It was now the second half of March; the grass was growing luxuriantly,
the field-roller was blooming, the steppe was stirring with life. In
the morning the lieutenant, travelling at the head of his men, rode as
if over a sea whose moving wave was the wind-stirred grass. Every place
was filled with joy and the voices of spring,--chirruping, whistling,
clattering, the shaking of wings, the glad hum of insects; the steppe
sounded like a lyre touched by the hand of the Lord. Above the heads of
the horsemen floated falcons motionless in the blue ether, like
suspended crosses, triangles of wild geese, lines of storks; and on the
ground the coursing of flocks run wild. Behold, a herd of steppe horses
rush on! They move like a storm, stop before the mounted men in a
half-circle suddenly, as if spiked to the earth, their manes spread to
the wind, their nostrils dilated, their eyes full of wonder. You would
say they are here to trample the unbidden guests. But a moment more
they are gone, vanishing as suddenly as they came. Now we have only the
sound of the grass and the gleam of the flowers; the clatter is still.
Again nothing is heard save the play of birds. The land seems full of
joy; yet a kind of sadness is in that joy. It seems crowded, and it is
an empty land. Oh, it is wide, and it is roomy! With a horse you cannot
surround it; in thought you cannot grasp it,--unless you love the
sadness, the desert, and the steppes, and with yearning soul circle
above them, linger upon their grave-mounds, hearken to their voices, and
give answer.
It was early morning. Great drops glittered on the grass and reeds; the
quick movement of the wind dried the ground, on which after the rains
broad ponds were spread, like lakes shining in the sun. The retinue of
the lieutenant moved on slowly, for it was difficult to hasten when the
horses sank to their knees at times in the soft earth; and he gave them
only short resting-spells on the grave-mounds, for he was hastening to
a greeting and a parting.
The second day, about noon, after he had passed a strip of forest,
he saw the windmills of Rozlogi scattered on the hillsides and mounds.
His heart beat like a hammer. No one there expected him; no one
knew he was coming. What will she say when she sees him? Now he
beholds the cottages of the neighbors, nearly hidden, covered in the
cherry-orchards; farther on is a straggling village of cottages; and
still farther is seen the well-sweep on the square in front of the
house. The lieutenant, putting spurs to his horse, galloped swiftly;
and after him flew his suite through the village with a clatter and a
noise. Here and there a peasant, rushing out of his cottage, made a
sign of the cross. Devils!--not devils? Tartars!--not Tartars? The mud
spatters from under their hoofs so that you don't know who is hurrying
on. Meanwhile they are at the square, and have halted before the closed
gate.
"Hallo there! Who lives, open!"
The bustle and pounding, the barking of dogs, called out the people
from the house. They hurried to the gate frightened, thinking it was an
attack.
"Who goes?"
"Open!"
"The princes are not at home."
"But open, you son of an infidel! We are from the prince at Lubni."
The servants at last recognized Skshetuski. "Oh, that is you! Right
away! right away!"
The gate was thrown open. Then the princess herself appeared before the
entrance, and shading her eyes with her hand, looked at the new-comers.
Skshetuski sprang from his horse, and coming up to her said: "Don't you
know me?"
"Oh! that is you, Lieutenant. I thought it was a Tartar raid. I salute
you and beg you to enter."
"You wonder, no doubt," said Pan Yan, "at seeing me in Rozlogi. Still I
have not broken my word, for the prince sends me to Chigirin and
farther. He asked me also to stop at Rozlogi and inquire for your
health."
"I am thankful to his Highness. Does he think of driving us from
Rozlogi soon?"
"He doesn't think of it at all, for he knows of no cause to drive you
out; and what I have said will take place. You will remain in Rozlogi;
I have bread enough of my own."
Hearing this, the princess grew good-humored at once, and said: "Be
seated, and be as glad as I am to see you."
"Is Princess Helena well? Where is she?"
"I know you. You have not come to see me, my cavalier. She is in good
health, she is well; the girl has improved in appearance. But I'll call
her to you this minute, and I'll dress a little myself, for I am
ashamed to receive guests in this gown."
The princess was wearing a faded dress, with a fur coat outside, and
heavy boots.
At this moment Helena, though not called, rushed into the room; for she
had heard from the old Tartar, Chehly, who the visitor was. She ran in
panting, and red as a cherry, barely able to catch her breath, but her
eyes were laughing from happiness and joy. Skshetuski sprang to her
hand, and when the princess had withdrawn discreetly, kissed her on the
lips, for he was an impulsive man. She did not defend herself
vigorously, feeling that weakness had come upon her from an overflow of
happiness and joy.
"I did not expect to see you," whispered she, half closing her eyes.
"But don't kiss me that way, for it isn't proper."
"Why shouldn't I kiss when honey is not half so sweet? I thought I
should wither away without you, till the prince himself sent me here."
"What does the prince know?"
"I told him all, and he was glad when he remembered your father. Oh,
you must have given me some herb, my girl, for I cannot see the light
of day on account of you."
"Your blindness is a favor from God."
"But do you remember that omen which the falcon gave when she drew our
hands together? It was destiny beyond a doubt."
"I remember."
"When at Lubni I used to go from sadness to Solonitsa and see you there
just as if present, if I stretched forth my hand you disappeared; but
you will not escape me again, for I think that nothing will stand in
our way now."
"If anything does, it will not be my will."
"Tell me again that you love me."
Helena dropped her eyes, but answered with dignity and decision: "As
nobody in the world."
"If any one should surround me with honor and gold, I should prefer
those words of yours; for I feel that you speak the truth, though I do
not know why I deserve such favor from you."
"Because you had pity on me, drew me to you, took my part, and spoke
words such as I had never heard before."
Helena was silent from emotion, and the lieutenant began again to kiss
her hand.
"You will be my ruler, not my wife."
They were silent for a while, but he did not take his eyes from her,
wishing to make up for the long time in which he had not seen her. She
seemed to him more beautiful than before. In that dim room, in the
sunlight broken into rays by the glass window-panes, she looked like
those pictures of holy virgins in dusky chapels. At the same time such
warmth and life surrounded her, so many splendid womanly graces and
charms were pictured in her face and whole form, that it was possible
to lose one's head, fall desperately in love with her, and love
forever.
"I shall lose my sight from your beauty," said the lieutenant.
The white teeth of the princess glittered joyously in a smile.
"Undoubtedly Anusia Borzobogata is a hundred times better looking than
I!"
"She is to you as a pewter plate to the moon."
"But Jendzian told me a different story."
"Jendzian deserves a slap on the mouth. What do I care for her? Let
other bees take honey from that flower, and there are plenty of them
there."
Further conversation was interrupted by the entrance of old Chehly, who
came to greet the lieutenant. He looked on him already as his future
master, and he bowed to him at the threshold, giving the salaam in
Oriental fashion.
"Well, old Chehly, I take you too with your mistress. You will serve
her till you die."
"She won't have long to wait for my death; but while I live I will
serve her. God is one!"
"In a month or so, when I return from the Saitch, we will go to Lubni,"
said the lieutenant, turning to Helena; "and there Mukhovetski is ready
with his robes."
Helena was startled. "Then you are going to the Saitch?"
"The prince sends me with letters. But have no fear; the person of an
envoy is sacred, even among pagans. I should send you and the princess
immediately to Lubni, but the roads are fearful. Even on horseback it
is hard to get along."
"Will you stay long in Rozlogi?"
"I leave this evening for Chigirin. The sooner I go the sooner I shall
return. Besides, it is the prince's service; neither my time nor will
is at my disposal."
"Will you come to dinner, if you have had enough of billing and
cooing?" said the princess, coming in. "Ho! ho! the young woman's
cheeks are red; 'tis evident you have not been idle, sir! Well, I'm not
surprised at you."
Saying this, she stroked Helena affectionately on the shoulder, and
they went to dinner. The princess was in perfectly good humor. She had
given up Bogun long ago, and all was arranged now, owing to the
liberality of the lieutenant, so that she could look on Rozlogi, "with
its pine woods, forests, boundaries, and inhabitants," as belonging to
her and her sons,--no small property, indeed.
The lieutenant asked for the princes,--whether they would return soon.
"I expect them every day. They were angry at first with you, but
afterward, when they scrutinized your acts, they conceived a great
affection for you as their future relative; for in truth it is
difficult in these mild times to find a man of such daring."
After dinner the lieutenant and Helena went to the cherry orchard,
which came up to the ditch beyond the square. The orchard was covered
with early white blossoms as if with snow; beyond the orchard was a
dark oak grove in which a cuckoo was heard.
"That is a happy augury for us," said Skshetuski, "but we must make the
inquiry." And turning to the oak grove, he asked: "Good cuckoo, how
many years shall I live in marriage with this lady?"
The cuckoo began to call, and counted fifty and more.
"God grant it!"
"The cuckoo always tells the truth," remarked Helena.
"If that's the case, I'll ask another question," said the enamoured
lieutenant.
"No, it is not necessary."
In converse and merriment like this the day passed as a dream. In the
evening came the moment of tender and long parting, and the lieutenant
set out for Chigirin.