When Zagloba found himself alone at the head of his party, he felt
uncomfortable somehow and terribly alarmed, and would have given much
to have at his side Skshetuski, Volodyovski, or Pan Longin, whom in his
soul he admired with all his might, and near whom he felt completely
safe, so blindly did he believe in their resources and bravery. At
first, therefore, he rode rather gloomily at the head of his party, and
looking around suspiciously on every side, measured in his mind the
dangers which he might meet, and muttered,--
"It would always be livelier if some one of them were here. To whatever
God predestined a man, for that he created him; and those three ought
to have been born horseflies, for they love to sit in blood. They are
in war just as other men are at the cup, or like fish in water. War is
their play. They have light stomachs, but heavy hands. I have seen
Skshetuski at work, and I know what skill he has. He hurries through
men as monks through their prayers. That's his favorite work. That
Lithuanian, who has no head of his own, is looking for three strange
heads, and he has nothing to risk. I know that little fellow least of
all, but he must be a wasp of no common kind, judging from what I saw
at Konstantinoff, and what Skshetuski tells me about him,--he must be a
wasp! Happily he is marching not far from me, and I think that I shall
do better to join him, for if I know where to go may the ducks trample
me!"
Zagloba felt so lonely in the world that he took pity upon his own
loneliness.
"Indeed!" muttered he. "Every man has some one to look to; but how is
it with me? I have neither comrade nor father nor mother. I am an
orphan, and that is the end of it!"
At that moment the sergeant, Kosmach, approached him. "Commander, where
are we marching to?" asked he.
"Where are we marching to?" repeated Zagloba. "What?" Suddenly he
straightened himself in the saddle and twisted his mustache. "To
Kamenyets, if such should be my will! Do you understand?"
The sergeant bowed and withdrew in silence to the ranks, unable to
explain to himself what the commander was angry at. But Zagloba cast
threatening glances at the neighborhood, then grew quiet and muttered
further,--
"If I go to Kamenyets, I'll let a hundred blows of a stick be given on
the soles of my feet, Turkish fashion. Tfu! tfu! If I only had one of
those fellows with me, then I should feel more courage. What shall I
begin to do with these people? I would rather be alone, for when alone
a man trusts to stratagem. But now there are too many of us for
stratagems and too few for defence. A very unfortunate idea of
Skshetuski's to divide the detachment! And where shall I go? I know
what is behind me, but who shall tell me what is in front, and who
shall assure me that the devils there haven't set some snare? Krívonos
and Bogun, a nice pair,--may the devils flay them! God defend me at
least from Bogun! Skshetuski wants to meet him; may the Lord listen to
him!--I wish him the same as I wish myself, for I am his friend,--amen!
I'll work on to Zbruch, return to Yarmolintsi, and bring them more
informants than they want themselves. That is not difficult."
Kosmach now approached. "Commander, some horsemen are visible behind
the hill."
"Let them go to the devil! Where are they,--where?"
"There, on the other side of the hill, I saw flags."
"Troops?"
"They appear to be troops."
"May the dogs bite them! Are there many of them?"
"You can't tell, for they are far away. We might hide here behind these
rocks and fall on them unawares, for their road lies this way. If their
numbers are too great, Pan Volodyovski is not far off; he will hear the
shots and hasten to our aid."
Daring rose suddenly to Zagloba's head like wine. It may be that
despair gave him such an impulse to action; possibly hope that
Volodyovski was still near. Enough that he waved his naked sabre,
rolled his eyes terribly, and cried,--
"Hide behind the rocks! We will show those ruffians--" The trained
soldiers of the prince turned behind the rocks, and in the twinkle of
an eye placed themselves in battle-array, ready for a sudden attack.
An hour passed. At last the noise of approaching people was heard. An
echo bore the sounds of joyful songs; and a moment later the sounds of
fiddles, bagpipes, and a drum reached the ears of the men lurking in
ambush. The sergeant came to Zagloba again, and said,--
"They are not troops, Commander, nor Cossacks. It is a wedding."
"A wedding? I'll play a tune for them; let them wait a bit."
Saying this, he rode out, and after him the soldiers, and formed in
line on the road. "After me!" cried Zagloba, threateningly.
The line moved on a trot, then a gallop, and passing around the cliff,
stood suddenly in front of the crowd of people, frightened and confused
by the unexpected sight.
"Stop! stop!" was the cry from both sides.
It was really a peasant wedding. In front rode the piper, the
flute-player, the fiddler, and two drummers, already somewhat
intoxicated, and playing dance-music out of tune. Behind them was the
bride, a brisk young woman in a dark jacket, with hair flowing over her
shoulders. She was surrounded by her bridesmaids, singing songs and
carrying wreaths in their hands. All the girls were sitting on
horseback, man-fashion, adorned with wild-flowers. They looked at a
distance like a party of handsome Cossacks. In another line rode the
bridegroom on a sturdy horse, with his groomsmen, having wreaths on
long poles, like pikes. The rear of the party was brought up by the
parents of the newly married and guests, all on horseback. In light
wagons strewn with straw were drawn a number of kegs of gorailka, mead,
and beer, which belched out a pleasant odor along the rough, stony
road.
"Halt! halt!" was shouted from both sides. The wedding-party was
confused. The young girls raised a cry of fear, and drew back to the
rear. The young men and elder groomsmen rushed forward to protect the
young women from the unexpected attack.
Zagloba sprang before them, and brandishing his sabre, which gleamed in
the eyes of the terror-stricken peasants, began to shout,--
"Ha, you bullock-drivers, dog-tails, rebels! You wanted to join the
insurrection! You are on the side of Hmelnitski, you scoundrels!
You are going to spy out something; you are blocking the road to
troops,--raising your hand against nobles! Oh, I'll give it to you, you
foul spirits of curs! I'll order you to be fettered, to be empaled, O
rascals, Pagans! Now you will pay for all your crimes."
A groomsman, old, and white as a dove, jumped from his horse,
approached the noble, and holding his stirrup humbly, began to bow to
his girdle and implore,--
"Have mercy, serene knight! Do not ruin poor people! God is our witness
that we are innocent. We are not going to a rebellion. We are going
from the church at Gusiatyn. We crowned our relative Dmitry, the
blacksmith, with Ksenia, the cooper's daughter. We have come with a
wedding and with a dance."
"These are innocent people," whispered the sergeant.
"Out of my sight! They are scoundrels; they have come from Krívonos's
to a wedding!" roared Zagloba.
"May the plague kill him!" cried the old man. "We have never looked on
him with our eyes; we are poor people. Have mercy on us, serene lord,
and let us pass; we are doing harm to no man, and we know our duty."
"You will go to Yarmolintsi in fetters!"
"We will go wherever you command. Our lord, it is for you to command,
for us to obey. But you will do us a kindness, serene knight! Order
your soldiers to do us no harm, and you yourself pardon us simple
people. We now beat to you humbly with the forehead, to drink with us
to the happiness of the newly married. Drink, your mercy, to the joy of
simple people, as God and the holy Gospels command."
"But don't suppose that I forgive you if I drink," said Zagloba,
sharply.
"No, no, my lord," exclaimed with joy the old man; "we don't dream of
it. Hei, musicians!" cried he, "strike up for the serene knight,
because the serene knight is kind; and you, young men, hurry for
mead,--sweet mead for the knight; he will not harm poor people. Hurry,
boys, hurry! We thank you, our lord."
The young men ran with the speed of wind to the kegs; and immediately
the drums sounded, the fiddles squeaked sharply, the piper puffed out
his cheeks and began to press the wind-bag under his arm. The groomsmen
shook the wreaths on the poles, in view of which the soldiers began to
press forward, twirl their mustaches, laugh, and look at the bride over
the shoulders of the young fellows. The song resounded again. Terror
had passed away, and here and there too was heard the joyful "U-ha!
u-ha!"
Zagloba did not become serene-browed in a moment. Even when a quart of
mead was brought to him, he still muttered to himself: "Oh, the
scoundrels, the ruffians!" Even when he had sunk his mustaches in the
dark surface of the mead, his brows did not unwrinkle. He raised his
head, winked his eyes, and smacking his lips, began to taste the
liquid; then astonishment, but also indignation, was seen on his face.
"What times we live in!" muttered he. "Trash are drinking such mead. O
Lord, thou seest this, and dost not hurl thy bolts!" Then he raised the
cup and emptied it to the bottom.
Meanwhile the emboldened wedding-guests came with their whole company
to beg him to do them no harm and let them pass; and among them came
the bride Ksenia, timid, trembling, with tears in her eyes, blushing
and beautiful as the dawn. When she drew near she joined her hands. "Be
merciful, our lord!" and she kissed the yellow boot of Zagloba. The
heart of the noble became soft as wax in a moment. He loosened his
leather girdle, began to fumble in it, and finding the last gold sequin
of those which Prince Yeremi had given him, he said to Ksenia,--
"Here! may God bless thee, as he does every innocence!"
Emotion did not permit further speech, for that shapely dark-browed
Ksenia reminded him of the princess whom Zagloba loved in his own
fashion. "Where is she now, poor girl, and are the angels of heaven
guarding her?" thought he, completely overpowered, ready to embrace
every one and become a brother to all.
The wedding-guests, seeing this lordly act, began to shout from joy, to
sing, and crowding up to him to kiss his clothes. "He is kind," was
repeated in the crowd. "He is a golden Pole! he gives away sequins, he
does no harm, he is a kind lord. Glory to him, luck to him!" The
fiddler quivered, he worked so hard; the hands of the drummers grew
weary. The old cooper, evidently a coward to his innermost lining, had
held himself in the rear till that moment. Now he pushed forward,
together with his wife, the cooperess, and the ancient blacksmithess,
the mother of the bridegroom; and now they began such a bowing to the
girdle and insistent invitation to the house for the wedding, because
it was a glory to have such a guest, and a happy augury for the young
couple; if not, harm would come to them. After them bowed the
bridegroom and the dark-browed Ksenia, who, though a simple girl, saw
in a twinkle that her request was more effective than any other. The
best men shouted that the farm was near, not out of the knight's road;
that the old cooper was rich, and would set out mead far better than
this. Zagloba gazed at the soldiers; all were moving their mustaches as
rabbits do their whiskers, foreseeing for themselves various delights
in the dance and the drinks. Therefore, though they did not ask to go,
Zagloba took pity on them, and after a while the groomsmen, the young
women, and the soldiers were making for the farm in most perfect
harmony.
In fact the farm was near, and the old cooper rich. The wedding
therefore was noisy; all drank heavily, and Zagloba so let himself out
that he was the first in everything. Soon strange ceremonies were
begun. Old women took Ksenia to a chamber, and shutting themselves in
with her, remained a long time; then they came forth and declared that
the young woman was as a dove, as a lily. Thereupon joy reigned in the
assembly; there rose a shout, "Glory! happiness!" The women began to
clap their hands, the young fellows stamped with their feet; each one
danced by himself, with a quart cup in his hand, which he emptied to
"fame and happiness" before the door of the chamber. Zagloba danced
also, distinguishing the importance of his birth by this only, that he
drank before the door, not a quart, but half a gallon. Then the friends
of the cooper and the blacksmith's wife conducted young Dmitry to the
door; but since young Dmitry had no father, they bowed down to Zagloba
to take his place. Zagloba consented, and passed in with the others.
During this time all became quiet in the house; but the soldiers
drinking in the yard before the cottage shouted, crying "Allah!" from
joy, in Tartar fashion, and fired from pistols.
The greatest rejoicing and uproar began when the parents appeared again
in the main room. The old cooper embraced the blacksmith's wife with
delight, the young men came to the cooper's wife and raised her from
her feet, and the women glorified her because she had guarded her
daughter as the eye in her head, kept her as a dove and a lily. Then
Zagloba opened the dance with her. They began to stamp in front of each
other; and he, keeping time with his hands, dropped into the prisyadka,
sprang so high, and beat the floor with his metal-shod heels in such
fashion that bits flew from the planks, and sweat poured from his
forehead in abundance. They were followed by others,--those who had
space dancing in the room, and those who had not in the yard,--the
maidens with the young men and soldiers. From time to time the cooper
had new kegs brought out. Finally the whole wedding-feast was
transferred from the house to the yard; piles of dry thistles and
pitch-pine were set on fire, for a dark night had settled down, and the
rejoicing had changed to drinking with might and main. The soldiers
fired from their pistols and muskets as in time of battle.
Zagloba, purple, steaming in perspiration, tottering on his feet,
forgot what was happening to him, where he was; through the steam which
came from his hair he saw the faces of his entertainers, but if he were
to be empaled on a stake he couldn't tell what sort of entertainers
they were. He remembered that he was at a wedding, but whose wedding
was it? Ha! it must be the wedding of Pan Yan and the princess. This
idea seemed to him the most probable, and finally stuck in his head
like a nail, and filled him with such joy that he began to shout like a
madman: "Long life! let us love each other, brothers!" and every little
while he filled new half-gallons. "To your success, brothers! To the
health of the prince! Prosperity to us! May this paroxysm of our
country pass!" Then he covered himself with tears, and stumbled going
to the keg, and stumbled more and more; for on the ground, as on a
field of battle, lay many a motionless body. "O God," cried Zagloba,
"thou hast no longer any manhood left in this Commonwealth! There are
but two men who can drink,--one Pan Lashch, and the other Zagloba. As
for the rest, my God, my God!" And he raised his eyes in sorrow to the
sky. Then he saw that the heavenly bodies were no longer fastened
quietly in the firmament like golden nails, but some were trembling as
if they wished to spring from their settings; others were whirling in a
round dance; a third party of them were dancing the kazachka face to
face with each other. Then Zagloba fell into terribly deep thought, and
said to his musing soul,--
"Is it possible that I alone in the universe am not drunk?"
But suddenly the earth itself quivered, like the stars, in a mad whirl,
and Zagloba fell his whole length on the ground.
Soon awful dreams came to him. It seemed as if nightmares were sitting
on his breast, pressing him, squeezing him to the ground, binding him
hand and foot. At the same time tumult and as it were the sound of
shots struck his ears; a glaring light passed his closed lids, and
struck his eyes with an unendurable flash. He wished to rouse himself,
to open his eyes, and he could not. He felt that something unusual was
happening to him,--that his head was dropping back as if he were being
carried by hands and feet. Then fear seized him; he felt badly, very
badly, very heavy. Consciousness returned in part, but strangely, for
in company with such weakness as he had never felt in his life. Again
he tried to move; but when he could not, he woke up more and opened his
eyelids.
Then his gaze met a pair of eyes which were fastened on him eagerly;
their pupils were black as coal, and so ill-omened that Zagloba, now
thoroughly awake, thought at the first moment that the devil was
looking at him. Again he closed his eyes, and again he opened them
quickly. Those eyes looked at him continually, stubbornly. The
countenance seemed to him familiar. All at once he shivered to the
marrow of his bones, cold sweat covered him, and down his spine to his
feet passed thousands of ants. He recognized the face of Bogun!