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

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  CHAPTER XII.

  As Pan Michael had permission to set out whenever he wished, he went toAnusia's grave at Chenstohova. After he had shed the last of his tearsthere, he journeyed on farther; and under the influence of freshreminiscences it occurred to him that the secret engagement with Krysiawas in some way too early. He felt that in sorrow and mourning there issomething sacred and inviolable, which should not be touched, butpermitted to rise heavenward like a cloud, and vanish in measurelessspace. Other men, it is true, after losing their wives, had married ina month or in two months; but they had not begun with the cloister, norhad misfortune met them at the threshold of happiness after whole yearsof waiting. But even if men of common mould do not respect thesacredness of sorrow, is it proper to follow their example?

  Pan Michael journeyed forward then toward Russia, and reproaches wentwith him. But he was so just that he took all the blame on himself, anddid not put any on Krysia; and to the many alarms which seized him wasadded this also, would not Krysia in the depth of her soul take thathaste ill of him?

  "Surely she would not act thus in my place," said Pan Michael tohimself; "and having a lofty soul herself, beyond doubt, she seeksloftiness in others."

  Fear seized the little knight lest he might seem to her petty; but thatwas vain fear. Krysia cared nothing for Pan Michael's mourning; andwhen he spoke to her too much concerning it, not only did it not excitesympathy in the lady, but it roused her self-love. Was not she, theliving woman, equal to the dead one? Or, in general, was she of suchsmall worth that the dead Anusia could be her rival? If Zagloba hadbeen in the secret, he would have pacified Pan Michael certainly, bysaying that women have not over-much mercy for one another.

  After Volodyovski's departure, Panna Krysia was astonished not a littleat what had happened, and at this, that the latch had fallen. In goingfrom the Ukraine to Warsaw, where she had never been before, she hadimagined that it would be different altogether. At the Diet ofConvocation the escorts of bishops and dignitaries would meet; abrilliant knighthood would assemble from all sides of the Commonwealth.How many amusements and reviews would there be, how much bustle! and inall that whirl, in the concourse of knights, would appear some unknown"he," some knight such as maidens see only in dreams. This knight wouldflush up with love, appear under her windows with a lute; he would formcavalcades, love and sigh a long time, wear on his armor the knot ofhis loved one, suffer and overcome obstacles before he would fall ather feet and win mutual love.

  But nothing of all that had come to pass. The haze, changing andcolored, like a rainbow, vanished; a knight appeared, it is true,--aknight not at all common, heralded as the first soldier of theCommonwealth, a great cavalier, but not much, or indeed, not at all,like that "he." There were no cavalcades either, nor playing of lutes,nor tournaments, nor the knot on the armor, nor bustle, nor games, norany of all that which rouses curiosity like a May dream, or a wonderfultale in the evening, which intoxicates like the odor of flowers, whichallures as bait does a bird; from which the face flushes, the heartthrobs, the body trembles. There was nothing but a small house outsidethe city; in the house Pan Michael; then intimacy grew up, and the restof the vision disappeared as the moon disappears in the sky when cloudscome and hide it. If that Pan Michael had appeared at the end of thestory, he would be the desired one. More than once, when thinking ofhis fame, of his worth, of his valor, which made him the glory of theCommonwealth and the terror of its enemies, Krysia felt that, in spiteof all, she loved him greatly; only it seemed to her that something hadmissed her, that a certain injustice had met her, a little through him,or rather through haste. That haste, therefore, had fallen into thehearts of both like a grain of sand; and since both were farther andfarther from each other, that grain began to pain them somewhat. Ithappens frequently that something insignificant as a little thornpricks the feelings of people, and in time either heals or festers moreand more, and brings bitterness and pain, even to the greatest love.But in this case it was still far to pain and bitterness. For PanMichael, the thought of Krysia was especially agreeable and soothing;and the thought of her followed him as his shadow follows a man. Hethought too that the farther he went, the dearer she would become tohim, and the more he would sigh and yearn for her. The time passed moreheavily for her; for no one visited Ketling's house since the departureof the little knight, and day followed day in monotony and weariness.

  Pani Makovetski counted the days before the election, waited for herhusband, and talked only of him; Basia had put on a very long face.Zagloba reproached her, saying that she had rejected Pan Adam and wasthen wishing for him. In fact, she would have been glad if even he hadcome; but Novoveski said to himself, "There is nothing for me there,"and soon he followed Pan Michael. Zagloba too was preparing to returnto Pan Yan's, saying that he wished to see his boys. Still, beingheavy, he put off his journey day after day; he explained to Basia thatshe was the cause of his delay, that he was in love with her andintended to seek her hand. Meanwhile he kept company with Krysia whenPan Michael's sister went with Basia to visit the wife of thechamberlain of Lvoff. Krysia never accompanied them in those visits;for the lady, notwithstanding her worthiness, could not endure Krysia.Frequently and often too Zagloba went to Warsaw, where he met pleasantcompany and returned more than once tipsy on the following day; andthen Krysia was entirely alone, passing the dreary hours in thinking alittle of Pan Michael, a little of what might happen if that latch hadnot fallen once and forever, and often, what did that unknown rival ofPan Michael look like,--the King's son in the fairy tale?

  Once Krysia was sitting by the window and looking in thoughtfulness atthe door of the room, on which a very bright gleam of the setting sunwas falling, when suddenly a sleigh-bell was heard on the other side ofthe house. It ran through Krysia's head that Pani Makovetski and Basiamust have returned; but that did not bring her out of meditation, andshe did not even withdraw her eyes from the door. Meanwhile the dooropened; and on the background of the dark depth beyond appeared to theeyes of the maiden some unknown man.

  At the first moment it seemed to Krysia that she saw a picture, or thatshe had fallen asleep and was dreaming, such a wonderful vision stoodbefore her. The unknown was young, dressed in black foreign costume,with a white lace collar coming to his shoulders. Once in childhoodKrysia had seen Pan Artsishevski, general of the artillery of thekingdom, dressed in such a costume; by reason of the dress, as well asof his unusual beauty, the general had remained long in her memory.Now, that young man before her was dressed in like fashion; but inbeauty he surpassed Pan Artsishevski and all men walking the earth. Hishair, cut evenly over his forehead, fell in bright curls on both sidesof his face, just marvellously. He had dark brows, definitely outlinedon a forehead white as marble; eyes mild and melancholy; a yellowmustache and a yellow, pointed beard. It was an incomparable head, inwhich nobility was united to manfulness,--the head at once of an angeland a warrior. Krysia's breath was stopped in her breast, for looking,she did not believe her own eyes, nor could she decide whether she hadbefore her an illusion or a real man. He stood awhile motionless,astonished, or through politeness feigning astonishment at Krysia; atlast he moved from the door, and waving his hat downward began to sweepthe floor with its plumes. Krysia rose, but her feet trembled underher; and now blushing, now growing pale, she closed her eyes.

  Meanwhile his voice sounded low and soft, "I am Ketling of Elgin,--thefriend and companion-at-arms of Pan Volodyovski. The servant has toldme already that I have the unspeakable happiness and honor to receiveas guests under my roof the sister and relatives of my Pallas; butpardon, worthy lady, my confusion, for the servant told me nothing ofwhat my eyes see, and my eyes are overcome by the brightness of yourpresence."

  With such a compliment did the knightly Ketling greet Krysia; but shedid not repay him in like manner, for she could not find a single word.She thought only that when he had finished, he would incline surely asecond time, for in the silence she heard again the rustle of plumes onthe
floor. She felt also that there was need, urgent need, to make someanswer and return compliment for compliment, otherwise she might beheld a simple woman; but meanwhile her breath fails her, the pulse isthrobbing in her hands and her temples, her breast rises and falls asif she were suffering greatly. She opens her eyelids; he stands beforeher with head inclined somewhat, with admiration and respect in hiswonderful face. With trembling hand Krysia seizes her robe to make evena courtesy before the cavalier; fortunately, at that moment cries of"Ketling! Ketling!" are heard behind the door, and into the roomrushes, with open arms, the panting Zagloba.

  The two men embraced each other then; and during that time the younglady tried to recover, and to look two or three times at the knight. Heembraced Zagloba heartily, but with that unusual elegance in everymovement which he had either inherited from his ancestors or acquiredat the refined courts of kings and magnates.

  "How are you?" cried Zagloba. "I am as glad to see you in your house asin my own. Let me look at you. Ah, you have grown thin! Is it not somelove-affair? As God lives, you have grown thin. Do you know, Michaelhas gone to the squadron? Oh, you have done splendidly to come! Michaelthinks no more of the cloister. His sister is living here with twoyoung ladies,--maidens like turnips! Oh, for God's sake, Panna Krysiais here! I beg pardon for my words, but let that man's eyes crawl outwho denies beauty to either of you; this cavalier has seen it alreadyin your case."

  Ketling inclined his head a third time, and said with a smile, "I leftthe house a barrack and find it Olympus; for I see a goddess at theentrance."

  "Ketling! how are you?" cried a second time Zagloba, for whom onegreeting was too little, and he seized him again in his arms. "Nevermind," said he, "you haven't seen the haiduk yet. One is a beauty, butthe other is honey! How are you, Ketling? God give you health! I willtalk to you. It is you; very good. That is a delight to this old man.You are glad of your guests. Pani Makovetski has come here, for it wasdifficult to find lodgings in the time of the Diet; but now it iseasier, and she will go out, of course, for it is not well for youngladies to lodge in a single man's house, lest people might look awry,and some gossip might come of the matter."

  "For God's sake! I will never permit that! I am to Volodyovski not afriend, but a brother; and I may receive Pani Makovetski as a sisterunder my roof. To you, young lady, I shall turn for assistance, and ifnecessary will beg it here on my knees."

  Saying this, Ketling knelt before Krysia, and seizing her hand, pressedit to his lips and looked into her eyes imploringly, joyously, and atthe same time pensively; she began to blush, especially as Zaglobacried out straightway, "He has barely come when he is on his kneesbefore her. As God lives! I'll tell Pani Makovetski that I found you inthat posture. Sharp, Ketling! See what court customs are!"

  "I am not skilled in court customs," whispered the lady, in greatconfusion.

  "Can I reckon on your aid?" asked Ketling.

  "Rise, sir!"

  "May I reckon on your aid? I am Pan Michael's brother. An injury willbe done him if this house is abandoned."

  "My wishes are nothing here," answered Krysia, with more presence ofmind, "though I must be grateful for yours."

  "I thank you!" answered Ketling, pressing her hand to his mouth.

  "Ah! frost out of doors, and Cupid is naked; but he would not freeze inthis house," said Zagloba. "And I see that from sighs alone there willbe a thaw,--from nothing but sighs."

  "Spare us," said Krysia.

  "I thank God that you have not lost your jovial humor," said Ketling,"for joyousness is a sign of health."

  "And a clear conscience," added Zagloba. "'He grieves who is troubled,'declares the Seer in Holy Writ. Nothing troubles me, therefore I amjoyous. Oh, a hundred Turks! What do I behold? For I saw you in Polishcostume with a lynx-skin cap and a sabre, and now you have changedagain into some kind of Englishman, and are going around on slim legslike a stork."

  "For I have been in Courland, where the Polish dress is not worn, andhave just passed two days with the English resident in Warsaw."

  "Then you are returning from Courland?"

  "I am. The relative who adopted me has died, and left me another estatethere."

  "Eternal repose to him! He was a Catholic, of course?"

  "He was."

  "You have this consolation at least. But you will not leave us for thisproperty in Courland?"

  "I will live and die here," answered Ketling, looking at Krysia; and atonce she dropped her long lashes on her eyes.

  Pani Makovetski arrived when it was quite dark; and Ketling wentoutside the gate to meet her. He conducted the lady to his house withas much homage as if she had been a reigning princess. She wished onthe following day to seek other quarters in the city itself; but herresolve was ineffective. The young knight implored, dwelt on hisbrotherhood with Pan Michael, and knelt until she agreed to stay withhim longer. It was merely stipulated that Pan Zagloba should remainsome time yet, to shield the ladies with his age and dignity from eviltongues. He agreed willingly, for he had become attached beyond measureto the haiduk; and besides, he had begun to arrange in his head certainplans which demanded his presence absolutely. The maidens were bothglad, and Basia came out at once openly on Ketling's side.

  "We will not move out to-day, anyhow," said she to Pan Michael'shesitating sister; "and if not, it is all the same whether we stay oneday or twelve."

  Ketling pleased her as well as Krysia, for he pleased all women;besides, Basia had never seen a foreign cavalier, except officers offoreign infantry,--men of small rank and rather common persons.Therefore she walked around him, shaking her forelock, dilating hernostrils, and looking at him with a childlike curiosity; so importunatewas she that at last she heard the censure of Pani Makovetski. But inspite of the censure, she did not cease to investigate him with hereyes, as if wishing to fix his military value, and at last she turnedto Pan Zagloba.

  "Is he a great soldier?" asked she of the old man in a whisper.

  "Yes; so that he cannot be more celebrated. You see he has immenseexperience, for, remaining in the true faith, he served against theEnglish rebels from his fourteenth year. He is a noble also of highbirth, which is easily seen from his manners."

  "Have you seen him under fire?"

  "A thousand times! He would halt for you in it without a frown, pat hishorse on the shoulder, and be ready to talk of love."

  "Is it the fashion to talk of love at such a time? Hei?"

  "It is the fashion to do everything by which contempt for bullets isshown."

  "But hand to hand, in a duel, is he equally great?"

  "Yes, yes! a wasp; it is not to be denied."

  "But could he stand before Pan Michael?"

  "Before Michael he could not!"

  "Ha!" exclaimed Basia, with joyous pride, "I knew that he could not. Ithought at once that he could not." And she began to clap her hands.

  "So, then, do you take Pan Michael's side?" asked Zagloba.

  Basia shook her forelock and was silent; after a while a quiet sighraised her breast. "Ei! what of that? I am glad, for he is ours."

  "But think of this, and beat it into yourself, little haiduk," saidZagloba, "that if on the field of battle it is hard to find a betterman than Ketling, he is most dangerous for maidens, who love him madlyfor his beauty. He is trained famously in love-making too."

  "Tell that to Krysia, for love is not in my head," answered Basia, andturning to Krysia, she began to call, "Krysia! Krysia! Come here justfor a word."

  "I am here," said Krysia.

  "Pan Zagloba says that no lady looks on Ketling without falling in lovestraightway. I have looked at him from every side, and somehow nothinghas happened; but do you feel anything?"

  "Basia, Basia!" said Krysia, in a tone of persuasion.

  "Has he pleased you, eh?"

  "Spare us! be sedate. My Basia, do not talk nonsense, for Ketling iscoming."

  In fact, Krysia had not taken her seat when Ketling approached andinquired, "Is it permitted to join
the company?"

  "We request you earnestly," answered Krysia.

  "Then I am bold to ask, of what was your conversation?"

  "Of love," cried Basia, without hesitation.

  Ketling sat down near Krysia. They were silent for a time; for Krysia,usually self-possessed and with presence of mind, had in some wonderfulway become timid in presence of the cavalier; hence he was first toask,--

  "Is it true that the conversation was of such a pleasant subject?"

  "It was," answered Krysia, in an undertone.

  "I shall be delighted to hear your opinion."

  "Pardon me, for I lack courage and wit, so I think that I should ratherhear something new from you."

  "Krysia is right," said Zagloba. "Let us listen."

  "Ask a question," said Ketling. And raising his eyes somewhat, hemeditated a little, then, although no one had questioned him, he beganto speak, as if to himself: "Loving is a grievous misfortune; for byloving, a free man becomes a captive. Just as a bird, shot by an arrow,falls it the feet of the hunter, so the man struck by love has no powerto escape from the feet of the loved one. To love is to be maimed; fora man, like one blind, does not see the world beyond his love. To loveis to mourn; for when do more tears flow, when do more sighs swell thebreast? When a man loves, there are neither dresses nor hunts in hishead; he is ready to sit embracing his knees with his arms, sighing asplaintively as if he had lost some one near to him. Love is an illness;for in it, as in illness, the face becomes pale, the eyes sink, thehands tremble, the fingers grow thin, and the man thinks of death, orgoes around in derangement, with dishevelled hair, talks with the moon,writes gladly the cherished name on the sand, and if the wind blows itaway, he says, 'misfortune,' and is ready to sob."

  Here Ketling was silent for a while; one would have said that he wassunk in musing. Krysia listened to his words with her whole soul, as ifthey were a song. Her lips were parted, and her eyes did not leave thepale face of the knight. Basia's forelock fell to her eyes, hence itcould not be known what she was thinking of; but she sat in silencealso.

  Then Zagloba yawned loudly, drew a deep breath, stretched his legs, andsaid, "Give command to make boots for dogs of such love!"

  "But yet," began the knight, anew, "if it is grievous to love, it ismore grievous still not to love; for who without love is satisfied withpleasure, glory, riches, perfumes, or jewels? Who will not say to theloved one, 'I choose thee rather than a kingdom, than a sceptre, thanhealth or long life'? And since each would give life for lovewillingly, love has more value than life." Ketling finished.

  The young ladies sat nestling closely to each other, wondering at thetenderness of his speech and those conclusions of love foreign toPolish cavaliers, till Zagloba, who was napping at the end, woke andbegan to blink, looking now at one, now at another, now at the third;at last gaining presence of mind, he inquired in a loud voice, "What doyou say?"

  "We say good-night to you," said Basia.

  "Ah! I know now we were talking of love. What was the conclusion?"

  "The lining was better than the cloak."

  "There is no use in denying that I was drowsy; but this loving,weeping, sighing--Ah, I have found another rhyme for it,--namely,sleeping,--and at this time the best, for the hour is advanced.Good-night to the whole company, and give us peace with your love. O myGod, my God, while the cat is miauwing, she will not eat the cheese;but until she eats, her mouth is watering. In my day I resembledKetling as one cup does another; and I was in love so madly that a rammight have pounded my back for an hour before I should have known it.But in old age I prefer to rest well, especially when a polite host notonly conducts me to bed, but gives me a drink on the pillow."

  "I am at the service of your grace," said Ketling.

  "Let us go; let us go! See how high the moon is already. It will befine to-morrow; it is glittering and clear as in the day. Ketling isready to talk about love with you all night; but remember, kids, thathe is road-weary."

  "Not road-weary, for I have rested two days in the city. I am onlyafraid that the ladies are not used to night-watching."

  "The night would pass quickly in listening to you," said Krysia.

  Then they parted, for it was really late. The young ladies slept in thesame room and usually talked long before sleeping; but this eveningBasia could not understand Krysia, for as much as the first had a wishto speak, so much was the second silent and answered in half-words. Anumber of times too, when Basia, in speaking of Ketling, caught at anidea, laughing somewhat at him and mimicking him a little, Krysiaembraced her with great tenderness, begging her to leave off thatnonsense.

  "He is host here, Basia," said she; "we are living under his roof; andI saw that he fell in love with you at once."

  "Whence do you know that?" inquired Basia.

  "Who does not love you? All love you, and I very much." Thus speaking,she put her beautiful face to Basia's face, nestled up to her, andkissed her eyes.

  They went at last to their beds, but Krysia could not sleep for a longtime. Disquiet had seized her. At times her heart beat with such forcethat she brought both hands to her satin bosom to restrain thethrobbing. At times too, especially when she tried to close her eyes,it seemed to her that some head, beautiful as a dream, bent over her,and a low voice whispered into her ear,--

  "I would rather have thee than a kingdom, than a sceptre, than health,than long life!"