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

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  CHAPTER XII

  That evening, or late at night, Pani Vinnitski appeared in the room ofher relative, and, finding the young lady still dressed, she talked toher.

  "I cannot recover from amazement," said she; "sooner should I havelooked for death than that such an idea should have come to the head ofPan Gideon."

  "Neither did I look for it."

  "How is it then? And is it so, really? I know not what to do, to beglad, or the opposite. We know that the prelate as a spiritual personhas better judgment than the laity. He is right when he says that tilldeath thou wilt have a roof over thy head, and that roof thy own, notanother's. But Pan Gideon is old"--here she spoke lower--"art thou nota little afraid of him?"

  "It is all in the past; there is nothing to think of at present,"answered Anulka.

  "How dost thou say that?"

  "I say that I owe him gratitude for a refuge, and a morsel of bread,and that these are poorly paid for by my person which no one else caresfor; but since he cares, that too, is a favor on his part."

  "He began long ago to wish for this," said the old woman mysteriously."After he had talked to-day with thee he called me. I thought thatthere was something wrong with the supper, and that he would reproachme, but he said nothing. I saw that for some reason he was cheerful,and all at once he broke the news to me. My legs trembled under me.'What is the matter?' asked he. 'You are turned, like Lot's wife, to apillar of salt,' said he. 'Is it because I have taken such a mushroom?''No,' I answered, 'but because it is so unexpected.' 'With me,' saidhe, then, 'that is an old idea. Like a fish at the bottom of a river itwas unknown till some one helped it to swim to the surface. And dostthou know who that was?' I felt sure that it was the prelate. 'Not atall,' said he, 'but Pan Grothus.'"

  A moment of silence followed.

  "But I thought Pan Yatsek--" said Anulka through her set teeth.

  "Why Yatsek?"

  "To show that he did not care for me."

  "Thou knowest that Yatsek has not seen Pan Gideon."

  Then Anulka began to repeat feverishly,--

  "Yes, I know! He had something else in his head! Let that go! I do notwant to know anything. I do not, I do not! It is all finished, andfinished forever."

  A dry, nervous weeping shook her bosom. After a moment she repeatedagain,--

  "It is finished beyond recall!" Then they knelt down to an "OurFather," which they repeated each evening in company.

  Next day Anulka appeared with a calm face, but something had changed inher, something remained unexpressed, something had shut itself up inher. She was not sad, but all at once, she had grown, as it were, someyears older, and she had in her now a certain calm dignity, so that PanGideon, who hitherto had taken into account himself only, began withoutnoting it, to consider her also. In general he was unable to commandhimself, and it seemed to him specially strange that he felt in somesense his dependence on Anulka. He began to fear those thoughts whichshe did not express, but which she might conceal in her spirit. Hetried to forestall such, and put in place of them others, of the kindwhich he wanted. Even the silence of Pani Vinnitski was oppressive andseemed to him suspicious; so he worked out fantastic pictures, talked,joked, but there flashed up in his steel eyes at times certain gleamsof impatience.

  Meanwhile news of his engagement had gone through the neighborhood. Ofthis engagement he now made no secret; on the contrary, he sent lettersannouncing it to Pan Serafin, and to his nearest neighbors; he wroteletters to the Kohanovskis, to the Podlodovskis, to the Sulgostovskis,to Pan Grothus, to the Krepetskis, and even to distant relatives of hislate wife, with invitations to the betrothal, after which the marriagewould be celebrated immediately.

  Pan Gideon would have preferred to get a dispensation from the bannseven, but unfortunately it was the Lenten season, and he had to waittill after Easter. He took both women, therefore, to Radom where theyoung lady was to find her wedding outfit, and he to buy horses moreshowy than those which he had at that time in his stables.

  Reports came to him that among the relatives who had hoped to inheriteverything not only after his late wife, but after him, there was asmuch movement as there is in a beehive; but this pleased him, since hehated them all from his innermost spirit, and was planning at all timesto harm them. Those tidings of meetings, whispered conferences, andcounsels shortened his visit to Radom. And when at last his stay therewas ended, and the horses together with new harness were purchased, hereturned on Easter eve to his mansion. Guests began to arrive almost atthe same time, for the betrothal was to take place on the third dayafter Easter.

  First came the Krepetskis who were both the nearest relatives andnearest neighbors. The father was almost eighty years old, with thevisage of a vulture, and renowned as a miser. He had three daughters:Tekla, the youngest, was pretty and pleasant; Agneshka and Johanna werenot youthful, they were testy old maids with pimples on their cheeks atall seasons. He had a son, Martsian, nicknamed Pniak (stump) in theneighborhood. He bore the name justly, for at the first glance heseemed a great stump; he had a mighty chest, and broad shoulders. Hisbow-legs were so short that he was almost dwarflike, and his armsreached his kneepans. Some thought him a hunchback; he was not,however, but his head without a neck was fixed so closely to his bodythat his high shoulders reached his ears, very nearly. Out of thathead peered prominent, lustful eyes, and his face was like that of ahe-goat. A small beard which he wore as if in defiance of generalcustom, increased the resemblance.

  He did not serve as a warrior, for he had been ridiculed from service,for which reason he had had in his time many duels. There was uncommonstrength in his stumpy body, and people feared him in all places, sincehe was a quarreller and a road-blocker, who, in every affair, was gladto seek pretexts; he was as irritable as a vicious beast, and woundedsavagely in Radom one Krepetski, his cousin, a handsome and worthyyoung man who almost died of the injuries then inflicted. He feltrespect only for Yatsek, whose skill at the sabre was known to him, andbefore the Bukoyemskis, one of whom, Lukash, threw him over a fencelike a bundle of straw once in Yedlina. He had the deserved reputationof being a great profligate. Pan Gideon had driven him out of themansion a few years before that, because he had looked too much in goatfashion at Panna Anulka, a little girl at that period. But since thensome years had passed, and, as they had met later in Radom, and inneighboring houses, Pan Gideon invited him now with the family.

  Immediately after the Krepetskis came the Sulgostovskis, twin brothers,who so resembled each other that when they put on coats of like fashionno man could distinguish them; next came three remote Sulgostovskisfrom beyond Prityk--and then a numerous family formed of nine people,the handsome Zabierzovskis. From Yedlinka came Pan Serafin, but alone,since his son had gone to his regiment already; Pan Podlodovski, thestarosta, once the agent of the great lord in Zamost; the Kohanovskis;the priest from Prityk; the prelate Tvorkovski from Radom, who was tobless the ring, and many small nobles from near and distant places,some even without invitation, with this idea, that a guest though quiteunknown would be sure to find welcome, and that when there is a chanceto eat and drink a man should not miss it.

  Belchantska was crowded with carriages and wagons, the stables werefilled with horses, the outbuildings with servants of all sorts;everywhere in the mansion were colored coats, sabres, shaven foreheads;and with these went Latin, the twittering of women, farthingales,laces, and various ornaments. Maids were flying around with hot water,and tipsy servants with excellent wine in decanters. From morning untilnight-hours the kitchen was steaming like a tar pit. The windows of themansion gleamed and flashed every evening, so that the whole placearound there was radiant.

  And amid all this tumult Pan Gideon moved through the chambers, walkedabout and gave welcome, magnificent, important, grown young as it werefor the second time, dressed in crimson, and wearing a sabre whichglittered with jewels, a sabre which Panna Anulka had inherited; it washer only dowry from wealthy forefathers. If giddiness seized him heleaned
on an armchair, and again he moved forward, showed honor toguests who were personages, and struck one heel against the other whengreeting older ladies; but above all he followed with eyes which weremore and more enamoured "his Anulka," who bloomed in that many-coloredthrong. Amid glances which were frequently ill-wishing, frequentlyjealous, and filled sometimes with venom, she was as fair as a lily,somewhat sad, or only conscious, it may be, of the weight of that factwhich she had to encounter.

  Thus things continued till the evening of the third day, that is,Tuesday, when the mortars of the mansion thundered in the yard, thusannouncing to the guests and the country that the solemn moment hadcome, the moment of betrothal.

  The guests ranged themselves then as a half-circle in the drawing-room,men and women in splendid costumes bright as a rainbow in the light ofthe candles. In front of them stood Pan Gideon and Panna Anulka.Silence settled down, and the eyes of all people were fixed on thebride, who with downcast eyes, with attention and dignity on her face,without a smile, but not sad, seemed as if drowsy.

  The prelate Tvorkovski in his surplice, having near him young TeklaKrepetski, who held a silver plate with rings on it, advanced from thehalf-circle and addressed those who were soon to be married. He spokelearnedly, long, and with eloquence, showing what were the _sponsaliade futuro_, and what great importance from the earliest days ofChristianity was attached to betrothals. He quoted Tertullian, and theCouncil of Trent, and the opinion of various learned canonists, thenturning to Pan Gideon and Panna Sieninski he explained to them how wisetheir decision was, what great benefaction they promised each other,and how their future happiness depended on themselves only.

  Those present listened with admiration, but also with impatience, foras relatives from whom their inheritance was slipping they looked onthat marriage with repugnance. Pan Gideon, who from standing long hadgrown dizzy, began to rest on one leg and then on the other, and togive signs with his eyes to the prelate to finish; these signs he wasnot quick to notice, but at last he blessed the rings and put them onthe fingers of the affianced.

  Then the mortars thundered again in the yard, and from the gallery inthe dining-hall was heard a loud orchestra made up of five Radom Jewswho played nicely. The guests came now in turn to congratulate, for thegreater part with sourness and insincerely. The two Krepetski old maidssimply jeered as they courtesied to their "Aunt," and Pan Martsian,when kissing her hands, recommended himself to her graces with such agoat glance that Pan Gideon ought to have driven him from the mansion asecond time.

  But others, more remote relatives, being better and less greedy, gavesincere, cordial wishes. Now the door of the dining-hall was thrownopen; Pan Gideon gave his arm to his betrothed, and after him moved theother couples amid the glitter and the quivering of flames caused by asudden cold gust which had blown through the entrance. From the kitchencame the servants, half tipsy, with decanters of wine and anunreckonable number of dishes.

  From the opening of doors there was such cold air in the dining-hallthat guests, while sitting down to the table, were seized the firstmoment with a shiver, while the flickering of candles made the wholehall, in spite of its elegant furnishing, seem dark and gloomy. But itwas proper to hope that wine would soon warm the blood in all present,and wine was not spared by Pan Gideon. He was rather stingy inevery-day life, but on exceptional occasions he liked so to showhimself that people spoke long of him afterward. This happened now.Behind every guest an attendant was standing with a mossy andbig-bellied bottle, while under the table were hidden a number ofservants with bottles also, so that in case a guest could not find moreto drink on the table he put down a goblet twixt his knees and theyfilled it immediately. Immense glasses for drinkers, great goblets,glittered in front of each man, but before ladies were smaller glasses,either French or Italian.

  The guests did not occupy the whole table, however, for Pan Gideon hadcommanded to set more plates than there were guests in the mansion. Theprelate cast his eyes on those empty places and fell to praising thehospitality of the house and the master; at that moment he rose in hischair somewhat, wishing to arrange the folds of his soutane, hencethose present supposed that he was going to offer the earliest toast,and were silent.

  "We are listening!" said a number of voices.

  "Oh, there is no reason," said the prelate, with joyousness. "There isno toast yet, though the time will come soon for it. I see some of yougentlemen rubbing your heads rather early, and the Kohanovskis arewhispering as well as counting on their fingers. It is difficult toexpect rhymes from any if not from the Kohanovskis. I wish to say onlythat it is an old Polish and praiseworthy custom to leave thus a placefor a guest who is unexpected."

  "Oh," answered Pan Gideon, "as the house is lighted up some one maycome from the darkness."

  "And perhaps some one is coming," said Kohanovski. "It may be PanGrothus?"

  "No-- Pan Grothus has gone to the Diet. If a man comes he will beunexpected."

  "But the earth is soft, we shall not hear him."

  "Well, a dog is barking under the window, so some one is coming."

  "No one will drive in from that side, for the windows look into thegarden."

  "But the dog is not barking, he is howling."

  That was the case really. The dog had barked once, twice, a third time,then the barking turned to a low, gloomy howling.

  Pan Gideon quivered despite himself, for he remembered how years andyears earlier in another place, at his house, which stood five milesfrom Pomorani, in Russia, dogs had howled in the same way before asudden onrush of Tartars.

  The thought came to Panna Anulka, that she had no cause to expect anyone, and that should any man come to her from the darkness to thatlighted mansion he would be late in his coming. But it seemed somehowstrange to other guests, all the more as the first dog was joined by asecond, and a double howl was heard now near that window. So theylistened in disagreeable silence, which was broken only after a whileby Martsian Krepetski,--

  "A guest at whom the dogs howl is nothing to us," said he.

  "Wine!" called Pan Gideon.

  But the glasses were full, hence there was no need to pour at thatmoment. Old Krepetski, father of Martsian, rose from his chair somewhatheavily, wishing to speak, as seemed evident. All turned their eyes tohim. Old men began to surround their ears with their hands to hearbetter, but he only moved his lips after long waiting, his chin almostmeeting his nose, for he was toothless.

  Meanwhile, notwithstanding the fact that the earth was soft fromthawing, there came from the other side of the house, as it were, adull clatter and it was heard rather long, long enough to go twiceround the courtyard. Hence old Krepetski, who had raised his glass,held it a while, looked at the door, and then put the glass down again;other guests acted in like manner.

  "See who has come!" said Pan Gideon to his attendant.

  The youth rushed out, returned straightway, and answered,--

  "There is no one."

  "That is strange," said the prelate. "The sound was heard clearly."

  "We all heard it," said one of the twin Sulgostovskis.

  "And the dogs have stopped howling," said others.

  Then the door of the entrance, badly fastened by the servant, as wasevident, opened of itself, and a new draught of air entered with suchviolence that it quenched from ten to twenty candles.

  "What is that?" "Shut the door!" "The candles are dying!" said a numberof voices.

  But with the wind had rushed into the hall, as it were, some unknownterror. Pani Vinnitski, who was superstitious and timid, began then tocross herself audibly.

  "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost--"

  "Woman! be silent!" commanded Pan Gideon.

  Then turning to Panna Sieninski he kissed her hand.

  "A quenched candle cannot trouble my gladness," said he, "and God grantme to be as happy to the end of my days as I am at this moment. Is thatnot right, my Anulka?"

  "Yes, guardian," said she, bending toward his hand.
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  "Amen!" ended the prelate, who rose to address them.

  "Gracious ladies and gentlemen, since that unexpected sound stopped, asis evident, Pan Krepetski's ideas let me be the earliest expounder ofthose feelings with which our hearts are warmed toward the future wifeand her husband. Hence, ere we cry out _O Hymen, O Hymenaios_, beforewe, in Roman fashion, begin to call Thalassius, the beautiful youth whoGod grant may appear at the earliest, let us raise _ex imo_ this firsttoast to their prosperity and coming happiness: _Vivant, crescant,floreant_" (may they live, increase, flourish).

  "_Vivant! Vivant!_" thundered all guests.

  The Radom orchestra was heard that moment, and outside the windows thedrivers fell to cracking their whips.

  Long did the shouts last, with the stamping of feet, the sounding ofhorns and the cracking of whips. The servants, too, raised a shoutthroughout the whole mansion, and in the dining-hall, amid endlesscheers, rose great sounds of wine-gulping.

  "_Vivant, crescant, floreant!_"

  Silence came only when Pan Gideon stood up, raised his glass, and saidin a loud voice,--

  "My guests and relatives, very gracious and most dear to my heart! Iexpress with inadequate words my gratitude to all; I will first bow toyou profoundly for that brotherly and neighborly good-feeling which youhave shown me by meeting here under my poor roof in such numbers--"

  The words "under my poor roof" were pronounced with a kind ofmarvellously mild, and, as it were, submissive accents, then he satdown and bent his head, so that the forehead rested really on thetable. And the guests wondered that a man usually so distant and sohaughty should speak with such affection. They thought that greathappiness melts even hearts the most obdurate, and, waiting for what hehad to say further, they looked at his iron-gray head resting yet onthe edge of the table.

  "Silence! We are listening!" said voices.

  And in fact deep silence had followed.

  But Pan Gideon was motionless.

  "What is the matter? What has happened? For God's sake! Speak on!"cried they.

  But Pan Gideon answered only with a terrible rattling; then hisshoulders and arms began on a sudden to quiver.

  Panna Sieninski sprang from her chair pale as a wall, and cried interrified accents,--

  "Guardian! guardian!"

  At the table were dismay and confusion; cries and questions roseeverywhere. Guests surrounded Pan Gideon, the prelate seized his armsand brought him to the back of the chair, some began to throw water onhim, others cried, "Take him to the bed and bleed him as quickly aspossible." Some of the women were tearful; some ran, as if frantic,through the chambers with groans or with sharp lamentation. But PanGideon remained sitting, his head was thrown back, the veins in hisforehead were distended like straps, his eyes were closed firmly, thehoarseness and rattling grew louder.

  The unexpected guest had come indeed out of darkness and entered themansion, dreadful and merciless.