker, who stood before them erect,
calm, and wonderfully proud, as if he intended not to ask, but to
command; and they could not find a word of answer, but instead, the
princess began to ask,--
"How is this? Are you speaking of Helena?"
"I am, Princess, and you hear my fixed resolve."
A moment of silence followed.
"I am waiting for your answer, Princess."
"Forgive me, sir," said she, coughing; and her voice became dry and
sharp. "The proposal of such a knight is no small honor for us; but
nothing can come of it, since I have already promised Helena to
another."
"But be pleased to consider, as a careful guardian, whether that
promise was not made against the will of the princess, and if I am not
better than he to whom you have promised her."
"Well, sir, it is for me to judge who is better. You may be the best of
men; but that is nothing to us, for we do not know you."
The lieutenant straightened himself still more proudly, and his
glances, though cold, became sharp as knives.
"But I know you, you traitors!" he burst forth. "You wish to give your
relative to a peasant, on condition that he leaves you property
unjustly acquired."
"You are a traitor yourself!" shouted the princess. "Is this your
return for hospitality? Is this the gratitude you cherish in your
heart? Oh, serpent! What kind of person are you? Whence have you come?"
The fingers of the young princes began to quiver, and they looked along
the walls for weapons; but the lieutenant cried out,--
"Wretches! you have seized the property of an orphan, but to no
purpose. In a day from now Vishnyevetski will know of this."
At these words the princess rushed to the end of the room, and seizing
a dart, went up to the lieutenant. The young men also, having seized
each what he could lay hands on,--one a sabre, another a knife,--stood
in a half-circle near him, panting like a pack of mad wolves.
"You will go to the prince, will you?" shouted the old woman; "and are
you sure that you will go out of here alive, and that this is not your
last hour?"
Skshetuski crossed his arms on his breast, and did not wink an eye.
"I am on my way from the Crimea," said he, "as an envoy of Prince
Yeremi. Let a single drop of my blood fall here, and in three days the
ashes of this house will have vanished, and you will rot in the
dungeons of Lubni. Is there power in the world to save you? Do not
threaten, for I am not afraid of you."
"We may perish, but you will perish first."
"Then strike! Here is my breast."
The princes, with their mother near them, held weapons pointed at the
breast of the lieutenant; but it seemed as if invisible fetters held
their hands. Panting, and gnashing their teeth, they struggled in vain
rage, but none of them struck a blow. The terrible name of
Vishnyevetski deprived them of strength. The lieutenant was master of
the position.
The weak rage of the princess was poured out in a mere torrent of
abuse: "Trickster! beggar! you want princely blood. But in vain; we
will give her to any one, but not to you. The prince cannot make us do
that."
Skshetuski answered: "This is no time for me to speak of my nobility. I
think, however, that your rank might well bear the sword and shield
behind mine. But for that matter, since a peasant was good in your
eyes, I am better. As to my fortune, that too may be compared with
yours; and since you say that you will not give me Helena, then listen
to what I tell you: I will leave you in Rozlogi, and ask no account of
guardianship."
"Do not give that which is not yours."
"I give nothing but my promise for the future. I give it, and
strengthen it with my knightly word. Now choose, either to render
account to the prince of your guardianship and leave Rozlogi, or give
me Helena and you may keep the land."
The dart dropped slowly from the hand of the princess, and after a
moment fell on the floor with a rattle.
"Choose," repeated Skshetuski,--"either peace or war!"
"It is lucky," said she, more mildly, "that Bogun has gone out with the
falcon, not wishing to look at you; for he had suspicions even
yesterday. If he were here, we should not get on without bloodshed."
"I do not wear a sword, madam, to have my belt cut off."
"But think, is it polite on the part of such a knight as you, after
entering a house by invitation, to force people in this way, and take a
maiden by assault, as if from Turkish slavery?"
"It is right, since she was to be sold against her will to a peasant."
"Don't say that of Bogun, for though of unknown parentage, he is a
famous warrior and a splendid knight; known to us from childhood, he is
like a relative in the house. To take the maiden from him is the same
as to stab him with a knife."
"Well, Princess, it is time for me to go. Pardon me, then, if I ask you
once more to make your choice."
The princess turned to her sons. "Well, my sons, what do you say to
such an humble request from this cavalier?"
The young men looked down, nudged each other with their elbows, and
were silent. At last Simeon muttered: "If you tell us, mother, to slay
him, we will slay; if you say give the girl, we will give her."
"To give is bad, and to slay is bad." Then turning to Skshetuski, she
said: "You have pushed us to the wall so closely that there is no
escape. Bogun is a madman, ready for anything. Who will save us from
his vengeance? He will perish himself through the prince, but he will
destroy us first. What are we to do?"
"That is your affair."
The princess was silent for a time, then said: "Listen to me. All this
must remain a secret. We will send Bogun to Pereyasláv, and will go
ourselves with Helena to Lubni, and you will ask the prince to send us
a guard at Rozlogi. Bogun has a hundred and fifty Cossacks in the
neighborhood; part of them are here. You cannot take Helena
immediately, for he would rescue her. It cannot be arranged otherwise.
Go your way, therefore; tell the secret to no man, and wait for us."
"But won't you betray me?"
"If we only could; but we cannot, as you see yourself. Give your word
that you will keep the secret."
"If I give it, will you give the girl?"
"Yes, for we are unable not to give her, though we are sorry for
Bogun."
"Pshaw!" said the lieutenant, turning to the princes, "There are four
of you, like oaks, and afraid of one Cossack, and you wish to overcome
him by treason! Though I am obliged to thank you, still I say that it
is not the thing for men of honor."
"Do not interfere in this," cried the princess. "It is not your affair.
What can we do? How many soldiers have you against his hundred and
fifty Cossacks? Will you protect us? Will you protect Helena herself,
whom he is ready to bear away by force? This is not your affair. Go
your way to Lubni. How we must act is for us to judge, if we only bring
Helena to you."
"Do what you like; but one thing I repeat: If any wrong comes to
Helena, woe to you!"
"Do not treat us in this fashion, you might drive us to desperation."
"You wished to bend her to your will, and now, when selling her for
Rozlogi, it has never entered your heads to ask whether my person is
pleasing to her."
"We are going to ask her in your presence," said the princess,
suppressing the rage which began to seethe up again in her breast, for
she felt clearly the contempt in these words of Skshetuski.
Simeon went for Helena, and soon entered the room with her. Amidst the
rage and threats which still seemed to quiver in the air like the
echoes of a tempest that has passed, amidst those frowning brows, angry
looks, and threatening scowls, her beautiful face shone like the sun
after a storm.
"Well, young lady!" said the princess sullenly, pointing to Pan Yan;
"if you choose this man, he is your future husband."
Helena grew pale, and with a sudden cry covered her eyes with her two
hands; then suddenly stretched them toward Skshetuski.
"Is this true?" whispered she, in transport.
An hour later the retinue of the envoy and the lieutenant moved slowly
along the forest road toward Lubni. Skshetuski with Pan Longin
Podbipienta rode in front; after them came the wagons of the envoy in a
long line. The lieutenant was completely sunk in thought and longing,
when suddenly he was roused from his pensiveness by the words of the
song,--
"I grieve, I grieve, my heart is sore."
In the depth of the forest appeared Bogun on a narrow path trodden out
by the peasants. His horse was covered with foam and mud. Apparently
the Cossack, according to habit, had gone out to the steppes and the
forest to dissipate with the wind, destroy, and forget in the distance
that which over-pained his heart. He was returning then to Rozlogi.
Looking on that splendid, genuine knightly form, which only flashed up
before him and vanished, Skshetuski murmured involuntarily,--
"It is lucky in every case that he brained a man in her presence."
All at once an undefined sorrow pressed his heart. He was sorry as it
were for Bogun, but still more sorry that having bound himself by word
to the princess, he was unable that moment to urge his horse after him
and say,--
"We love the same woman; there is one of us, therefore, who cannot live
in the world. Draw your sword, Cossack!"