CHAPTER XLIII.
A week later, on the morning of the 6th of October, news as unexpected as terrible burst upon Lvoff. Prince Yeremi, with the greater part of the army, had left the city secretly and had gone it was unknown whither.
Crowds gathered before the archbishop’s palace; they would not believe the report at first. The soldiers insisted that if the prince had gone, he had gone without doubt at the head of a powerful division on a reconnoissance of the surrounding country. It appeared, they said, that lying spies had spread reports announcing Hmelnitski and the Tartars at any moment; for since September 26 ten days had passed, and the enemy was not yet in sight. The prince wished undoubtedly to convince himself of the danger by actual inspection, and after obtaining intelligence would return without fail. Besides, he had left a number of regiments, and everything was ready for defence.
The last was true. Every disposition had been made, the places marked out, the cannon planted on the walls. In the evening Captain Tsikhotski arrived at the head of fifty dragoons. He was surrounded immediately by the curious, but would not speak with the crowd, and went directly to General Artsishevski. Both called the grozwayer, and after consultation they went to the city hall. There Tsikhotski informed the astonished councillors that the prince had gone, not to return.
At the first moment the hands of all dropped at their sides, and some insolent lips uttered the word, “Traitor!” But that moment Artsishevski, an old leader famed for achievements in the Dutch service, rose and began to speak as follows to the military and the councillors: —
“I have heard the injurious word, which I wish no one had spoken, for even despair cannot justify it. The prince has gone and will not return. But what right have you to force a leader on whose shoulders the salvation of a whole country rests to defend your city only? What would have happened if the enemy had surrounded in this place the remaining forces of the Commonwealth? There are neither supplies of food nor of arms for so many troops here. I tell you this, — and you may trust in my experience, — that the greater the force shut up here, the shorter the defence would be; for hunger would overpower you sooner than the enemy. Hmelnitski cares more for the person of the prince than for your city; therefore, when he discovers that Vishnyevetski is not here, that he is collecting new troops and may come with relief, he will let you off more easily, and agree to terms. You are murmuring today; but I tell you that the prince, by leaving this city and threatening Hmelnitski from outside, has saved you and your children. Bear up, and defend yourselves! If you can detain the enemy some time, you may save your city, and you will render a memorable service to the Commonwealth; for during that time the prince will collect forces, arm other fortresses, rouse the torpid Commonwealth, and hasten to your rescue. He has chosen the only road of salvation; for if he had fallen here, with his army overcome by hunger, then nothing could stop the enemy, who might march on Cracow, on Warsaw, and flood the whole country, finding resistance in no place. Therefore, instead of murmuring, hurry to the walls, defend yourselves and your children, your city and the whole Commonwealth!”
“To the walls! to the walls!” repeated many of the more daring.
The grozwayer, an energetic and bold man, answered: “Your determination pleases me; and you know that the prince did not go away without planning defence. Every one here knows what he has to do, and that has happened which should have happened. I have the defence in hand, and I will defend to the last.”
Hope returned again to timid hearts. Seeing this, Tsikhotski said in conclusion, —
“His Highness informs you also that the enemy is at hand. Lieutenant Skshetuski struck on a party of two thousand Tartars whom he defeated. The prisoners say that a great power is marching behind them.”
This news made a deep impression. A moment of silence followed; all hearts beat more quickly.
“To the walls!” said the grozwayer.
“To the walls! to the walls!” repeated the officers and citizens present.
Meanwhile a tumult was raised outside the windows; the uproar of a thousand voices, which mingled in one undistinguishable roar like the sound of the waves of the sea. Suddenly the doors of the hall were thrown open with a crash, and a number of citizens burst into the room; and before the councillors had time to inquire what had happened, shouts were raised: “Flames in the sky! flames in the sky!”
“The word has become flesh,” said the grozwayer. “To the walls!”
The hall was deserted. Soon the thunder of cannon shook the walls, announcing to the inhabitants of the city, the suburbs and villages beyond, that the enemy was coming. In the east the heavens were red as far as the eye could see. One would have said that a sea of fire was approaching the city.
The prince meanwhile had thrown himself on Zamost, and having dispersed on the road the party which Tsikhotski had mentioned to the citizens, occupied himself with repairing and arming that fortress, naturally strong, which he made impregnable in a short time. Skshetuski, with Pan Longin and a part of the squadron, remained in the fortress with Pan Weyher, the starosta of Volets. The prince went to Warsaw to obtain from the Diet means to assemble new forces, and also to take part in the election which was near. The fortunes of Vishnyevetski and the whole Commonwealth hung upon that election; for if Prince Karl were chosen the war party would win, and the prince would receive chief command of all the forces of the Commonwealth, and it would perforce come to a general struggle for life and death with Hmelnitski. Prince Kazimir, though famous for his bravery and altogether a military man, was justly considered an adherent of the policy of Ossolinski, the chancellor, therefore of the policy of negotiations with the Cossacks, and considerable concessions to them. Neither brother was sparing of promises, and each struggled to gain partisans for himself; considering therefore the equal power of both parties, no one could foresee the result of the election. The partisans of the chancellor feared that Vishnyevetski, thanks to his increasing fame and the favor which he possessed among the knighthood and the nobles, would carry the balance of minds to the side of Prince Karl; Yeremi, for these reasons, desired to support his candidate in person. Therefore he hastened to Warsaw, sure that Zamost would be able to hold in check for a long time the whole power of Hmelnitski and the Crimea. Lvoff, according to every probability, might be considered safe; for Hmelnitski could in no wise spend much time in capturing that city, since he had before him the more powerful Zamost, which barred his way to the heart of the Commonwealth.
These thoughts strengthened the resolution of the prince, and poured consolation into his heart, torn by so many terrible defeats of the country. Hope possessed him that even if Kazimir were elected, war would be unavoidable, and the terrible rebellion would have to be drowned in a sea of blood. He hoped that the Commonwealth would again put forth a powerful army, for negotiations were only possible in so far as a powerful army sustained them.
Flattered by these thoughts, the prince went under the protection of a few squadrons, having with him Zagloba and Pan Volodyovski, the first of whom swore by everything that he would carry the election of Prince Karl, for he knew how to talk to the brother nobles and how to manage them; the second commanded the escort of the prince.
At Sennitsa, not far from Minsk, a delightful though unexpected interview awaited the prince; for he met Princess Griselda, who was going from Brest-Litovsk to Warsaw for safety, with the reasonable hope that the prince would go there too. They greeted each other with emotion after a long separation. The princess, though she had an iron soul, rushed with such weeping into the embrace of her husband that she could not compose herself for several hours; for, oh! how many were the moments in which she had no hope of seeing him again, and still God granted him to return more famous than ever, covered with praise, such as had never yet beamed upon one of his house, the greatest of leaders, the one hope of the Commonwealth. The princess, tearing herself time after time from his breast, glanced through her tears at that face emaciated and embrowned, at that lofty fore
head on which cares and toils had ploughed deep furrows, at those eyes inflamed with sleepless nights; and again she shed plentiful tears, and all her ladies wept too from the depths of their excited hearts.
When after a time she and the prince had become calm, they went to the house of the priest, and there inquiries were made for friends, attendants, and knights, who as it were belonged to the family, and with whom the memory of Lubni was bound up. The prince quieted the princess concerning Skshetuski, first of all explaining that he had remained in Zamost only because he did not wish to lose himself in the noise of the capital on account of the suffering which God had sent him, and preferred to heal the wounds of his heart in military service. Then he presented Zagloba and told of his deeds. “Vir incomparabilis,” said he, “who not only saved Kurtsevichovna from Bogun, but took her through the camps of Hmelnitski and the Tartars; later he was with us to his great glory, and fought admirably at Konstantinoff.” Hearing this, the princess did not spare praise on Zagloba, giving him her hand to kiss repeatedly, and promising a still better reward at a proper time; and the “vir incomparabilis” bowed, veiling his heroism with his modesty. Then, he strutted and looked at the ladies in waiting; for though he was old and did not promise himself much from the fair sex, still it was pleasant to him that the ladies had heard so much of his bravery and his deeds. But mourning was not absent from this otherwise glad greeting; for mentioning the grievous times of the Commonwealth, how often did the prince reply to the questions of the princess about various knights: “Killed, killed, lost.” Then young women were saddened, for more than one name was mentioned among the dead that was dear.
So gladness was mingled with grief, tears with smiles. But the most afflicted of all was Volodyovski; for in vain did he look around and cast his eyes on every side, — Princess Barbara was not there. It is true that amid the toils of war and continual battles, skirmishes, and campaigns, that cavalier had forgotten her somewhat, for he was by nature as prone to love as he was inconstant; but now, when he saw the young ladies of the princess once more, when before his eyes the life at Lubni stood as if actual, he thought to himself that it would be pleasant for him too if the moment of rest should come to sigh and occupy his heart again. Since this did not happen, however, but sentiment, as if through malice, sprang up in him anew, Volodyovski suffered grievously, and looked as if he had been drenched in a pouring rain. He hung his head upon his breast; his slender mustaches, which usually curled upward like those of a May-bug till they reached his nose, were hanging too; his upturned nose had grown long; the usual serenity had vanished from his face, and he stood silent, did not even move when the prince gave unusual praise to his bravery and superiority, — for what mattered all praises to him when she could not hear them?
Finally Anusia Borzobogata took pity on him, and though they had had quarrels, she determined to comfort him. With this object, keeping her eyes on the princess, she pushed unobserved toward the knight, and at last was by his side.
“Good-day,” said she; “we have not seen each other for a long time.”
“Oh, Panna Anna,” answered Pan Michael, in sadness, “much water has flowed past since then. We meet again in unpleasant times, and not all of us.”
“True, not all! So many knights have fallen.” Here Anusia sighed; then continued, after a time: “And we are not the same in number; for Panna Senyntovna has married, and Princess Barbara has remained with the wife of the voevoda of Vilna.”
“And she is going to marry, of course.”
“No, she is not thinking much of that. But why do you ask?”
Having said this, Anusia closed her dark eyes till two thin lines were left, and looked sideways from under her lashes at the knight.
“Oh, through good-will for the family,” answered Pan Michael.
“Oh, that is proper,” answered Anusia, “for Pan Michael has a great friend in Princess Barbara. More than once she inquired; ‘Where is that knight who in the tournament at Lubni took off most Turkish heads, for which I gave him a reward? What is he doing? Is he still alive, and does he remember us?’”
Pan Michael raised his eyes in thankfulness to Anusia; first he was comforted, and then he observed that Anusia had improved beyond measure.
“Did Princess Barbara really say that?”
“As true as life; and she remembered, too, how you were riding over the ditch for her when you fell into the water.”
“And where is the wife of the voevoda of Vilna now?”
“She was with us in Brest, and a week ago went to Belsk; from there she will go to Warsaw.”
Pan Volodyovski looked at Anusia a second time, and could not restrain himself: “But Panna Anusia has attained such beauty that one’s eyes ache in looking at her.”
The girl smiled thankfully. “Pan Michael only says this to capture me.”
“I wanted to do so in my time,” said he, shrugging his shoulders. “God knows I tried to, but failed; and now I wish well to Pan Podbipienta, for he was more fortunate.”
“And where is Pan Podbipienta?” inquired Anusia, dropping her eyes.
“In Zamost, with Skshetuski. He has become lieutenant in the squadron, and must attend to service; but if he knew whom he could see here, as God is in heaven he would have taken leave and come with long steps. He is a great knight, and deserving of every love.”
“And in war — he met no accident?”
“It seems to me that you wish to ask, not about that, but about the three heads that he wanted to cut off.”
“I do not believe that he really wanted to do that.”
“But you would better, for without that there will be nothing. And he is not slow in looking for a chance, either. At Makhnovka, when we went to examine the places where he had struggled in the throng of battle, the prince himself went with us; and I tell you I have seen many a fight, but such execution I shall not see again while I live. When he puts on your scarf for battle, he does awful things. He will find his three heads: be at rest on that point.”
“May each find what he seeks!” said Anusia, with a sigh.
Then Volodyovski sighed, raised his eyes, and looked suddenly toward one corner of the room. From that corner peered a visage, angry, excited, and entirely unknown to him, armed with a gigantic nose, and mustaches great as two bushes on a tavern-sign, which moved quickly, as if from pent-up passion. One might be terrified at that nose, those eyes and mustaches; but little Volodyovski was by no means timid; therefore he only wondered, and turning to Anusia asked, —
“What sort of figure is that over there in the corner, which looks at me as if it wished to swallow me whole, and moves its mustaches just like an old tom-cat at prayers?”
“What?” said Anusia, showing her white teeth; “that’s Pan Kharlamp.”
“What sort of Pagan is he?”
“He is no Pagan at all, but a light-horse captain in the squadron of the voevoda of Vilna, who is escorting us to Warsaw, and has to wait for the voevoda there. Let Pan Michael not come in his way, for he is a dreadful man-eater.”
“I see that, I see that. But if he is a man-eater, there are others fatter than I. Why should he whet his teeth at me instead of them?”
“Because—” said Anusia; and she laughed quietly.
“Because?”
“Because he is in love with me, and has told me that he will cut to pieces every man who approaches me; and now, believe me, it is only out of regard for the prince and princess that he restrains himself. Were it not for them, he would pick a quarrel with you at once.”
“Here you’ve got it,” said Volodyovski, merrily. “That’s how it is, Panna Anna. It was not for nothing, I see, that we sang, ‘Tartars carry captive prisoners, you seize captive hearts.’ You remember, I suppose? You cannot move, you know, without making some one fall in love with you.”
“Such is my misfortune,” answered Anusia, dropping her eyes.
“Ah, Panna Anna is a Pharisee; and what will Pan Longin say to this?”
“How am I to blame if this Pan Kharlamp pursues me? I can’t endure him, and I don’t want to look at him.”
“But see to it that blood is not shed on your account. Podbipienta is so mild that you could heal a wound with him, but in love affairs it is dangerous to joke with him.”
“If he cuts Kharlamp’s ears off, I shall be glad.”
When she had said this, Anusia whizzed off like a top, and tripped to the other side of the room to Carboni, the physician of the princess, to whom she began to whisper something with animation, and then converse; but the Italian fastened his eyes on the ceiling, as if carried away by ecstasy.
Meanwhile Zagloba approached Volodyovski, and began in merry mood to wink his one sound eye. “Pan Michael,” he asked, “what sort of crested lark is that?”
“That is Panna Anusia Borzobogata, lady-in-waiting to the princess. Ah, she is a pretty little rogue, — eyes like plates, a pug as if painted, and a neck — uf!”
“Oh, she’ll pass, she’ll pass! My congratulations to you!”
“Oh, give us peace! She is betrothed to Podbipienta, or the same as betrothed.”
“To Podbipienta! My dear sir, have fear of the Lord’s wounds! Why, he has made vows of celibacy. And besides, the disproportion between them! He could carry her at his collar; she might sit on his mustaches, like a fly.”
“Ah! she will manage him yet. Hercules was stronger, but a woman trapped him.”
“Yes, if she only doesn’t give him horns; though I should be the first to help that about, as I am Zagloba.”
“There will be more than you of that sort, though in truth the girl is of good stock and honest. This is too bad, for she is young and pretty.”
“You are an honorable cavalier, and that is why you praise her; but she is a lark.”
“Beauty attracts people. For example, that captain over there is desperately in love with her.”
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz Page 60