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

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  CHAPTER VIII.

  Pan Volodyovski--a famous and seasoned soldier, though a young man--wasliving, as we have said, in Patsuneli with the patriarch of the place,Pakosh Gashtovt, who had the reputation of being the wealthiest nobleamong all the small brotherhood of Lauda. In fact, he had doweredrichly with good silver his three daughters who had married Butryms,for he gave to each one a hundred thalers, besides cattle, and anoutfit so handsome that not one noble woman or family had a better. Theother three daughters were at home unmarried; and they nursedVolodyovski, whose arm was well at one time and sore at another, whenwet weather appeared in the world. All the Lauda people were occupiedgreatly with that arm, for Lauda men had seen it working at Shklov andSepyel, and in general they were of the opinion that it would bedifficult to find a better in all Lithuania. The young colonel,therefore, was surrounded with exceeding honor in all theneighborhoods. The Gashtovts, the Domasheviches, the Gostsyeviches, theStakyans, and with them others, sent faithfully to Patsuneli fish,mushrooms, and game for Volodyovski, and hay for his horses, so thatthe knight and his servants might want for nothing. Whenever he feltworse they vied with one another in going to Ponyevyej for abarber;[10] in a word, all strove to be first in serving him.

  Pan Volodyovski was so much at ease that though he might have had morecomforts in Kyedani and a noted physician at his call, still heremained in Patsuneli. Old Gashtovt was glad to be his host, and almostblew away the dust from before him, for it increased his importanceextremely in Lauda that he had a guest so famous that he might haveadded to the importance of Radzivill himself.

  After the defeat and expulsion of Kmita, the nobility, in love withVolodyovski, searched in their own heads for counsel, and formed theproject of marrying him to Panna Aleksandra. "Why seek a husband forher through the world?" said the old men at a special meeting at whichthey discussed this question. "Since that traitor has so befouledhimself with infamous deeds that if he is now alive he should bedelivered to the hangman, the lady must cast him out of her heart, forthus was provision made in the will by a special clause. Let PanVolodyovski marry her. As guardians we can permit that, and she willthus find an honorable cavalier, and we a neighbor and leader."

  When this proposition was adopted unanimously, the old men went firstto Volodyovski, who, without thinking long, agreed to everything, andthen to "the lady," who with still less hesitation opposed itdecisively. "My grandfather alone had the right to dispose of Lyubich,"said she, "and the property cannot be taken from Pan Kmita until thecourts punish him with loss of life; and as to my marrying, do not evenmention it. I have too great sorrow on my mind to be able to think ofsuch a thing. I have cast that man out of my heart; but this one, eventhough the most worthy, bring not hither, for I will not receive him."

  There was no answer to such a resolute refusal, and the nobles returnedhome greatly disturbed. Less disturbed was Pan Volodyovski, and leastof all the young daughters of Gashtovt,--Terka, Maryska, and Zonia.They were well-grown, blooming maidens, with hair like flax, eyes likeviolets, and broad shoulders. In general the Patsuneli girls were famedfor beauty; when they went in a flock to church, they were like flowersof the field. Besides, old Gashtovt spared no expense on the educationof his daughters. The organist from Mitruny had taught them reading andchurch hymns, and the eldest, Terka, to play on the lute. Having kindhearts, they nursed Volodyovski sedulously, each striving to surpassthe others in watchfulness and care. People said that Maryska was inlove with the young knight; but the whole truth was not in that talk,for all three of them, not she alone, were desperately in love with PanMichael. He loved them too beyond measure, especially Maryska andZonia, for Terka had the habit of complaining too much of thefaithlessness of men.

  It happened often in the long winter evenings that old Gashtovt, afterdrinking his punch, went to bed, and the maidens with Pan Michael satby the chimney; the charming Terka spinning flax, mild Maryska amusingherself with picking down, and Zonia reeling thread from the spindleinto skeins. But when Volodyovski began to tell of the wars or ofwonders which he had seen in the great houses of magnates, work ceased,the girls gazed at him as at a rainbow, and one would cry out inastonishment, "Oh! I do not live in the world! Oh, my dears!" andanother would say, "I shall not close an eye the whole night!"

  Volodyovski, as he returned to health and began at times to use hissword with perfect freedom, was more joyous and told stories morewillingly. A certain evening they were sitting as usual, after supper,in front of the chimney, from beneath which the light fell sharply onthe entire dark room. They began to chat; the girls wanted stories, andVolodyovski begged Terka to sing something with the lute.

  "Sing something yourself," answered she, pushing away the instrumentwhich Volodyovski was handing her; "I have work. Having been in theworld, you must have learned many songs."

  "True, I have learned some. Let it be so to-day; I will sing first, andyou afterward. Your work will not run away. If a woman had asked, youwould not have refused; you are always opposed to men."

  "For they deserve it."

  "And do you disdain me too?"

  "Oh, why should I? But sing something."

  Volodyovski touched the lute; he assumed a comic air, and began to singin falsetto,--

  "I have come to such places Where no girl will have me!--"

  "Oh, that is untrue for you," interrupted Maryska, blushing as red as araspberry.

  "That's a soldier's song," said Volodyovski, "which we used to sing inwinter quarters, wishing some good soul to take pity on us."

  "I would be the first to take pity on you."

  "Thanks to you. If that is true, then I have no reason to sing longer,and I will give the lute into worthier hands."

  Terka did not reject the instrument this time, for she was moved byVolodyovski's song, in which there was more cunning indeed than truth.She struck the strings at once, and with a simpering mien began,--

  "For berries of elder go not to the green wood. Trust not a mad dug, believe not a young man. Each man in his heart bears rank poison; If he says that he loves thee, say No."

  Volodyovski grew so mirthful that he held his sides from laughter, andcried out: "All the men are traitors? But the military, mybenefactress!"

  Panna Terka opened her mouth wider and sang with redoubled energy,--

  "Far worse than mad dogs are they, far worse, oh, far worse!"

  "Do not mind Terka; she is always that way," said Marysia.[11]

  "Why not mind," asked Volodyovski, "when she speaks so ill of the wholemilitary order that from shame I know not whither to turn my eyes?"

  "You want me to sing, and then make sport of me and laugh at me," saidTerka, pouting.

  "I do not attack the singing, but the cruel meaning of it for themilitary," answered the knight. "As to the singing I must confess thatin Warsaw I have not heard such remarkable trills. All that would beneeded is to dress you in trousers. You might sing at St. Yan's, whichis the cathedral church, and in which the king and queen have theirbox."

  "Why dress her in trousers?" asked Zonia, the youngest, made curious bymention of Warsaw, the king, and the queen.

  "For in Warsaw women do not sing in the choir, but men and youngboys,--the men with voices so deep that no aurochs could bellow likethem, and the boys with voices so thin that on a violin no sound couldbe thinner. I heard them many a time when we came, with our great andlamented voevoda of Rus, to the election of our present gracious lord.It is a real wonder, so that the soul goes out of a man. There is ahost of musicians there: Forster, famous for his subtle trills, andKapula, and Gian Battista, and Elert, a master at the lute, and Marek,and Myelchevski,--beautiful composers. When all these are performingtogether in the church, it is as if you were listening to choirs ofseraphim in the flesh."

  "Oh, that is as true as if living!" said Marysia, placing her handstogether.

  "And the king,--have you seen him often?" asked Zonia.


  "I have spoken with him as with you. After the battle of Berestechko hepressed my head. He is a valiant lord, and so kind that whoso has onceseen him must love him."

  "We love him without having seen him. Has he the crown always on hishead?"

  "If he were to go around every day in the crown, his head would need tobe iron. The crown rests in the church, from which its importanceincreases; but his Grace the King wears a black cap studded withdiamonds from which light flashes through the whole castle."

  "They say that the castle of the king is even grander than that atKyedani?"

  "That at Kyedani! The Kyedani castle is a mere plaything in comparison.The king's castle is a tremendous building, all walled in so that youcannot see a stick of wood. Around are two rows of chambers, one moresplendid than the other. In them you can see different wars andvictories painted with brushes on the wall,--such as the battles ofSigismund III. and Vladislav; a man could not satisfy himself withlooking at them, for everything is as if living. The wonder is thatthey do not move, and that those who are fighting do not shout. But noteven the best artist can paint men to shout. Some chambers are allgold; chairs and benches covered with brocade or cloth of gold, tablesof marble and alabaster, and the caskets, bottle-cases, clocks showingthe hour of day and night, could not be described on an ox-hide. Theking and queen walk through those chambers and delight themselves inplenty; in the evening they have a theatre for their still greateramusement--"

  "What is a theatre?"

  "How can I tell you? It is a place where they play comedies and exhibitItalian dances in a masterly manner. It is a room so large that nochurch is the equal of it, all with beautiful columns. On one side sitthose who wish to see, and on the other the arts are exhibited.Curtains are raised and let down; some are turned with screws todifferent sides. Darkness and clouds are shown at one moment; atanother pleasant light. Above is the sky with the sun or the stars;below you may see at times hell dreadful--"

  "Oh, God save us!" cried the girls.

  "--with devils. Sometimes the boundless sea; on it ships and sirens.Some persons come down from the skies; others rise out of the earth."

  "But I should not like to see hell," cried Zonia, "and it is a wonderto me that people do not run away from such a terrible sight."

  "Not only do they not run away, but they applaud from pleasure," saidVolodyovski; "for it is all pretended, not real, and those who takefarewell do not go away. There is no evil spirit in the affair, onlythe invention of men. Even bishops come with his Grace the King, andvarious dignitaries who go with the king afterward and sit down to afeast before sleeping."

  "And what do they do in the morning and during the day?"

  "That depends on their wishes. When they rise in the morning they takea bath. There is a room in which there is no floor, only a tin tankshining like silver, and in the tank water."

  "Water, in a room--have you heard?"

  "It is true; and it comes and goes as they wish. It can be warm oraltogether cold; for there are pipes with spigots, running here andthere. Turn a spigot and the water runs till it is possible to swim inthe room as in a lake. No king has such a castle as our gracious lord,that is known, and foreign proverbs tell the same. Also no king reignsover such a worthy people; for though there are various polite nationson earth, still God in his mercy has adorned ours beyond others."

  "Our king is happy!" sighed Terka.

  "It is sure that he would be happy were it not for unfortunate warswhich press down the Commonwealth in return for our discords and sins.All this rests on the shoulders of the king, and besides at the dietsthey reproach him for our faults. And why is he to blame because peoplewill not obey him? Grievous times have come on the country,--suchgrievous times as have not been hitherto. Our most despicable enemy nowdespises us,--us who till recently carried on victorious wars againstthe Emperor of Turkey. This is the way that God punishes pride. Praisebe to Him that my arm works well in its joints,--for it is high time toremember the country and move to the field. 'Tis a sin to be idle intime of such troubles."

  "Do not mention going away."

  "It is difficult to do otherwise. It is pleasant for me here among you;but the better it is, the worse it is. Let men in the Diet give wisereasons, but a soldier longs for the field. While there is life thereis service. After death God, who looks into the heart, will reward bestthose who serve not for advancement, but through love of the country;and indeed the number of such is decreasing continually, and that iswhy the black hour has come."

  Marysia's eyes began to grow moist; at last they were filled with tearswhich flowed down her rosy cheeks. "You will go and forget us, and weshall pine away here. Who in this place will defend us from attack?"

  "I go, but I shall preserve my gratitude. It is rare to find suchhonest people as in Patsuneli. Are you always afraid of this Kmita?"

  "Of course. Mothers frighten their children with him as with awerewolf."

  "He will not come back, and even if he should he will not have with himthose wild fellows, who, judging from what people say, were worse thanhe. It is a pity indeed that such a good soldier stained his reputationand lost his property."

  "And the lady."

  "And the lady. They say much good in her favor."

  "Poor thing! for whole days she just cries and cries."

  "H'm!" said Volodyovski; "but is she not crying for Kmita?"

  "Who knows?" replied Marysia.

  "So much the worse for her, for he will not come back. The hetman senthome a part of the Lauda men, and those forces are here now. We wantedto cut him down at once without the court. He must know that the Laudamen have returned, and he will not show even his nose."

  "Likely our men must march again," said Terka, "for they received onlyleave to come home for a short time."

  "Eh!" said Volodyovski, "the hetman let them come, for there is nomoney in the treasury. It is pure despair! When people are most neededthey have to be sent away. But good-night! it is time to sleep, and letnone of you dream of Pan Kmita with a fiery sword."

  Volodyovski rose from the bench and prepared to leave the room, but hadbarely made a step toward the closet when suddenly there was a noise inthe entrance and a shrill voice began to cry outside the door--

  "Hei there! For God's mercy! open quickly, quickly!"

  The girls were terribly frightened. Volodyovski sprang for his sabre tothe closet, but had not been able to get it when Terka opened the door.An unknown man burst into the room and threw himself at the feet of theknight.

  "Rescue, serene Colonel!--The lady is carried away!"

  "What lady?"

  "In Vodokty."

  "Kmita!" cried Volodyovski.

  "Kmita!" screamed the girls.

  "Kmita!" repeated the messenger.

  "Who art thou?" asked Volodyovski.

  "The manager in Vodokty."

  "We know him," said Terka; "he brought herbs for you."

  Meanwhile the drowsy old Gashtovt came forth from behind the stove, andin the door appeared two attendants of Pan Volodyovski whom the uproarhad drawn to the room.

  "Saddle the horses!" cried Volodyovski. "Let one of you hurry to theButryms, the other give a horse to me!"

  "I have been already at the Butryms," said the manager, "for they arenearer to us; they sent me to your grace."

  "When was the lady carried away?" asked Volodyovski.

  "Just now--the servants are fighting yet--I rushed for a horse."

  Old Gashtovt rubbed his eyes. "What's that? The lady carried off?"

  "Yes; Kmita carried her off," answered Volodyovski. "Let us go to therescue!" Then he turned to the messenger: "Hurry to the Domasheviches;let them come with muskets."

  "Now, my kids," cried the old man suddenly to his daughters, "hurry tothe village, wake up the nobles, let them take their sabres! Kmita hascarried off the lady--is it possible--God forgive him, the murderer,the ruffian! Is it possible?"

  "Let us go to rouse them," said Volodyovski; "that wil
l be quicker!Come; the horses are ready, I hear them."

  In a moment they mounted, as did also the two attendants, Ogarek andSyruts. All pushed on their way between the cottages of the village,striking the doors and windows, and crying with sky-piercing voices:"To your sabres, to your sabres! The lady of Vodokty is carried away!Kmita is in the neighborhood!"

  Hearing these cries, this or that man rushed forth from his cottage,looked to see what was happening, and when he had learned what thematter was, fell to shouting himself, "Kmita is in the neighborhood;the lady is carried away!" And shouting in this fashion, he rushedheadlong to the out-buildings to saddle his horse, or to his cottage tofeel in the dark for his sabre on the wall. Every moment more voicescried, "Kmita is in the neighborhood!" There was a stir in the village,lights began to shine, the cry of women was heard, the barking of dogs.At last the nobles came out on the road,--some mounted, some on foot.Above the multitude of heads glittered in the night sabres, pikes,darts, and even iron forks.

  Volodyovski surveyed the company, sent some of them immediately indifferent directions, and moved forward himself with the rest.

  The mounted men rode in front, those on foot followed, and they marchedtoward Volmontovichi to join the Butryms. The hour was ten in theevening, and the night clear, though the moon had not risen. Those ofthe nobles whom the grand hetman had sent recently from the war droppedinto ranks at once; the others, namely the infantry, advanced with lessregularity, making a clatter with their weapons, talking and yawningaloud, at times cursing that devil of a Kmita who had robbed them ofpleasant rest. In this fashion they reached Volmontovichi, at the edgeof which an armed band pushed out to meet them.

  "Halt! who goes?" called voices from that band.

  "The Gashtovts!"

  "We are the Butryms. The Domasheviches have come already."

  "Who is leading you?" asked Volodyovski.

  "Yuzva the Footless at the service of the colonel."

  "Have you news?"

  "He took her to Lyubich. They went through the swamp to avoidVolmontovichi."

  "To Lyubich?" asked Volodyovski, in wonder. "Can he think of defendinghimself there? Lyubich is not a fortress, is it?"

  "It seems he trusts in his strength. There are two hundred with him. Nodoubt he wants to take the property from Lyubich; they have wagons anda band of led horses. It must be that he did not know of our returnfrom the army, for he acts very boldly."

  "That is good for us!" said Volodyovski. "He will not escape this time.How many guns have you?"

  "We, the Butryms, have thirty; the Domasheviches twice as many."

  "Very good. Let fifty men with muskets go with you to defend thepassage in the swamps, quickly; the rest will come with me. Rememberthe axes."

  "According to command."

  There was a movement; the little division under Yuzva the Footless wentforward at a trot to the swamp. A number of tens of Butryms who hadbeen sent for other nobles now came up.

  "Are the Gostsyeviches to be seen?" asked Volodyovski.

  "Yes, Colonel. Praise be to God!" cried the newly arrived. "TheGostsyeviches are coming; they can be heard through the woods. You knowthat they carried her to Lyubich?"

  "I know. He will not go far with her."

  There was indeed one danger to his insolent venture on which Kmita hadnot reckoned; he knew not that a considerable force of the nobles hadjust returned home. He judged that the villages were as empty as at thetime of his first stay in Lyubich; while on the present occasioncounting the Gostsyeviches, without the Stakyans, who could not come upin season, Volodyovski was able to lead against him about three hundredsabres held by men accustomed to battle and trained.

  In fact, more and more nobles joined Volodyovski as he advanced. Atlast came the Gostsyeviches, who had been expected till that moment.Volodyovski drew up the division, and his heart expanded at sight ofthe order and ease with which the men stood in ranks. At the firstglance it was clear that they were soldiers, not ordinary untrainednobles. Volodyovski rejoiced for another reason; he thought to himselfthat soon he would lead them to more distant places.

  They moved then on a swift march toward Lyubich by the pine-woodsthrough which Kmita had rushed the winter before. It was well aftermidnight. The moon sailed out at last in the sky, and lighting thewoods, the road, and the marching warriors, broke its pale rays on thepoints of the pikes, and was reflected on the gleaming sabres. Thenobles talked in a low voice of the unusual event which had draggedthem from their beds.

  "Various people have been going around here," said one of theDomasheviches; "we thought they were deserters, but they were surelyhis spies."

  "Of course. Every day strange minstrels used to visit Vodokty as if foralms," said others.

  "And what kind of soldiers has Kmita?"

  "The servants in Vodokty say they are Cossacks. It is certain thatKmita has made friends with Hovanski or Zolotarenko. Hitherto he was amurderer, now he is an evident traitor."

  "How could he bring Cossacks thus far?"

  "With such a great band it is not easy to pass. Our first good companywould have stopped him on the road."

  "Well, they might go through the forests. Besides, are there few lordstravelling with domestic Cossacks? Who can tell them from the enemy? Ifthese men are asked they will say that they are domestic Cossacks."

  "He will defend himself," said one of the Gostsyeviches, "for he is abrave and resolute man; but our colonel will be a match for him."

  "The Butryms too have vowed that even if they have to fall one on theother, he will not leave there alive. They are the most bitter againsthim."

  "But if we kill him, from whom will they recover their losses? Bettertake him alive and give him to justice."

  "What is the use in thinking of courts now when all have lost theirheads? Do you know that people say war may come from the Swedes?"

  "May God preserve us from that! The Moscow power and Hmelnitski atpresent; only the Swedes are wanting, and then the last day of theCommonwealth."

  At this moment Volodyovski riding in advance turned and said, "Quietthere, gentlemen!"

  The nobles grew silent, for Lyubich was in sight. In a quarter of anhour they had come within less than forty rods of the building. All thewindows were illuminated; the light shone into the yard, which was fullof armed men and horses. Nowhere sentries, no precautions,--it wasevident that Kmita trusted too much in his strength. When he had drawnstill nearer, Pan Volodyovski with one glance recognized the Cossacksagainst whom he had warred so much during the life of the great Yeremi,and later under Radzivill.

  "If those are strange Cossacks, then that ruffian has passed thelimit."

  He looked farther; brought his whole party to a halt. There was aterrible bustle in the court. Some Cossacks were giving light withtorches; others were running in every direction, coming out of thehouse and going in again, bringing out things, packing bags into thewagons; others were leading horses from the stable, driving cattle fromthe stalls. Cries, shouts, commands, crossed one another in everydirection. The gleam of torches lighted as it were the moving of atenant to a new estate on St. John's Eve.

  Kryshtof, the oldest among the Domasheviches, pushed up to Volodyovskiand said, "They want to pack all Lyubich into wagons."

  "They will take away," answered Volodyovski, "neither Lyubich nor theirown skins. I do not recognize Kmita, who is an experienced soldier.There is not a single sentry."

  "Because he has great force,--it seems to me more than three hundredstrong. If we had not returned he might have passed with the wagonsthrough all the villages."

  "Is this the only road to the house?" asked Volodyovski.

  "The only one, for in the rear are ponds and swamps."

  "That is well. Dismount!"

  Obedient to this command, the nobles sprang from their saddles. Therear ranks of infantry deployed in a long line, and began to surroundthe house and the buildings. Volodyovski with the main divisionadvanced directly on the gate.

  "Wait the
command!" said he, in a low voice. "Fire not before theorder."

  A few tens of steps only separated the nobles from the gate when theywere seen at last from the yard. Men sprang at once to the fence, bentforward, and peering carefully into the darkness, called threateningly,"Hei! Who are there?"

  "Halt!" cried Volodyovski; "fire!"

  Shots from all the guns which the nobles carried thundered together;but the echo had not come back from the building when the voice ofVolodyovski was heard again: "On the run!"

  "Kill! slay!" cried the Lauda men, rushing forward like a torrent.

  The Cossacks answered with shots, but they had not time to reload. Thethrong of nobles rushed against the gate, which soon fell before thepressure of armed men. A struggle began to rage in the yard, amongthe wagons, horses, and bags. The powerful Butryms, the fiercest inhand-to-hand conflict and the most envenomed against Kmita, advanced inline. They went like a herd of stags bursting through a growth of youngtrees, breaking, trampling, destroying, and cutting wildly. Alter themrolled the Domasheviches and the Gostsyeviches.

  Kmita's Cossacks defended themselves manfully from behind the wagonsand packs; they began to fire too from all the windows of the house andfrom the roof,--but rarely, for the trampled torches were quenched, andit was difficult to distinguish their own from the enemy. After a whilethe Cossacks were pushed from the yard and the house to the stables;cries for quarter were heard. The nobles had triumphed.

  But when they were alone in the yard, fire from the house increased atonce. All the windows were bristling with muskets, and a storm ofbullets began to fall on the yard. The greater part of the Cossacks hadtaken refuge in the house.

  "To the doors!" cried Volodyovski.

  In fact, the discharges from the windows and from the roof could notinjure those at the very walls. The position, however, of the besiegerswas difficult. They could not think of storming the windows, for firewould greet them straight in the face. Volodyovski therefore commandedto hew down the doors. But that was not easy, for they were boltsrather than doors, made of oak pieces fixed crosswise and fastened withmany gigantic nails, on the strong heads of which axes were dentedwithout breaking the doors. The most powerful men pushed then from timeto time with their shoulders, but in vain. Behind the doors wore ironbars, and besides they were supported inside by props. But the Butrymshewed with rage. At the doors of the kitchen leading also to thestorehouse the Domasheviches and Gashtovts were storming.

  After vain efforts of an hour the men at the axes were relieved. Somecross-pieces had fallen, but in place of them appeared gun-barrels.Shots sounded again. Two Butryms fell to the ground with piercedbreasts. The others, instead of being put to disorder, hewed still moresavagely.

  By command of Volodyovski the openings were stopped with bundles ofcoats. Now in the direction of the road new shouts were heard from theStakyans, who had come to the aid of their brethren; and following themwere armed peasants from Vodokty.

  The arrival of these reinforcements had evidently disturbed thebesieged, for straightway a voice behind the door called loudly: "Stopthere! do not hew! listen! Stop, a hundred devils take you! let ustalk."

  Volodyovski gave orders to stop the work and asked; "Who is speaking?"

  "The banneret of Orsha, Kmita; and with whom am I speaking?"

  "Col. Michael Volodyovski."

  "With the forehead!" answered the voice from behind the door.

  "There is no time for greetings. What is your wish?"

  "It would be more proper for me to ask what you want. You do not knowme, nor I you; why attack me?"

  "Traitor!" cried Volodyovski. "With me are the men of Lauda who havereturned from the war, and they have accounts with you for robbery, forblood shed without cause and for the lady whom you have carried away.But do you know what _raptus puellae_ means? You must yield your life."

  A moment of silence followed.

  "You would not call me traitor a second time," said Kmita, "were it notfor the door between us."

  "Open it, then! I do not hinder."

  "More than one dog from Lauda will cover himself with his legs beforeit is open. You will not take me alive."

  "Then we will drag you out dead, by the hair. All one to us!"

  "Listen with care, note what I tell you! If you do not let us go, Ihave a barrel of powder here, and the match is burning already. I'llblow up the house and all who are in it with myself, so help me God!Come now and take me!"

  This time a still longer silence followed. Volodyovski sought an answerin vain. The nobles began to look at one another in fear. There was somuch wild energy in the words of Kmita that all believed his threat.The whole victory might be turned into dust by one spark, and PannaBillevich lost forever.

  "For God's sake!" muttered one of the Butryms, "he is a madman. He isready to do what he says."

  Suddenly a happy thought came to Volodyovski, as it seemed to him."There is another way!" cried he. "Meet me, traitor, with a sabre. Ifyou put me down, you will go away in freedom."

  For a time there was no answer. The hearts of the Lauda men beatunquietly.

  "With a sabre?" asked Kmita, at length. "Can that be?"

  "If you are not afraid, it will be."

  "The word of a cavalier that I shall go away in freedom?"

  "The word--"

  "Impossible!" cried a number of voices among the Butryms.

  "Quiet, a hundred devils!" roared Volodyovski; "if not, then let himblow you up with himself."

  The Butryms were silent; after a while one of them said, "Let it be asyou wish."

  "Well, what is the matter there?" asked Kmita, derisively. "Do the graycoats agree?"

  "Yes, and they will take oath on their swords, if you wish."

  "Let them take oath."

  "Come together, gentlemen, come together!" cried Volodyovski to thenobles who were standing under the walls and surrounding the wholehouse.

  After a while all collected at the main door, and soon the news thatKmita wanted to blow himself up with powder spread on every side. Theywere as if petrified with terror. Meanwhile Volodyovski raised hisvoice and said amid silence like that of the grave,--

  "I take you all present here to witness that I have challenged PanKmita, the banneret of Orsha, to a duel, and I have promised that if heputs me down he shall go hence in freedom, without obstacle from you;to this you must swear on your sword-hilts, in the name of God and theholy cross--"

  "But wait!" cried Kmita,--"in freedom with all my men, and I take thelady with me."

  "The lady will remain here," answered Volodyovski, "and the men will goas prisoners to the nobles."

  "That cannot be."

  "Then blow yourself up with powder! We have already mourned for her; asto the men, ask them what they prefer."

  Silence followed.

  "Let it be so," said Kmita, after a time. "If I do not take her to-day,I will in a month. You will not hide her under the ground! Take theoath!"

  "Take the oath!" repeated Volodyovski.

  "We swear by the Most High God and the Holy Cross. Amen!"

  "Well, come out, come out!" cried Volodyovski.

  "You are in a hurry to the other world?"

  "No matter, no matter, only come out quickly."

  The iron bars holding the door on the inside began to groan.

  Volodyovski pushed back, and with him the nobles, to make room. Soonthe door opened, and in it appeared Pan Andrei, tall, straight as apoplar. The dawn was already coming, and the first pale light of dayfell on his daring, knightly, and youthful face. He stopped in thedoor, looked boldly on the crowd of nobles, and said,--

  "I have trusted in you. God knows whether I have done well, but letthat go. Who here is Pan Volodyovski?"

  The little colonel stepped forward. "I am!" answered he.

  "Oh! you are not like a giant," said Kmita, with sarcastic reference toVolodyovski's stature, "I expected to find a more considerable figure,though I must confess you are evidently a soldier of experie
nce."

  "I cannot say the same of you, for you have neglected sentries. If youare the same at the sabre as at command, I shall not have work."

  "Where shall we fight?" asked Kmita, quickly.

  "Here,--the yard is as level as a table."

  "Agreed! Prepare for death."

  "Are you so sure?"

  "It is clear that you have never been in Orsha, since you doubt. Notonly am I sure, but I am sorry, for I have heard of you as a splendidsoldier. Therefore I say for the last time, let me go! We do not knoweach other; why should we stand the one in the way of the other? Whyattack me? The maiden is mine by the will, as well as this property;and God knows I am only seeking my own. It is true that I cut down thenobles in Volmontovichi, but let God decide who committed the firstwrong. Whether my officers were men of violence or not, we need notdiscuss; it is enough that they did no harm to any one here, and theywere slaughtered to the last man because they wanted to dance withgirls in a public house. Well, let blood answer blood! After that mysoldiers were cut to pieces. I swear by the wounds of God that I cameto these parts without evil intent, and how was I received? But letwrong balance wrong, I will still add from my own and make losses goodin neighbor fashion. I prefer that to another way."

  "And what kind of people have you here? Where did you get theseassistants?" asked Volodyovski.

  "Where I got them I got them. I did not bring them against the country,but to obtain my own rights."

  "Is that the kind of man you are? So for private affairs you havejoined the enemy. And with what have you paid him for this service, ifnot with treason? No, brother, I should not hinder you from coming toterms with the nobles, but to call in the enemy is another thing. Youwill not creep out. Stand up now, stand up, or I shall say that you area coward, though you give yourself out as a master from Orsha."

  "You would have it," said Kmita, taking position.

  But Volodyovski did not hurry, and not taking his sabre out yet, helooked around on the sky. Day was already coming in the east. The firstgolden and azure stripes were extended in a belt of light, but in theyard it was still gloomy enough, and just in front of the housecomplete darkness reigned.

  "The day begins well," said Volodyovski, "but the sun will not risesoon. Perhaps you would wish to have light?"

  "It is all one to me."

  "Gentlemen!" cried Volodyovski, turning to the nobles, "go for somestraw and for torches; it will be clearer for us in this Orsha dance."

  The nobles, to whom this humorous tone of the young colonel gavewonderful consolation, rushed quickly to the kitchen. Some of them fellto collecting the torches trampled at the time of the battle, and in alittle while nearly fifty red flames were gleaming in the semi-darknessof the early morning.

  Volodyovski showed them with his sabre to Kmita. "Look, a regularfuneral procession!"

  And Kmita answered at once: "They are burying a colonel, so there mustbe parade."

  "You are a dragon!"

  Meanwhile the nobles formed in silence a circle around the knights, andraised the burning torches aloft; behind them others took their places,curious and disquieted; in the centre the opponents measured each otherwith their eyes. A grim silence began; only burned coals fell with acrackle to the ground. Volodyovski was as lively as a goldfinch on abright morning.

  "Begin!" said Kmita.

  The first clash raised an echo in the heart of every onlooker.Volodyovski struck as if unwillingly; Kmita warded and struck in histurn; Volodyovski warded. The dry clash grew more rapid. All heldbreath. Kmita attacked with fury. Volodyovski put his left hand behindhis back and stood quietly, making very careless, slight, almostimperceptible movements; it seemed that he wished merely to defendhimself, and at the same time spare his opponent. Sometimes he pushed ashort step backward, again he advanced; apparently he was studying theskill of Kmita. Kmita was growing heated; Volodyovski was cool as amaster testing his pupil, and all the time calmer and calmer. At last,to the great surprise of the nobles, he said,--

  "Now let us talk; it will not last long. Ah, ha! is that the Orshamethod? 'Tis clear that you must have threshed peas there, for youstrike like a man with a flail. Terrible blows! Are they really thebest in Orsha? That thrust is in fashion only among tribunal police.This is from Courland, good to chase dogs with. Look to the end of yoursabre! Don't bend your hand so, for see what will happen! Raise yoursabre!"

  Volodyovski pronounced the last words with emphasis; at the same timehe described a half-circle, drew the hand and sabre toward him, andbefore the spectators understood what "raise" meant, Kmita's sabre,like a needle pulled from a thread, flew above Volodyovski's head andfell behind his shoulders; then he said,--

  "That is called shelling a sabre."

  Kmita stood pale, wild-eyed, staggering, astonished no less than thenobles of Lauda; the little colonel pushed to one side, and repeatedagain,--

  "Take your sabre!"

  For a time it seemed as if Kmita would rush at him with naked hands. Hewas just ready for the spring, when Volodyovski put his hilt to his ownbreast, presenting the point. Kmita rushed to take his own sabre, andfell with it again on his terrible opponent.

  A loud murmur rose from the circle of spectators, and the ring grewcloser and closer. Kmita's Cossacks thrust their heads between theshoulders of the nobles, as if they had lived all their lives in thebest understanding with them. Involuntarily shouts were wrested fromthe mouths of the onlookers; at times an outburst of unrestrained,nervous laughter was heard; all acknowledged a master of masters.

  Volodyovski amused himself cruelly like a cat with a mouse, and seemedto work more and more carelessly with the sabre. He took his left handfrom behind his back and thrust it into his trousers' pocket. Kmita wasfoaming at the mouth, panting heavily; at last hoarse words came fromhis throat through his set lips,--

  "Finish--spare the shame!"

  "Very well!" replied Volodyovski.

  A short terrible whistle was heard, then a smothered cry. At the samemoment Kmita threw open his arms, his sabre dropped to the ground, andhe fell on his face at the feet of the colonel.

  "He lives!" said Volodyovski; "he has not fallen on his back!" Anddoubling the skirt of Kmita's coat, he began to wipe his sabre.

  The nobles shouted with one voice, and in those shouts thundered withincreasing clearness: "Finish the traitor! finish him! cut him topieces!"

  A number of Butryms ran up with drawn sabres. Suddenly somethingwonderful happened,--and one would have said that little Volodyovskihad grown tall before their eyes: the sabre of the nearest Butrym flewout of his hand after Kmita's, as if a whirlwind had caught it, andVolodyovski shouted with flashing eyes,--

  "Stand back, stand back! He is mine now, not yours! Be off!"

  All were silent, fearing the anger of that man; and he said: "I want noshambles here! As nobles you should understand knightly customs, andnot slaughter the wounded. Enemies do not do that, and how could a manin a duel kill his prostrate opponent?"

  "He is a traitor!" muttered one of the Butryms. "It is right to killsuch a man."

  "If he is a traitor he should be given to the hetman to sufferpunishment and serve as an example to others. But as I have said, he ismine now, not yours. If he recovers you will be free to get your rightsbefore a court, and it will be easier to obtain satisfaction from aliving than a dead man. Who here knows how to dress wounds?"

  "Krysh Domashevich. He has attended to all in Lauda for years."

  "Let him dress the man at once, then take him to bed, and I will go toconsole the ill-fated lady."

  So saying, Volodyovski put his sabre into the scabbard. The noblesbegan to seize and bind Kmita's men, who henceforth were to plough landin the villages. They surrendered without resistance; only a few whohad escaped through the rear windows of the house ran toward the ponds,but they fell into the hands of the Stakyans who were stationed there.At the same time the nobles fell to plundering the wagons, in whichthey found quite a plentiful booty; some of them gave advice to sackth
e house, but they feared Pan Volodyovski, and perhaps the presence ofPanna Billevich restrained the most daring. Their own killed, amongwhom were three Butryms and two Domasheviches, the nobles put intowagons, so as to bury them according to Christian rites. They orderedthe peasants to dig a ditch for Kmita's dead behind the garden.

  Volodyovski in seeking the lady burst through the whole house, andfound her at last in the treasure-chamber situated in a corner to whicha low and narrow door led from the sleeping-room. It was a smallchamber, with narrow, strongly barred windows, built in a square andwith such mighty walls, that Volodyovski saw at once that even if Kmitahad blown up the house with powder that room would have surely remainedunharmed. This gave him a better opinion of Kmita. The lady was sittingon a chest not far from the door, with her head drooping, and her facealmost hidden by her hair. She did not raise it when she heard theknight coming. She thought beyond doubt that it was Kmita himself orsome one of his people. Pan Volodyovski stood in the door, coughedonce, a second time, and seeing no result from that, said,--

  "My lady, you are free!"

  "From under the drooping hair blue eyes looked at the knight, and thena comely face appeared, though pale and as it were not conscious.Volodyovski was hoping for thanks, an outburst of gladness; but thelady sat motionless, distraught, and merely looked at him. Thereforethe knight spoke again,--

  "Come to yourself, my lady! God has regarded innocence,--you are free,and can return to Vodokty."

  This time there was more consciousness in the look of Panna Billevich.She rose from the chest, shook back her hair, and asked, "Who are you?"

  "Michael Volodyovski, colonel of dragoons with the voevoda of Vilna."

  "Did I hear a battle--shots? Tell me."

  "Yes. We came to save you."

  She regained her senses completely. "I thank you," said she hurriedly,with a low voice, through which a mortal disquiet was breaking. "Butwhat happened to him?"

  "To Kmita? Fear not, my lady! He is lying lifeless in the yard; andwithout praising myself I did it."

  Volodyovski uttered this with a certain boastfulness; but if heexpected admiration he deceived himself terribly. She said not a word,but tottered and began to seek support behind with her hands. At lastshe sat heavily on the same chest from which she had risen a momentbefore.

  The knight sprang to her quickly: "What is the matter, my lady?"

  "Nothing, nothing--wait, permit me. Then is Pan Kmita killed?"

  "What is Pan Kmita to me?" interrupted Volodyovski; "it is a questionhere of you."

  That moment her strength came back; for she rose again, and looking himstraight in the eyes, screamed with anger, impatience, and despair: "Bythe living God, answer! Is he killed?"

  "Pan Kmita is wounded," answered the astonished Volodyovski.

  "Is he alive?"

  "He is alive."

  "It is well! I thank you."

  And with step still tottering she moved toward the door. Volodyovskistood for a while moving his mustaches violently and shaking his head;then he muttered to himself, "Does she thank me because Kmita iswounded, or because he is alive?"

  He followed Olenka, and found her in the adjoining bed room standing inthe middle of it as if turned to stone. Four nobles were bearing in atthat moment Pan Kmita; the first two advancing sidewise appeared in thedoor, and between them hung toward the floor the pale head of PanAndrei, with closed eyes, and clots of black blood in his hair.

  "Slowly," said Krysh Domashevich, walking behind, "slowly across thethreshold. Let some one hold his head. Slowly!"

  "With what can we hold it when our hands are full?" answered those infront.

  At that moment Panna Aleksandra approached them, pale as was Kmitahimself, and placed both hands under his lifeless head.

  "This is the lady," said Krysh Domashevich.

  "It is I. Be careful!" answered she, in a low voice.

  Volodyovski looked on, and his mustaches quivered fearfully.

  Meanwhile they placed Kmita on the bed. Krysh Domashevich began to washhis head with water; then he fixed a plaster previously prepared to thewound, and said,--

  "Now let him lie quietly. Oh, that's an iron head not to burst fromsuch a blow! He may recover, for he is young. But he got it hard."

  Then he turned to Olenka: "Let me wash your hands,--here is water. Akind heart is in you that you were not afraid to put blood on yourselffor that man."

  Speaking thus, he wiped her palms with a cloth; but she grew pale andchanged in the eyes.

  Volodyovski sprang to her again: "There is nothing here for you, mylady. You have shown Christian charity to an enemy; return home." Andhe offered her his arm.

  She however, did not look at him, but turning to Krysh Domashevich,said, "Pan Kryshtof, conduct me."

  Both went out, and Volodyovski followed them. In the yard the noblesbegan to shout at sight of her, and cry, "Vivat!" But she went forward,pale, staggering, with compressed lips, and with fire in her eyes.

  "Long life to our lady! Long life to our colonel!" cried powerfulvoices.

  An hour later Volodyovski returned at the head of the Lauda men towardthe villages. The sun had risen already; the early morning in the worldwas gladsome, a real spring morning. The Lauda men clattered forward ina formless crowd along the highway, discussing the events of the nightand praising Volodyovski to the skies; but he rode on thoughtful andsilent. Those eyes looking from behind the dishevelled hair did notleave his mind, nor that slender form, imposing though bent by griefand pain.

  "It is a marvel what a wonder she is," said he to himself,--"a realprincess! I have saved her honor and surely her life, for though thepowder would not have blown up the treasure-room she would have died ofpure fright. She ought to be grateful. But who can understand a fairhead? She looked on me as on some serving-lad, I know not whether fromhaughtiness or perplexity."