On the Field of Glory: An Historical Novel of the Time of King John Sobieski

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  CHAPTER V

  "He will not come back! All is lost!" exclaimed Panna Anulka to herselfat the first moment.

  And a marvellous thing! There were five men in that mansion, one ofwhom was young and presentable; and besides Pan Grothus, the starosta,Pan Serafin was expected. In a word, rarely had there been so manyguests at Belchantska. Meanwhile it seemed to the young lady that avacuum had surrounded her suddenly, and that some immense want had comewith it; that the mansion was empty, the garden empty, and that sheherself was as much alone as if in an unoccupied steppe land, and thatshe would continue to be thus forever.

  Hence her heart was as straitened with merciless sorrow as if she hadlost one who was nearest of all to her. She felt sure that Yatsek wouldnot return, all the more since her guardian had offended him mortally;still, she could not imagine how it would be without him, withouthis face, his laughter, his words, his glances. What would happento-morrow, after to-morrow, next week, next month? For what would sherise from her bed every morning? Why would she arrange her tresses? Forwhom would she dress and curl her hair? For what was she now to live?

  And she had a feeling as if her heart had been a candle which some onehad quenched by blowing it out on a sudden. There was nothing savedarkness and a vacuum.

  But when she entered the room and saw that Hungarian cap on the floor,all those indefinite feelings gave way to an enormous and simpleyearning for Yatsek. Her heart grew warm in her again, and she began tocall him by name. Therewith a certain gleam of hope flew through herspirit. Raising the cap she pressed it to her bosom unwittingly; thenshe put it in her sleeve and began to think thuswise: "He will not comeas hitherto daily, but before the return of Pan Grothus and my guardianfrom Yedlinka, he must come for his cap, so I shall see him and saythat he was unjust and cruel, and that he should not have done what hehas done."

  But she was not sincere with herself, for she wished to say more, tofind some warm, heartfelt word which would join again the threads newlybroken between them. If this could happen, if they could meet withoutanger in the church, or at odd times in the houses of neighbors, meanswould be found in the future to turn everything to profit. What methodsthere might be to do this, and what the profit could be, she did notstop to consider at the moment, for beyond all she was thinking how tosee Yatsek at the earliest.

  Meanwhile Pani Vinnitski came out of the chamber in which the woundedmen were then lying, and on seeing the excited face and reddened eyesof the young woman she began thus to quiet her.

  "Fear not, no harm will come to them. Only one of the Bukoyemskis isstruck a little seriously, but no harm will happen even to that one.The others are injured slightly. Father Voynovski dressed their woundswith such skill that there is no need to change anything. The men tooare cheerful and in perfect spirits."

  "Thanks be to God!"

  "But has Yatsek gone? What did he want here?"

  "He brought the wounded men hither--"

  "I know, but who would have expected this of him?"

  "They themselves challenged him."

  "They do not deny that, but he beat all five of them, one afteranother. One might have thought that a clucking hen could have beatenhim."

  "Aunt does not know the man," answered Panna Anulka, with a certainpride in her expression.

  But in the voice of Pani Vinnitski there was as much admiration asblame; for, born in regions exposed to Tartar inroads at all times, shehad learned from childhood to count daring and skill at the sabre asthe highest virtues of manhood. So, when the earliest alarm touchingthe five guests had vanished, she began to look somewhat differently atthat duel.

  "Still," continued she, "I must confess that they are worthy gentlemen,for not only do they cherish no hatred against him, but they praisehim, especially Pan Stanislav. 'That man is a born soldier,' said he.And they were angry every man of them at Pan Gideon, who exceeded themeasure, they say, at Vyrambki."

  "But aunt did not receive Yatsek better."

  "He got the reception which he merited. But didst thou receive himwell?"

  "I?"

  "Yes, thou. I saw how thou didst frown at him."

  "My dear aunt--"

  Here the girl stopped suddenly, for she felt that unless she did so,she would burst into weeping. Because of this conversation Yatsek hadgrown in her eyes. He had fought alone against such trained men, hadconquered them all, overcome them. He had told her, it is true, that hehunted wild boars with a spear, but peasants at the edge of thewilderness go against them with clubs, so that amazes no one. But tofinish five knightly nobles a man must be better and more valiant andskilful than they. It seemed to Panna Anulka simply a marvel that a manwho had such mild and sad eyes could be so terrible in battle. To heralone had he yielded; from her alone had he suffered everything; to heralone had he been mild and pliant. Why was this? Because he had lovedher beyond his health, beyond happiness, beyond his own soul'ssalvation. He had confessed that to her an hour earlier. And yearningfor him rushed like an immense wave to her heart again. Still, she feltthat something between them had changed, and that if she should see himanew, and see him afterward often, she would not permit herself to playwith him again as she had played up to that day, now casting him intothe abyss, now cheering him, giving him hope, now thrusting him away,now attracting him; she felt that do what she might she would look onhim with greater respect, and would be more submissive and cautious.

  At moments, however, a voice was heard in her saying that he had actedtoo peevishly, that he had uttered words more offensive and bitter thanshe had; but that voice became weaker and weaker, and the wish forreconciliation was growing.

  "If he would only return before those men came from Yedlinka!"

  Meanwhile an hour passed, then two and three hours. Still, there was nosign from Yatsek. Next it occurred to her that the hour was too late,that he would not come, he would send some one to get the cap. Afterthat she determined to send it to Yatsek with a letter, in which shewould explain what was weighing her heart down. And since his messengermight come any moment she, to prepare all things in season, shutherself up in her small maiden chamber and went at the letter.

  "May God pardon thee for the suffering and sadness in which thou hastleft me, for if thou couldst see my heart thou wouldst not have donewhat thou hast done. Therefore, I send not only thy cap, but a kindword, so that thou shouldst be happy and forget--"

  Here she saw that she was not writing her own thoughts at all, or herwishes, so, drawing her pen through the words, she fell to writing anew letter with more emotion and feeling:

  "I send thy cap, for I know that I shall not see thee in this househereafter, and that thou wilt not weep for any one here, least of allfor such an orphan as I am; but neither shall I weep because of thyinjustice, though it is sad beyond description--"

  But reality showed these words to be false, since sudden tears putblots on the paper. How send a proof of this kind, especially if he hadthrown her out of his heart altogether? After a while it occurred toher that it might be better not to write of his injustice, and of hispeevish procedure, since, if she did, he would be ready for stillgreater stubbornness. Thus thinking, she looked for a third sheet ofpaper, but there was no more in her chamber.

  Now she was helpless, for if she borrowed paper of Pani Vinnitski shecould not avoid questions impossible of answer; then she felt that shewas losing her head, and that in no case could she write to Yatsek thatwhich she wanted to tell him; hence she grew disconsolate and sought,as women do usually, solace in suffering; she gave a free course to hertears again.

  Meanwhile night was in front of the entrance, and sleighbells weretinkling--Pan Gideon and his two guests were coming. The servants werelighting the candles in every chamber, for the gloom was increasing.The young lady brushed aside every tear and entered the drawing-roomwith, a certain timidity; she feared that all would see straightwaythat she had been weeping, and have, God knows what suspicions,--theymight even torment her with questions. Bu
t in the drawing-room therewere none save Pan Gideon and Pan Grothus. For Pan Serafin she askedstraightway, wishing to turn attention from her own person.

  "He has gone to his son and the Bukoyemskis," said Pan Gideon, "but Ipacified him on the road by showing that nothing evil had happened."

  Then he looked at her carefully, but his face, gloomy at most times,and his gray, severe eyes were bright with a sort of exceptionalkindness. Approaching, he placed his hand on the bright head of themaiden.

  "There is no need for thee to be troubled," said he. "In a couple ofdays they will be well, every man of them. We need say no more. We owethem gratitude, it is true, and hence I was anxious about them, butreally, they are strangers to us, and of rather lowly condition."

  "Lowly condition?" repeated she, as an echo, and merely to saysomething.

  "Why, yes, for the Bukoyemskis have nothing whatever, and Pan Stanislavis a _homo novus_. For that matter, what are they to me! They will gotheir way, and the same quiet will be in this house as has been herehitherto."

  Panna Anulka thought to herself that there would be great quiet indeed,for there would be only three in the mansion; but she gave noexpression to that thought.

  "I will busy myself with the supper," said she.

  "Go, housewife, go!" said Pan Gideon. "Because of thee there is joy inthe household, and profit--and have a silver service brought on," addedhe, "to show this Pan Serafin that good plate is found not alone amongnewly made noble Armenians."

  Panna Anulka hurried to the servants' apartments. She wished beforesupper to finish another affair most important for her, so she summoneda serving-lad, and said to him,--

  "Listen, Voitushko; run to Vyrambki and tell Pan Tachevski that theyoung lady sends this cap, and bows very much to him. Here is a coinfor thee, and repeat what thou art to tell him."

  "The young lady sends the cap and bows to him."

  "Not that she bows, but that she bows very much to him--dostunderstand?"

  "I understand."

  "Then stir! And take an overcoat, for the frost bites in thenight-time. Let the dogs go with thee, too--that she bows very much,remember. And come back at once--unless Pan Tachevski gives an answer."

  Having finished that affair she withdrew to the kitchen to busy herselfat the supper which was then almost ready since they had been expectingguests with Pan Gideon. Then, after she had dressed and arranged herhair, she entered the dining-hall.

  Pan Sarafin greeted her kindly, for her beauty and youth had pleasedhis heart greatly at Yedlinka. Since he had been put quite at resttouching Stanislav, when they were seated at the table he began tospeak with her joyously, endeavoring, even with jests, to scatter thatshade of seriousness which he saw on her forehead, and the cause ofwhich he attributed specially to the duel.

  But for her the supper was not to end without incident, sinceimmediately after the second course Voitushko stood at the door of thedining-hall and cried out, as he blew his chilled fingers,--

  "I beg the young lady's attention. I left the cap, but Pan Tachevski isnot in Vyrambki, for he drove away with Father Voynovski."

  Pan Gideon on hearing these words was astonished; he frowned, and fixedhis iron eyes on the serving-lad.

  "What is this?" asked he. "What cap? Who sent thee to Vyrambki?"

  "The young lady," answered the lad with timidity.

  "I sent him," said Panna Anulka.

  And seeing that all eyes were turned on her she was dreadfullyembarrassed, but the elusive wit of a woman soon came to herassistance.

  "Pan Yatsek attended the wounded men hither," said she; "but sinceauntie and I received him with harshness he was angry and flew awayhome without his cap, so I sent the cap after him."

  "Indeed, we did not receive him very charmingly," added Pani Vinnitski.

  Pan Gideon drew breath and his face took on a less dreadful expression.

  "Ye did well," remarked he. "I myself would have sent the cap, for ofcourse he has not a second one."

  But the honest and clever Pan Serafin took the part of Yatsek.

  "My son," said he, "has no feeling against him. He and the othergentlemen forced Pan Tachevski to the duel; when it was over he tookthem to his house, dressed their wounds, and entertained them. TheBukoyemskis say the same, adding that he is an artist at the sabre,who, had he had the wish, might have cut them up in grand fashion. Ha!they wanted to teach him a lesson, and themselves found a teacher. Ifit is true that His Grace the King is moving against the Turks, such aman as Tachevski will be useful."

  Pan Gideon was not glad to hear these words, and added: "FatherVoynovski taught him those sword tricks."

  "I have seen Father Voynovski only once, at a festival," said PanSerafin, "but I heard much of him in my days of campaigning. At thefestival other priests laughed at him; they said that his house waslike the ark, that he cares for all beasts just as Noah did. I know,however, that his sabre was renowned, and that his virtue is famous. IfPan Tachevski has learned sword-practice from him, I should wish myson, when he recovers, not to seek friendship elsewhere."

  "They say that the Diet will strive at once to strengthen the army,"said Pan Gideon, wishing to change the conversation.

  "True, all will work at that," said Pan Grothus.

  And the conversation continued on the war. But after supper PannaAnulka chose the right moment, and, approaching Pan Serafin, raised herblue eyes to him.

  "You are very kind," said she.

  "Why do you say that?" asked Pan Serafin.

  "You took the part of Pan Yatsek."

  "Whose part?" inquired the old man.

  "Pan Tachevski's. His name is Yatsek."

  "But you blamed him severely. Why did you blame him?"

  "My guardian blamed him still more severely. I confess to you, however,that we did not act justly, and I think that some reparation is duehim."

  "He would surely be glad to receive it from your hands," said PanSerafin.

  The young lady shook her golden head in sign of disagreement.

  "Oh no!" replied she, smiling sadly, "he is angry with us, andforever."

  Pan Serafin glanced at her with a genuine fatherly kindness.

  "Who in the world, charming flower, could be angry forever with you?"

  "Oh! Pan Yatsek could--but as to reparation this is the best reparationin his case: declare to Pan Yatsek that you feel no offence toward him,and that you believe in his innocence. After that my guardian will beforced to do him some justice, and justice from us is due to PanYatsek."

  "I see that you have not been so very bitter against him, since you arenow taking his part with such interest."

  "I do so because I feel reproaches of conscience, and I wish noinjustice to any man, besides, he is alone in the world, and is ingreat, very great, poverty."

  "I will tell you," answered Pan Serafin, "that in my own mind I havedecided as follows: your guardian, as a hospitable neighbor, hasdeclared that he will not let me go till my son has recovered; but bothmy son and the Bukoyemskis might go home even to-morrow. Still, beforeI leave here I will visit most surely Pan Yatsek and Father Voynovski,not through any kindness, but because I understand that I owe them thiscourtesy. I do not say that I am bad, still, I think that if any one inthis case is really good you are the person. Do not contradict me!"

  She did contradict, for she felt that for her it was not a questionmerely of justice to Yatsek, but of other affairs, of which PanSerafin, who knew not her maiden calculations, could know nothing.Her heart, however, rose toward him with gratitude, and when sayinggood-night she kissed his hand, for which Pan Gideon was angry.

  "He is only of the second generation; before that his people weremerchants. Remember who thou art!" said the old noble.