Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  Two Cossacks carried Bogun to the adjoining room; the rest went out of the antechamber.

  Zagloba approached Helena, and rapidly blinking his one eye, said in a quick low voice, —

  “I am Pan Skshetuski’s friend; have no fear. Only put your prophet to bed and wait for me.”

  Having said this, he went to the room in which the two essauls had put Bogun on a Turkish divan. Then he sent them for bread and spider-webs; and when these were brought from the servants’ quarters he set about nursing the young ataman with the dexterity which every noble possessed at that period, and which he acquired in plastering heads cut up in duels at the petty Diets.

  “Tell the Cossacks,” said he to the essauls, “that to-morrow the ataman will be as well as a fish, and not to trouble about him. He got a scratch, but came out splendidly, and to-morrow he can have his wedding even without a priest. If there is a wine-cellar in the house, then you may use it. See, his wounds are dressed already! Now go, that the ataman may rest.”

  The essauls moved toward the door.

  “But don’t drink the whole cellar dry,” added Zagloba.

  Sitting at Bogun’s pillow, he looked at him attentively.

  “Well, the devil won’t take you on account of these wounds, though you got good ones. You won’t move hand or foot for two days,” muttered he to himself, looking at the pale face and closed eyes of the Cossack. “The sabre was unwilling to cheat the executioner; for you are his property and from him you will not escape. When they hang you the devil will make a doll out of you for his imps, as you are pretty-faced. No, brother, you drink well, but you will drink no longer with me. You may seek companions for yourself among crawfish-dealers, for I see that you like to kill people, but I will not fall upon noble houses with you in the night. May the hangman light your way!”

  Bogun groaned slightly.

  “Oh, groan and sigh! To-morrow you’ll groan better. But wait, you Tartar soul, you wanted the princess? I don’t wonder, for she is a beauty; but if you get her, then I’ll let the dogs eat my wit. Hair will grow on the palms of my hands first.”

  The uproar and hum of many voices came from the square to the ears of Zagloba.

  “Ah! they have got to the cellar surely,” he muttered. “Drink like horseflies, so that you will sleep well. I will watch for all of you, though I don’t know whether you will be glad of my watching to-morrow.”

  Then he rose to see if the Cossacks had really made the acquaintance of the princess’s cellar, and went to the anteroom, where a terrible sight met his eyes. In the middle of the room lay the bodies of Simeon and Nikolai, already cold, and in the corner of the room the body of the princess in a sitting posture, inclined just as she had been bent by the Cossacks. Her eyes were open, her teeth exposed. The fire, burning in the chimney, filled the whole room with a faint light, trembling in pools of blood; the depth of the room was obscure in the shadow. Zagloba approached the princess to see if she was breathing, and placed his hand on her face; it was cold already. He hurried to the square, for terror seized him in that room.

  The Cossacks had begun their revel on the outside. Fires had been kindled, by the light of which Zagloba saw barrels of mead, wine, and spirits with the heads broken in. The Cossacks dipped from them as from a well, and drank with all their might. Some, already warmed by drink, chased the young women from the servants’ quarters; some of the young women, seized by fright, struggled and ran away, springing through the fire, others amidst bursts of laughter and shouting allowed themselves to be caught and drawn toward the barrels, or fires at which they were dancing the Cosachka. The Cossacks rushed into the dance as if mad; in front of them the girls now pushing forward, now retreating before the violent movements of their partners.

  The spectators either kept time with tin cups, or sang. Cries of “U-ha!” were heard louder and louder, with the accompaniment of howling of dogs, neighing of horses, and bellowing of cattle to be slaughtered for the feast.

  At the distant fires were seen peasants from around Rozlogi, — neighbors, who at the sound of shots and cries had rushed from the village in crowds to see what was going on. They did not think of defending the princess, for the Kurtsevichi were hated in the place; they only looked on the revelling of the Cossacks, elbowing one another, whispering, and approaching nearer and nearer the barrels of vudka and mead. The orgies grew more and more tumultuous, the drinking increased. The Cossacks no longer dipped from the barrels with cups, but thrust their heads in up to the neck, and sprinkled the dancing girls with vudka and mead. Their faces were inflamed, steam rose from their heads; and some were already staggering.

  Zagloba, coming out on the porch, cast his eye on the drinking crowd, then looked carefully at the sky.

  “Clear, but dark,” he muttered; “when the moon goes down you might strike them in the face, they wouldn’t see you. — Go on, my boys,” he cried, “go on! Don’t spare yourselves; your teeth won’t grow stiff. A fool is he who won’t drink to-day to the health of his ataman! Go on with the barrels! Go on with the girls! U-ha!”

  “U-ha!” shouted the Cossacks, joyfully.

  Zagloba looked around on every side.

  “Oh, you wretches, rogues, good-for-nothings!” shouted he, all at once; “you drink yourselves like horses after a journey, but to the men on guard around the house not a drop. Hallo there! change the guards for me this minute!”

  The order was executed without delay, and in a moment a number of tipsy Cossacks ran to relieve the guards, who up to that time had taken no part in the revelry. They came in at once with a haste easily understood.

  “Help yourselves!” cried Zagloba, “help yourselves!” pointing to the barrels.

  “We thank you!” answered the Cossacks, dipping in the cups.

  “In an hour relieve these for me.”

  “Very well,” said the essaul.

  It seemed quite natural to the Cossacks that Zagloba should take the command in place of Bogun. It had happened already more than once, and they were glad of it because he always permitted them everything. The guards therefore drank with the others. Zagloba entered into conversation with the peasants of Rozlogi.

  “Well, my man,” asked he of an old “sub-neighbor,” “is it far from here to Lubni?”

  “Oh, very far, very far!”

  “Could a man get there by morning?”

  “Oh, no!”

  “In the afternoon?”

  “In the afternoon, perhaps.”

  “And how do you go there?”

  “By the high-road.”

  “Is there a high-road?”

  “Oh, yes; Prince Yeremi commanded that there should be a road, and there it is.”

  Zagloba spoke loud on purpose, so that in the shouting and noise a large number of Cossacks might hear him.

  “Give them vudka too,” said he to the Cossacks, pointing to the peasants; “but first give me some mead, for the night is cold.”

  One of the Cossacks drew mead from the barrel into a gallon pail, which he passed on his cap to Zagloba.

  Zagloba took the pail carefully in both hands, so that it should not overflow, raised it to his lips, and pushing his head back, began to drink slowly, but without drawing breath. He drank and drank, till the Cossacks began to wonder.

  “Look at him,” said one to another, “plague take him!”

  Meanwhile Zagloba’s head went back slowly, till at last he took the gallon measure from his reddened face, pursed out his lips, raised his brows, and said, as if to himself, —

  “Oh, it is not bad! Old mead! — evident at once that it is not bad. A pity to give such mead to your scoundrelly throats, — dregs would be good enough for you! Strong mead! I know that it has comforted me, and that I feel a little better.”

  Indeed, Pan Zagloba felt better; his head became clear, he grew daring; and it was evident that his blood mixed with mead formed the excellent liquor of which he had spoken himself, and from which bravery and daring went through the whole man.
He beckoned to the Cossacks to drink more, and turning, passed with a leisurely step along the whole yard; he examined every corner carefully, crossed the bridge over the fosse, and went around the picket-fence to see if the guards were watching the house carefully. The first sentry was asleep; the second, the third, and the fourth also. They were weary from the journey, and besides had come to their posts drunk, and had fallen asleep straightway.

  “I might steal any one of them, and make him my man,” said Zagloba.

  Then he turned straight to the yard, entered the ill-omened anteroom again, looked at Bogun, and seeing that he gave no sign of life, withdrew to Helena’s door, and opening it quietly, entered the room, from which there came a sound as of prayer.

  It was really Prince Vassily’s room. Helena, however, was there with the prince, with whom she felt in greater safety. The blind Vassily was kneeling before an image of the Holy Virgin, in front of which a lamp was burning. Helena was at his side. Both of them were praying aloud. Seeing Zagloba, she turned her astonished eyes on him. He placed his finger on his lips.

  “I am a friend of Pan Skshetuski,” said he.

  “Rescue me!” answered Helena.

  “It is for that I have come; trust in me.”

  “What have I to do?”

  “It is necessary to escape while that devil is lying unconscious.”

  “What must I do?”

  “Put on man’s clothes; and when I knock at the door, come out.”

  Helena hesitated; distrust shone in her eyes. “Can I trust you?”

  “What better can you do?”

  “True, true; but swear that you will not betray me.”

  “Your mind is disturbed, to ask that. But if you wish, I swear. So help me God and the holy cross! Destruction waits you here, salvation is in flight.”

  “That is true, that is true.”

  “Put on male attire as quickly as you can, and wait.”

  “And Vassily?”

  “What Vassily?”

  “My crazy cousin.”

  “Destruction threatens you, not him,” said Zagloba. “If he is crazy, he is sacred to the Cossacks. Indeed, I noticed that they take him for a prophet.”

  “That is true, and he has offended Bogun in nothing.”

  “We must leave him; otherwise we are lost, and Pan Skshetuski with us. Hurry, my lady, hurry!”

  With these words Zagloba left the room and went directly to Bogun. The chief was pale and weak, but his eyes were open.

  “You are better?” asked Zagloba.

  Bogun wished to speak, but could not.

  “You cannot speak?”

  Bogun moved his head in sign that he could not, but at the same time suffering was stamped on his face. His wounds had evidently grown painful from movement.

  “And you are not able to cry?”

  Bogun gave a sign only with his eyes that he could not.

  “Nor move?”

  The same sign.

  “So much the better; for you will not speak, nor cry, nor move. Meanwhile I will go to Lubni with the princess. If I don’t sweep her away from you, then I will let an old woman grind me to bran in a mill. What a scoundrel! You think that I haven’t enough of your company, that I will be hail-fellow-well-met with trash? Oh, you scoundrel! you thought that for your wine, your dice, and your plebeian loves I would kill people and go into rebellion with you? No, nothing of the sort, my handsome fellow!”

  As Zagloba went on, the dark eyes of the chief opened wider and wider. Was he dreaming, was he awake, or was Zagloba jesting?

  But Zagloba talked on: “What do you stare so for, like a cat? Do you think that I won’t do this? Perhaps you would like to send your respects to somebody in Lubni? A barber could be sent to you, for a good one can be had from the prince.”

  The pale visage of the chief became terrible. He understood that Zagloba was speaking in earnest. Lightning flashes of despair and rage shot from his eyes; a flame rushed into his face. With superhuman effort he raised himself and a cry broke from his lips.

  “Hi! Cos—”

  He had not finished when Zagloba, with the speed of lightning, threw Bogun’s coat over his head, and in a moment had wound it completely around him and thrown him on his back.

  “Don’t cry, for it hurts you,” said he quietly, panting heavily. “Your head might go to aching to-morrow; therefore as a good friend I am careful of you. In this fashion you will be warm and sleep comfortably, not scream your throat out. Lest you tear your clothes, I will bind your hands; and all this through friendship, that you may remember me with gratitude.”

  With the belt on the Cossack he bound his hands; then with his own belt he tied his feet. Bogun felt nothing now; he had fainted.

  “A sick man should lie quietly,” said Zagloba, “so that humor may not fly to his head; from this comes delirium. Well, good health to you! I might rip you with a knife, which would probably be the best use for you, but I am ashamed to kill a man in peasant fashion. Quite another affair if you choke before morning, for that has happened to more than one pig. Good health, and return my love! Maybe we shall have another meeting; but if I try to hasten it, then let some one flay me and make horse-cruppers of my skin.”

  When he had finished this speech Zagloba went to the anteroom, quenched the fire in the chimney, and knocked at Vassily’s door. A slender figure emerged from it at once.

  “Is that you?” asked Zagloba.

  “It is.”

  “Come on! If we only reach the horses — but then the Cossacks are all drunk, the night is dark; before they wake we shall be far away. Be careful! the princes are lying here.”

  “In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!” whispered Helena.

  CHAPTER XIX.

  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.”