CHAPTER XIX
Old Krepetski, as had been foreseen by the butler, went to Yedlinka after midday on the morrow, but beyond all expectation he appeared there with so kindly a face, and so gladsome, that Pan Serafin, who had the habit of dozing after dinner, and felt somewhat drowsy, became wide awake with astonishment at sight of him. Almost at the threshold the old fox began to mention neighborly friendship and say what delight his old age would find in more frequent and mutual visits; he gave thanks for the kindly reception, and only after finishing these courtesies did he come to the real question.
"Benefactor and neighbor," said he, "I have come with the salute which was due you, but also, as you must have divined, with a request which, in view of my age, you, I trust, will give ear to most kindly."
"I will yield gladly to every proper wish which you may utter," said Pan Serafin.
The old man began to rub his hands.
"I knew that! I knew it beforehand," said he. "What a thing it is to deal with a man who has real wisdom; one comes to an agreement immediately. I said to my son 'Leave that to me! the moment,' said I, 'that thou hast to do with Pan Serafin all will go well, for there is not another man, not merely so wise, but so honorable in this region.'"
"You praise me too greatly."
"No, no, I say too little. But let us come to the question."
"Let us."
Old Krepetski was silent for a while, as if seeking expressions. He merely moved his jaws, so that his chin met his nose. At last he laughed joyously, put his hand on Pan Serafin's knee, and continued,--
"My benefactor, you see our goldfinch has flown from the cage."
"I know. Because the cat frightened it."
"Is there not pleasure in talking with such people?" cried the old man, rubbing his hands. "Oh, that is wit! The prelate Tvorkovski would burst with envy, as God is dear to me!"
"I am listening."
"Well, to the question, and straight from the bridge. We should like to take back that goldfinch."
"Why should you not?"
Pan Krepetski moved his chin toward his nose once, and a second time. He was alarmed; the affair went too easily; but he clapped his hands, and cried with feigned joyousness,--
"Well, now the affair is finished! Would to God that such men as you were born everywhere!"
"It is finished so far as I am concerned," said Pan Serafin. "Only there is need to ask that little bird whether she wants to go back again; besides she cannot go back to-day, for your son has so throttled her that she is barely breathing."
"Is she sick?"
"Sick; she is lying in bed."
"But is she not pretending?"
Pan Serafin's face grew dark in a moment.
"My gracious sir," said he, "let us talk seriously. Your son Martsian has acted unworthily with Panna Anulka, not in human fashion, and not as a noble; he has acted altogether with infamy. Before God and man you have offended grievously to give an orphan into hands such as his, and intrust her to a tyrant so shameless."
"There is not a bit of truth in what she says," cried the old man.
"Why not? You know not what she has said, and still you deny. It is not she who is speaking; blue lumps and marks of blows speak for her, marks which my housekeeper saw on her young body. As to Martsian, all the servants in Belchantska have seen his approaches and his cruelty, and are ready to testify when needed. In my house is Vilchopolski who is going to-day to Radom to tell the prelate Tvorkovski what has happened."
"But you have promised to give me the girl."
"No, I only said that I would not detain her. If she wants to go back, very well! If she wishes to stay with me, very well also! But attempt not to bring me to refuse my roof and a morsel of bread to an orphan who is grievously offended."
Old Krepetski's jaws moved time after time. For a while he was silent, and then began,--
"You are right, and you are wrong. To refuse a shelter and bread to an orphan would be unworthy, but as a wise man consider that it is one thing not to refuse hospitality, and something different to stand with rebellion against the authority of a father. I love Tekla, my youngest daughter, sincerely, but it happens sometimes that I give her a push. Well, what then? If she, after being punished by me, should flee to you, would you not permit me to take her, or would you refer me to her pleasure? Think of this--what sort of order would there be in the world, if women had their will? A married woman, even when old, must hearken to her husband, and yield to him; but what must it be in the case of an immature girl, as against the commands of her father, or guardian?"
"Panna Anulka is not your daughter, nor even your relative."
"But we inherited the guardianship over her from Pan Gideon. If Pan Gideon had punished the girl, you, of course, would not have had a word against him; but it is the same thing touching me and my son, to whom I have committed the management of Belchantska. Some one must manage, some one must have authority to punish. Difficult to do without that. I do not deny that Martsian, as a man, young and impulsive, exceeded the measure, perhaps, especially since he was met with ingratitude. But that is my affair! I will examine, judge, and punish; but I will take the girl back, and I think, with your permission, that even the king himself would have no right to raise any hindrance."
"You speak as in a tribunal," said Pan Serafin. "I do not deny that you have appearances on your side; but appearance is one thing, and the real truth another. I do not wish to hinder you in anything, but I tell you honestly what the opinion of people is, and with that opinion I advise you to reckon. For you it is not a question of Panna Anulka, nor of guardianship over her, but you suspect that there may be a will in the hands of the prelate, with a provision for the young lady, therefore you are afraid that Belchantska might slip from you together with Panna Anulka. Not long ago I heard one of the neighbors speak in this way: 'Were it not for that uncertainty the Krepetskis would be the first to drive the orphan from the house, for those people have not God in their hearts.' It is very disagreeable for me and repulsive to say such things in my house to you, but you ought to know them."
Flames of anger gleamed in the eyes of the old man, but he controlled himself, and said with a voice which was quiet, though somewhat broken,--
"The malice of people! Low malice, nothing more, and stupidity besides that. How could it be? We would then drive from the house a young lady whom Martsian wants to marry? By the dear God, think over this! The two things do not hold together."
"They talk in this way: 'If it shall appear that Belchantska is hers then Martsian will marry her, but if the place is not hers he will simply disgrace her.' I am not any man's conscience, so I merely repeat what people say, but with this addition of my own, that your son threatened shame to the girl. I know that surely, and you, who know Martsian and his vile desires, know it also."
"I know one and another thing, but I know not what you wish to say."
"What I wish to say? This, which I have said to you already. If Panna Anulka agrees to return to you I have no right to oppose her or you, but if she is not willing, I will not expel her from this house, for I have given my word not to do so."
"The question is not that you should expel her, but that you should permit me to take her, just as you would permit me if one of my own daughters were with you. This only I beg, that you stand not in my way."
"Then I will tell you clearly. I will permit no violence in my house! I am master, and you, who have just mentioned the king, should understand that on this point the king himself could not oppose me."
On hearing this Pan Krepetski balled his fists, so that his palms were pierced by his finger-nails.
"Violence? That is just what I fear. I, if ever I have had to act against people (and who has not had to deal with the malice of men?), have acted against them through the law, always, not through violence. But what the proverb says is not true, that the apple falls near its tree.--It falls far away sometimes. I, for your good and safety, desired to settle this question in peacefulness. You are undefended in the forest, while Martsian--it is grievous for a father to say this of a son--has not taken after me in any way. I am ashamed to confess it, but I am not able to answer for him. The whole district is in dread of his passionateness, and justly, for he is ready to disregard everything and he has about fifty sabres at his order. You, on the other hand, are unarmed. I repeat it, you live in the forest, and I advise you to reckon with this situation. I am alarmed myself at it."
Hereupon Pan Serafin rose, walked up to Krepetski, and gazed into his eyes.
"Do you wish to frighten me?" inquired he.
"I am afraid myself," repeated the old man.
But their further conversation was interrupted by sudden shouts in the courtyard from the direction of the granary and the kitchen, so they sprang to the open window, and at the first moment were petrified with amazement. There between two fences ran with tremendous speed toward the gate and the courtyard some kind of rare monster, unlike any creature on earth, and behind it on excited horses dashed the four Bukoyemskis, shouting and cutting the air with their whip-lashes. The monster rushed into the yard, and behind it came the brothers, like hell hunters, and continued their chasing.
"Jesus, Mary!" cried out Pan Serafin.
He ran to the porch, and after him ran old Krepetski.
Only there could they see with more clearness. The monster seemed like a giant bird, but also like a horse and a rider, for it ran on four legs with a certain form sitting on it. But the rider and the beast were so covered with feathers that their heads seemed two bundles.
It was impossible to see clearly, for the steed rushed like a wind round the courtyard. The Bukoyemskis followed closely, and did not spare blows, by which feathers were torn away and fell to the ground, or circled in the air as do snowflakes.
Meanwhile the monster roared like a wounded bear, and so did the brothers. Pan Serafin's voice and that of his visitor were lost in the general tumult, though all the power in their lungs was used then in shouting.
"Stop! By God's wounds, will ye stop!"
But the four brothers urged on, as if seized by insanity--and they had rushed five times round the yard when from the kitchen, and the stables, and barns, and granaries, and outhouses a great crowd of servants ran in, who hearing the cry "Stop!" repeated as if in desperation by Pan Serafin, plunged forward and, seizing bits and bridles, strove to stop the horses.
At last the horses of the four brothers were brought to a standstill, but with the feathery steed there was very great trouble. Without a bridle, beaten, terrified, the beast reared at sight of the servants, or sprang to one side with the suddenness of lightning. They stopped it only at the fence when preparing to spring over. One of the men grasped its forelock, another caught its nostrils, a number seized its mane; it could not jump with such a burden, and fell to its knees. The beast sprang up quickly, it is true, but did not try to rush away; it only trembled throughout its whole body.
They removed the rider, who, as it seemed then, had not been thrown because his feet were bound firmly beneath the beast's belly. They pulled the feathers from his head, and under the feathers appeared a visage covered so thickly with tar that no man there recognized the features.
The rider gave faint signs of life, and only when taken to the porch did old Krepetski and Pan Serafin see who it was and cry out "Martsian!" with amazement.
"This is that vile scoundrel!" said Mateush. "We have punished him not a little, and have hunted him in here, so that Panna Sieninski may know that tender souls have not gone from this world yet."
Pan Serafin seized his head with his hands, and shouted,--
"The devil take you and your tender souls! Ye are nothing but bandits!"
Then, turning to Pani Dzvonkovski who had run up with the others and was crossing herself, he cried,--
"Pour vodka into his mouth. Let him regain consciousness, and be taken to bed."
There was hurry and disorder. Some ran to make the bed ready, others for hot water, still others for vodka; a number began to pull the feathers off Martsian, in which they were aided by his father, who was gritting his teeth, and repeating,--
"Is he alive? Is he dead? He is alive! Vengeance! Oh Vengeance!"
Then he sprang up on a sudden, jumped forward, and thrusting up to the very eyes of Pan Serafin, fingers, bent now like talons, he shouted,--
"You were in the conspiracy! You have killed my son--you Armenian assassin!"
Pan Serafin grew very pale, and seized his sabre, but almost at the same instant he remembered that he was the host, and Krepetski a visitor, so he dropped the hilt, and raised two fingers immediately.
"By that God who is above us," said he, "I swear that I knew nothing--and I am ready to swear on the cross in addition--Amen!"
"We are witnesses that he knew nothing!" cried Marek Bukoyemski.
"God has punished," said Pan Serafin; "for you threatened me, as a defenceless old man, with the passion of your son. Here is his passion for you!"
"A criminal offence!" bellowed the old man. "The headsman against you, and your heads under the sword edge! Vengeance! Justice!"
"See what ye have done!" said Pan Serafin, as he turned to the Bukoyemskis.
"I said it was better to run away at once," answered Lukash.
Pani Dzvonkovski now came with Dantsic liquor, and fell to pouring it from the bottle into the open mouth of the sufferer. Martsian coughed, and opened his eyes the next minute. His father knelt down to him.
"Art alive? Art alive?" asked he in a wild joyful outburst.
But the son could not answer yet, and was like a great owl, which, struck with a bullet, has fallen on its back and lies there, with outstretched wings, panting. Still consciousness was coming to him, and with it memory. His glance passed from the face of his father to that of Pan Serafin, and then to the Bukoyemskis. Thereupon it grew so terrible that if there had been the least place for fear in the hearts of the brothers, a shiver would have passed from foot to head through their bodies.
But they only went nearer to Martsian, like four bulls which are ready to rush with, their horns at an enemy, and Mateush inquired,--
"Well? Was that too little?"
CHAPTER XX
A few hours later on old Krepetski took his son to Belchantska, though the young man was unable to stand, and did not know clearly what was happening. First of all the servants had washed him with great trouble, and had put on him fresh linen, but after this had been done such weakness came upon Martsian, that he fainted repeatedly, and thanks only to the angelica and pimpernel bitters which Pani Dzvonkovski now gave him was he brought back to consciousness. Pan Serafin advised to place him in bed and defer the departure till recovery was perfect, but Pan Krepetski, whose old heart was raging, did not wish to owe gratitude to a man against whom he was planning a lawsuit for harboring the young lady; hence he had them put hay in a wagon, and, placing a rug, instead of a bed, under Martsian he moved toward Belchantska, hurling threats at the Bukoyemskis and also Pan Serafin. While threatening vengeance he was forced to accept Pan Serafin's assistance, and borrow from him hay, clothing, and linen, but, blinded by anger, he took no note of the strange situation. Pan Serafin himself had no mind whatever for laughter; since the act of the four brothers disturbed and concerned him very greatly.
At this juncture came Father Voynovski who had been summoned by letter. The Bukoyemskis, now greatly confused, were sitting in the office, not showing their noses, hence Pan Serafin had to tell all that had happened. The priest struck the skirt of his soutane from time to time as he listened, but he was not so grieved as Pan Serafin had expected.
"If Martsian dies," said he at length, "then woe to the Bukoyemskis, but if, as I think, he squirms out of it, I suppose that they will take private vengeance and not raise a lawsuit."
"Why so?"
"Because it is unpleasant to be ridiculed by the country. At the same time his conduct toward Panna Anulka would be discovered. That would give him no enviable reputation. His life is not laudable, hence he should avoid the chance of letting witnesses tell in public what they know of him."
"That may be true," said Pan Serafin, "but it is difficult to forgive the Bukoyemskis tricks of such a character."
The priest waved his hand.
"The Bukoyemskis are the Bukoyemskis."
"How?" asked Pan Serafin, with astonishment. "I thought that your grace would be more offended."
"My gracious sir," said the old man, "you have served in the army, but I have served longer, and have seen so many soldiers' tricks during my time that nothing common can surprise me. It is bad that such things happen. I blame the Bukoyemskis, but I have seen worse things, especially as in this case the question was of an orphan. I will go still farther and say sincerely, that I should grieve more if Martsian's deeds had gone unpunished. Think, we are old, but if we were young our hearts too would boil up over deeds such as his are. That is why I cannot blame the Bukoyemskis altogether."
"True, true, but still Martsian may not live until morning."
"That is in the hands of God; but you say he is not wounded?"
"He is not, but he is all one blue spot, and faints continually."
"Oh, he will get out of that; he fainted from fatigue. But I must go to the Bukoyemskis and inquire how it happened."
The brothers received him with rapture, for they hoped that he would take their part with Pan Serafin. They began to quarrel at once as to who should tell the tale, and stopped only when the priest gave Mateush the primacy.
Mateush resumed his voice and spoke as follows,--
"Father benefactor, God saw our innocence! For, when we learned from Pani Dzvonkovski how that poor little orphan had blue lumps all over her body, we came into this room in such grief that had it not been for the mead which Pan Serafin sent us in a pitcher, our hearts would have burst perhaps. And I say to your grace, we drank and shed tears--we drank and shed tears. And we had this in mind too, that she was no common girl, but a young lady descended from senators. It is known to you, for example, that the higher blood a horse has, the thinner his skin is; slash a common drudge with a whip, he will hardly feel it, but strike a noble steed, and immediately a welt will come out on him. Think, Father benefactor, what a thin, tender skin such a dear little girl must have on her shoulders, and all over her body, just like a wafer--say yourself--"
"What do I know of her skin?" cried Father Voynovski, in anger. "Tell me better, how did ye plaster up Martsian."
"We promised Pan Serafin on oath not to cut him in pieces, but we knew that old Krepetski would come here, and we guessed immediately that Martsian would gallop out to meet him. So, according to arrangement, two of us took down to the tar pit before daylight a great salt-barrel filled with feathers, which we got from the wife of a forester. We picked out at the place a cask of thick tar, and waited at the hut near that tar pit. We look--old Krepetski is riding along--that is no harm, let him ride! We wait, we wait till we are tired of waiting; then we think about going to Belchantska. That moment a boy from the tar pit tells us that Martsian is coming up the road. We ride out and halt there in front of him. 'With the forehead! With the forehead!' 'But whither?' 'Straight ahead,' says he, 'by the woods.' 'But to whose harm?' 'To harm or to profit,' says he, 'get ye out of this!' And then to the sabre. But we seized him by the neck. 'Oh! this cannot be!' cried he. In a flash we had him down from the horse, which Yan took by the bridle. He fell to screaming, to kicking, to biting, to gnawing, but we, like a lightning flash, took him to the barrels which stood one near the other, and said, 'Oh! thou son of such an one! thou wilt injure orphans, threaten young ladies with infamy, disregard lofty blood, beat an orphan on the shoulders, and think that no one will take the part of thy victim; learn now that there are tender hearts in the country.' And that moment we thrust him into the tar, head downward. We raise him out, and again in with him. 'Learn that there are feeling souls!' said we.--And in with him then among the feathers!--'Learn now that there is chivalrous daring!' And again with him into the tar barrel. 'Learn to know the Bukoyemskis!' And again with him into the feathers! We wanted to give him another dose, but the tar boiler shouted that he would smother; and indeed he was thickly coated, so that neither his nose nor his eyes were visible to any one; we put him then on the saddle and tied his feet firmly under the animal's belly lest he fly from his position. We painted the horse, and scattered feathers over him also, then lashing this rather wild beast with whips, after we had taken off his bridle, we drove him ahead of us."
"And ye drove him up here?"
"As a strange beast, for we wished to console the young lady even a little, and show her our brotherly affection."
"Ye gave her a lovely consolation. When she saw him through the window, the fright nearly killed her."
"When she recovers she will think of us gratefully. Orphans always like to feel guardianship over them."
"Ye have done her more harm than service. Who knows if the Krepetskis will not take her away again?"
"How is that? By the dear God! will we let them?"
"But who will defend the girl when ye are in prison?"
When they heard this the brothers were greatly concerned, and looked with anxious eyes at one another. But Lukash at last struck his forehead. "We will not be imprisoned," said he, "for first we will go to the army; but if it comes to that, if there is a question of Panna Anulka's safety, help will be found."
"Found! Of course it will," cried out Marek.
"What help?" inquired Father Voynovski.
"We will challenge Martsian as soon as he recovers. He will not go alive out of our hands."
"But if he dies now?"
"Then God will help us."
"But ye will pay with your lives!"
"Before that we will shell out the Turks, and the Lord Jesus will reward us for that service. Only let your grace take our part with Pan Serafin; for if Stanislav had been here he would have been with us while giving this bath to that Martsian."
"But would not Yatsek give it?" inquired Mateush.
"Yatsek will give him a better bath!" cried the priest, as if unwittingly.
Further converse was stopped by the coming of Pan Serafin, who appeared with a ready and weighty decision.
"I have been thinking of what we should do," said he, very seriously. "And does your grace know what I have decided? It is this, that we should all go to Cracow with Panna Anulka. I know not if we shall see our boys in that city, for no one knows where the regiments will be quartered, or what will be the order of their marching. But we should place the girl under protection of the king or the queen; or, if that is not done, secure her in some cloister for a season. I have also determined, as you know, to take the field in my old age and serve with my son, or, if such be God's will, to die with him. During our absence the girl would not be safe, even in Radom, under the protection of the prelate Tvorkovski. These gentlemen"--here he pointed to the Bukoyemskis "need to be under the hetman immediately. It is unknown what might happen should they stay here. I have acquaintances at court,--Pan Matchynski, Pan Gninski, Pan Grothus,--and shall get their influence for the orphan, as I think. That done I will find Zbierhovski's regiment, and go straight to my son where I shall see Yatsek also. What think you of this, my benefactor?"
"As God lives," cried Father Voynovski, "this is a splendid idea! And I will go with you--and I will go with you to Yatsek. And as to Panna Anulka, oh, all will be well! The Sobieskis owe a great debt to the Sieninskis. She will be out of danger in Cracow and nearer; for I am certain that Yatsek has not forgotten her. And when the war ends that will happen which God wishes. Give me a substitute here in my parish from Radom, and I will be with you!"
"All together!" roared the Bukoyemskis with rapture "to Cracow!"
"And the field of glory!" cried Father Voynovski.
CHAPTER XXI
Consultations now followed touching the expedition; for not only were there no voices against it, but Father Voynovski was searching for a vicar in Radom. This plan, however, was an old one, modified by adding to it the person of Panna Anulka, who would be taken to Cracow and secured from the Krepetskis through protection from the king or the cloister. Pan Serafin saw that the king, occupied as he was with the war, would have no time to talk about private questions; but there remained the queen, to whom access might be easy through notable dignitaries, related for the greater part to the Sieninskis and the Tachevskis.
There was fear also that the Krepetskis might attack Yedlinka when Pan Serafin and the Bukoyemskis had gone, and seize on rich property in furniture and silver. But Vilchopolski guaranteed that with the servants and the foresters he would defend the place and not let the Krepetskis touch anything. Pan Serafin, however, took the silver to Radom and left it in the Bernardine cloister, where he had placed money before that in large sums, not wishing to keep it at home near the edge of great forests.
Meanwhile, he kept an attentive ear toward Belchantska for much depended on that place. If Martsian died the Bukoyemskis would have to give a grave answer; if he recovered hope existed that there would not be even a lawsuit, since it was difficult to admit that the Krepetskis would expose themselves willingly to ridicule. Pan Serafin considered it as more likely that the old man would not leave him at peace touching Panna Anulka but he thought that if the orphan were in the care of the king the kernel of a lawsuit would be lost to the Krepetskis.
He learned, through the butler, that the old man had gone to Radom and Lublin, and remained rather long in those places.
For the first week Martsian suffered grievously, and there was fear that the tar which he had swallowed might choke him, or stop his intestines. But the second week he grew better. He did not, it is true, leave the bed, for he had not strength to stand unassisted, his bones pained him greatly, and he was mortally weary; but he began to curse the Bukoyemskis, and to take keen delight in projects of vengeance. In fact, after two weeks had passed, his "revellers from Radom" began to visit him, various gallows-birds with sabres held up by hempen cords, men with holes in their boots, and gaunt stomachs, thirsty and hungry at all hours. Meanwhile he counselled with these, and was plotting not only against the Bukoyemskis and Pan Serafin, but against the young lady, of whom he could not think without gnashing of teeth; and he developed such monstrous inventions against her, that his father forewarned him, that they were of criminal nature.
The echo of those plots and threats went to Yedlinka, and produced various impressions on different people. Pan Serafin, a man of much courage, but prudent, was somewhat alarmed by them, especially when he remembered that this enmity of wicked and dangerous people would strike his son also. Father Voynovski, who had hotter blood in his veins, was keenly indignant, and prophesied that the Krepetskis would meet a vile ending. At the same time, though entirely won over to Anulka, he turned from time to time to Pan Serafin, and then to the Bukoyemskis.
"Who caused the Trojan war? A woman! Who causes quarrels and battles at all times? A woman! And it is the same now! Innocent or guilty, a woman!"
But the Bukoyemskis cared little for the danger which threatened every one from Martsian, and even promised themselves various amusements because of it. They were warned, however, seriously from many sides. The Sulgostovskis, the Silnitskis, the Kohanovskis, and others, all greatly indignant at Martsian, came, one after the other, with tidings to Yedlinka. They said that he was gathering a party, and even bandits of the forest. They offered assistance, but the brothers wished no assistance. Lukash, who spoke most frequently in the name of the other three replied thus to Rafal Silnitski, who implored them to be careful,--
"There is no harm in thinking before war of our arms, and also of methods in which, from disuse, we have grown somewhat rusty, straighten ourselves out, and have practice. Belchantska is no fortress, so let Martsian see to his own safety, for who knows what may strike him. But if he wishes to nourish us with ingratitude, let him try it!"
Pan Silnitski looked with astonishment at Lukash, and asked,--
"Nourish with ingratitude? But, as I think, he owes you no gratitude." Lukash was sincerely indignant.
"How not owe? Could we not have cut him to pieces? Who gave him life? Pani Krepetski once, but a second time our moderation; if he is going to count on it always, tell him that he is mistaken."
"And tell him that he will see Panna Anulka as much as he will see his own ears," added Marek.
"Why should he not see her, then?" finished Yan. "It is not difficult for a man to see his own ears if they are cut from him."
The conversation then ended. The brothers repeated it to Panna Anulka to calm her, which was superfluous, for the lady was not timid by nature. Her fear, too, of the Krepetskis, and especially of Martsian, was measured by her conviction that no danger threatened her in Yedlinka. When, on the day after her arrival at Pan Serafin's, she saw through the window Martsian in feathers, looking like some filthy beast, urged on with whips by the Bukoyemskis, in the first moment of her dreadful surprise, which was mixed with amazement and even compassion, she conceived so much confidence in the power of the brothers, that she could not even imagine how any one could avoid fearing them. Martsian passed for a terrible person and a fighter, and see what they did with him. It is true that Yatsek in his time had cut up all those brothers, but Yatsek in her eyes had grown now beyond common estimate altogether, and in general he appeared to her before the last parting from a side so mysterious that she did not know with what measure to esteem him. The remarks which were made about him by the Bukoyemskis themselves, and Pan Serafin, with the words of the priest, who spoke of him oftenest, confirmed in her only wonder for that friend of her childhood, who had been so near to her once, but was now so remote and so different. These accounts fixed in her that longing, and that still sweeter feeling toward Yatsek, which, confessed to the priest in a moment of excitement, she concealed again in the depth of her heart, as a pearl is concealed in a mussel shell.
With all this she had in her soul a conviction, unshaken by anything, that she must meet him, and that she would meet him even in the near future. She had torn herself from the house of the Krepetskis; she felt above her the powerful hands of well-wishing people; hence that certainty became the joy and the root of her existence. It restored to her health with contentment, and she bloomed afresh, as a flower blooms in springtime. That Yedlinka mansion which had been hitherto so serious was now bright from her presence. She had taken possession of Pani Dzvonkovski, of Pan Serafin, and the Bukoyemskis. The whole house was filled with her, and wherever she showed her little confident nose and her young, gladsome eyes, delight and smiles followed. But she feared Father Voynovski a little, since it seemed to her that he held in his hand her fate and also Yatsek's. Hence she looked upon him with a certain submissiveness. But with his compassionate heart, which in general was as wax for all God's creation, he loved her sincerely, and besides, when he learned to know her more closely, he esteemed her pure spirit increasingly, though at times he called her a jaybird and a squirrel, because, as he said, she was this moment here and the next in another place.
After that first confession they spoke no further of Yatsek, just as if they had agreed not to do so; both felt it too delicate a matter. Pan Serafin made no mention of Yatsek to her in the presence of people, but when no one was with them he was not ceremonious on that point; and once, when she asked if he would meet his son quickly in Cracow, he answered with a question,--
"And would you not like to meet some one there also?"
He thought that she would wind out of it jestingly, but to her bright face came a shade of sadness, and she answered then seriously,--
"I should be glad to beg pardon, as soon as is possible, of any one whom I have injured."
He looked at her with some emotion, but after a while it was clear that another idea had come to him, for he stroked her bright face, and then added,--
"Ei! thou hast the wherewithal to reward so that the king himself could not reward better."
When she heard this she lowered her eyes in his presence, and was wonderful as she stood there and blushed like the dawn of the morning.
CHAPTER XXII
Preparations for starting went forward briskly. Attendants were chosen with care, strong men and sober. Arms, horses, wagons, and brichkas were ready. Observing ways of the period, they had not forgotten dogs, which in time of marching went under the wagons and at places of rest were used to hunt hares and foxes. The multitude of supplies and the preparations astonished the lady, who had not supposed that campaigning demanded such details, and, thinking this trouble taken perhaps for her safety, she inquired of Pan Serafin touching the matter. He, as a prudent man, and one of experience, replied thus to her,--
"It is certain that we have thy person in mind, for, as I think, we shall not leave here without meeting some violence from Martsian. Thou hast heard that he has summoned his roysterers with whom he is bargaining and drinking. We should be disgraced were we to let any man snatch thee away from us. What will be, will be, but though we had to fall one on another, we must take thee to Cracow uninjured." Then she kissed his hand, saying that she was not worthy to cause them this peril; but he waved his hand simply.
"We should not dare to appear before men," said he, "unless we did this, and matters moreover are such that each coincides with the other. It is not enough to set out for a war, one must prepare for it wisely. Thou art astonished that we have three or four horses each man of us, as well as attendants, but thou must know that in war horses are the main question; many of them die on the way, crossing rivers and marshes, or from various camp accidents. And then what? If thou buy in haste a new horse, with faults and bad habits, that beast will fail at the critical moment. Though my son and Tachevski took a good party and excellent horses, we have foreseen every accident, and take each a new saddle beast. Father Voynovski, unrivalled in knowledge of horses, bought cheaply from old Pan Podlodovski such a Turkish steed for Pan Yatsek that the hetman himself would not refuse to appear on him."
"Which horse is for your son?" inquired the young lady.
Pan Serafin looked at her, and shook his head smiling.
"Well, Father Voynovski is right in his judgment of woman. 'That evil,' said he, 'will be sly, even if it be the most honest.' Thou askest which horse is for Stanislav. Well, I answer in this way. Yatsek's horse is that sorrel with a star on his forehead, and a white left hind fetlock."
"You annoy me!" exclaimed the young lady.
And spitting like a cat at him, she turned, and then vanished. But that same day the pith of small loaves of bread and some salt disappeared from the dishes, and Lukash the next day beheld something curious. At the well in the courtyard the sorrel horse had his nose in the white hands of the lady, and when he was led later on to the stable he looked back at her time after time expressing with short neighs his yearning. Lukash could not learn at the time the cause of this "confidence," for he was intent on loading a wagon, so it was some time after midday that he approached the young lady, and said, with eyes glowing from emotion,--
"Have you noticed one thing?"
"What?" inquired Panna Anulka.
"That even a beast knows a real dainty."
She forgot that he had seen her in the morning, and noting that look in his eyes raised her beautiful brows with astonishment.
"What have you in mind?" asked she.
"What?" repeated Lukash, "Yatsek's horse!"
"Oh, a horse!"
Then she burst into laughter and ran from the porch to her chamber.
He stood there astonished, and a little confused, understanding neither why she had run from him, nor what had roused her sudden laughter.
Another week passed, and preparations were then almost finished, but somehow Pan Serafin was not urgent for the journey. He deferred it from day to day, improved various details, complained of heat, and at last drooped in spirits. Anulka was eager to be on the road. The Bukoyemskis were growing uneasy, and at length Father Voynovski agreed that farther delay was a loss of time without reason. But Pan Serafin met their impatience with these words,--
"I have news that the king has not gone yet to Cracow, and will not go quickly. Meantime the troops are to meet there, but only in part, and no one knows the day of this meeting. I ordered Stanislav to send me a man every month, with a letter giving details as to where regiments are quartered, whither they are to march, and under whose orders. Seven weeks have passed without tidings. A letter may come to me now any moment, hence my delay; and I am alarmed somewhat. Think not that we must find our young men at Cracow, in every case. On the contrary, it may happen that they will not be there at any time."
"How is that?" inquired Anulka, disquieted.
"This, that regiments do not need to march through Cracow. Wherever a regiment is it can move thence as directly as the stroke of a sickle, but where Pan Zbierhovski may be at the moment I know not. He may have been sent to the boundary of Silesia, or to the army of the grand hetman who is coming from Russia. Regiments are hurried from place to place very often, just to train them in marching. In the course of seven weeks various commands may have come of which Stanislav should have informed me, but he has not done so. Hence I am anxious, for it is well known that in camps there are frequent disputes and also duels. Perhaps something has happened. But even if all is in order, we ought to know where the regiment is, and what is its starting point."
All became gloomy at these words, save Father Voynovski.
"A regiment is not a needle," said he "nor is it a button, which if torn from a coat is found with much difficulty. Be not concerned over this. We shall learn of them in Cracow more quickly than we could here in Yedlinka."
"But on the road we may miss the letter."
"Leave a command to send it on after us. That is the right way. Meanwhile in Cracow we will find the safest place possible for the lady, and then our minds will be free when we start for the second time."
"Reason! Reason!"
"This is my advice then. If no letter comes ere to-morrow we will start in the cool of the evening for Radom--then farther, to Kieltse, Yendreyov, and Miehov."
"Perhaps the day after during daylight we could reach Radom, so as not to pass in the night through those forests, and thus avoid an ambush if the Krepetskis should make one."
"An ambush is nothing! Better go in the cool!" said Mateush. "If they attack they will do so as well in the day as at night, and now at night things are visible."
Then he rubbed his hands gleefully. The three others followed his example.
But Father Voynovski thought otherwise. He had great doubts touching a road attack.
"Martsian might perhaps venture, but the old man is too prudent; he knows too well what such a deed signifies and how much, more than once, men have suffered for violence to women. Besides against the power of our party Martsian could not reckon on victory, while in every event he could reckon on vengeance from Yatsek and Stanislav."
The delight of the Bukoyemskis was spoiled by the priest, but they were soothed by Vilchopolski, who struck the floor with his wooden leg, shook his head, and opposed, saying,--
"Though up to Radom and even to Kieltse and Miehov you meet no adventure, I advise you to neglect no precaution till you touch the gates of Cracow; along the road there are woods everywhere, and I, as a man knowing Martsian best of all, am convinced that that devil is now planning an ambush."