Pan Michael: An Historical Novel of Poland, the Ukraine, and Turkey

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  CHAPTER VI.

  Next day, Zagloba, armed with a letter from the primate, and having acomplete plan made with Ketling, rang the bell at the gate of themonastery on Mons Regius. His heart was beating with violence at thisthought, "How will Michael receive me?" and though he had prepared inadvance what to say, he acknowledged himself that much depended on thereception. Thinking thus, he pulled the bell a second time; and whenthe key squeaked in the lock, and the door opened a little, he thrusthimself into it straightway a trifle violently, and said to theconfused young monk,--

  "I know that to enter here a special permission is needed; but I have aletter from the archbishop, which you, _carissime frater_, will bepleased to give the reverend prior."

  "It will be done according to the wish of your grace," said thedoorkeeper, inclining at sight of the primate's seal.

  Then he pulled a strap hanging at the tongue of a bell, and pulledtwice to call some one, for he himself had no right to go from thedoor. Another monk appeared at that summons, and taking the letter,departed in silence. Zagloba placed on a bench a package which he hadwith him, then sat down and began to puff wonderfully. "Brother," saidhe, at last, "how long have you been in the cloister?"

  "Five years," answered the porter.

  "Is it possible? so young, and five years already! Then it is too lateto leave, even if you wanted to do so. You must yearn sometimes for theworld; the world smells of war for one man, of feasts for another, offair heads for a third."

  "Avaunt!" said the monk, making the sign of the cross with devotion.

  "How is that? Has not the temptation to go out of the cloister come onyou?" continued Zagloba.

  The monk looked with distrust at the envoy of the archbishop, speakingin such marvellous fashion, and answered, "When the door here closes onany man, he never goes out."

  "We'll see that yet! What is happening to Pan Volodyovski? Is he well?"

  "There is no one here named in that way."

  "Brother Michael?" said Zagloba, on trial. "Former colonel of dragoons,who came here not long since."

  "We call him Brother Yerzy; but he has not made his vows yet, andcannot make them till the end of the term."

  "And surely he will not make them; for you will not believe, brother,what a woman's man he is! You could not find another man so hostile towoman's virtue in all the clois-- I meant to say in all the cavalry."

  "It is not proper for me to hear this," said the monk, with increasingastonishment and confusion.

  "Listen, brother; I do not know where you receive visitors, but if itis in this place, I advise you to withdraw a little when Brother Yerzycomes,--as far as that gate, for instance,--for we shall talk here ofvery worldly matters."

  "I prefer to go away at once," said the monk.

  Meanwhile Pan Michael, or rather Brother Yerzy, appeared; but Zaglobadid not recognize the approaching man, for Pan Michael had changedgreatly. To begin with, he seemed taller in the long white habit thanin the dragoon jacket; secondly, his mustaches, pointing upward towardhis eyes formerly, were hanging down now, and he was trying to let outhis beard, which formed two little yellow tresses not longer than halfa finger; finally, he had grown very thin and meagre, and his eyes hadlost their former glitter. He approached slowly, with his hands hiddenon his bosom under his habit, and with drooping head.

  Zagloba, not recognizing him, thought that perhaps the prior himselfwas coming; therefore he rose from the bench and began, "Laudetur--"Suddenly he looked more closely, opened his arms, and cried, "PanMichael! Pan Michael!"

  Brother Yerzy let himself be seized in the embrace; something like asob shook his breast, but his eyes remained dry. Zagloba pressed him along time; at last he began to speak,--

  "You have not been alone in weeping over your misfortune. I wept; Yanand his family wept; the Kmitas wept. It is the will of God! beresigned to it, Michael. May the Merciful Father comfort and rewardyou! You have done well to shut yourself in for a time in these walls.There is nothing better than prayer and pious meditation in misfortune.Come, let me embrace you again! I can hardly see you through my tears."

  And Zagloba wept with sincerity, moved at the sight of Pan Michael."Pardon me for disturbing your meditation," said he, at last; "but Icould not act otherwise, and you will do me justice when I give you myreasons. Ai, Michael! you and I have gone through a world of evil andof good. Have you found consolation behind these bars?"

  "I have," replied Pan Michael,--"in those words which I hear in thisplace daily, and repeat, and which I desire to repeat till my death,_memento mori_. In death is consolation for me."

  "H'm! death is more easily found on the battlefield than in thecloister, where life passes as if some one were unwinding thread from aball, slowly."

  "There is no life here, for there are no earthly questions; and beforethe soul leaves the body, it lives, as it were, in another world."

  "If that is true, I will not tell you that the Belgrod horde aremustering in great force against the Commonwealth; for what interestcan that have for you?"

  Pan Michael's mustaches quivered on a sudden, and he stretched hisright hand unwittingly to his left side; but not finding a sword there,he put both hands under his habit, dropped his head, and repeated,"Memento mori!"

  "Justly, justly!" answered Zagloba, blinking his sound eye with acertain impatience. "No longer ago than yesterday Pan Sobieski, thehetman, said: 'Only let Volodyovski serve even through this one storm,and then let him go to whatever cloister he likes. God would not beangry for the deed; on the contrary, such a monk would have all thegreater merit.' But there is no reason to wonder that you put your ownpeace above the happiness of the country, for _prima charitas ab ego_(the first love is of self)."

  A long interval of silence followed; only Pan Michael's mustaches stoodout somewhat and began to move quickly, though lightly.

  "You have not taken your vows yet," asked Zagloba, at last, "and youcan go out at any moment?"

  "I am not a monk yet, for I have been waiting for the favor of God, andwaiting till all painful thoughts of earth should leave my soul. Hisfavor is upon me now; peace is returning to me. I can go out; but Ihave no wish to go, since the time is drawing near in which I can makemy vows with a clear conscience and free from earthly desires."

  "I have no wish to lead you away from this; on the contrary, I applaudyour resolution, though I remember that when Yan in his time intendedto become a monk, he waited till the country was free from the storm ofthe enemy. But do as you wish. In truth, it is not I who will lead youaway; for I myself in my own time felt a vocation for monastic life.Fifty years ago I even began my novitiate; I am a rogue if I did not.Well, God gave me another direction. Only I tell you this, Michael, youmust go out with me now even for two days."

  "Why must I go out? Leave me in peace!" said Volodyovski.

  Zagloba raised the skirt of his coat to his eyes and began to sob. "Ido not beg rescue for myself," said he, in a broken voice, "thoughPrince Boguslav Radzivill is hunting me with vengeance; he puts hismurderers in ambush against me, and there is no one to defend andprotect me, old man. I was thinking that you-- But never mind! I willlove you all my life, even if you are unwilling to know me. Only prayfor my soul, for I shall not escape Boguslav's hands. Let that comeupon me which has to come; but another friend of yours, who sharedevery morsel of bread with you, is now on his death-bed, and wishes tosee you without fail. He is unwilling to die without you; for he hassome confession to make on which his soul's peace depends."

  Pan Michael, who had heard of Zagloba's danger with great emotion,sprang forward now, and seizing him by the arms, inquired, "Is it PanYan?"

  "No, not Yan, but Ketling!"

  "For God's sake! what has happened to him?"

  "He was shot by Prince Boguslav's ruffians while defending me; I knownot whether he will be alive in twenty-four hours. It is for you,Michael, that we have both fallen into these straits, for we came toWarsaw only to think out some consolation for yo
u. Come for even twodays, and console a dying man. You will return later; you will become amonk. I have brought the recommendation of the primate to the prior toraise no impediment against you. Only hasten, for every moment isprecious."

  "For God's sake!" cried Pan Michael; "what do I hear? Impedimentscannot keep me, for so far I am here only on meditation. As God lives,the prayer of a dying man is sacred! I cannot refuse that."

  "It would be a mortal sin!" cried Zagloba.

  "That is true! It is always that traitor, Boguslav--But if I do notavenge Ketling, may I never come back! I will find those ruffians, andI will split their skulls! O Great God! sinful thoughts are alreadyattacking me! _Memento mori!_ Only wait here till I put on my oldclothes, for it is not permitted to go out in the habit."

  "Here are clothes!" cried Zagloba, springing to the bundle, which waslying there on the bench near them. "I foresaw everything, preparedeverything! Here are boots, a rapier, a good overcoat."

  "Come to the cell," said the little knight, with haste.

  They went to the cell; and when they came out again, near Zaglobawalked, not a white monk, but an officer with yellow boots to theknees, with a rapier at his side, and a white pendant across hisshoulder. Zagloba blinked and smiled under his mustaches at sight ofthe brother at the door, who, evidently scandalized, opened the gate tothe two.

  Not far from the cloister and lower down, Zagloba's wagon was waiting,and with it two attendants. One was sitting on the seat, holding thereins of four well-attached horses; at these Pan Michael cast quicklythe eye of an expert. The other stood near the wagon, with a mouldy,big-bellied bottle in one hand, and two goblets in the other.

  "It is a good stretch of road to Mokotov," said Zagloba; "and harshsorrow is waiting for us at the bedside of Ketling. Drink something,Michael, to gain strength to endure all this, for you are greatlyreduced."

  Saying this, Zagloba took the bottle from the hands of the man andfilled both glasses with Hungarian so old that it was thick from age.

  "This is a goodly drink," said Zagloba, placing the bottle on theground and taking the goblets. "To the health of Ketling!"

  "To his health!" repeated Pan Michael. "Let us hurry!"

  They emptied the glasses at a draught.

  "Let us hurry," repeated Zagloba. "Pour out, man!" said he, turning tothe servant. "To the health of Pan Yan! Let us hurry!"

  They emptied the goblets again at a draught, for there was realurgency.

  "Let us take our seats!" cried Pan Michael.

  "But will you not drink my health?" asked Zagloba, with a complainingvoice.

  "If quickly!"

  And they drank quickly. Zagloba emptied the goblet at a breath, thoughthere was half a quart in it, then without wiping his mustaches, hecried, "I should be thankless not to drink your health. Pour out, man!"

  "With thanks!" answered Brother Yerzy.

  The bottom appeared in the bottle, which Zagloba seized by the neck andbroke into small pieces, for he never could endure the sight of emptyvessels. Then he took his seat quickly, and they rode on.

  The noble drink soon filled their veins with beneficent warmth, andtheir hearts with a certain consolation. The cheeks of Brother Yerzywere covered with a slight scarlet, and his glance regained its formervivacity. He stretched his hand unwittingly once, twice, to hismustaches, and turned them upward like awls, till at last they camenear his eyes. He began meanwhile to gaze around with great curiosity,as if looking at the country for the first time. All at once Zaglobastruck his palms on his knees and cried without evident reason,--

  "Ho! ho! I hope that Ketling will return to health when he sees you!Ho! ho!"

  And clasping Pan Michael around the neck, he began to embrace him withall his power. Pan Michael did not wish to remain in debt to Zagloba;he pressed him with the utmost sincerity. They went on for some time insilence, but in a happy one. Meanwhile the small houses of the suburbsbegan to appear on both sides of the road. Before the houses there wasa great movement. On this side and that, townspeople were strolling,servants in various liveries, soldiers and nobles, frequently verywell-dressed.

  "Swarms of nobles have come to the Diet," said Zagloba; "for though notone of them is a deputy, they wish to be present, to hear and to see.The houses and inns are so filled everywhere that it is hard to find aroom, and how many noble women are strolling along the streets! I tellyou that you could not count them on the hairs of your beard. They arepretty too, the rogues, so that sometimes a man has the wish to slaphis hands on his sides as a cock does his wings, and crow. But look!look at that brunette behind whom the haiduk is carrying the greenshuba; isn't she splendid? Eh?"

  Here Zagloba nudged Pan Michael in the side with his fist, and PanMichael looked, moved his mustaches; his eyes glittered, but in thatmoment he grew shamefaced, dropped his head, and said after a briefsilence, "Memento mori!"

  But Zagloba clasped him again, and cried, "As you love me, _peramicitiam nostram_ (by our friendship), as you respect me, get married.There are so many worthy maidens, get married!"

  Brother Yerzy looked with astonishment on his friend. Zagloba could notbe drunk, however, for many a time he had taken thrice as much winewithout visible effect; therefore he spoke only from tenderness. Butall thoughts of marriage were far away then from the head of PanMichael, so that in the first instant astonishment overcame in himindignation; then he looked severely into the eyes of Zagloba andasked,--

  "Are you tipsy?"

  "Prom my whole heart I say to you, get married!"

  Pan Michael looked still more severely. "Memento mori."

  But Zagloba was not easily disconcerted. "Michael, if you love me, dothis for me, and kiss a dog on the snout with your 'memento.' I repeat,you will do as you please, but I think in this way: Let each man serveGod with that for which he was created; and God created you for thesword: in this His will is evident, since He has permitted you toattain such perfection in the use of it. In case He wished you to be apriest, He would have adorned you with a wit altogether different, andinclined your heart more to books and to Latin. Consider, too, thatsoldier saints enjoy no less respect in heaven than saints with vows,and they go campaigning against the legions of hell, and receiverewards from God's hands when they return with captured banners. Allthis is true; you will not deny it?"

  "I do not deny it, and I know that it is hard to skirmish against yourreasoning; but you also will not deny that for grief life is better inthe cloister than in the world."

  "If it is better, bah! then all the more should cloisters be shunned.Dull is the man who feeds mourning instead of keeping it hungry, sothat the beast may die of famine as quickly as possible."

  Pan Michael found no ready argument; therefore he was silent, and onlyafter a while answered with a sad voice, "Do not mention marriage, forsuch mention only rouses fresh grief in me. My old desire will notrevive, for it has passed away with tears; and my years are notsuitable. My hair is beginning to whiten. Forty-two years, andtwenty-five of them spent in military toil, are no jest, no jest!"

  "O God, do not punish him for blasphemy! Forty-two years! Tfu! I havemore than twice as many on my shoulders, and still at times I mustdiscipline myself to shake the heat out of my blood, as dust is shakenfrom clothing. Respect the memory of that dear dead one. You were goodenough for her, I suppose? But for others are you too cheap, too old?"

  "Give me peace! give me peace!" said Pan Michael, with a voice of pain;and the tears began to flow to his mustaches.

  "I will not say another syllable," added Zagloba; "only give me theword of a cavalier that no matter what happens to Ketling you will staya month with us. You must see Yan. If you wish afterward to return tothe cloister, no one will raise an impediment."

  "I give my word," said Pan Michael.

  And they fell to talking of something else. Zagloba began to tell ofthe Diet, and how he had raised the question of excluding PrinceBoguslav, and of the adventure with Ketling. Occasionally, however, heinterrupted the narrative and buried himsel
f in thoughts; they musthave been cheerful, for from time to time he struck his knees with hispalms, and repeated,--

  "Ho! ho!"

  But as he approached Mokotov, a certain disquiet appeared on his face.He turned suddenly to Pan Michael and said, "Your word is given, youremember, that no matter what happens to Ketling, you will stay a monthwith us."

  "I gave it, and I will stay," said Pan Michael.

  "Here is Ketling's house," cried Zagloba,--"a respectable place." Thenhe shouted to the driver, "Fire out of your whip! There will be afestival in this house to-day."

  Loud cracks were heard from the whip. But the wagon had not entered thegate when a number of officers rushed from the ante-room, acquaintancesof Pan Michael; among them also were old comrades from the days ofHmelnitski and young officers of recent times. Of the latter were PanVasilevski and Pan Novoveski,--youths yet, but fiery cavaliers who inyears of boyhood had broken away from school and had been working atwar for some years under Pan Michael. These the little knight lovedbeyond measure. Among the oldest was Pan Orlik of the shield Novin,with a skull stopped with gold, for a Swedish grenade had taken a pieceof it on a time; and Pan Rushchyts, a half-wild knight of the steppes,an incomparable partisan, second in fame to Pan Michael alone; and anumber of others. All, seeing the two men in the wagon, began toshout,--

  "He is there! he is there! Zagloba has conquered! He is there!"

  And rushing to the wagon, they seized the little knight in their armsand bore him to the entrance, repeating, "Welcome! dearest comrade,live for us! We have you; we won't let you go! Vivat Volodyovski, thefirst cavalier, the ornament of the whole army! To the steppe with us,brother! To the wild fields! There the wind will blow your grief away."

  They let him out of their arms only at the entrance. He greeted themall, for he was greatly touched by that reception, and then he inquiredat once, "How is Ketling? Is he alive yet?"

  "Alive! alive!" answered they, in a chorus, and the mustaches of theold soldiers began to move with a strange smile. "Go to him, for hecannot stay lying down; he is waiting for you impatiently."

  "I see that he is not so near death as Pan Zagloba said," answered thelittle knight.

  Meanwhile they entered the ante-room and passed thence to a largechamber, in the middle of which stood a table with a feast on it; inone corner was a plank bed covered with white horse-skin, on whichKetling was lying.

  "Oh, my friend!" said Pan Michael, hastening toward him.

  "Michael!" cried Ketling, and springing to his feet as if in thefulness of strength, he seized the little knight in his embrace.

  They pressed each other then so eagerly that Ketling raisedVolodyovski, and Volodyovski Ketling.

  "They commanded me to simulate sickness," said the Scot, "to feigndeath: but when I saw you, I could not hold out. I am as well as afish, and no misfortune has met me. But it was a question of gettingyou out of the cloister. Forgive, Michael. We invented this ambush outof love for you."

  "To the wild fields with us!" cried the knights, again; and they struckwith their firm palms on their sabres till a terrible clatter wasraised in the room.

  But Pan Michael was astounded. For a time he was silent, then he beganto look at all, especially at Zagloba. "Oh, traitors!" exclaimed he, atlast, "I thought that Ketling was wounded unto death."

  "How is that, Michael?" cried Zagloba. "You are angry because Ketlingis well? You grudge him his health, and wish death to him? Has yourheart become stone in such fashion that you would gladly see all of usghosts, and Ketling, and Pan Orlik, and Pan Rushchyts, and theseyouths,--nay, even Pan Yan, even me, who love you as a son?" HereZagloba closed his eyes and cried still more piteously, "We havenothing to live for, gracious gentlemen; there is no thankfulness leftin this world; there is nothing but callousness."

  "For God's sake!" answered Pan Michael, "I do not wish you ill, but youhave not respected my grief."

  "Have pity on our lives!" repeated Zagloba.

  "Give me peace!"

  "He says that we show no respect to his grief; but what fountains wehave poured out over him, gracious gentlemen! We have, Michael. I takeGod to witness that we should be glad to bear apart your grief on oursabres, for comrades should always act thus. But since you have givenyour word to stay with us a month, then love us at least for thatmonth."

  "I will love you till death," said Pan Michael.

  Further conversation was interrupted by the coming of a new guest. Thesoldiers, occupied with Volodyovski, had not heard the arrival of thatguest, and saw him only when he was standing in the door. He was a manenormous in stature, of majestic form and bearing. He had the face of aRoman emperor; in it was power, and at the same time the true kindnessand courtesy of a monarch. He differed entirely from all those soldiersaround him; he grew notably greater in face of them, as if the eagle,king of birds, had appeared among hawks, falcons, and merlins.

  "The grand hetman!" cried Ketling, and sprang up, as the host, to greethim.

  "Pan Sobieski!" cried others.

  All heads were inclined in an obeisance of deep homage. All save PanMichael knew that the hetman would come, for he had promised Ketling;still, his arrival had produced so profound an impression that for atime no one dared to speak first. That too was homage extraordinary.But Sobieski loved soldiers beyond all men, especially those with whomhe had galloped over the necks of Tartar chambuls so often; he lookedon them as his own family, and for this reason specially he haddetermined to greet Volodyovski, to comfort him, and finally, byshowing such unusual favor and attention, to retain him in the ranks ofthe army. Therefore when he had greeted Ketling, he stretched out hishands at once to the little knight; and when the latter approached andseized him by the knees, Sobieski pressed the head of Pan Michael withhis palms.

  "Old soldier," said he, "the hand of God has bent thee to the earth,but it will raise thee, and give comfort. God aid thee! Thou wilt staywith us now."

  Sobbing shook the breast of Pan Michael. "I will stay!" said he, withtears.

  "That is well; give me of such men as many as possible. And now, oldcomrade, let us recall those times which we passed in the Russiansteppes, when we sat down to feast under tents. I am happy among you.Now, our host, now!"

  "Vivat Joannes dux!" shouted every voice.

  The feast began and lasted long. Next day the hetman sent acream-colored steed of great price to Pan Michael.