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

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  CHAPTER IX

  Panna Anulka returned to her room filled with gratitude toward herguardian, who up to that hour had never spoken to her with suchkindness; and at the same time she was disenchanted, embittered, anddisgusted with the world and with people. In the first moment she couldnot and knew not how to think calmly; she had only the feeling that agrievous wrong had been done her, a great injustice, and that anawfully keen disappointment had struck her.

  For her love, for her sorrow, for her yearning, for all that she haddone to bind the broken threads together, her only reward was a hatefulsuspicion. And there was no remedy. She could not, of course, write toYatsek a second time, to justify herself and explain the position. Ablush of shame and humiliation covered her face at the mere thought ofthis. Besides, she was almost sure that Yatsek had gone. And next wouldcome war; perhaps she would never behold him in life again; perhaps hewould fall and die with the conviction that a perverse and wicked heartwas in her bosom. All at once boundless sorrow seized her. Yatsek stoodbefore her eyes as if living, with his embrowned face and those pensiveeyes which more than once she had laughed at, as being the eyes of amaiden.

  The girl's thought flies like a swift swallow after the traveller, andcalls to him: "Yatsek! I wish thee no evil! God sees my heart, Yatsek."Thus does she call to him, but he makes no answer; he rides on straightahead. What does he think of her? He only frowns and spits from disgustas he travels.

  Again there are pearls on her eyelids. A certain weakness has come onher, a moment of resignation in which she says to herself: "Ah, this isdifficult! May God forgive him, and go with him, and never mind me!"

  But her lips quiver like those of a child, her eyes look like those ofa tortured bird, and somewhere off in a hidden corner of her soul,which is as pure as a tear, she blames God in the deepest secret forthat which has met her.

  Then again she felt certain that Yatsek had never loved her, and shecould not understand why he had not loved her, even a little.

  "My guardian spoke truly," said she.

  But later on came reflection.

  "No, that could not be."

  Immediately she recalled those words of Yatsek, which were fixed in hermemory as in marble. "Not thou art to go, I am the person to go; but Isay to thee: though for years I have loved thee more than health, morethan life, more than my own soul, I will never come back to thee. Iwill gnaw my own hands off in torture, but, so help me, God, I willnever come back to thee." And he was pale as a wall when he said this,and almost mad from pain and from anger. He had not come back, that wastrue! He had appeared no more, he had left her, he had renounced her,he had abandoned her, he had wronged her; with an unworthy suspicion heand the priest had composed the dreadful letter--all that was true, andher guardian was right in that. But that Yatsek had never loved her,that after he had found money he had departed with a light and joyfulheart, that he thought of paying court to others, that he had ceasedaltogether to think of her,--this was incredible. Her guardian mightthink so in his carefulness, but the truth was quite different. He whohas no love does not grow pale, does not set his teeth, does not gnawhis fists, does not rend his soul in anguish. Such being the case, theyoung lady thought the difference was only this, that instead of onetwo were now suffering, hence a certain consolation, and even a certainhope, entered her. The days and months which were to come seemedgloomier, it may be, but not so bitter. The words of the letter ceasedto burn her like red-hot iron, for though she doubted not that Yatsekhad assisted in the writing, it is one thing to act through sorrow andpain, and another through deliberate malice.

  So again great compassion for Yatsek took hold of her; so great was it,and especially so ardent, that it could not be simply compassion. Herthoughts began to weave, and turn into a certain golden thread, whichwas lost in the future, but which at the same time cast on her theglitter of a wedding.

  The war would soon end and also the separation. That cruel Yatsek wouldnot return to Belchantska. Oh, no! a man so resolute as he when once hesays a thing will adhere to it; but he will come back to those parts,and return to Vyrambki; he will live near by, and then that will happenwhich God wishes. He went away it may be with tears, it may be withpain, with wringing of hands--God comfort him! He will come home with afull heart, and with joy, and, especially after war, with great glory.

  Meanwhile she will be there quietly in Belchantska, where her guardianis so kind; she will explain to that guardian that Yatsek is not so badas other young men--and farther on moved that golden thread which beganto wind round her heart again.

  The goldfinch, in the Dantsic clock of the drawing-room, whistled out alate hour, but sleep flew from the young lady altogether.

  Lying now in her bed she fixed her clear eyes on the ceiling andconsidered what disposition to make of her troubles and sorrows. IfYatsek had gone it was only because he was running away from her, foraccording to what she had heard war was still far from them. Herguardian had not mentioned that young Stanislav and the Bukoyemskiswere to go away also; it was proper to come to an understanding withthem and learn something of Yatsek, and say some kind word which mightreach him through them, even in distant camps, and in war time.

  She had not much hope that those gentlemen would come to Pan Gideon's,for it was known to her that they had gone over to Yatsek, and that fora certain time they had been looking with disfavor on Pan Gideon; butshe relied on another thing.

  In some days there would be a festival of the Most Holy Lady; a greatfestival at the parish church of Prityk, where all the neighboringnobles assembled with their families. She would see Pan Stanislav andthe Bukoyemskis, if not in front of the church then at dinner in thepriest's house. On that day the priest received every one.

  She hoped too that in the throng she would be able to speak with themfreely, and that she would not meet any hindrance from her guardianwho, though not very kind toward those gentlemen recently, could notbreak with them in view of the service which they had shown him.

  To Prityk from Belchantska the road was rather long, and Pan Gideon,who did not like hurry, passed the night at Radom, or at Yedlina, if hechose the road through the latter place.

  This time because of the overflow they took the safer though longerroad through Radom, and started one day before the festival--on wheels,not on runners, for winter had broken on a sudden, and thoroughly.After them moved two heavily laden wagons with servants, provisions, abed and sofas for decent living at inns where they halted.

  The stars were still twinkling, and the sky had barely begun to growpale in the east when they started. Pani Vinnitski led morning prayersin the dark. Pan Gideon and the young lady joined her with very drowsyvoices, for the evening before they had gone to bed late because ofpreparations for the journey. Only beyond the village and the smallforest, in which thousands of crows found their night rest, did theruddy light shine on the equally ruddy face and drowsy eyes of theyoung lady. Her lips were fixed ready for yawning, but when the firstsun-ray lighted the fields and the forest she shook herself out of thedrowsiness and looked around with more sprightliness, for the clearmorning filled her with a certain good hope, and a species of gladness.The calm, warm, coming day promised to be really wonderful. In the airappeared, as it were, the first note of early spring. Afterunparalleled snows and frosts came warm sunny days all at once, to theastonishment of people. Men had said that from the New Year it seemedas if some power had cut off the winter as it were with a knife-blade,and herdsmen foretold by the lowing of cattle, then restive in thestables, that the winter would not come back again. In fact, springitself was then present. In furrows, in the forest, at the north sideof woods and along streams, strips of snow still existed; but the sunwas warming them from above, and from beneath were flowing out streamsand currents, making in places broad overflows in which were reflectedwet leafless trees, as in mirrors. The damp ridges of fields gleamedlike belts of gold in the sun-rays. At times a strong wind rose, but sofilled with gladsome warmth as if it ca
me from out the sun's bodydirectly, and flying over the fields wrinkled the waters, throwing downwith its movement thousands of pearls from the slender dark twigs ofthe tree branches.

  Because of the thaws and road "stickiness," and also because of theweighty carriage which was drawn by six horses with no little effort,they moved very slowly. As the sun rose more and more the air grew sowarm that Panna Sieninski untied the ribbons of her hood, which droppedto the back of her head, and unbuttoned her weasel-skin shuba.

  "Are you so warm?" inquired Pani Vinnitski.

  "Spring, Auntie! real spring!" was the answer.

  And she was so charming with her bright and somewhat dishevelled headpushed out from her hood, with laughing eyes and rosy face, that thestern eyes of Pan Gideon grew mild as he glanced at her. For a while heseemed as if looking at her then for the first time, and spoke as ifhalf to himself,--

  "As God lives thou art at thy best also!"

  She smiled at him in answer.

  "Oh, how slowly we are moving," said she after a while. "The road isawful! Is it not true that on a long road one should wait till it driessomewhat?"

  Pan Gideon's face became serious, and he looked out of the carriagewithout giving an answer.

  "Yedlina!" said he, soon after.

  "Then perhaps one may go to the church?" inquired Pani Vinnitski.

  "We will not, first because the church is sure to be closed, for thepriest has gone to Prityk, and second, because he has offended megreatly, and I will hide my hand if he approaches." Then he added: "Iask you, and thee also, Anulka, not to converse with him in any way."

  A moment of silence succeeded. Suddenly the tramping of horses washeard behind the carriage, and the sounds made as the beasts pulledtheir feet out of the mud; these resembled the firing of muskets,--thenpiercing words were heard on both sides of the carriage.

  "With the forehead! with the forehead!"

  That was from the Bukoyemskis.

  "With the forehead!" answered Pan Gideon.

  "Is your grace for Prityk?"

  "I go every year. I suppose your lordships are going also to thefestival?"

  "You may lay a wager on that," replied Marek. "One must be purifiedfrom sin before war comes."

  "But is it not early yet?"

  "Why should it be too early?" asked Lukash. "All that has been sinnedup to the moment will fall from one's shoulders, since that is the useof absolution; and as to sins incurred later, the priest absolves fromthose in presence of the enemy, _in partikulo mortis_."

  "You wish to say _in articulo_" corrected Pan Gideon.

  "All the same, if only repentance is real."

  "How do you understand repentance?" inquired the amused Pan Gideon.

  "How do I understand repentance? Father Vior, the last time, commandedthat we give ourselves thirty stripes in discipline, and we gave fifty;for we thought: Well, since this pleases the Heavenly Powers, let themhave all they want of it."

  At this even the serious Pani Vinnitski laughed and Panna Anulka hidher face in her sleeve as if warming her nose there.

  Lukash noticed, as did his brothers, that their answer had rousedlaughter, hence they were somewhat offended and silent; so for a timewere heard only the rattling of chains on the carriage, the snorting ofhorses, the sound of mud under hoofs, and the croaking of crows.Immense flocks of these birds were sailing away in the sunlight fromsmall places and villages to the pine woods.

  "Ah! they feel this very minute that there will be food even to wadein," said the youngest Bukoyemski, turning his eyes toward the crows.

  "Yes, war is their harvest," said Mateush.

  "They do not feel it yet, for war is far off," said Pan Gideon.

  "Far or near, it is certain!"

  "And how do you know?"

  "We all know what the talk was at the district diets, and whatinstructions will be given to the general Diet."

  "True, but it is not known if they were the same everywhere."

  "Pan Prylubski, who has travelled through a great part of theCommonwealth, says they were the same everywhere."

  "Who is Pan Prylubski?"

  "He comes from Olkuts, and makes levies for the bishop of Cracow."

  "But has the bishop commanded to make levies before the assembling ofthe Diet?"

  "You see, your grace, how it is! This is the best proof that war iscertain. The bishop wants a splendid light cavalry regiment--well, PanPrylubski came to these parts because he has heard of us somewhat."

  "Ho! ho! Your glory has gone far through the world. Are you going?"

  "Of course!"

  "All of you?"

  "Why should we not all go? It is a good thing during war to have afriend at one's side, and still better a brother."

  "Well, and Pan Stanislav?"

  "He and Pan Yatsek will serve in one regiment."

  Pan Gideon glanced quickly at the young lady sitting in front; a suddenflame rushed over her cheeks, and he inquired further,--

  "Are they so intimate already? Under whom will they serve?"

  "Under Pan Zbierhovski."

  "Of course in the dragoons?"

  "In God's name, what are you saying? That is the hussar regiment ofPrince Alexander."

  "Is it possible! Is it possible! That is no common regiment--"

  "Pan Yatsek is no common man."

  Pan Gideon had it on his lips to say that such a stripling in thehussars would be a soldier, not an officer, but he held back theremark, fearing it might seem that his letter was not so polite, or hishelp so considerable as he had told Anulka, so he frowned and said,--

  "I have heard of the mortgage of Vyrambki; how much was given on it?"

  "More than you would have given," answered Marek, dryly.

  Pan Gideon's eyes glittered for a moment with savage anger, but herestrained himself a second time, for it occurred to him that furtherconversation might serve his purpose.

  "All the better," said he, "the cavalier must be satisfied."

  The Bukoyemskis, though slow-witted by nature, began to exaggerate, onemore than the other, just to show Pan Gideon how little Tachevski caredfor him and all in his mansion.

  "Of course!" called out Lukash, "when he went away he was almost wildfrom delight. He sang so that the candles at the inn toppled over. Itis true, that we had drunk some at parting."

  Pan Gideon looked again at Panna Sieninski, and saw that her rosy facefull of youth and life had become as it were petrified. Her hood hadfallen off entirely, her eyes were closed as in sleep; only from themovement of her nostrils and the slight quivering of her chin could itbe known that she was not sleeping, but listening, and listeningintently. It was painful to look at her, but the merciless noblethought,--

  "If there is a splinter in thy heart yet will I pluck it out of thee!"And he said aloud,--

  "Just as I expected--"

  "What did you expect?"

  "That you gentlemen would be drunk at the parting, and that PanTachevski would go away singing. Of course, he who is seeking fortunemust hurry, and if it smiles on him, perhaps he may catch it--"

  "Of course!" exclaimed Lukash.

  "Father Voynovski," added Marek, "gave Tachevski a letter to PanZbierhovski, who is his friend, and in Zbierhova the land is such thatyou can sow onions in any place,--and he has an only daughter, justfifteen years of age. So don't you bother about Tachevski; he will makehis way without you, and without these sands around Radom!"

  "I do not bother myself about him," said Pan Gideon, dryly. "Butperhaps you gentlemen are in a hurry to ride on? My carriage moves inthis mud like a tortoise."

  "Well, here is to you with the forehead!"

  "With the forehead! with the forehead! I am the servant of yourlordships!"

  "We are yours in the same way!"

  Having said this the brothers moved forward more speedily, but whenthey had ridden an arrow-shot from the carriage they reined in againand talked with animation.

  "Did ye see?" asked Lukash, "I said 'Of course!'
twice, and twice Ithrust a sword into his heart as it were; he almost burst out."

  "I did better," said Marek, "for I struck both the girl and the oldman."

  "How? Tell us, do not hide!" called the brothers.

  "Did ye not hear?"

  "We heard, but do thou repeat."

  "I struck with what I said of Panna Zbierhovski. Ye saw how the girlbecame pale? I looked at her; she had her hand on her knee and sheopened and closed it, opened and closed it, just like a cat beforescratching. A man could see that anger was diving down into her."

  But Mateush reined in his horse, and he added,--

  "I was sorry for her--such a dear little flower--and do ye rememberwhat old Pan Serafin said?"

  "What did he say?" inquired, with great curiosity, Lukash, Marek, andYan, reining in their horses.

  Mateush looked at them a while through his protruding eyes, then saidas if in sorrow,--

  "But if I have forgotten?"

  Meanwhile not only Pan Gideon, but Pani Vinnitski, who generally knewvery little of what was happening around her, turned attention to thechanged face of the young lady.

  "But what is the matter, Anulka? Art thou cold?"

  "No," answered the girl, with a sort of sleepy voice which seemed nother own. "Nothing is the matter, only the air affects me strangely--sostrangely."

  Though her voice broke from moment to moment she had no tears in hereyes; on the contrary, in her dry pupils there glittered sparkspeculiar, uncommon, and her face had grown older. Seeing this PanGideon said to himself,--

  "Would it not be better to strike while the iron is hot?"