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

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  CHAPTER XXVIII.

  The trusty Soroka carried his colonel through the deep forest, notknowing himself what to begin, whither to go or to turn.

  Kmita was not only wounded, but stunned by the shot. Soroka from timeto time moistened the piece of cloth in a bucket hanging by the horse,and washed his face; at times he halted to take fresh water from thestreams and forest ponds; but neither halts nor the movement of thehorse could restore at once consciousness to Pan Andrei, and he lay asif dead, till the soldiers going with him, and less experienced in thematter of wounds than Soroka, began to be alarmed for the life of theircolonel.

  "He is alive," answered Soroka; "in three days he will be on horsebacklike any of us."

  In fact, an hour later, Kmita opened his eyes; but from his mouth cameforth one word only,--

  "Drink!"

  Soroka held a cup of pure water to his lips; but it seemed that to openhis mouth caused Pan Andrei unendurable pain, and he was unable todrink. But he did not lose consciousness: he asked for nothing,apparently remembered nothing; his eyes were wide open, and he gazed,without attention, toward the depth of the forest, on the streaks ofblue sky visible through the dense branches above their heads, and athis comrades, like a man roused from sleep, or like one recovered fromdrunkenness, and permitted Soroka to take care of him without saying aword,--nay, the cold water with which the sergeant washed the woundseemed to give him pleasure, for at times his eyes smiled. But Sorokacomforted him,--

  "To-morrow the dizziness will pass, Colonel; God grant recovery."

  In fact, dizziness began to disappear toward evening; for just beforethe setting of the sun Kmita seemed more self-possessed and asked on asudden, "What noise is that?"

  "What noise? There is none," answered Soroka.

  Apparently the noise was only in the head of Pan Andrei, for theevening was calm. The setting sun, piercing the gloom with its slantingrays, filled with golden glitter the forest darkness, and lighted thered trunks of the pine-trees. There was no wind, and only here andthere, from hazel, birch, and hornbeam trees leaves dropped to theground, or timid beasts made slight rustle in fleeing to the depths ofthe forest in front of the horsemen.

  The evening was cool; but evidently fever had begun to attack PanAndrei, for he repeated,--

  "Your highness, it is life or death between us!"

  At last it became dark altogether, and Soroka was thinking of a nightcamp; but because they had entered a damp forest and the ground beganto yield under the hoofs of their horses, they continued to ride inorder to reach high and dry places.

  They rode one hour and a second without being able to pass the swamp.Meanwhile it was growing lighter, for the moon had risen. SuddenlySoroka, who was in advance, sprang from the saddle and began to lookcarefully at the ground.

  "Horses have passed this way," said he, at sight of tracks in the softearth.

  "Who could have passed, when there is no road?" asked one of thesoldiers supporting Pan Kmita.

  "But there are tracks, and a whole crowd of them! Look here between thepines,--as evident as on the palm of the hand!"

  "Perhaps cattle have passed."

  "Impossible. It is not the time of forest pastures; horse-hoofs areclearly to be seen, somebody must have passed. It would be well to findeven a forester's cabin."

  "Let us follow the trail."

  "Let us ride forward!"

  Soroka mounted again and rode on. Horses' tracks in the turfy groundwere more distinct; and some of them, as far as could be seen in thelight of the moon, seemed quite fresh. Still the horses sank to theirknees, and beyond. The soldiers were afraid that they could not wadethrough, or would come to some deeper quagmire; when, at the end ofhalf an hour, the odor of smoke and rosin came to their nostrils.

  "There must be a pitch-clearing here," said Soroka.

  "Yes, sparks are to be seen," said a soldier.

  And really in the distance appeared a line of reddish smoke, filledwith flame, around which were dancing the sparks of a fire burningunder the ground.

  When they had approached, the soldiers saw a cabin, a well, and astrong shed built of pine logs. The horses, wearied from the road,began to neigh; frequent neighing answered them from under the shed,and at the same time there stood before the riders some kind of afigure, dressed in sheepskin, wool outward.

  "Are there many horses?" asked the man in the sheepskin.

  "Is this a pitch-factory?" inquired Soroka.

  "What kind of people are ye? Where do ye come from?" asked thepitch-maker, in a voice in which astonishment and alarm were evident.

  "Never fear!" answered Soroka; "we are not robbers."

  "Go your own way; there is nothing for you here."

  "Shut thy mouth, and guide us to the house since we ask. Seest not,scoundrel, that we are taking a wounded man?"

  "What kind of people are ye?"

  "Be quick, or we answer from guns. It will be better for thee to hurry.Take us to the house; if not, we will cook thee in thy own pitch."

  "I cannot defend myself alone, but there will be more of us. Ye willlay down your lives here."

  "There will be more of us too; lead on!"

  "Go on yourselves; it is not my affair."

  "What thou hast to eat, give us, and gorailka. We are carrying a manwho will pay."

  "If he leaves here alive."

  Thus conversing, they entered the cabin; a fire was burning in thechimney, and from pots, hanging by the handles, came the odor ofboiling meat. The cabin was quite large. Soroka saw at the walls sixwooden beds, covered thickly with sheepskins.

  "This is the resort of some company," muttered he to his comrades."Prime your guns and watch well. Take care of this scoundrel, let himnot slip away. The owners sleep outside to-night, for we shall notleave the house."

  "The men will not come to-day," said the pitch-maker.

  "That is better, for we shall not quarrel about room, and to-morrow wewill go on," replied Soroka; "but now dish the meat, for we are hungry,and spare no oats on the horses."

  "Where can oats be found here, great mighty soldiers?"

  "We heard horses under the shed, so there must be oats; thou dost notfeed them with pitch."

  "They are not my horses."

  "Whether they are yours or not, they must eat as well as ours. Hurry,man, hurry! if thy skin is dear to thee!"

  The pitch-maker said nothing. The soldiers entered the house, placedthe sleeping Kmita on a bed, and sat down to supper. They ate eagerlythe boiled meat and cabbage, a large kettle of which was in thechimney. There was millet also, and in a room at the side of the cabinSoroka found a large decanter of spirits.

  He merely strengthened himself with it slightly, and gave none to thesoldiers, for he had determined to hold it in reserve for the night.This empty house with six beds for men, and a shed in which a band ofhorses were neighing, seemed to him strange and suspicious. He judgedsimply that this was a robbers' retreat, especially since in the roomfrom which he brought the decanter he found many weapons hanging on thewall, and a keg of powder, with various furniture, evidently plunderedfrom noble houses. In case the absent occupants of the cabin returned,it was impossible to expect from them not merely hospitality, but evenmercy. Soroka therefore resolved to hold the house with armed hand, andmaintain himself in it by superior force or negotiations.

  This was imperative also in view of the health of Pan Kmita, for whom ajourney might be fatal, and in view of the safety of all.

  Soroka was a trained and seasoned soldier, to whom one feeling wasforeign,--the feeling of fear. Still in that moment, at thought ofPrince Boguslav, fear seized him. Having been for long years in theservice of Kmita, he had blind faith, not only in the valor, but thefortune of the man; he had seen more than once deeds of his which indaring surpassed every measure, and touched almost on madness, butwhich still succeeded and passed without harm. With Kmita he had gonethrough the "raids" on Hovanski; had taken part in all the surprises,attacks, fights,
and onsets, and had come to the conviction that PanAndrei could do all things, succeed in all things, come out of everychaos, and destroy whomsoever he wished. Kmita therefore was for himthe highest impersonation of power and fortune,--but this time he hadmet his match seemingly, nay, he had met his superior. How was this?One man carried away, without weapons, and in Kmita's hands, had freedhimself from those hands; not only that, he had overthrown Kmita,conquered his soldiers, and terrified them so that they ran away infear of his return. That was a wonder of wonders, and Soroka lost hishead pondering over it. To his thinking, anything might come to pass inthe world rather than this, that a man might be found who could rideover Kmita.

  "Has our fortune then ended?" muttered he to himself, gazing around inwonder.

  It was not long since with eyes shut he followed Pan Kmita toHovanski's quarters surrounded by eighty thousand men; now at thethought of that long-haired prince with lady's eyes and a painted face,superstitious terror seized him, and he knew not what to do. Thethought alarmed him, that to-morrow or the next day he would have totravel on highways where the terrible prince himself or his pursuersmight meet him. This was the reason why he had gone from the road tothe dense forest, and at present wished to stay in that cabin untilpursuers were deluded and wearied.

  But since even that hiding-place did not seem to him safe for otherreasons, he wished to discover what course to take; therefore heordered the soldiers to stand guard at the door and the windows, andsaid to the pitch-maker,--

  "Here, man, take a lantern and come with me."

  "I can light the great mighty lord only with a pitch-torch, for we haveno lantern."

  "Then light the torch; if thou burn the shed and the horses, it is allone to me."

  After such words a lantern was found right away. Soroka commanded thefellow to go ahead, and followed himself with a pistol in his hand.

  "Who live in this cabin?" asked he on the road.

  "Men live here."

  "What are their names?"

  "That is not free for me to say."

  "It seems to me, fellow, that thou'lt get a bullet in thy head."

  "My master," answered the pitch-maker, "if I had told in a lie any kindof name, you would have to be satisfied."

  "True! But are there many of those men?"

  "There is an old one, two sons, and two servants."

  "Are they nobles?"

  "Surely nobles."

  "Do they live here?"

  "Sometimes here, and sometimes God knows where."

  "But the horses, whence are they?"

  "God knows whence they bring them."

  "Tell the truth; do thy masters not rob on the highway?"

  "Do I know? It seems to me they take horses, but whose,--that's not onmy head."

  "What do they do with the horses?"

  "Sometimes they take ten or twelve of them, as many as there are, anddrive them away, but whither I know not."

  Thus conversing, they reached the shed, from which was heard thesnorting of horses.

  "Hold the light," said Soroka.

  The fellow raised the lantern, and threw light on the horses standingin a row at the wall. Soroka examined them one after another with theeye of a specialist, shook his head, smacked his lips, and said,--

  "The late Pan Zend would have rejoiced. There are Polish and Muscovitehorses here,--there is a Wallachian, a German,--a mare. Fine horses!What dost thou give them to eat?"

  "Not to lie, my master, I sowed two fields with oats in springtime."

  "Then thy masters have been handling horses since spring?"

  "No, but they sent a servant to me with a command."

  "Then art thou theirs?"

  "I was till they went to the war."

  "What war?"

  "Do I know? They went far away last year, and came back in the summer."

  "Whose art thou now?"

  "These are the king's forests."

  "Who put thee here to make pitch?"

  "The royal forester, a relative of these men, who also brought horseswith them; but since he went away once with them, he has not comeback."

  "And do guests come to these men?"

  "Nobody comes here, for there are swamps around, and only one road. Itis a wonder to me that ye could come, my master; for whoso does notstrike the road, will be drawn in by the swamp."

  Soroka wanted to answer that he knew these woods and the road verywell; but after a moment's thought he determined that silence wasbetter, and inquired,--

  "Are these woods very great?"

  The fellow did not understand the question. "How is that?"

  "Do they go far?"

  "Oh! who has gone through them? Where one ends another begins, and Godknows where they are not; I have never been in that place."

  "Very well!" said Soroka.

  Then he ordered the man to go back to the cabin, and followed himself.

  On the way he was pondering over what he should do, and hesitated.On one hand the wish came to him to take the horses while thecabin-dwellers were gone, and flee with this plunder. The booty wasprecious, and the horses pleased the old soldier's heart greatly; butafter a while he overcame the temptation. To take them was easy, butwhat to do further. Swamps all around, one egress,--how hit upon that?Chance had served him once, but perhaps it would not a second time. Tofollow the trail of hoofs was useless, for the cabin-dwellers hadsurely wit enough to make by design false and treacherous trailsleading straight into quagmires. Soroka knew clearly the methods of menwho steal horses, and of those who take booty.

  He thought awhile, therefore, and meditated; all at once he struck hishead with his fist,--

  "I am a fool!" muttered he. "I'll take the fellow on a rope, and makehim lead me to the highway."

  Barely had he uttered the last word when he shuddered, "To the highway?But that prince will be there, and pursuit. To lose fifteen horses!"said the old fox to himself, with as much sorrow as if he had cared forthe beasts from their colthood. "It must be that our fortune is ended.We must stay in the cabin till Pan Kmita recovers,--stay with consentof the owners or without their consent; and what will come later, thatis work for the colonel's head."

  Thus meditating, he returned to the cabin. The watchful soldiers werestanding at the door, and though they saw a lantern shining inthe dark from a distance,--the same lantern with which Soroka and thepitch-maker had gone out,--still they forced them to tell who they werebefore they let them enter the cabin. Soroka ordered his soldiers tochange the watch about midnight, and threw himself down on the plankbed beside Kmita.

  It had become quiet in the cabin; only the crickets raised their usualmusic in the adjoining closet, and the mice gnawed from moment tomoment among the rubbish piled up there. The sick man woke at intervalsand seemed to have dreams in his fever, for to Soroka's ears came thedisconnected words,--

  "Gracious king, pardon--Those men are traitors--I will tell all theirsecrets--The Commonwealth is a red cloth--Well, I have you, worthyprince--Hold him!--Gracious king, this way, for there is treason!"

  Soroka rose on the bed and listened; but the sick man, when he hadscreamed once and a second time, fell asleep, and then woke andcried,--

  "Olenka, Olenka, be not angry!"

  About midnight he grew perfectly calm and slept soundly. Soroka alsobegan to slumber; but soon a gentle knocking at the door of the cabinroused him.

  The watchful soldier opened his eyes at once, and springing to his feetwent out.

  "But what is the matter?" asked he.

  "Sergeant, the pitch-maker has escaped."

  "A hundred devils! he'll bring robbers to us right away."

  "Who was watching him?"

  "Biloues."

  "I went with him to water our horses," said Biloues, explaining. "Iordered him to draw the water, and held the horses myself."

  "And what? Did he jump into the well?"

  "No, Sergeant, but between the logs, of which there are many near thewell, and into the stump-holes. I let the ho
rses go; for though theyscattered there are others here, and sprang after him, but I fell intothe first hole. It was night,--dark; the scoundrel knows the place, andran away. May the pest strike him!"

  "He will bring those devils here to us,--he'll bring them. May thethunderbolts split him!"

  The sergeant stopped, but after a while said,--

  "We will not lie down; we must watch till morning. Any moment a crowdmay come."

  And giving an example to the others, he took his place on the thresholdof the cabin with a musket in his hand. The soldiers sat near himtalking in an undertone, listening sometimes to learn if in the nightsounds of the pine-woods the tramp and snort of coming horses couldreach them.

  It was a moonlight night, and calm, but noisy. In the forest depthslife was seething. It was the season of mating; therefore thewilderness thundered with terrible bellowing of stags. These sounds,short, hoarse, full of anger and rage, were heard round about in allparts of the forest, distant and near,--sometimes right there, as if ahundred yards from the cabin.

  "If men come, they will bellow too, to mislead us," said Biloues.

  "Eh! they will not come to-night. Before the pitch-maker finds them'twill be day," said the other soldiers.

  "In the daytime, Sergeant, it would be well to examine the cabin anddig under the walls; for if robbers dwell here there must betreasures."

  "The best treasures are in that stable," said Soroka, pointing with hisfinger to the shed.

  "But we'll take them?"

  "Ye are fools! there is no way out,--nothing but swamps all around."

  "But we came in."

  "God guided us. A living soul cannot come here or leave here withoutknowing the road."

  "We will find it in the daytime."

  "We shall not find it, for tracks are made everywhere purposely, andthe trails are misleading. It was not right to let the man go."

  "It is known that the highroad is a day's journey distant, and in thatdirection," said Biloues.

  Here he pointed with his finger to the eastern part of the forest.

  "We will ride on till we pass through,--that's what we'll do! You thinkthat you will be a lord when you touch the highway? Better the bulletof a robber here than a rope there."

  "How is that, father?" asked Biloues.

  "They are surely looking for us there."

  "Who, father?"

  "The prince."

  Soroka was suddenly silent; and after him were silent the others, as ifseized with fear.

  "Oi!" said Biloues, at last. "It is bad here and bad there; though youtwist, you can't turn."

  "They have driven us poor devils into a net; here robbers, and therethe prince," said another soldier.

  "May the thunderbolts burn them there! I would rather have to do with arobber than with a wizard," added Biloues; "for that prince ispossessed, yes, possessed. Zavratynski could wrestle with a bear, andthe prince took the sword from his hands as from a child. It can onlybe that he enchanted him, for I saw, too, that when he rushed atVitkovski Boguslav grew up before the eyes to the size of a pine-tree.If he had not, I shouldn't have let him go alive."

  "But you were a fool not to jump at him."

  "What had I to do, Sergeant? I thought this way: he is sitting on thebest horse; if he wishes, he will run away, but if he attacks me Ishall not be able to defend myself, for with a wizard is a power nothuman! He becomes invisible to the eye or surrounds himself withdust--"

  "That is truth," answered Soroka; "for when I fired at him he wassurrounded as it were by a fog, and I missed. Any man mounted may misswhen the horse is moving, but on the ground that has not happened to mefor ten years."

  "What's the use in talking?" said Biloues, "better count: Lyubyenyets,Vitkovski, Zavratynski, our colonel; and one man brought them all down,and he without arms,--such men that each of them has many a time stoodagainst four. Without the help of the devil he could not have donethis."

  "Let us commend our souls to God; for if he is possessed, the devilwill show him the road to this place."

  "But without that he has long arms for such a lord."

  "Quiet!" exclaimed Soroka, quickly; "something is making the leavesrustle."

  The soldiers were quiet and bent their ears. Near by, indeed, wereheard some kind of heavy steps, under which the fallen leaves rustledvery clearly.

  "I hear horses," whispered Soroka.

  But the steps began to retreat from the cabin, and soon after was heardthe threatening and hoarse bellowing of a stag.

  "That is a stag! He is making himself known to a doe, or fighting offanother horned fellow."

  "Throughout the whole forest are entertainments as at the wedding ofSatan."

  They were silent again and began to doze. The sergeant raised his headat times and listened for a while, then dropped it toward his breast.Thus passed an hour, and a second; at last the nearest pine-trees frombeing black became gray, and the tops grew whiter each moment, as someone had burnished them with molten silver. The bellowing of stagsceased, and complete stillness reigned the forest depths. Dawn passedgradually into day; the white and pale light began to absorb rosy andgold gleams; at last perfect morning had come, and lighted the tiredfaces of the soldiers sleeping a firm sleep at the cabin.

  Then the door opened, Kmita appeared on the threshold and called,--

  "Soroka! come here!"

  The soldiers sprang up.

  "For God's sake, is your grace on foot?" asked Soroka.

  "But you have slept like oxen; it would have been possible to cut offyour heads and throw them out before any one would have been roused."

  "We watched till morning, Colonel; we fell asleep or in the broad day."

  Kmita looked around. "Where are we?"

  "In the forest, Colonel."

  "I see that myself. But what sort of a cabin is this?"

  "We know not ourselves."

  "Follow me," said Kmita. And he turned to the inside of the cabin.Soroka followed.

  "Listen," said Kmita, sitting on the bed. "Did the prince fire at me?"

  "He did."

  "And what happened to him?"

  "He escaped."

  A moment of silence followed.

  "That is bad," said Kmita, "very bad! Better to lay him down than tolet him go alive."

  "We wanted to do that, but--"

  "But what?"

  Soroka told briefly all that had happened. Kmita listened withwonderful calmness; but his eyes began to glitter, and at last hesaid,--

  "Then he is victor; but we'll meet again. Why did you leave thehighroad?"

  "I was afraid of pursuit."

  "That was right, for surely there was pursuit. There are too few of usnow to fight against Boguslav's power,--too few. Besides, he has goneto Prussia; we cannot reach him there, we must wait--"

  Soroka was relieved. Pan Kmita evidently did not fear Boguslav greatly,since he talked of overtaking him. This confidence was communicated atonce to the old soldier accustomed to think with the head of hiscolonel and to feel with his heart.

  Meanwhile Pan Andrei, who had fallen into deep thought, came to himselfon a sudden, and began to seek something about his person with both hishands.

  "Where are my letters?" asked he.

  "What letters?"

  "Letters that I had on my body. They were fastened to my belt; where isthe belt?" asked Pan Andrei, in haste.

  "I unbuckled the belt myself, that your grace might breathe moreeasily; there it is."

  "Bring it."

  Soroka gave him a belt lined with white leather, to which a bag wasattached by cords. Kmita untied it and took out papers hastily.

  "These are passes to the Swedish commandants; but where are theletters?" asked he, in a voice full of disquiet.

  "What letters?" asked Soroka.

  "Hundreds of thunders! the letters of the hetman to the Swedish King,to Pan Lyubomirski, and all those that I had."

  "If they are not on the belt, they are nowhere. They must have beenlost in th
e time of the riding."

  "To horse and look for them!" cried Kmita, in a terrible voice.

  But before the astonished Soroka could leave the room Pan Andrei sankto the bed as if strength had failed him, and seizing his head with hishands, began to repeat in a groaning voice,--

  "Ai! my letters, my letters!"

  Meanwhile the soldiers rode off, except one, whom Soroka commanded toguard the cabin. Kmita remained alone in the room, and began tomeditate over his position, which was not deserving of envy. Boguslavhad escaped. Over Pan Andrei was hanging the terrible and inevitablevengeance of the powerful Radzivills. And not only over him, but overall whom he loved, and speaking briefly, over Olenka. Kmita knew thatPrince Yanush would not hesitate to strike where he could wound himmost painfully,--that is, to pour out his vengeance on the person ofPanna Billevich. And Olenka was still in Kyedani at the mercy of theterrible magnate, whose heart knew no pity. The more Kmita meditatedover his position, the more clearly was he convinced that it was simplydreadful. After the seizure of Boguslav, the Radzivills will hold him atraitor; the adherents of Yan Kazimir, the partisans of Sapyeha, andthe confederates who had risen up in Podlyasye look on him as a traitornow, and a damned soul of the Radzivills. Among the many camps,parties, and foreign troops occupying at that moment the fields of theCommonwealth, there is not a camp, a party, a body of troops whichwould not count him as the greatest and most malignant enemy. Indeed,the reward offered for his head by Hovanski is still in force, and nowRadzivill and the Swedes will offer rewards,--and who knows if theadherents of the unfortunate Yan Kazimir have not already proclaimedone?

  "I have brewed beer and must drink it," thought Kmita. When he boreaway Prince Boguslav, he did so to throw him at the feet of theconfederate's, to convince them beyond question that he had broken withthe Radzivills, to purchase a place with them, to win the right offighting for the king and the country. Besides, Boguslav in his handswas a hostage for the safety of Olenka. But since Boguslav has crushedKmita and escaped, not only is Olenka's safety gone, but also the proofthat Kmita has really left the service of the Radzivills. But the roadto the confederates is open to him; and if he meets Volodyovski'sdivision and his friends the colonels, they may grant him his life, butwill they take him as a comrade, will they believe him, will they notthink that he has appeared as a spy, or has come to tamper with theircourage and bring over people to Radzivill? Here he remembered that theblood of confederates was weighing on him; that to begin with, he hadstruck down the Hungarians and dragoons in Kyedani, that he hadscattered the mutinous squadrons or forced them to yield, that he hadshot stubborn officers and exterminated soldiers, that he hadsurrounded Kyedani with trenches and fortified it, and thus assured thetriumph of Radzivill in Jmud. "How could I go?" thought he; "the plaguewould in fact be a more welcome guest there than I! With Boguslav on alariat at the saddle it would be possible; but with only my mouth andempty hands!"

  If he had those letters he might join the confederates, he would havehad Prince Yanush in hand, for those letters might undermine the creditof the hetman, even with the Swedes,--even with the price of them hemight save Olenka; but some evil spirit had so arranged that theletters were lost.

  When Kmita comprehended all this, he seized his own head a second time.

  "For the Radzivills a traitor, for Olenka a traitor, for theconfederate's a traitor, for the king a traitor! I have ruined my fame,my honor, myself, and Olenka!"

  The wound in his face was burning, but in his soul hot pain, ahundred-fold greater, was burning him. In addition to all, hisself-love as a knight was suffering. For he was shamefully beaten byBoguslav. Those slashes which Volodyovski had given him in Lyubich werenothing. There he was finished by an armed man whom he had called outin a duel, here by a defenceless prisoner whom he had in his hand.

  With every moment increased in Kmita the consciousness of how terribleand shameful was the plight into which he had fallen. The longer heexamined it the more clearly he saw its horror; and every moment he sawnew black corners from which were peering forth infamy and shame,destruction to himself, to Olenka, wrong against the country,--till atlast terror and amazement seized him.

  "Have I done all this?" asked he of himself; and the hair stood on hishead.

  "Impossible! It must be that fever is shaking me yet," cried he."Mother of God, this is not possible!"

  "Blind, foolish quarreller," said his conscience, "this would not havecome to thee in fighting for the king and the country, nor if thouhadst listened to Olenka."

  And sorrow tore him like a whirlwind. Hei! if only he could say tohimself: "The Swedes against the country, I against them! Radzivillagainst the king, I against him!" Then it would be clear andtransparent in his soul. Then he might collect a body of cut-throatsfrom under a dark star and, frolic with them as a gypsy at a fair, fallupon the Swedes, and ride over their breasts with pure heart andconscience; then he might stand in glory as in sunlight before Olenka,and say,--

  "I am no longer infamous, but _defensor patriae_ (a defender of thecountry); love me, as I love thee."

  But what was he now? That insolent spirit, accustomed toself-indulgence, would not confess to a fault altogether at first. Itwas the Radzivills who (according to him) had pushed him down in thisfashion; it was the Radzivills who had brought him to ruin, covered himwith evil repute, bound his hands, despoiled him of honor and love.

  Here Pan Kmita gnashed his teeth, stretched out his hands toward Jmud,on which Yanush, the hetman, was sitting like a wolf on a corpse, andbegan to call out in a voice choking with rage,--

  "Vengeance! Vengeance!"

  Suddenly he threw himself in despair on his knees in the middle of theroom, and began to cry,--

  "I vow to thee, O Lord Christ, to bend those traitors and gallop overthem with justice, with fire, and with sword, to cut them, while thereis breath in my throat, steam in my mouth, and life for me in thisworld! So help me, O Nazarene King! Amen!"

  Some kind of internal voice told him in that moment, "Serve thecountry, vengeance afterward."

  Pan Andrei's eyes were flaming, his lips were baked, and he trembled asin a fever; he waved his hands, and talking with himself aloud, walked,or rather ran, through the room, kicked the bed with his feet; at lasthe threw himself once more on his knees.

  "Inspire me, O Christ, what to do, lest I fall into frenzy."

  At that moment came the report of a gun, which the forest echo threwfrom pine-tree to pine-tree till it brought it like thunder to thecabin.

  Kmita sprang up, and seizing his sabre ran out.

  "What is that?" asked he of the soldier standing at the threshold.

  "A shot, Colonel."

  "Where is Soroka?"

  "He went to look for the letters."

  "In what direction was the shot?"

  The soldier pointed to the eastern part of the forest, which wasovergrown with dense underwood.

  "There!"

  At that moment was heard the tramp of horses not yet visible.

  "Be on your guard!" cried Kmita.

  But from out the thicket appeared Soroka, hurrying as fast as his horsecould gallop, and after him the other soldier. They rushed up to thecabin, sprang from the horses, and from behind them, as from behindbreastworks, took aim at the thicket.

  "What is there?" asked Kmita.

  "A party is coming," answered Soroka.