The Deluge: An Historical Novel of Poland, Sweden, and Russia. Vol. 1 (of 2)

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  CHAPTER VI.

  In the evening of that same day Pan Kmita came to Vodokty, at the headof a hundred and some tens of men whom he had brought from Upita so asto send them to Kyedani; for he saw himself that there were no quartersin such a small place for a large number of soldiers, and when thetownspeople had been brought to hunger the soldiers would resort toviolence, especially soldiers who could be held in discipline only byfear of a leader. A glance at Kmita's volunteers was enough to convinceone that it would be difficult to find men of worse character in thewhole Commonwealth. Kmita could not have others. After the defeat ofthe grand hetman, the enemy deluged the whole country. The remnants ofthe regular troops of the Lithuanian quota withdrew for a certain timeto Birji and Kyedani, in order to rally there. The nobility ofSmolensk, Vityebsk, Polotsk, Mstislavsk, and Minsk either followedthe army or took refuge in the provinces still unoccupied. Menof superior courage among the nobility assembled at Grodno aroundthe under-treasurer, Pan Gosyevski; for the royal proclamationsummoning the general militia appointed that as the place of muster.Unfortunately few obeyed the proclamation, and those who followed thevoice of duty assembled so negligently that for the time being no oneoffered real resistance save Kmita, who fought on his own account,animated more by knightly daring than patriotism. It is easy tounderstand that in the absence of regular troops and nobility he tooksuch men as he could find, consequently men who were not drawn by dutyto the hetmans and who had nothing to lose. Therefore there gatheredaround him vagrants without a roof and without a home, men of low rank,runaway servants from the army, foresters grown wild, serving-men fromtowns, or scoundrels pursued by the law. These expected to findprotection under a flag and win profit from plunder. In the iron handsof Kmita they were turned into daring soldiers, daring even to madness;and if Kmita had been prudent he might have rendered high service tothe Commonwealth. But Kmita was insubordinate himself, his spirit wasalways seething; besides, whence could he take provisions and arms andhorses, since being a partisan he did not hold even a commission, andcould not look for any aid from the treasury of the Commonwealth? Hetook therefore with violence,--often from the enemy, often from hisown,--could suffer no opposition, and punished severely for the leastcause.

  In continual raids, struggles, and attacks he had grown wild,accustomed to bloodshed in such a degree that no common thing couldmove the heart within him, which however was good by nature. He was inlove with people of unbridled temper who were ready for anything. Soonhis name had an ominous sound. Smaller divisions of the enemy did notdare to leave the towns and the camps in those regions where theterrible partisan was raging. But the townspeople ruined by war fearedhis men little less than they did the enemy, especially when the eye ofKmita in person was not resting on them. When command was taken by hisofficers, Kokosinski, Uhlik, Kulvyets, Zend, and particularly byRanitski,--the wildest and most cruel of them all, though a man of highlineage,--it might always be asked, Are those defenders or ravagers?Kmita at times punished his own men without mercy when somethinghappened not according to his humor; but more frequently he took theirpart, regardless of the rights, tears, and lives of people. Hiscompanions with the exception of Rekuts, on whom innocent blood was notweighing, persuaded the young leader to give the reins more and more tohis turbulent nature. Such was Kmita's army. Just then he had taken hisrabble from Upita to send it to Kyedani.

  When they stopped in front of the house at Vodokty, Panna Aleksandrawas frightened as she saw them through the window, they were so muchlike robbers. Each one had a different outfit: some were in helmetstaken from the enemy; others in Cossack caps, in hoods and Polish caps;some in faded overcoats, others in sheep-skin coats; their arms wereguns, spears, bows, battle-axes; their horses, poor and worn, werecovered with trappings, Polish, Russian, or Turkish.

  Olenka was set at rest only when Pan Andrei, gladsome and lively asever, entered the room and rushed straight to her hands with incrediblequickness.

  And she, though resolved in advance to receive him with dignity andcoldness, was still unable to master the joy which his coming hadcaused her. Feminine cunning too may have played a certain part, for itwas necessary to tell Pan Andrei about turning his comrades out ofdoors; therefore the clever girl wished to incline him first to herside. And in addition he greeted her so sincerely, so lovingly that theremnant of her offended feeling melted like snow before a blaze.

  "He loves me! there is no doubt about that," thought she.

  And he said: "I so longed for you that I was ready to burn all Upita ifI could only fly to you the sooner. May the frost pinch them, thebasswood barks!"

  "I too was uneasy lest it might come to a battle there. Praise be toGod that you have returned!"

  "And such a battle! The soldiers had begun to pull around the basswoodbarks a little--"

  "But you quieted them?"

  "This minute I will tell you how it all happened, my jewel; only let merest a little, for I am wearied. Ei! it is warm here. It is delightfulin this Vodokty, just as in paradise. A man would be glad to sit hereall his life, look in those beautiful eyes, and never go away--But itwould do no harm, either, to drink something warm, for there isterrible frost outside."

  "Right away I will have wine heated, with eggs, and bring it myself."

  "And give my gallows' birds some little keg of gorailka, and givecommand to let them into the stable, so that they may warm themselves alittle even from the breath of the cattle. They have coats lined withwind, and are terribly chilled."

  "I will spare nothing on them, for they are your soldiers."

  While speaking she smiled, so that it grew bright in Kmita's eyes, andshe slipped out as quietly as a cat to have everything prepared in theservants' hall.

  Kmita walked up and down in the room, rubbing the top of his head, thentwirling his young mustache, thinking how to tell her of what had beendone in Upita.

  "The pure truth must be told," muttered he; "there is no help for it,though the company may laugh because I am here in leading-strings." Andagain he walked, and again he pushed the foretop on his forehead; atlast he grew impatient that the maiden was so long in returning.

  Meanwhile a boy brought in a light, bowed to the girdle, and went out.Directly after the charming lady of the house entered, bringing withboth hands a shining tin tray, and on it a small pot, from which rosethe fragrant steam of heated Hungarian, and a goblet of cut glass withthe escutcheon of the Kmitas. Old Billevich got this goblet in his timefrom Andrei's father, when at his house as a guest.

  Pan Andrei when he saw the lady sprang toward her. "Hei!" cried he,"both hands are full, you will not escape me."

  He bent over the tray, and she drew back her head, which was defendedonly by the steam which rose from the pot. "Traitor! desist, or I willdrop the drink."

  But he feared not the threat; afterward he cried, "As God is in heaven,from such delight a man might lose his wits!"

  "Then you lost your wit long ago. Sit down."

  He sat down obediently; she poured the drink into the goblet.

  "Tell me how you sentenced the guilty in Upita."

  "In Upita? Like Solomon!"

  "Praise to God for that! It is on my heart that all in this regionshould esteem you as a steady and just man. How was it then?"

  Kmita took a good draught of the drink, drew breath, and began,--

  "I must tell from the beginning. It was thus: The townspeople with themayor spoke of an order for provisions from the grand hetman or theunder-treasurer. 'You gentlemen,' said they to the soldiers, 'arevolunteers, and you cannot levy contributions. We will give youquarters for nothing, and provisions we will give when it is shown thatwe shall be paid.'"

  "Were they right, or were they not?"

  "They were right according to law; but the soldiers had sabres, and inold fashion whoever has a sabre has the best argument. They said thento the basswood barks, 'We will write orders on your skinsimmediately.' And straightway there rose a tumult. The mayor and thepeople b
arricaded themselves in the street, and my men attacked them;it did not pass without firing. The soldiers, poor fellows, burned acouple of barns to frighten the people, and quieted a few of themalso."

  "How did they quiet them?"

  "Whoso gets a sabre on his skull is as quiet as a coward."

  "As God lives, that is murder!"

  "That is just why I went there. The soldiers ran to me at once withcomplaints and outcries against the oppression in which they wereliving, being persecuted without cause. 'Our stomachs are empty,' saidthey, 'what are we to do?' I commanded the mayor to appear. Hehesitated long, but at last came with three other men. They began:'Even if the soldiers had not orders, why did they beat us, why burnthe place? We should have given them to eat and to drink for a kindword; but they wanted ham, mead, dainties, and we are poor people, wehave not these things for ourselves. We will seek defence at law, andyou will answer before a court for your soldiers.'"

  "God will bless you," cried Olenka, "if you have rendered justice aswas proper."

  "If I have." Here Pan Andrei wriggled like a student who has to confesshis fault, and began to collect the forelock on his forehead with hishand. "My queen!" cried he at last, in an imploring voice, "my jewel,be not angry with me!"

  "What did you do then?" asked Olenka, uneasily.

  "I commanded to give one hundred blows apiece to the mayor and thecouncillors," said Kmita, at one breath.

  Olenka made no answer; she merely rested her hands on her knees,dropped her head on her bosom, and sank into silence.

  "Cut off my head!" cried Kmita, "but do not be angry! I have not toldall yet!"

  "Is there more?" groaned the lady.

  "There is, for they sent then to Ponyevyej for aid. One hundred stupidfellows came with officers. These men I frightened away, but theofficers--for God's sake be not angry!--I ordered to be chased andflogged with braided whips, naked over the snow, as I once did to PanTumgrat in Orsha."

  Panna Billevich raised her head; her stern eyes were flashing withindignation, and purple came out on her cheeks. "You have neither shamenor conscience!" said she.

  Kmita looked at her in astonishment, he was silent for a moment, thenasked with changed voice, "Are you speaking seriously or pretending?"

  "I speak seriously; that deed is becoming a bandit and not a cavalier.I speak seriously, since your reputation is near my heart; for it is ashame to me that you have barely come here, when all the people look onyou as a man of violence and point at you with their fingers."

  "What care I for the people? One dog watches ten of their cabins, andthen has not much to do."

  "There is no infamy on those modest people, there is no disgrace on thename of one of them. Justice will pursue no man here except you."

  "Oh, let not your head ache for that. Every man is lord for himself inour Commonwealth, if he has only a sabre in his hand and can gather anykind of party. What can they do to me? Whom fear I here?"

  "If you fear not man, then know that I fear God's anger, and the tearsof people; I fear wrongs also. And moreover I am not willing to sharedisgrace with any one; though I am a weak woman, still the honor of myname is dearer to me than it is to a certain one who calls himself acavalier."

  "In God's name, do not threaten me with refusal, for you do not know meyet."

  "I think that my grandfather too did not know you."

  Kmita's eyes shot sparks; but the Billevich blood began to play in her.

  "Oh, gesticulate and grit your teeth," continued she, boldly; "but Ifear not, though I am alone and you have a whole party of robbers,--myinnocence defends me. You think that I know not how you fired at theportraits in Lyubich and dragged in the girls for debauchery. You donot know me if you suppose that I shall humbly be silent. I wanthonesty from you, and no will can prevent me from exacting it. Nay, itwas the will of my grandfather that I should be the wife of only anhonest man."

  Kmita was evidently ashamed of what had happened at Lyubich; fordropping his head, he asked in a voice now calmer, "Who told you ofthis shooting?"

  "All the nobles in the district speak of it."

  "I will pay those homespuns, the traitors, for their good will,"answered Kmita, sullenly. "But that happened in drink,--incompany,--for soldiers are not able to restrain themselves. As for thegirls I had nothing to do with them."

  "I know that those brazen ruffians, those murderers, persuade you toeverything."

  "They are not murderers, they are my officers."

  "I commanded those officers of yours to leave my house."

  Olenka looked for an outburst; but she saw with greatest astonishmentthat the news of turning his comrades out of the house made noimpression on Kmita; on the contrary, it seemed to improve his humor.

  "You ordered them to go out?" asked be.

  "I did."

  "And they went?"

  "They did."

  "As God lives, you have the courage of a cavalier. That pleases megreatly, for it is dangerous to quarrel with such people. More than oneman has paid dearly for doing so. But they observe manners beforeKmita! You saw they bore themselves obediently as lambs; you sawthat,--but why? Because they are afraid of me."

  Here Kmita looked boastfully at Olenka, and began to twirl hismustache. This fickleness of humor and inopportune boastfulness enragedher to the last degree; therefore she said haughtily and with emphasis,"You must choose between me and them; there is no other way."

  Kmita seemed not to note the decision with which she spoke, andanswered carelessly, almost gayly: "But why choose when I have you andI have them? You may do what you like in Vodokty; but if my comradeshave committed no wrong, no license here, why should I drive them away?You do not understand what it is to serve under one flag and carry onwar in company. No relationship binds like service in common. Know thatthey have saved my life a thousand times at least. I must protect themall the more because they are pursued by justice. They are almost allnobles and of good family, except Zend, who is of uncertain origin; butsuch a horse-trainer as he there is not in the whole Commonwealth. Andif you could hear how he imitates wild beasts and every kind of bird,you would fall in love with him yourself."

  Here Kmita laughed as if no anger, no misunderstanding, had ever foundplace between them; and she was ready to wring her hands, seeing howthat whirlwind of a nature was slipping away from her grasp. All thatshe had said of the opinions of men, of the need of sedateness, ofdisgrace, slipped along on him like a dart on steel armor. The unrousedconscience of this soldier could give no response to her indignation atevery injustice and every dishonorable deed of license. How was he tobe touched, how addressed?

  "Let the will of God be done," said she at last; "since you will resignme, then go your way. God will remain with the orphan."

  "I resign you?" asked Kmita, with supreme astonishment.

  "That is it!--if not in words, then in deeds; if not you me, then Iyou. For I will not marry a man weighted by the tears and blood ofpeople, whom men point at with their fingers, whom they call an outlaw,a robber, and whom they consider a traitor."

  "What, traitor! Do not bring me to madness, lest I do something forwhich I should be sorry hereafter. May the thunderbolts strike me thisminute, may the devils flay me, if I am a traitor,--I, who stood by thecountry when all hands had dropped!"

  "You stand by the country and act like an enemy, for you trample on it.You are an executioner of the people, regarding the laws neither of Godnor man. No! though my heart should be rent, I will not marry you;being such a man, I will not!"

  "Do not speak to me of refusal, for I shall grow furious. Save me, yeangels! If you will not have me in good-will, then I'll take youwithout it, though all the rabble from the villages were here, thoughthe Radzivills themselves were here, the very king himself and all thedevils with their horns stood in the way, even if I had to sell my soulto the Devil!"

  "Do not summon evil spirits, for they will hear you," cried Olenka,stretching forth her hands.

  "What do you wish of me?"r />
  "Be honest!"

  Both ceased speaking, and silence followed; only the panting of PanAndrei was heard. The last words of Olenka had penetrated, however, thearmor covering his conscience. He felt himself conquered; he knew notwhat to answer, how to defend himself. Then he began to go with swiftsteps through the room. She sat there motionless. Above them hungdisagreement, dissension, and regret. They were oppressive to eachother, and the long silence became every instant more unendurable.

  "Farewell!" said Kmita, suddenly.

  "Go, and may God give you a different inspiration!" answered Olenka.

  "I will go! Bitter was your drink, bitter your bread. I have beentreated here to gall and vinegar."

  "And do you think you have treated me to sweetness?" answered she, in avoice in which tears were trembling.

  "Be well."

  "Be well."

  Kmita, advancing toward the door, turned suddenly, and springing toher, seized both her hands and said, "By the wounds of Christ! do youwish me to drop from the horse a corpse on the road?"

  That moment Olenka burst into tears; he embraced her and held her inhis arms, all quivering, repeating through her set teeth, "Whosobelieves in God, kill me! kill, do not spare!"

  At last he burst out: "Weep not, Olenka; for God's sake, do notweep! In what am I guilty before you? I will do all to please you.I'll send those men away, I'll come to terms in Upita, I will livedifferently,--for I love you. As God lives, my heart will burst! I willdo everything; only do not cry, and love me still."

  And so he continued to pacify and pet her; and she, when she had criedto the end, said: "Go now. God will make peace between us. I am notoffended, only sore at heart."

  The moon had risen high over the white fields when Pan Andrei pushedout on his way to Lyubich, and after him clattered his men, stretchingalong the broad road like a serpent. They went through Volmontovichi,but by the shortest road, for frost had bound up the swamps, whichmight therefore be crossed without danger.

  The sergeant Soroka approached Pan Andrei. "Captain," inquired he,"where are we to find lodgings in Lyubich?"

  "Go away!" answered Kmita.

  And he rode on ahead, speaking to no man. In his heart rose regret, atmoments anger, but above all, vexation at himself. That was the firstnight in his life in which he made a reckoning with conscience, andthat reckoning weighed him down more than the heaviest armor. Behold,he had come into this region with a damaged reputation, and what had hedone to repair it? The first day he had permitted shooting and excessin Lyubich, and thought that he did not belong to it, but he did; thenhe permitted it every day. Further, his soldiers wronged thetownspeople, and he increased those wrongs. Worse, he attacked thePonyevyej garrison, killed men, sent naked officers on the snow. Theywill bring an action against him; he will lose it. They will punish himwith loss of property, honor, perhaps life. But why can he not, afterhe has collected an armed party of the rabble, scoff at the law asbefore? Because he intends to marry, settle in Vodokty, serve not onhis own account, but in the contingent; there the law will find him andtake him. Besides, even though these deeds should pass unpunished,there is something vile in them, something unworthy of a knight. Maybethis violence can be atoned for; but the memory of it will remain inthe hearts of men, in his own conscience, and in the heart of Olenka.

  When he remembered that she had not rejected him yet, that when he wasgoing away he read in her eyes forgiveness, she seemed to him as kindas the angels of heaven. And behold the desire was seizing him to go,not to-morrow, but straightway, as fast as the horse could spring, fallat her feet, beg forgetfulness, and kiss those sweet eyes which todayhad moistened his face with tears. Then he wished to roar with weeping,and felt that he loved that girl as he had never in his life loved anyone. "By the Most Holy Lady!" thought he, in his soul, "I will do whatshe wishes; I will provide for my comrades bountifully, and send themto the end of the world; for it is true that they urge me to evil."

  Then it entered his head that on coming to Lyubich he would find themmost surely drunk or with girls; and such rage seized him that hewanted to slash somebody with a sabre, even those soldiers whom he wasleading, and cut them up without mercy.

  "I'll give it to them!" muttered he, twirling his mustache. "They havenot yet seen me as they will see me."

  Then from madness he began to prick the horse with his spurs, to pulland drag at the reins till the steed grew wild. Soroka, seeing this,muttered to the soldiers,--

  "The captain is mad. God save us from falling under his hand!"

  Pan Andrei had become mad in earnest. Round about there was great calm.The moon shone mildly, the heavens were glittering with thousands ofstars, not the slightest breeze was moving the limbs on the trees; butin the heart of the knight a tempest was raging. The road to Lyubichseemed to him longer than ever before. A certain hitherto unknown alarmbegan to play upon him from the gloom of the forest depths, and fromthe fields flooded with a greenish light of the moon. Finally wearinessseized Pan Andrei,--for, to tell the truth, the whole night before hehad passed in drinking and frolicking in Upita; but he wished toovercome toil with toil, and rouse himself from unquiet by swiftriding; he turned therefore to the soldiers and commanded,--

  "Forward!"

  He shot ahead like an arrow, and after him the whole party. And inthose woods and along those empty fields they flew on like that hellishband of knights of the cross of whom people tell in Jmud,--how at timesin the middle of bright moonlight nights they appear and rush throughthe air, announcing war and uncommon calamities. The clatter flewbefore them and followed behind, from the horses came steam, and onlywhen at the turn of the road the roofs of Lyubich appeared did theyslacken their speed.

  The swinging gate stood open. It astonished Kmita that when the yardwas crowded with his men and horses no one came out to see or inquirewho they were. He expected to find the windows gleaming with lights, tohear the sound of Uhlik's flageolet, of fiddles, or the joyful shoutsof conversation. At that time in two windows of the dining-hallquivered an uncertain light; all the rest of the house was dark, quiet,silent. The sergeant Soroka sprang first from his horse to hold thestirrup for the captain.

  "Go to sleep," said Kmita; "whoever can find room in the servants'hall, let him sleep there, and others in the stable. Put the horses inthe cattle-houses and in the barns, and bring them hay from the shed."

  "I hear," answered the sergeant.

  Kmita came down from the horse. The door of the entrance was wide open,and the entrance cold.

  "Hei! Is there any one here?" cried Kmita.

  No one answered.

  "Hei there!" repeated he, more loudly.

  Silence.

  "They are drunk!" muttered Pan Andrei.

  And such rage took possession of him that he began to grit his teeth.While riding he was agitated with anger at the thought that he shouldfind drinking and debauchery; now this silence irritated him stillmore.

  He entered the dining-hall. On an enormous table was burning a tallowlamp-pot with a reddish smoking light. The force of the wind which camein from the antechamber deflected the flame so that for a time PanAndrei could not see anything. Only when the quivering had ceased didhe distinguish a row of forms lying just at the wall.

  "Have they made themselves dead drunk or what?" muttered he, unquietly.

  Then he drew near with impatience to the side of the first figure. Hecould not see the face, for it was hidden in the shadow; but by thewhite leather belt and the white sheath of the flageolet he recognizedPan Uhlik, and began to shake him unceremoniously with his foot.

  "Get up, such kind of sons! get up!"

  But Pan Uhlik lay motionless, with his hands fallen without control atthe side of his body, and beyond him were lying others. No one yawned,no one quivered, no one woke, no one muttered. At the same moment Kmitanoticed that all were lying on their backs in the same position, and acertain fearful presentiment seized him by the heart. Springing to thetable, he took with trembling hand the light and
thrust it toward thefaces of the prostrate men.

  The hair stood on his head, such a dreadful sight met his eyes. Uhlikhe was able to recognize only by his white belt, for his face and hishead presented one formless, foul, bloody mass, without eyes, withoutnose or mouth,--only the enormous mustaches were sticking out of thedreadful pool. Kmita pushed the light farther. Next in order lay Zend,with grinning teeth and eyes protruding, in which in glassy fixednesswas terror before death. The third in the row, Ranitski, had his eyesclosed, and over his whole face were spots, white, bloody, and dark.Kmita took the light farther. Fourth lay Kokosinski,--the dearest toKmita of all his officers, being his former near neighbor. He seemedto sleep quietly, but in the side of his neck was to be seen a largewound surely given with a thrust. Fifth in the row lay the giganticKulvyets-Hippocentaurus, with the vest torn on his bosom and his faceslashed many times. Kmita brought the light near each face; and when atlast he brought it to the sixth, Rekuts, it seemed that the lids of theunfortunate victim quivered a little from the gleam.

  Kmita put the light on the floor and began to shake the wounded mangently. After the eyelids the face began to move, the eyes and mouthopened and closed in turn.

  "Rekuts, Rekuts, it is I!" said Kmita.

  The eyes of Rekuts opened for a moment; he recognized the face of hisfriend, and groaned in a low voice, "Yendrus--a priest--"

  "Who killed you?" cried Kmita, seizing himself by the hair.

  "Bu-try-my-" (The Butryms), answered he, in a voice so low that it wasbarely audible. Then he stretched himself, grew stiff, his open eyesbecame fixed, and he died.

  Kmita went in silence to the table, put the tallow lamp upon it, satdown in an armchair, and began to pass his hands over his face like aman who waking from sleep does not know yet whether he is awake orstill sees dream figures before his eyes. Then he looked again on thebodies lying in the darkness. Cold sweat came out on his forehead, thehair rose on his head, and suddenly he shouted so terribly that thepanes rattled in the windows,--

  "Come hither, every living man! come hither!"

  The soldiers, who had disposed themselves in the servants' hall, heardthat cry and fell into the room with a rush. Kmita showed them with hishand the corpses at the wall.

  "Murdered! murdered!" repeated he, with hoarse voice.

  They ran to look; some came with a taper, and held it before the eyesof the dead men. After the first moment of astonishment came noise andconfusion. Those hurried in who had found places in the stables andbarns. The whole house was bright with light, swarming with men; and inthe midst of all that whirl, shouting, and questioning, the dead lay atthe wall unmoved and quiet, indifferent to everything, and, incontradiction to their own nature, calm. The souls had gone out ofthem, and their bodies could not be raised by the trumpet to battle, orthe sound of the goblets to feasting.

  Meanwhile in the din of the soldiers shouts of threatening and ragerose higher and higher each instant. Kmita, who till that moment hadbeen as it were unconscious, sprang up suddenly and shouted, "Tohorse!"

  Everything living moved toward the door. Half an hour had not passedwhen more than one hundred horsemen were rushing with breakneck speedover the broad snowy road, and at the head of them flew Pan Andrei, asif possessed of a demon, bareheaded and with a naked sabre in his hand.In the still night was heard on every side the wild shouts: "Slay!kill!"

  The moon had reached just the highest point on its road through thesky, when suddenly its beams began to be mingled and mixed with a rosylight, rising as it were from under the ground; gradually the heavensgrew red and still redder as if from the rising dawn, till at last abloody glare filled the whole neighborhood. One sea of fire raged overthe gigantic village of the Butryms; and the wild soldiers of Kmita, inthe midst of smoke, burning, and sparks bursting in columns to the sky,cut down the population, terrified and blinded from fright.

  The inhabitants of the nearer villages sprang from their sleep. Thegreater and smaller companies of the Smoky Gostsyeviches and Stakyans,Gashtovts and Domasheviches, collected on the road before their houses,and looking in the direction of the fire, gave alarm from mouth tomouth: "It must be that an enemy has broken in and is burning theButryms,--that is an unusual fire!"

  The report of muskets coming at intervals from the distance confirmedthis supposition.

  "Let us go to assist them!" cried the bolder; "let us not leave ourbrothers to perish!"

  And when the older ones spoke thus, the younger, who on account of thewinter threshing had not gone to Rossyeni, mounted their horses. InKrakin and in Upita they had begun to ring the church bells.

  In Vodokty a quiet knocking at the door roused Panna Aleksandra.

  "Olenka, get up!" cried Panna Kulvyets.

  "Come in, Aunt, what is the matter?"

  "They are burning Volmontovichi!"

  "In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!"

  "Shots are heard, there is a battle! God have mercy on us!"

  Olenka screamed terribly; then she sprang out of bed and began to throwon her clothes hurriedly. Her body trembled as in a fever. She aloneguessed in a moment what manner of enemy had attacked the ill-fatedButryms.

  After a while the awakened women of the whole house rushed into theroom with crying and sobbing. Olenka threw herself on her knees beforean image; they followed her example, and all began to repeat aloud thelitany for the dying.

  They had scarcely gone through half of it when a violent pounding shookthe door of the antechamber. The women sprang to their feet; a cry ofalarm was rent from their breasts.

  "Do not open! do not open!"

  The pounding was heard with redoubled force; it seemed that the doorwould spring from its hinges. That moment the youth Kostek rushed intothe midst of the assembled women.

  "Panna!" cried he, "some man is knocking; shall I open or not?"

  "Is he alone?"

  "Alone."

  "Go open."

  The youth hurried away. She, taking a light, passed into thedining-room; after her, Panna Kulvyets and all the spinning-women.

  She had barely put the light on the table when in the antechamber washeard the rattle of iron bolts, the creak of the opening door; andbefore the eyes of the women appeared Pan Kmita, terrible, black fromsmoke, bloody, panting, with madness in his eyes.

  "My horse has fallen at the forest," cried he; "they are pursuing me!"

  Panna Aleksandra fixed her eyes on him: "Did you burn Volmontovichi?"

  "I--I--"

  He wanted to say something more, when from the side of the road and thewoods came the sound of voices and the tramp of horses approaching withuncommon rapidity.

  "The devils are after my soul; let them have it!" cried Kmita, as if ina fever.

  Panna Aleksandra that moment turned to the women. "If they ask, saythere is no one here; and now go to the servants' hall and come here atdaylight!" Then to Kmita: "Go in there," said she, pointing to anadjoining room; and almost by force she pushed him through the opendoor, which she shut immediately.

  Meanwhile armed men filled the front yard; and in the twinkle of an eyethe Butryms, Gostsyeviches, Domasheviches, with others, burst into thehouse. Seeing the lady, they halted in the dining-room; but she,standing with a light in her hand, stopped with her person the passageto doors beyond.

  "Men, what has happened? What do you want?" asked she, without blinkingan eye before the terrible looks and the ominous gleam of drawn sabres.

  "Kmita has burned Volmontovichi!" cried the nobles, in a chorus. "Hehas slaughtered men, women, children,--Kmita did this."

  "We have killed his men," said Yuzva Butrym; "now we are seeking hisown head."

  "His head, his blood! Cut down the murderer!"

  "Pursue him!" cried the lady. "Why do you stand here? Pursue him!"

  "Is he not hidden here? We found his horse at the woods."

  "He is not here! The house was closed. Look for him in the stables andbarns."

  "He has gone off to the woods!" cried some nob
le. "Come, brothers."

  "Be silent!" roared with powerful voice Yuzva Butrym. "My lady," saidhe, "do not conceal him! That is a cursed man!"

  Olenka raised both hands above her head: "I join you in cursing him!"

  "Amen!" shouted the nobles. "To the buildings, to the woods! We willfind him! After the murderer!"

  "Come on! come on!"

  The clatter of sabres and tramp of feet was heard again. The nobleshurried out through the porch, and mounted with all speed. A part ofthem searched still for a time in the stables, the cow-houses, andhay-shed; then their voices began to retreat toward the woods.

  Panna Aleksandra listened till they had ceased altogether; then shetapped feverishly at the door of the room in which she had hiddenKmita. "There is no one here now, come out."

  Pan Andrei pushed himself forth from the room as if drunk. "Olenka!" hebegan.

  She shook her loosened tresses, which then covered her face like aveil. "I wish not to see you or know you. Take a horse and flee hence!"

  "Olenka!" groaned Kmita, stretching forth his hands.

  "There is blood on your hands, as on Cain's!" screamed she, springingback as if at the sight of a serpent. "Be gone, for the ages!"