Two persons rode quietly and slowly through the woody ravine which
skirted the dwelling at Rozlogi. The night had become very dark, for
the moon had gone down long before, and besides clouds covered the sky.
In the ravine nothing could be seen three steps ahead of the horses,
which stumbled over the roots of the trees sticking across the road.
They went for a long time with the greatest care, till at length, when
they saw the end of the ravine, and the open steppe, lighted a little
by the gray reflection of the clouds, one of the riders whispered,
"Spur on!"
They shot ahead, like two arrows sent from Tartar bows. Nothing
followed them but the sound of hoofs. The dark steppe seemed to fly
from under their beasts. Single oak-trees standing here and there by
the roadside swept past like phantoms, and they fled for a long time
without rest or drawing breath, till finally the horses dropped their
ears and began to snort from weariness, their gait grew heavy and slow.
"There is no help for it, the horses must slacken their pace," said one
of the travellers, a heavy man.
Just then dawn began to push night from the steppe. Every moment a
broader expanse came out from the darkness; the thistles of the steppe
were outlined indistinctly, the distant trees, the mounds; every moment
more light was diffused in the air. The whitish gleams lighted up the
faces of the riders too. They were Pan Zagloba and Helena.
"No help for it, we must let the horses slacken their speed," said
Zagloba. "Yesterday they came from Chigirin to Rozlogi without resting.
They cannot endure this kind of travelling long. I am afraid they may
drop dead. How do you feel?"
Here Zagloba looked at his companion, and not waiting for her to
answer, cried out,--
"Oh, let me look at you in the daylight! Oh, ho! are those your
cousin's clothes? It must be said you are a splendid Cossack. I've not
had in all my life such another waiting-man; but I think Pan Skshetuski
will take him from me soon. But what is this? Oh, for God's sake, twist
up your hair! Unless you do there will be no doubt as to your sex."
In fact, over Helena's shoulders flowed a torrent of black hair, let
loose by the speed of the course and the dampness of the night.
"Where are we going?" asked she, winding up her hair with both hands,
and trying to put it under her cap.
"Where our eyes take us."
"Then not to Lubni?"
Alarm was reflected on Helena's face, and in the quick glance which she
threw at Zagloba reawakened distrust was evident.
"Do you see," said he, "I have my own reason; and believe me I have
reckoned everything carefully, and my reckoning is based on the
following wise maxim: Do not escape in the direction in which you will
be pursued. If they are pursuing us at this moment, they are pursuing
in the direction of Lubni; for I inquired yesterday in a loud voice
about the road, and before setting out I told Bogun that we should go
in that direction. Therefore we shall go to Cherkasi. If they follow
us, it will not be quickly, for it will take them two days to discover
that we are not on the Lubni road. By that time we shall be in
Cherkasi, where the Polish regiments of Pivnitski and Rudomina are
stationed; and in Korsún are all the forces of the hetmans. Do you
understand now?"
"I understand, and while life lasts I shall be thankful to you! I do
not know who you are or whence you came to Rozlogi; but I think God
sent you to defend and save me, for I should stab myself rather than
fall into the power of that robber."
"He is a dragon, terribly intent on pursuing you."
"What in my misfortune have I done to him that he should pursue me? I
have known him long, and long have I hated him, long since has he
roused in me nothing but fear. Am I the only woman in the world, that
he should love me, and shed so much blood on my account,--that he
should kill my cousins? When I remember it my blood grows cold. What
shall I do? Where shall I hide from him? Do not wonder at my
complaining, for I am unhappy. I am ashamed of such affection; I should
prefer death a hundred times."
Helena's cheeks were flushed; tears were flowing over them, forced out
by anger, contempt, and pain.
"I will not deny," said Zagloba, "that a great misfortune has come upon
your house; but permit me to say that your relatives are partly to
blame. They should not have promised your hand to the Cossack, and then
betrayed him. When this was discovered he became so enraged that no
persuasion of mine could avail. I am sorry for your two dead cousins,
and especially for the younger; for he was still a mere youth, but it
was evident at a glance that he would have ripened into a mighty
warrior."
Helena began to cry.
"Tears are not proper to those garments which you wear; wipe them away
therefore, and say to yourself that this was the will of God. God will
punish the outlaw too, who is indeed already punished; for he has shed
blood in vain, and has lost you, the one chief object of his desires."
Here Zagloba stopped; after a while he spoke again:--
"Oh, dear Lord, what a dressing he would give me if I should fall into
his hands! He would make a lizard out of my skin. You do not know that
I have already received the crown of martyrdom from the Turks; but I
have had enough, I do not wish another; therefore I do not go to Lubni,
but to Cherkasi. It would be pleasant to take refuge with the prince,
but if they should catch us while going there! You heard, as I was
untying the horse from the post, how one of Bogun's serving-men woke
up. But if he had raised the alarm then? They would have been ready for
the chase at once, and would have caught us in an hour; for they have
the fresh horses of Rozlogi, from which I had no time to select. Oh, I
tell you he is a wild beast, that Bogun! I have such a horror of him
that I would rather take a look at the devil than at him."
"God save us from his hands!"
"He has ruined himself. He abandoned Chigirin, in spite of the orders
of the hetman; he has come into collision with Vishnyevetski. Nothing
now remains for him but to flee to Hmelnitski. But he will lose his
daring if Hmelnitski is beaten, and that may happen. Jendzian met
troops beyond Kremenchug, sailing down the river under Barabash and
Krechovski, against Hmelnitski; and, besides, young Stephan Pototski is
moving by land with his hussars; but Jendzian waited ten days in
Kremenchug to repair his boat. Therefore the battle must have taken
place before he reached Chigirin. We were expecting news every moment."
"Then Jendzian brought letters from Kudák, did he?" asked Helena.
"Yes, there were letters from Skshetuski to the princess and to you;
but Bogun seized them, and from them learned everything. Then he struck
down Jendzian at once, and set out to take vengeance on the
Kurtsevichi."
"Oh, unfortunate youth! He has shed his blood on my account."
"Do not grieve; he will recover."
"When did this happen?"
"Yesterday morning. For Bogun to fell a man is no more than for another
to toss off a glass of wine. And after the reading of the letters, he
roared so that all Chigirin trembled."
Conversation was interrupted for a moment. Daylight had come. The rosy
dawn, streaked with opals, bright gold, and purple, was glowing in the
east. The breeze was fresh; the horses, now rested, moved gladly.
"Let us go on, in God's name, and quickly! Our horses have drawn
breath, and we have no time to lose," said Zagloba.
They went again at a gallop, and rushed on for two or three miles
without rest. All at once a dark point appeared ahead of them, which
approached with amazing rapidity.
"What can that be?" asked Zagloba. "Let us draw up a little. That's a
man on horseback."
In fact, some horseman was approaching them at full speed. Bent forward
in the saddle, with face hidden in the mane of the horse, he continued
to urge with a nagaika the stallion, which seemed not to touch the
ground.
"What kind of devil can he be, and why does he flee so? But he just
flies!" said Zagloba, taking out a pistol from the holsters, to be
ready in every event.
Meanwhile the courier had come within thirty yards.
"Stop!" thundered Zagloba, aiming his pistol; "who are you?"
The horseman reined in his steed, and sat erect in the saddle; but the
moment he looked he cried, "Pan Zagloba!"
"Pleshnyevski, attendant of the starosta of Chigirin! But what are you
doing here? Where are you fleeing to?"
"Oh, turn back with me! Misfortune! The anger of God, the judgment of
God!"
"What has happened? Speak!"
"Chigirin is taken by the Zaporojians. The peasants are slaughtering
the nobles."
"In the name of the Father and Son! What do you say? Has Hmelnitski
come?"
"Pototski is killed, Charnetski in captivity. The Tartars are marching
with the Cossacks. Tugai Bey--"
"But Barabash and Krechovski?"
"Barabash is killed, Krechovski has gone over to Hmelnitski. Krívonos
moved on the hetmans last night, Hmelnitski before daybreak this
morning. He has tremendous forces. The country is on fire, peasants
rising everywhere; blood is flowing. Save yourself!"
Zagloba's eyes were starting out, his mouth open, and he was so
astonished that he could not speak.
"Save yourself!" repeated Pleshnyevski.
"Jesus and Mary!" groaned Zagloba.
"Jesus and Mary!" repeated Helena, and burst into tears.
"Escape! There is no time to be wasted."
"Where! To what place?"
"To Lubni."
"But are you going there?"
"Yes; to the prince, the voevoda."
"Devil take it all!" cried Zagloba. "But where are the hetmans?"
"At Korsún. But Krívonos is fighting with them already."
"Krívonos or Prostonos,[10] may the plague consume him! I have no
reason to go where he is."
"You are running to your own destruction, as into a lion's mouth."
"And who sent you to Lubni? Your lord?"
"Oh! he escaped with his life; and a friend whom I have among the
Zaporojians saved my head, and helped me to flee. I am going to Lubni
of my own will, for I don't know where else to take refuge."
"But avoid Rozlogi, for Bogun is there. He also wishes to join the
rebellion."
"Oh, for God's sake, save us! In Chigirin they said that the peasants
would rise immediately beyond the Dnieper!"
"Maybe! maybe! But go your own way wherever you please, for I have
enough to do to think of my own skin."
"That is what I'll do," said Pleshnyevski; and lashing his horse with
the nagaika, he rushed on.
"But avoid Rozlogi!" called Zagloba after him. "Should you meet Bogun,
don't tell him that you have seen me. Do you hear?"
"I hear," answered Pleshnyevski. "God be with you!" And he raced away
as if hunted.
"Well, devil, here's an overcoat for you! I've got out of many a
trouble, but I have never been in anything like this. Hmelnitski in
front, Bogun in the rear; and since this is so, I wouldn't give a
broken orta for either my front or rear, or my whole skin. I was a fool
not to go to Lubni with you, but it is no time to talk of that now.
Pshaw, pshaw! All my wit at the present moment isn't fit to grease a
pair of boots with. What is to be done? Where am I to go? In the whole
Commonwealth it appears there is not a corner where a man can leave the
world with his own death, and not have death given him. I would rather
be excused from such presents; let others take them."
"Most worthy sir," said Helena, "I know that my cousins Yuri and Fedor
are in Zólotonosha; maybe they could save us."
"In Zólotonosha? Wait a moment! In Chigirin I knew Pan Unyejitski, who
owns the estates of Krapivna and Chernobái, near Zólotonosha. But that
place is far from here, farther than Cherkasi. What is to be done? If
there is no other place, why, we will take refuge even there. But we
must leave the highway; it is safer to go by the steppe and woods. If
we hide somewhere a week, even in the woods, perhaps by that time the
hetmans will finish with Hmelnitski, and it will be more peaceable in
the Ukraine."
"God did not save us from the hands of Bogun to let us perish. Have
courage!"
"Wait a moment! Some spirit enters me anew. I have been in many a
trouble. In a leisure hour I will tell you what happened to me in
Galáts, and you will see at once that I was in a terrible place that
time; still I slipped out by my own wit from those dangers and escaped
in safety, though as you see my beard has grown gray a little. But we
must leave the highway. Turn, my lady! You ride as well as the best
Cossack. The grass is high, and no eye can see us."
In fact, the grass became higher and higher as they entered the steppe,
so that at last they were hidden in it entirely. But it was difficult
for the horses to move through that thicket of stalks, both slender and
heavy, and at times sharp and cutting. Soon they became so tired that
they were completely exhausted.
"If we want these horses to serve us further, we must dismount,
unsaddle them, and let them roll and eat awhile, otherwise they will
not go on. I see that we shall reach the Kagamlik before long. I should
like to be there now. There is no place to hide in like reeds; when you
are in them the devil himself can't find you. But we must not go
astray."
He dismounted and assisted Helena from the horse, then took off the
saddles and produced a supply of provisions which he had prudently
provided in Rozlogi.
"We must strengthen ourselves," said he, "for the road is long; and do
you make some vow to Saint Raphael for our safe passage. There is an
old fortress in Zólotonosha, and perhaps there is some kind of garrison
there now. Pleshnyevski said that beyond the Dnieper the peasants are
rising. H'm! this may be true, for the people are quick at rebellion
everywhere; but the hand of the prince is on the country behind them,
and it is a devil of a hand for weight! Bogun has a strong neck; but if
that hand should fall on it, the neck would bend to the earth,--which
God grant, amen! But eat something, Princess!"
Zagloba took a little knife-case out of his boot-leg and gave it to
Helena; then he placed before her, on the saddle-cloth, roast beef and
bread.
"Eat!" said he. "'When there is nothing in the stomach, we have peas
and cabbage for brains.' 'If you want to keep your head right, eat
roast beef.' But we have made fools of ourselves once, for apparently
it would have been better to flee to Lubni; but the chance is gone now.
The prince will surely move with his forces to the Dnieper, to assist
the hetmans. We have lived to terrible times, when there is civil war,
the worst of all evils. There will not be a corner for peaceable
persons. It would have been better for me if I had joined the
priesthood, for which I had a vocation, being a quiet and sober man;
but fortune ordained otherwise. Oh, my God, my God! I should be canon
of Cracow now, chanting my prayers, for I have a very beautiful voice.
But what is to be done? From my youth up, girls pleased me! You
wouldn't believe what a handsome fellow I was; whenever I looked at a
woman, it was as if lightning struck her. If I were twenty years
younger now, Pan Skshetuski would have something on his hands. Ah, you
are a splendid Cossack! No wonder young men are rushing after you, and
battling to win you. Pan Skshetuski is no common warrior. I saw the
punishment he gave Chaplinski. True, he had something in his head; but
when he took him by the neck and--pardon me--by the trousers, and when
he battered the door open with him, I tell you that every bone in
Chaplinski came out of its pocket. Old Zatsvilikhovski told me too that
your betrothed is a great knight, the favorite of the prince. I saw
myself in a moment that he was a soldier of uncommon daring and of
experience beyond his years. He acts quickly. Though your company may
be dear to me, I don't know how much I should give if we were in
Zólotonosha now. I see that we must stay in the grass during the day
and travel at night. But I don't know whether you will be able to
endure such toil."
"Oh, I am in good health. I will endure every hardship. We could start
even this moment."
"You have courage beyond women! The horses have rolled; I will saddle
them at once, so as to be ready in every event. I shall not feel at
ease till I see the reeds and rushes of the Kagamlik. If we hadn't left
the road, we should have come upon the river nearer Chigirin, but here
it is about five miles to it from the road. That is my estimate, at
least. We shall cross to the other bank at once. I must tell you that I
have a great desire to sleep. The entire night before last I went
around in Chigirin, yesterday we drove with the Cossacks at a terrible
pace to Rozlogi, and last night you and I rode away from Rozlogi. I
want to sleep so much that I have lost all wish to talk; and though I
have not the habit of being silent,--for philosophers say that a cat
should be a hunter, and a man a talker,--still I find my tongue has
grown lazy. Pardon me, then, if I doze."
"Oh, there is nothing to make excuse for," said Helena.
Pan Zagloba had really no need to accuse his tongue of sloth, for it
had been going unceasingly since daylight; but in truth he wished to
sleep. When he sat on the horse again, he began to doze at once, and
soon he was sleeping soundly. He fell asleep from weariness and from
the sound of the grass bent apart by the breasts of the horses.
Meanwhile Helena gave herself up to the thoughts which were whirling in
her head like a flock of birds in the air. Up to that moment events had
followed one another so quickly that she was unable to render account
of all that had happened to her. The attack, the frightful scenes of
death, terror, unexpected rescue, and flight,--all came like a storm in
the course of a single night. And besides, so many unintelligible
things! Who was this who had saved her? He had told her his name, it is
true, but that name explained in no way the motives of his action.
Whence did he come to Rozlogi? He said that he had come with Bogun; he
had evidently kept company with him, was his acquaintance and friend.
But in such a case why did he save her, and expose himself to the
greatest danger and the terrible revenge of the Cossack? To understand
this it was necessary to know Zagloba well, with his unruly head and
his kindly heart. Helena had known him only six hours. And that unknown
man with his impudent face, a swaggerer, a drunkard, is her savior. If
she had met him three days before, he would have roused in her aversion
and distrust; but now she looks on him as a good angel, and flees with
him--whither? To Zólotonosha or anywhere else,--she herself knows not
yet clearly. What a change of fate! Yesterday she lay down to rest
under the quiet roof where she was born; to-day she is in the steppe,
on horseback, in male attire, without home, without refuge. Behind her
is the terrible chief, with designs on her honor; before her
conflagration, peasant rebellion, civil war with all its ambushes,
alarms, and horrors. And all her hope is in that man? No! it is still
in some one more powerful than violence, war, murder, and
conflagration. Here she raised her eyes to heaven and said,--
"Oh, do thou save me, great and merciful God! Rescue the orphan, the
unhappy, the wanderer! Let thy will be done, but let thy mercy be
manifest."
Indeed the mercy had been made manifest, for she had been caught away
from the most terrible hands, and saved by an incomprehensible miracle
of God. Danger had not passed yet, but perhaps rescue was not distant.
Who knows where he is whom she has chosen with her heart? He must have
returned already from the Saitch; perhaps he is somewhere in that same
steppe. He will seek her and find her, and then joy will take the place
of tears, and rejoicing of grief; alarm and terror will disappear
forever, peace and pleasure will come. The brave simple heart of the
girl was filled with trust, and the steppe rustled sweetly around her;
the breeze which moved the grass blew at the same time pleasant
thoughts to her brain. She is not an orphan, then, in this world, since
she has here at her side one strange, unknown guardian, and still
another, known and beloved, who is caring for her. He will not desert
her, he will take her for good; and he is a man of iron, stronger and
mightier than those rising against her in that hour.
The steppe rustled sweetly; from the flowers came odors strong and
intoxicating; the ruddy tops of the thistle spread out their purple
bunches; the white pearls of the mikalief and the feathers of the
steppe grass bent toward her, as if recognizing a maiden sister in that
Cossack, with long tresses, milk-white face, and red lips. They bent
toward her as if wishing to say: "Cry not, beautiful maiden! we too are
in the care of the Lord." A calm, increasing every moment, came to her
from the steppe. Pictures of death and pursuit were blotted from her
mind, and straightway a sort of weakness seized her, but a sweet one;
slumber began to close her eyelids; the horses went slowly, the
movement lulled her. She dropped asleep.