Fire in the Steppe

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  "Ha!" said he, "we are distressed, and perhaps Michael is already at home."

  "Or killed!" said Basia. And she began to wail there in the carriage, repeating, "Cut out my tongue! It was my fault, my fault! Oh, I shall go mad!"

  "Quiet there, girl! the fault is not yours," said Zagloba; "and know this,—if any man is killed, it is not Michael."

  "But I am sorry for the other. We have paid him handsomely for his hospitality; there is nothing to be said on that point. O God, O God!"

  "That is the truth!" added Pan Makovetski.

  "Let that rest, for God's sake! Ketling is surely nearer to Prussia than to Warsaw by this time. You heard that he is going away; I have hope in God too, that should he meet Volodyovski they will remember old friendship, service rendered together. They rode stirrup to stirrup; they slept on one saddle; they went together on scouting expeditions; they dipped their hands in one blood. In the whole army their friendship was so famous that Ketling, by reason of his beauty, was called Volodyovski's wife. It is impossible that this should not come to their minds when they see each other."

  "Still, it is this way sometimes," said the discreet Makovetski, "that just the warmest friendship turns to the fiercest animosity. So it was in our place when Pan Deyma killed Pan Ubysh, with whom he had lived twenty years in the greatest agreement. I can describe to you that unhappy event in detail."

  "If my mind were more at ease, I would listen to you as gladly as I do to her grace, my benefactress, your grace's spouse, who has the habit also of giving details, not excepting genealogies; but what you say of friendship and animosity has stuck in my head. God forbid! God forbid that it should come true this time!"

  "One was Pan Deyma, the other Pan Ubysh. Both worthy men and fellow-soldiers—"

  "Oi, oi, oi!" said Zagloba, gloomily. "We trust in the mercy of God that it will not come true this time; but if it does, Ketling will be the corpse."

  "Misfortune!" said Makovetski, after a moment of silence. "Yes, yes! Deyma and Ubysh. I remember it as if to-day. And it was a question also of a woman."

  "Eternally those women! The first daw that comes will brew such beer for you that whoever drinks will not digest it," muttered Zagloba.

  "Don't attack Krysia, sir!" cried Basia, suddenly.

  "Oh, if Pan Michael had only fallen in love with you, none of this would have happened!"

  Thus conversing, they reached the house. Their hearts beat on seeing lights in the windows, for they thought that Pan Michael had returned, perhaps. But Pani Makovetski alone received them; she was alarmed and greatly concerned. On learning that all their searching had resulted in nothing, she covered herself with bitter tears and began to complain that she should never see her brother again. Basia seconded her at once in these lamentations. Zagloba too was unable to master his grief.

  "I will go again to-morrow before daylight, but alone," said he; "I may be able to learn something."

  "We can search better in company," put in Makovetski.

  "No; let your grace remain with the ladies. If Ketling is alive, I will let you know."

  "For God's sake! We are living in the house of that man!" said Makovetski. "We must find an inn somehow to-morrow, or even pitch tents in the field, only not to live longer here."

  "Wait for news from me, or we shall lose each other," said Zagloba. "If Ketling is killed—"

  "Speak more quietly, by Christ's wounds!" said Pani Makovetski, "for the servants will hear and tell Krysia; she is barely alive as it is."

  "I will go to her," said Basia.

  And she sprang upstairs. Those below remained in anxiety and fear. No one slept in the whole house. The thought that maybe Ketling was already a corpse filled their hearts with terror. In addition, the night became close, dark; thunder began to roar and roll through the heavens; and later bright lightning rent the sky each moment. About midnight the first storm of the spring began to rage over the earth. Even the servants woke.

  Krysia and Basia went from their chamber to the dining-room. There the whole company prayed and sat in silence, repeating in chorus, after each clap of thunder, "And the Word was made flesh!" In the whistling of the whirlwind was heard at times, as it were, a certain horse-tramp, and then fear and terror raised the hair on the heads of Basia, Pani Makovetski, and the two men; for it seemed to them that at any moment the door might open, and Pan Michael enter, stained with Ketling's blood. The usually mild Pan Michael, for the first time in his life, oppressed people's hearts like a stone, so that the very thought of him filled them with dread.

  However, the night passed without news of the little knight. At daylight, when the storm had abated in a measure, Zagloba set out a second time for the city. That whole day was a day of still greater alarm. Basia sat till evening in the window in front of the gate, looking at the road along which Pan Zagloba might return.

  Meanwhile the servants, at command of Pan Makovetski, were packing the trunks slowly for the road. Krysia was occupied in directing this work, for thus she was able to hold herself at a distance from the others. For though Pani Makovetski did not mention Pan Michael in the young lady's presence even by one word, still that very silence convinced Krysia that Pan Michael's love for her, their former secret engagement, and her recent refusal had been discovered; and in view of this, it was difficult to suppose that those people, the nearest to Pan Michael, were not offended and grieved. Poor Krysia felt that it must be so, that it was so,—that those hearts, hitherto loving, had withdrawn from her; therefore she wished to suffer by herself.

  Toward evening the trunks were ready, so that it was possible to move that very day; but Pan Makovetski was waiting yet for news from Zagloba. Supper was brought; no one cared to eat it; and the evening began to drag along heavily, insupportably, and as silent as if all were listening to what the clock was whispering.

  "Let us go to the drawing-room," said Pan Makovetski, at last. "It is impossible to stay here."

  They went and sat down; but before any one had been able to speak the first word, the dogs were heard under the window.

  "Some one is coming!" cried Basia.

  "The dogs are barking as if at people of the house," said Pani Makovetski.

  "Quiet!" said her husband. "There is a rattling of wheels!"

  "Quiet!" repeated Basia. "Yes; it comes nearer every moment. That is Pan Zagloba."

  Basia and Pan Makovetski sprang up and ran out. Pani Makovetski's heart began to throb; but she remained with Krysia, so as not to show by great haste that Pan Zagloba was bringing news of exceeding importance. Meanwhile the sound of wheels was heard right under the window, and then stopped on a sudden. Voices were heard at the entrance, and after a while Basia rushed into the room like a hurricane, and with a face as changed as if she had seen an apparition.

  "Basia, who is that? Who is that?" asked Pani Makovetski, with astonishment.

  But before Basia could regain her breath and give answer, the door opened; through it entered first Pan Makovetski, then Pan Michael, and last Ketling.

  CHAPTER XXI.

  Ketling was so changed that he was barely able to make a low obeisance to the ladies; then he stood motionless, with his hat at his breast, with his eyes closed, like a wonder-working image. Pan Michael embraced his sister on the way, and approached Krysia. The maiden's face was as white as linen, so that the light down on her lip seemed darker than usual; her breast rose and fell violently. But Pan Michael took her hand mildly and pressed it to his lips; then his mustaches quivered for a time, as if he were collecting his thoughts; at last he spoke with great sadness, but with great calmness,—

  "My gracious lady, or better, my beloved Krysia! Hear me without alarm, for I am not some Scythian or Tartar, or a wild beast, but a friend, who, though not very happy himself, still desires your happiness. It has come out that you and Ketling love each other; Panna Basia in just anger threw it in my eyes. I do not deny that I rushed out of this house in a rage and flew to seek vengeance on Ketling. Whoso loses his all i
s more easily borne away by vengeance; and I, as God is dear to me, loved you terribly and not merely as a man never married loves a maiden. For if I had been married and the Lord God had given me an only son or a daughter, and had taken them afterward, I should not have mourned over them, I think, as I mourned over you."

  Here Pan Michael's voice failed for a moment, but he recovered quickly; and after his mustache had quivered a number of times, he continued, "Sorrow is sorrow; but there is no help. That Ketling fell in love with you is not a wonder. Who would not fall in love with you? And that you fell in love with him, that is my fate; there is no reason either to wonder at that, for what comparison is there between Ketling and me? In the field he will say himself that I am not the worse man; but that is another matter. The Lord God gave beauty to one, withheld it from the other, but rewarded him with reflection. So when the wind on the road blew around me, and my first rage had passed, conscience said straightway, Why punish them? Why shed the blood of a friend? They fell in love, that was God's will. The oldest people say that against the heart the command of a hetman is nothing. It was the will of God that they fell in love; but that they did not betray, is their honesty. If Ketling even had known of your promise to me, maybe I should have called to him, 'Quench!' but he did not know of it. What was his fault? Nothing. And your fault? Nothing. He wished to depart; you wished to go to God. My fate is to blame, my fate only; for the finger of God is to be seen now in this, that I remain in loneliness. But I have conquered myself; I have conquered!"

  Pan Michael stopped again and began to breathe quickly, like a man who, after long diving in water, has come out to the air; then he took Krysia's hand. "So to love," said he, "as to wish all for one's self, is not an exploit. 'The hearts are breaking in all three of us,' thought I; 'better let one suffer and give relief to the other two.' Krysia, God give you happiness with Ketling! Amen. God give you, Krysia, happiness with Ketling! It pains me a little, but that is nothing—God give you—that is nothing—I have conquered myself!"

  The soldier said, "that is nothing," but his teeth gritted, and his breath began to hiss through them. From the other end of the room, the sobbing of Basia was heard.

  "Ketling, come here, brother!" cried Volodyovski.

  Ketling approached, knelt down, opened his arms, and in silence, with the greatest respect and love, embraced Krysia's knees.

  But Pan Michael continued in a broken voice, "Press his head. He has had his suffering too, poor fellow. God bless you and him! You will not go to the cloister. I prefer that you should bless me rather than have reason to curse me. The Lord God is above me, though it is hard for me now."

  Basia, not able to endure longer, rushed out of the room, seeing which, Pan Michael turned to Makovetski and his sister. "Go to the other chamber," said he, "and leave them; I too will go somewhere, for I will kneel down and commend myself to the Lord Jesus." And he went out.

  Halfway down the corridor he met Basia, at the staircase, on the very same place where, borne away by anger, she had divulged the secret of Krysia and Ketling, But this time Basia stood leaning against the wall, choking from sobs.

  At sight of this Pan Michael was touched at his own fate; he had restrained himself up to that moment as best he was able, but then the bonds of sorrow gave way, and tears burst from his eyes in a torrent. "Why do you weep?" cried he, pitifully.

  Basia raised her head, thrusting, like a child, now one and now the other fist into her eyes, choking and gulping at the air with open mouth, and answered with sobbing, "I am so sorry! Oh, for God's sake! O Jesus! Pan Michael is so honest, so worthy! Oh, for God's sake!"

  Pan Michael seized her hands and began kissing them from gratitude. "God reward you! God reward you for your heart!" said he. "Quiet; do not weep."

  But Basia sobbed the more, almost to choking. Every vein in her was quivering from sorrow; she began to gulp for air more and more quickly; at last, stamping from excitement, she cried so loudly that it was heard through the whole corridor, "Krysia is a fool! I would rather have one Pan Michael than ten Ketlings! I love Pan Michael with all my strength,—better than auntie, better than uncle, better than Krysia!"

  "For God's sake! Basia!" cried the knight. And wishing to restrain her emotion, he seized her in his embrace, and she nestled up to his breast with all her strength, so that he felt her heart throbbing like a wearied bird; then he embraced her still more firmly, and they remained so.

  Silence followed.

  "Basia, do you wish me?" asked the little knight.

  "I do, I do, I do!" answered Basia.

  At this answer transport seized him in turn; he pressed his lips to her rosy lips, and again they remained so.

  Meanwhile a carriage rattled up to the house, and Zagloba rushed into the ante-room, then to the dining-room, in which Pan Makovetski was sitting with his wife. "There is no sign of Michael!" cried he, in one breath; "I looked everywhere. Pan Krytski said that he saw him with Ketling. Surely they have fought!"

  "Michael is here," answered Pani Makovetski; "he brought Ketling and gave him Krysia."

  The pillar of salt into which Lot's wife was turned had surely a less astonished face than Zagloba at that moment. Silence continued for a while; then the old noble rubbed his eyes and asked, "What?"

  "Krysia and Ketling are sitting in there together, and Michael has gone to pray," said Makovetski.

  Zagloba entered the next room without a moment's hesitation; and though he knew of all, he was astonished a second time, seeing Ketling and Krysia sitting forehead to forehead. They sprang up, greatly confused, and had not a word to say, especially as the Makovetskis came in after Zagloba.

  "A lifetime would not suffice to thank Michael," said Ketling, at last. "Our happiness is his work."

  "God give you happiness!" said Makovetski. "We will not oppose Michael."

  Krysia dropped into the embraces of Pani Makovetski, and the two began to cry. Zagloba was as if stunned. Ketling bowed to Makovetski's knees as to those of a father; and either from the onrush of thoughts, or from confusion, Makovetski said, "But Pan Deyma killed Pan Ubysh. Thank Michael, not me!" After a while he asked, "Wife, what was the name of that lady?"

  But she had no time for an answer, for at that moment Basia rushed in, panting more than usual, more rosy than usual, with her forelock falling down over her eyes more than usual; she ran up to Ketling and Krysia, and thrusting her finger now into the eye of one, and now into the eye of the other, said, "Oh, sigh, love, marry! You think that Pan Michael will be alone in the world? Not a bit of it; I shall be with him, for I love him, and I have told him so. I was the first to tell him, and he asked if I wanted him, and I told him that I would rather have him than ten others; for I love him, and I'll be the best wife, and I will never leave him! I'll go to the war with him! I've loved him this long time, though I did not tell him, for he is the best and the worthiest, the beloved— And now marry for yourselves, and I will take Pan Michael, to-morrow, if need be—for—"

  Here breath failed Basia.

  All looked at her, not understanding whether she had gone mad or was telling the truth; then they looked at one another, and with that Pan Michael appeared in the door behind Basia.

  "Michael," asked Makovetski, when presence of mind had restored his voice to him, "is what we hear true?"

  "God has wrought a miracle," answered the little knight, with great seriousness, "and here is my comfort, my love, my greatest treasure."

  After these words Basia sprang to him again like a deer.

  Now the mask of astonishment fell from Zagloba's face, and his white beard began to quiver; he opened his arms widely and said, "God knows I shall sob! Haiduk and Michael, come hither!"

  CHAPTER XXII.

  He loved her immensely; and she loved him in the same way. They were happy together, but had no children, though it was the fourth year of their marriage. Their lands were managed with great diligence. Pan Michael bought with his own and Basia's money a number of villages near Kamenyet
s; for these he paid a small price, since timid people in terror of Turkish invasion were glad to sell land in those regions. On his estates he introduced order and military discipline; he took the restless population in hand, rebuilt burned villages, established "fortalices,"—that is, fortified houses,—in which he placed temporary garrisons; in one word, as formerly he had defended the country with success, so now he worked his lands with good profit, never letting the sword out of his hand.

  The glory of his name was the best defence of his property. With some of the murzas he poured water on his sword and concluded brotherhood; others he subdued. Bands of disorderly Cossacks, scattered detachments of the horde, robbers from the steppes, highwaymen from the plains of Bessarabia, trembled at thought of the "Little Falcon;" therefore his herds of horses and flocks of sheep, his buffaloes and camels, lived without danger on the steppes. The enemy even respected his neighbors. His substance increased through the aid of his active wife. He was surrounded by the honor and affection of people. His native land had adorned him with office; the hetman loved him; the Pasha of Hotin clicked with his tongue in wonder at him; in the distant Crimea, in Bagchesarai, his name was repeated with honor. His land, war, and love were the three elements of his life.

  The hot summer of 1671 found Pan Michael in Sokol, in Basia's paternal villages. That Sokol was the pearl of their estates. They entertained there ceremoniously and merrily Pan Zagloba, who, disregarding the toils of a journey unusual at his age, came to visit them, fulfilling his solemn promise given at their wedding. But the noisy feasts and the joy of the hosts at seeing a dear guest was soon interrupted by an order from the hetman directing Pan Michael to take command at Hreptyoff, to watch the Moldavian boundary, to listen to voices from the side of the desert, protect the place, intercept Tartar parties, and clear the region of robbers.