“I know that,” answered Zagloba, with a broken voice. “I am thinking that I am old, that I have nothing to do in this world.”
CHAPTER LIV.
“Picture to yourself,” said Volodyovski to Pan Longin a few days later, “that that man has changed in one hour as if he had grown ten years older. So joyous was he, so talkative, so full of tricks, that he surpassed Ulysses himself. Now he does not let two words out of his lips, but dozes away whole days, complains of old age, and speaks as in a dream. I knew that he loved her, but I did not think that he loved her to this degree.”
“What is there wonderful in that?” answered the Lithuanian, sighing. “He was the more attached to her that he snatched her from the hands of Bogun, and went through so many dangers and adventures in the flight. While there was hope his wit was exerted in inventions, and he kept on foot; but now he has really nothing to do in the world, being alone and without heart for anything.”
“I tried to drink with him, hoping that drink would restore his former vigor, but in vain. He drinks, but does not think as before, does not talk about his exploits; only becomes sensitive, and then hangs his head on his breast and goes to sleep. I do not know if even Pan Yan is in greater despair than he.”
“It is an unspeakable loss, for withal he was a great knight. Let us go to him, Pan Michael. He had the habit of scoffing at me and teasing me on every occasion; perhaps the desire will take him now. My God, how people change! He was such a gladsome man.”
“Let us go,” said Volodyovski. “It is already late; but it is most grievous for him in the evening, — for dozing all day, he is unable to sleep at night.”
Thus conversing, they betook themselves to the quarters of Zagloba, whom they found sitting under the open window with his head resting on his hand. It was late; every movement in the castle had ceased; only the sentinels answered in prolonged tones, and in the thickets separating the castle from the town the nightingales brought out their passionate trills, whistling, smacking, and clapping as quickly as fall the drops in a spring shower. Through the open window came in the warm breeze of May and the clear rays of the moon, which lighted the downcast face of Zagloba and the bald crown bent toward his breast.
“Good-evening!” said the two knights.
“Good-evening!” answered Zagloba.
“Why have you forgotten yourself before the window instead of going to bed?” asked Volodyovski.
Zagloba sighed. “It is not a question of sleep with me,” said he, with a drawling voice. “A year ago I was fleeing with her on the Kagamlik from Bogun, and in this same way those birds were twittering; and where is she now?”
“God has so ordained,” said Volodyovski.
“Ordained to tears and sorrow, Pan Michael. There is no more consolation for me.”
They were silent; but through the open window came, with power increasing each moment, the trill of the nightingales, with which all that clear night seemed filled.
“Oh, God, God!” sighed Zagloba, “exactly as it was on the Kagamlik.”
Pan Longin shook a tear from his great mustaches, and the little knight said after a while, —
“Sorrow is sorrow; but drink some mead with us, for there is nothing better against sorrow. At the glass we will talk of better times.”
“Let us drink,” said Zagloba, with resignation.
Volodyovski ordered the servant to bring a light and decanter, and afterward, when they had sat down, knowing that reminiscences enlivened Zagloba more than anything else, he inquired: “It is just a year, is it not, since you fled with her before Bogun from Rozlogi?”
“It was in May, in May,” answered Zagloba. “We passed through the Kagamlik to flee to Zólotonosha. Oh, it is hard in this world!”
“And she was disguised?”
“As a Cossack. I had to cut off her hair with my sabre, poor thing! so that she shouldn’t be discovered. I know the place under the tree where I hid the hair, together with the sabre.”
“Oh, she was a sweet lady!” added Longin, with a sigh.
“I tell you, gentlemen, from the first day I fell in love with her as if I had paid homage to her from youthful years. And she would clasp her hands before me and thank me for her rescue and my care. I wish they had killed me before I had lived to this day! Would that I had not lived to it!”
Then came silence again, and the three knights drank mead mixed with tears. After that Zagloba began to speak again.
“I thought to pass a calm old age with them, but now” — here his hands hung down powerless— “nowhere solace, nowhere solace, but in the grave—”
Before Zagloba had finished speaking a disturbance rose in the anteroom; some one wished to enter, and the servant would not let him in. A wordy struggle followed, in which it seemed to Volodyovski that he recognized some known voice; therefore he called to the servant not to forbid entrance further.
The door opened, and in it appeared the plump, ruddy face of Jendzian, who, passing his eyes over those present, bowed and said: “May Jesus Christ be praised!”
“For the ages of ages,” said Volodyovski. “This is Jendzian?”
“I am he,” said the young man, “and I bow to your knees. And where is my master?”
“Your master is in Korets, and ill.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, what do you tell me? And is he seriously ill, which God forbid?”
“He was, but he is better now. The doctor says he will recover.”
“For I have come with news about the lady to my master.”
The little knight began to nod his head in melancholy fashion. “You need not hasten, for Pan Skshetuski already knows of her death, and we here are shedding tears of mourning for her.”
Jendzian’s eyes were bursting from his head. “By violence! What do I hear? Is she dead?”
“Not dead, but murdered in Kieff by robbers.”
“What are you talking about? In what Kieff?”
“Don’t you know Kieff?”
“For God’s sake, are you fooling with me? What had she to do in Kieff when she is hidden in the ravine at Valadinka, not far from Rashkoff, and the witch was commanded not to move a step till Bogun should come? As God is dear to me, must I run mad?”
“What witch are you speaking of?”
“Why, Horpyna! I know that bass-viol well.”
Zagloba stood up suddenly from the bench, and began to strike out with his hands like a man who has fallen into deep water and is trying to save himself from drowning.
“By the living God, be quiet!” said he to Volodyovski. “By God’s wounds, let me ask him!”
The company trembled, so pale was Zagloba, and the perspiration came out on his bald head. He sprang over the bench to Jendzian, and seizing the young fellow by the shoulders, asked in a hoarse voice, —
“Who told you that she is near Rashkoff, secreted?”
“Who should tell me? Bogun!”
“Are you mad, fellow?” roared Zagloba, shaking him like a pear-tree. “What Bogun?”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” called Jendzian, “why do you shake me so? Let me go, let me collect my wits, for I am losing my senses. You have turned everything over in my head. What Bogun should there be, — or don’t you know him?”
“Speak, or I’ll stab you!” shouted Zagloba. “Where did you see Bogun?”
“In Vlodava! What do you want of me?” cried the frightened young man. “Am I a robber?”
Zagloba lost the thread of his thought, breath failed him, and he fell on the bench panting heavily. Volodyovski came to his aid.
“When did you see Bogun?” asked Volodyovski.
“Three weeks ago.”
“Then he is alive?”
“Why shouldn’t he be? He told me himself how you split him up, but he has recovered.”
“And he told you that the young lady is at Rashkoff?”
“Who else should tell me?”
“Listen, Jendzian! it is a question here of the life of your maste
r and the young lady. Did Bogun himself tell you that she was not in Kieff?”
“My master, how could she be in Kieff when he secreted her at Rashkoff, and told Horpyna on peril of her life not to let her escape? But now he has given me a baton and his ring to go to her; for his wounds opened, and he had to lie down himself, it is unknown for how long.”
Further words from Jendzian were interrupted by Zagloba, who sprang from the bench again, and seizing the remnant of his hair with both hands, began to shout like a madman: “My daughter is living, — by God’s wounds, she is living! They didn’t kill her in Kieff; she is alive, she is alive, my dearest!”
And the old man stamped with his feet, laughed and sobbed. Finally, he seized Jendzian by the head, pressed him to his bosom and began to kiss him, so that the young fellow lost his head altogether.
“Let me go, my master, for I am stifled! Of course she is alive — God grant us to go together for her, my master — But, my master!”
“Let him go, let him tell his story, for we don’t understand anything yet,” said Volodyovski.
“Speak, speak!” cried Zagloba.
“Begin at the beginning, brother,” said Pan Longin, on whose mustaches, too, thick dew had settled down.
“Permit me, gentlemen, to draw breath,” said Jendzian; “and I will close the window, for those wretches of nightingales are tearing away in the bushes at such a rate that it is impossible to speak.”
“Mead!” cried Volodyovski to the servant.
Jendzian closed the window with his usual deliberation, then turned to the company and said; “You will let me sit down, for I am tired.”
“Sit down!” said Volodyovski, pouring to him from the decanter borne in by the servant. “Drink with us, for you deserve it for the news which you bring. If you will only speak as soon as possible!”
“Good mead!” said he, raising the glass toward the light.
“May you be split! will you talk?” shouted Zagloba.
“You are angry at once, my master! I will talk if you wish; it is for you to command and me to obey, that’s why I am a servant. But I see that I must start from the beginning and tell everything in detail.”
“Speak from the beginning!”
“You remember, gentlemen, how the news of the taking of Bar came; how we thought then that the young lady was lost? So I returned to the Jendzians, — to my parents and my grandfather, who is now ninety years old — I speak correctly — no! ninety-and-one.”
“May he be nine hundred!” burst out Zagloba.
“May God give him as many years as possible! I thank you, my master, for the kind word. So I returned home to visit my parents, as I by the assistance of God had passed the robbers; for as you know, the Cossacks took me up in Chigirin last year, and considered me one of themselves because I nursed Bogun when wounded, and arrived at great intimacy with him; and at the same time I collected some little from those criminals, — some silver and precious stones.”
“We know, we know!” said Volodyovski.
“Well, I reached my parents, who were glad to see me, and couldn’t believe their eyes when I showed them all I had collected. I had to swear to my grandfather that I had come by it honestly. Then they were glad; for you must know that they have a lawsuit with the Yavorskis about a pear-tree which stands on the line between them, — half its branches are on the land of the Yavorskis, and half on ours. Now the Yavorskis shake the tree and our pears fall, and many of them go to them. They stick to it that those in the middle are theirs, and we—”
“Don’t bring me to anger, fellow!” interrupted Zagloba, “and don’t speak of that which does not belong to the story!”
“First, with your pardon, my master, I am no fellow, but a noble, though a poor one, and with an escutcheon as well as you, as Pan Volodyovski and Podbipienta, friends of Pan Skshetuski, will tell you; and I repeat that this lawsuit has lasted fifty years.”
“Dear little fish!” said Podbipienta, sweetly; “but tell us about Bogun, not about pear-trees.”
“Of Bogun?” said Jendzian. “Well, let it be about Bogun. That Bogun thinks, my master, that he has not a more faithful friend and servant than me, though he struck me in Chigirin; for it is true I nursed him, took care of him, when the Kurtsevichi had wounded him. I lied then when I said I did not like my master’s service and preferred to be with the Cossacks, for there was more profit among them; and he believed me. Why shouldn’t he believe me when I brought him to health? Therefore he took a wonderful fancy to me, and what is true, rewarded me most liberally, not knowing that I had sworn to have vengeance on him for the wrong he had done me in Chigirin; and if I did not stab him at once, it was only because it is not proper for a noble to stab an enemy lying in bed, as he would stick a pig.”
“Well, well,” said Volodyovski, “we know that too, but how did you find him this time?”
“It was this way: When we had pushed the Yavorskis to the wall (they will have to go out with packs on their backs, it cannot be otherwise), I thought: ‘Well, it is time for me to look for Bogun and pay him for the wrong he did me.’ I left my parents in secret, and my grandfather; and he (there is good metal in him) said: ‘If you have taken an oath, then go; if not, you will be a fool.’ I went, for I thought to myself besides: ‘When I find Bogun maybe I shall learn something about the lady, if she is alive; and afterward when I shoot him and go to my master with the news, that too will not be without a reward.’”
“Certainly it will not; and we will reward you also,” said Volodyovski.
“And from me, brother, you will have a horse with trappings,” added Podbipienta.
“I thank you most kindly,” said the delighted young man; “a present is a fitting return for good news, and I won’t drink away what I get from anybody—”
“Oh, the devil take me!” muttered Zagloba.
“You went away from your home and friends then?” suggested Volodyovski.
“I did; and on the way I thought: ‘Where shall I go unless to Zbaraj, for it is not far from Bogun, and I can hear more readily of my master.’ I go through Beloe to Vlodava, and in Vlodava I find my little horse terribly used up, — I halt for refreshment. There was a fair in the place; all the inns were full of nobles. I go to townspeople; nobles there too! Then a Jew says to me: ‘I have a room, but a wounded noble has taken it. Then I say: ‘This has happened well, for I know how to nurse, and your barber, as it is fair-time, cannot get through his work.’ The Jew said then that the noble took care of himself, did not wish to see any man; still he went afterward to inquire. It is evident the noble was worse, for he gave orders to admit me. I enter, and I look to see who lies in the bed. Bogun! I bless myself in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost! I was frightened; but he recognized me at once, was very glad (for he takes me as his friend), and says he: ‘God sent you to me! I’ll not die this time.’ And I say: ‘What are you doing here, my master?’ But he put his finger on his lips, and only afterward did he tell me of what had happened to him, — how Hmelnitski sent him to the king, who at that time was a prince, — sent him from before Zamost, and how Pan Volodyovski cut him up at Lipki.”
“Did he remember me pleasantly?” asked Volodyovski.
“I cannot say, my master, otherwise than pleasantly enough. ‘I thought,’ says he, ‘that he was some little cur; but it turns out that he is a hero of the first water, who almost cut me in two.’ But when he thinks of Pan Zagloba, then he grits his teeth in great anger, because he urged you on to this fight—”
“May the hangman light him!” said Zagloba, “I am not afraid of him.”
“We returned then to our former familiarity, yes, even to greater. He told me all, — how near he had been to death; how they removed him to the mansion at Lipki, taking him for a noble, and he gave himself out as Pan Hulevich from Podolia; how they cured him and treated him with great kindness, for which he swore gratitude to them till death.”
“And what was he doing in Vlodava?”
“He was going to Volynia; but in Parcheva his wounds opened, for the wagon turned over with him, and he had to stop, though in great fear, for they might easily cut him to pieces there. He told me this himself. ‘I was,’ said he, ‘sent with letters; but now I have no papers, nothing but a baton; and if they should discover who I am, not only the nobles would cut me to pieces, but the first commandant would hang me without asking permission of any man.’ I remember that when he told me that, I said to him: ‘It is well to know that the first commandant would hang you.’ ‘And how is that?’ asked he. ‘So as to be cautious and say nothing to any man, in which I also will serve you.’ Then he began to thank me and to assure me of gratitude, and that reward would not miss me. Then he said: ‘I have no money, but what jewels I have I will give you, and later I will cover you with gold; only render me one more service.’”
“And now we are coming to the princess?” said Volodyovski.
“Yes, my master, I must tell everything in detail. When he said that he had no money, I lost all heart for him, and thought to myself: ‘Wait! I’ll render you a service.’ He said: ‘I am sick, I have not strength for the journey, but a long and dangerous road awaits me. If I go to Volynia, — and it is not far from here, — then I shall be among my own; but to the Dniester I cannot go, for my strength is insufficient, and it is necessary to pass through an enemy’s country, near castles and troops. Do you go for me!’ ‘To what place?’ I ask. ‘To Rashkoff, for she is hidden there with a sister of Donyéts, Horpyna.’ I ask, ‘Is it the princess?’ ‘Yes,’ says he, ‘I hid her there where the eye of man cannot see her; it is pleasant for her there, and she sleeps like the Princess Vishnyevetska, on golden cushions.’”
“Tell me quickly, in God’s name!” shouted Zagloba.
“What is done quickly is done in the devil’s fashion,” answered Jendzian. “When I heard that, my master, how I rejoiced! But I did not show it, and I say: ‘Is she surely there, for it must be a long time since you took her to the place?’ He began to swear that Horpyna was devoted to him, would keep her ten years till his return, and that the princess was there as God is in heaven; for neither Poles nor Tartars nor Cossacks could come, and Horpyna would not disobey his order.”
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz Page 72