Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  “My dear lambs,” said Kmita, “pardon me, or, speaking more correctly, go to a hundred devils, let me look around in my own house.”

  “Nonsense!” answered Uhlik. “To-morrow the inspection, but now all to the table; there is a pair of demijohns there yet with big bellies.”

  “We have already made inspection for you. This Lyubich is a golden apple,” said Ranitski.

  “A good stable!” cried Zend; “there are two ponies, two splendid hussar horses, a pair of Jmud horses, and a pair of Kalmuks, — all in pairs, like eyes in the head. We will look at the mares and colts to-morrow.”

  Here Zend neighed like a horse; they wondered at his perfect imitation, and laughed.

  “Is there such good order here?” asked Kmita, rejoiced.

  “And how the cellar looks!” piped Rekuts; “resinous kegs and mouldy jugs stand like squadrons in ranks.”

  “Praise be to God for that! let us sit down at the table.”

  “To the table! to the table!”

  They had barely taken their places and filled their cups when Ranitski sprang up again: “To the health of the Under-chamberlain Billevich!”

  “Stupid!” answered Kmita, “how is that? You are drinking the health of a dead man.”

  “Stupid!” repeated the others. “The health of the master!”

  “Your health!”

  “May we get good in these chambers!”

  Kmita cast his eyes involuntarily along the dining-hall, and he saw on the larch wood walls, blackened by age, a row of stern eyes fixed on him. Those eyes were gazing out of the old portraits of the Billeviches, hanging low, within two ells of the floor, for the wall was low. Above the portraits in a long unbroken row were fixed skulls of the aurochs, of stags, of elks, crowned with their antlers: some, blackened, were evidently very old; others were shining with whiteness. All four walls were ornamented with them.

  “The hunting must be splendid, for I see abundance of wild beasts,” said Kmita.

  “We will go to-morrow or the day after. We must learn the neighborhood,” answered Kokosinski. “Happy are you, Yendrus, to have a place to shelter your head!”

  “Not like us,” groaned Ranitski.

  “Let us drink for our solace,” said Rekuts.

  “No, not for our solace,” answered Kulvyets-Hippocentaurus, “but once more to the health of Yendrus, our beloved captain. It is he, my mighty lords, who has given here in Lyubich an asylum to us poor exiles without a roof above our heads.”

  “He speaks justly,” cried a number of voices; “Kulvyets is not so stupid as he seems.”

  “Hard is our lot,” piped Rekuts. “Our whole hope is that you will not drive us poor orphans out through your gates.”

  “Give us peace,” said Kmita; “what is mine is yours.”

  With that all rose from their places and began to take him by the shoulders. Tears of tenderness flowed over those stern drunken faces.

  “In you is all our hope, Yendrus,” cried Kokosinski, “Let us sleep even on pea straw; drive us not forth.”

  “Give us peace,” repeated Kmita.

  “Drive us not forth; as it is, we have been driven, — we nobles and men of family,” said Uhlik, plaintively.

  “To a hundred fiends with you, who is driving you out? Eat, drink! What the devil do you want?”

  “Do not deny us,” said Ranitski, on whose face spots came out as on the skin of a leopard. “Do not deny us, Andrei, or we are lost altogether.”

  Here he began to stammer, put his finger to his forehead as if straining his wit, and suddenly said, looking with sheepish eyes on those present, “Unless fortune changes.”

  And all blurted out at once in chorus, “Of course it will change.”

  “And we will yet pay for our wrongs.”

  “And come to fortune.”

  “And to office.”

  “God bless the innocent! Our prosperity!”

  “Your health!” cried Pan Andrei.

  “Your words are holy, Yendrus,” said Kokosinski, placing his chubby face before Kmita. “God grant us improvement of fortune!”

  Healths began to go around, and tufts to steam. All were talking, one interrupting the other; and each heard only himself, with the exception of Rekuts, who dropped his head on his breast and slumbered. Kokosinski began to sing, “She bound the flax in bundles,” noting which Uhlik took a flageolet from his bosom and accompanied him.

  Ranitski, a great fencer, fenced with his naked hand against an unseen opponent, repeating in an undertone, “You thus, I thus; you cut, I strike, — one, two, three, check!”

  The gigantic Kulvyets-Hippocentaurus stared fixedly for some time at Ranitski; at last he waved his hand and said: “You’re a fool! Strike your best, but still you can’t hold your own before Kmita with a sabre.”

  “For no one can stand before him; but try yourself.”

  “You will not win against me with a pistol.”

  “For a ducat a shot.”

  “A ducat! But where and at what?”

  Ranitski cast his eyes around; at last he cried out, pointing at the skulls, “Between the antlers, for a ducat!”

  “For what?” asked Kmita.

  “Between the antlers, for two ducats, for three! Bring the pistols!”

  “Agreed!” cried Kmita. “Let it be three. Zend, get the pistols!”

  All began to shout louder and louder, and bargain among themselves; meanwhile Zend went to the antechamber, and soon returned with pistols, a pouch of bullets, and a horn with powder.

  Ranitski grasped for a pistol. “Is it loaded?” asked he.

  “Loaded.”

  “For three, four, five ducats!” blustered Kmita, drunk.

  “Quiet! you will miss, you will miss.”

  “I shall hit at that skull between the antlers — one! two!”

  All eyes were turned to the strong elk-skull fixed in front of Ranitski. He straightened his arm; the pistol turned in his palm.

  “Three!” cried Kmita.

  The shot sounded; the room was filled with powder smoke.

  “He has missed, he has missed! See where the hole is!” cried Kmita, pointing with his hand at the dark wall from which the bullet had torn out a brighter chip.

  “Two shots each time!”

  “No; give it to me,” cried Kulvyets.

  At that moment the astonished servants ran in at the sound of the shot.

  “Away! away!” called Kmita. “One! two! three!”

  Again the roar of a shot; this time the pieces fell from the bone.

  “But give us pistols too!” shouted all at the same time.

  And springing up, they began to pound on the shoulders of their attendants, urging them to hurry. Before a quarter of an hour had passed, the whole room was thundering with shots. The smoke hid the light of the candles and the forms of the men shooting. The report of discharges was accompanied by the voice of Zend, who croaked like a raven, screamed like a falcon, howled like a wolf, bellowed like an aurochs. The whistle of bullets interrupted him; bits flew from the skulls, chips from the wall, and portraits from their frames; in the disorder the Billeviches were shot, and Ranitski, falling into fury, slashed them with his sabre.

  The servants, astonished and terrified, stood as if bereft of their senses, gazing with startled eyes on that sport which resembled a Tartar invasion. The dogs began to howl and bark. All in the house were on their feet; in the yard groups of people assembled. The girls of the house ran to the windows, and putting their faces to the panes, flattening their noses, gazed at what was passing within.

  Zend saw them at last; he whistled so piercingly that it rang in the ears of all, and then shouted, “Mighty lords! titmice are under the window, — titmice!”

  “Titmice! titmice!”

  “Now for a dance!” roared dissonant voices.

  The drunken crowd sprang through the anteroom to the porch. The frost did not sober their steaming heads. The girls, screaming in voices that rose to the
sky, ran in every direction through the yard; but the men chased them, and brought each one they seized to the room. After a while they began dancing in the midst of smoke, bits of bone, and chips around the table on which spilled wine lay in pools.

  In such fashion did Pan Kmita and his wild company revel in Lyubich.

  CHAPTER IV.

  For a number of subsequent days Pan Andrei was at Vodokty daily; and each time he returned more in love, and admired more and more his Olenka. He lauded her to the skies, too, before his companions, till on a certain day he said to them, —

  “My dear lambs, you will go to-day to beat with the forehead; then, as we have stipulated with the maiden, we will go to Mitruny to have a sleigh-ride through the forests and look at the third estate. She will entertain us there, and do you bear yourselves decently; for I would cut into hash the man who offended her in anything.”

  The cavaliers hurried willingly to prepare, and soon four sleighs were bearing the eager young men to Vodokty. Kmita sat in the first sleigh, which was highly ornamented and had the form of a silvery bear. This sleigh was drawn by three captured Kalmuk horses in variegated harness, in ribbons and peacock feathers, according to the Smolensk fashion, borrowed from more distant neighbors. A young fellow sitting in the neck of the bear drove the horses. Pan Andrei was dressed in a green velvet coat buttoned on golden cords and trimmed with sable, and wore a sable cap with a heron’s feather. He was gladsome, joyous, and spoke to Kokosinski sitting at his side, —

  “Listen, Kokoshko! I suppose we played tricks wild beyond measure on two evenings, and especially the first, when the skulls and the portraits suffered. But the case of the girls was still worse. The Devil always pushes forward that Zend, and then on whom does he pound out the punishment? On me. I am afraid that people will talk, for in this place my reputation is at stake.”

  “Hang yourself on your reputation; it is good for nothing else, just like ours.”

  “And who is to blame for that, if not you men? Remember, Kokoshko, they held me for a disturbing spirit in Orsha, and tongues were sharpened on me like knives on a whetstone.”

  “But who dragged Pan Tumgrat out in the frost with a horse; who cut up that official, who asked whether men walked on two feet in Orsha or on four? Who hacked the Vyzinskis, father and son? Who broke up the last provincial Diet?”

  “I broke up the Diet in Orsha, not somewhere else; that was a home affair. Pan Tumgrat forgave me when he was dying; and as to the others, speak not, for a duel may happen to the most innocent.”

  “I have not told all yet; I have not spoken of the trials in the army, of which two are still waiting for you.”

  “Not for me, but for you men; for I am to blame only for letting you rob the people. But no more of this! Shut your mouth, Kokoshko, and say nothing to Olenka about the duels, and especially nothing of that shooting at the portraits and of the girls. If it is told, I shall lay the blame on you. I have informed the servants and the girls that if a word is said, I will order belts taken out of their skins.”

  “Have yourself shod like a horse, Yendrus, if you are in such dread of your maiden. You were another man in Orsha. I see already that you will go in leading-strings, and there is no good in that. Some ancient philosopher says, ‘If you will not manage Kahna, Kahna will manage you.’ You have given yourself to be tied up in all things.”

  “You are a fool, Kokoshko! But as to Olenka you will stand on one foot and then on the other when you put eyes on her, for another woman with such proper intent is not to be found. What is good she will praise in a moment, but the bad she will blame without waiting; for she judges according to virtue, and has in herself a ready measure. The late under-chamberlain reared her in that way. Should you wish to boast of warlike daring before her, and say that you trampled on justice, you will soon be ashamed; for at once she will say, ‘An honorable citizen should not do that; it is against the country.’ She will speak so to you that it will be as if some one had slapped you on the face, and you’ll wonder that you did not know these things yourself. Tfu! shame! We have raised fearful disorder, and now must stand open-eyed before virtue and innocence. The worst was those girls—”

  “By no means the worst. I have heard that in the villages there are girls of the petty nobility like blood and milk, and probably not stubborn at all.”

  “Who told you?” asked Kmita, quickly.

  “Who told me? Who, if not Zend? Yesterday while trying the roan steed he rode to Volmontovichi; he merely rode along the highway, but he saw many titmice, for they were coming from vespers. ‘I thought,’ said he, ‘that I should fly off the horse, they were so handsome and pretty.’ And whenever he looked at any one of them she showed her teeth directly. And no wonder! for all the grown men of the nobles have gone to Rossyeni, and it is dreary for the titmice alone.”

  Kmita punched his companion in the side with his fist. “Let us go, Kokoshko, some time in the evening, — pretend we are astray, — shall we?”

  “But your reputation?”

  “Oh, to the Devil! Shut your mouth! Go alone, if that is the way; but better drop the matter. It would not pass without talk, and I want to live in peace with the nobles here, for the late under-chamberlain made them Olenka’s guardians.”

  “You have spoken of that, but I would not believe it. How did he have such intimacy with homespuns?”

  “Because he went with them to war, and I heard of this in Orsha, when he said that there was honorable blood in those Lauda men. But to tell the truth, Kokoshko, it was an immediate wonder to me, for it is as if he had made them guards over me.”

  “You will yield to them and bow to your boots before dish-cloths.”

  “First may the pestilence choke them! Be quiet, for I am angry! They will bow to me and serve me. Their quota is ready at every call.”

  “Some one else will command this quota. Zend says that there is a colonel here among them — I forget his name — Volodyovski or something? He led them at Shklov. They fought well, it appears, but were combed out there.”

  “I have heard of a Volodyovski, a famous warrior — But here is Vodokty in sight.”

  “Hei, it is well for people in Jmud; for there is stern order. The old man must have been a born manager. And the house, — I see how it looks. The enemy brought fire here seldom, and the people could build.”

  “I think that she cannot have heard yet of that outburst in Lyubich,” said Kmita, as if to himself. Then he turned to his comrade: “My Kokoshko, I tell you, and do you repeat it to the others, that you must bear yourselves decently here; and if any man permits himself anything, as God is dear to me, I will cut him up like chopped straw.”

  “Well, they have saddled you!”

  “Saddled, saddled not, I will cut you up!”

  “Don’t look at my Kasia or I’ll cut you to pieces,” said Kokosinski, phlegmatically.

  “Fire out thy whip!” shouted Kmita to the driver.

  The youth standing in the neck of the silvery bear whirled his whip, and cracked it very adroitly; other drivers followed his example, and they drove with a rattling, quick motion, joyous as at a carnival.

  Stepping out of the sleighs, they came first to an antechamber as large as a granary, an unpainted room; thence Kmita conducted them to the dining-hall, ornamented as in Lyubich with skulls and antlers of slain beasts. Here they halted, looking carefully and with curiosity at the door of the adjoining room, by which Panna Aleksandra was to enter. Meanwhile, evidently keeping in mind Kmita’s warning, they spoke with one another in subdued tones, as in a church.

  “You are a fellow of speech,” whispered Uhlik to Kokosinski, “you will greet her for us all.”

  “I was arranging something to say on the road,” answered Kokosinski, “but I know not whether it will be smooth enough, for Yendrus interrupted my ideas.”

  “Let it be as it comes, if with spirit. But here she is!”

  Panna Aleksandra entered, halting a little on the threshold, as if in wonder at
such a large company. Kmita himself stood for a while as if fixed to the floor in admiration of her beauty; for hitherto he had seen her only in the evening, and in the day she seemed still more beautiful. Her eyes had the color of star-thistles; the dark brows above them were in contrast to the forehead as ebony with white, and her yellow hair shone like a crown on the head of a queen. Not dropping her eyes, she had the self-possessed mien of a lady receiving guests in her own house, with clear face seeming still clearer from the black dress trimmed with ermine. Such a dignified and exalted lady the warriors had not seen; they were accustomed to women of another type. So they stood in a rank as if for the enrolling of a company, and shuffling their feet they also bowed together in a row; but Kmita pushed forward, and kissing the hand of the lady a number of times, said, —

  “See, my jewel, I have brought you fellow soldiers with whom I fought in the last war.”

  “It is for me no small honor,” answered Panna Billevich, “to receive in my house such worthy cavaliers, of whose virtue and excellent qualities I have heard from their commander, Pan Kmita.”

  When she had said this she took her skirt with the tips of her fingers, and raising it slightly, courtesied with unusual dignity. Kmita bit his lips, but at the same time he was flushed, since his maiden had spoken with such spirit.

  The worthy cavaliers continuing to shuffle their feet, all nudged at the same moment Pan Kokosinski: “Well, begin!”

  Kokosinski moved forward one step, cleared his throat, and began as follows: “Serene great mighty lady, under-chamberlain’s daughter—”

  “Chief-hunter’s daughter,” corrected Kmita.

  “Serene great mighty lady, chief-hunter’s daughter, but to us right merciful benefactress,” repeated Kokosinski,— “pardon, your ladyship, if I have erred in the title—”

  “A harmless mistake,” replied Panna Aleksandra, “and it lessens in no wise such an eloquent cavalier—”

  “Serene great mighty lady, chief-hunter’s daughter, benefactress, and our right merciful lady, I know not what becomes me in the name of all Orsha to celebrate more, — the extraordinary beauty and virtue of your ladyship, our benefactress, or the unspeakable happiness of the captain and our fellow-soldier, Pan Kmita; for though I were to approach the clouds, though I were to reach the clouds themselves — I say, the clouds—”