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

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  CHAPTER XV

  As a betrothed she had felt as if something in her life had grownblack, as if something had been quenched, had been cut off and ended;hence that betrothal had not roused in her heart any gladness. She hadonly consented to the marriage because such was the will of Pan Gideon,and because of her gratitude for care, and still more because, afterYatsek's departure, there remained in her heart only bitterness andsorrow, with this painful thought, that save her guardian she had noone, and that without him she would be a lost orphan, wandering amongenemies and strangers. But all on a sudden a thunderbolt had struckthat hearth at which she was to sit with some kind of peace, though asad one, now the only man in this world who to her was important hadvanished. It was not strange, then, that the thunderbolt had stunnedher, that all thoughts were confused in her head, while in her heartsorrow for that only near soul had been fused into one with a feelingof amazement and terror.

  So the words of the elder sisters, who had begun straightway to pilferher dresses, struck her ears just like sounds without meaning. ThenMartsian came, bowed, rubbed his hands, jumped around her; but sheunderstood him no more than she did all the others, who, according tocustom, approached her with phrases of sympathy, which were moreelaborate the less they were heartfelt. It was only when Pan Serafinput his hand on her head in the style of a father and said: "God willbe over thee, my orphan," that something moved in her suddenly, andthen tears rushed to her eyelids. Now for the first time the thoughtcame to her that she was as a poor little leaf given over to the willof the whirlwind.

  Meanwhile began ceremonies, which, since Pan Gideon had been a man ofposition in his neighborhood, lasted ten days, in accordance withcustom. At the betrothal, with few exceptions, invited guests only werepresent, but to the funeral came all near and distant neighbors, hencethe mansion was swarming. Receptions, speeches, processions, andreturns from the church followed one after the other.

  During the first days exclusive attention was given to the incompletewidow; but later, when people beheld the Krepetskis in possession andsaw that they alone appeared in the mansion as masters, they ceased toregard the young lady, and toward the end of the funeral solemnities noone paid more heed to her than to any house visitor.

  Pan Serafin alone had a thought for her. He was moved by her tears andtouched by her misfortune. The servants had begun to whisper that theKrepetski old maids had swept off her whole trousseau, and the old lordhad hidden in his box her "little jewels," and that in the house theywere already beginning to browbeat the "young lady." When these reportswent to Pan Serafin they moved his kind heart, and he resolved to seeFather Voynovski.

  But that kindly man was prejudiced much against Panna Anulka because ofYatsek, so at the very beginning he answered,--

  "I am sorry for her, the poor lady, for she is in need, but in what canI help her? That, speaking between us, God punished her for Yatsek iscertain."

  "But Yatsek is gone, as is Stanislav, and she is here simply anorphan."

  "Of course he is gone, but how did he go? You saw him going, but I wentwith him farther, and I tell you that the poor boy had his teeth set,and the heart in him was bleeding, so that he could not utter asyllable. Oh! he loved that girl as people loved only in the old time;they know not to-day how to love in that manner."

  "Still he was able to move his hands," said Pan Serafin, "for I heardthat just beyond Radom he had a quarrel and cut up a passing noble, oreven two of them."

  "Ah, because he has a girl's face every road-blocker thinks that he canget on with him cheaply. Some drunken fellows sought a quarrel. Whatwas he to do? I blame in him that method; I blame it, but remember,your grace, that a man with a heart torn by love is like a lion seekingto devour some one."

  "True; but as to the girl. Ah, my benefactor, God knows if she is asmuch to blame as we imagine."

  "Woman is insidious."

  "Insidious or not, but when I heard that Pan Gideon wished to marry herit occurred to me straightway that he roused up everything, for it musthave been all-important for him to get rid of Yatsek forever."

  "No," said the priest, shaking his head. "We remarked immediately fromthe letter that it was written at her instigation. I remember thatperfectly, and I could repeat to your grace every word of it."

  "I, too, remember, but we could not know what Pan Gideon had told her,and how he described Yatsek's deeds to the lady. The Bukoyemskis, forexample, confessed to me, that meeting her and Pan Gideon whiletravelling to Prityk they said purposely, that Yatsek went away aftergreat stirrup cups, laughing, gladsome, and uncommonly curious aboutthe daughter of Pan Zbierhovski to whom you had given him a letter."

  "Here they lied! And what for?"

  "Well, they lied to show the girl and Pan Gideon that Yatsek had nothought for them. But note this, your grace, if the Bukoyemskis spokethus out of friendship for Yatsek, what must Pan Gideon have said outof hatred."

  "It is sure that he did not spare Yatsek. Still, even if she were lessto blame than we imagine, tell me what of that? Yatsek has gone, andperhaps will never come back to us, for I know that he will spare hislife less than Pan Gideon spared his reputation."

  "Yatsek would have gone in every case," answered Pan Serafin.

  "And if he does not return I will not tear the soutane on my body. Adeath in defence of the country and fighting Mohammedan vileness is aworthy end for a Christian knight, and a worthy end for a great family.But I will add one thing: I should have preferred to see him go withoutthat painful dart which is sticking in him."

  "Neither had my only son special happiness in life; he too went, andperhaps will not return to me."

  They grew thoughtful, for their souls were filled with love for thoseyoung men.

  Tvorkovski, the prelate, came upon them while thoughtful, and learnedthat they had been talking of Panna Sieninski.

  "I will tell you, gentlemen," said he, "but let this be a secret. PanGideon left no will, the Krepetskis have a right to the property. Iknow that he had the wish to provide for his wife and leave all to her,but he was not able. Do not mention this before the Krepetskis."

  "But have you said nothing?"

  "Why should I? Those are hard people, and with me the question is thatthey should not be too hard toward the orphan, hence I withheldinformation, and then told them this: 'Not only does God sometimes trya man, but one man tries another.' When they heard this they weredisquieted greatly, and fell to inquiring: 'How is it? Does your graceknow anything?' 'What has to be shown will be shown,' remarked I, 'butremember one thing. Pan Gideon had the right to will what he owned towhatever person pleased him.'"

  Here the prelate laughed, and, putting his hands behind his violetgirdle, continued,--

  "I say, gentlemen, that the legs trembled under old Krepetski when heheard this; he began to contradict. 'Oh,' said he, 'that is impossible!he had not the right. Neither God nor men would agree to that.'

  "I looked at him severely, and said: 'If you think of God, you do well,for at your age it is proper to have His mercy in mind, and not turn toearthly tribunals, for it may happen very easily that you will not havetime to await a decision.' He was frightened then terribly, and Iadded: 'And be kind to the orphan, lest God punish you sooner than youimagine.'"

  Hereupon Father Voynovski, whose compassionate heart was moved at thefate of the maiden, embraced the wise prelate.

  "Benefactor," cried he, "with such a head you ought to be chancellor. Iunderstand! I understand! You said nothing, you did not miss the truth,and you have frightened the Krepetskis, who think that perhaps there isa will, nay, that it is even in your possession; they must count withthis, and be moderate toward the orphan."

  The prelate, pleased with the praise, rapped his head with hisknuckles.

  "Not quite like a nut with holes in it?" asked he.

  "Ho, there is so much reason there that it finds room with difficulty."

  "If God wish, it will burst, but meanwhile, I think that I have savedthe orphan re
ally. I must confess, however, that the Krepetskis spokeof her with greater humanity and with more kindness than I hadexpected. The women, it is true, have taken some trifles, but the oldman declared that he would have them given back to the young lady."

  "Though the Krepetskis were the worst among men," said Pan Serafin,"they would not dare to rob an orphan over whom the eyes of such a wiseand good priest are so watchful. But, my very reverend benefactor, Iwish to mention another thing. I wish to beg you to show me this favor;come now to Yedlinka, let me have the honor of entertaining under myroof such a notable personage, with whom conversation is like the honeyof wisdom and politeness. Father Voynovski has promised already tovisit me, and we will talk, the three of us, concerning public andprivate matters."

  "I know what hospitality yours is," answered the prelate, withaffability, "to refuse would be real suffering, and since Lent, thetime of self-subjection is past, I will go for a pleasant day to you,willingly. Let us take farewell of the Krepetskis, but first of theorphan, so that they shall see the esteem in which we hold her."

  They went, and finding Anulka alone, spoke kind, heartfelt words, whichgave her consolation and courage. Pan Serafin stroked her bright head,just as would a mother who desires to comfort a sorrowing child; theprelate did the same, and the honest Father Voynovski was so moved byher thin face and her beauty in its sadness, which reminded him of aflower of the field cut down too early by a scythe-stroke, that he toopressed her temples, and having a mind always thinking of Yatsek, hesaid half to himself, half to her,--"How can one wonder at Yatsek,since this picture was before him. But those Bukoyemskis lied, whenthey said that he went away gladly."

  When Anulka heard these words, she put her lips to his hand on asudden, and for a long time she could not withdraw them. The sobbing,which came from her heart, shook her bosom; and they left her in animmense, irrepressible onrush of weeping.

  An hour later they were in Yedlinka, where good news was awaiting them.A man had arrived bringing a letter from Stanislav, in which he statedthat he and Yatsek had joined the hussars of Prince Alexander; thatthey were well, and Yatsek, though pensive at all times, had gained alittle cheerfulness, and was not so forgetful as during the first days.Besides words of filial love, there was in the letter one bit of newswhich astonished Pan Serafin: "If thou, my father, my most beloved andgreat mighty benefactor, see the Bukoyemskis on their return be notastonished, and save them with kindness, for they have been met by mostmarvellous accidents, and I cannot help them. If they were not to go tothe war they would die, I think, from sorrow, which even now has almostkilled them."

  In the course of the following months Pan Serafin visited Belchantskarepeatedly, wishing to learn what was happening to Anulka. This was notcaused by any personal motive, for Stanislav was not in love with theyoung lady, and she had broken altogether with Yatsek; he acted mainlyfrom kindness, and a little from curiosity, for he wished to discoverin what way, and how far the girl had aided in breaking the bonds ofattachment between herself and Yatsek. He met opposition, however. TheKrepetskis respected his wealth, hence they received him politely; buttheirs was a wonderfully watchful hospitality, so continuous and activethat Pan Serafin could not find himself alone with the girl for oneinstant.

  He understood that they did not wish him to ask her how she wastreated, and that set him to thinking, though he did not find that shewas either ill treated, or made to serve greatly. He saw her, it istrue, once and a second time cleaning with a crust of bread white satinshoes of such size that they could not be for her own feet, and darningstockings in the evening, but the Krepetski girls did the same, hencethere could not be in this any plan to humiliate the orphan by labor.The old maids were at times as biting and stinging as nettles, but PanSerafin remarked soon that such was their nature, and that they couldnot restrain themselves always from gnawing even at Martsian, whomstill they feared so much that when either one had thrust out her stinghalf its length a look from him made her draw it back quickly. Martsianhimself was polite and agreeable to Anulka, though without forwardness,and after the departure of old Krepetski and Tekla he became still moreagreeable.

  This departure was not pleasing to Pan Serafin, though it was simpleenough that they could not leave an old man, who was somewhat disabledin walking, without the care of a woman, and since they had two housesthey had divided the family. Pan Serafin would have preferred thatTekla remain with the orphan, but when on an occasion he hintedremotely that the ages of the two maidens made them company for eachother, the elder sister met his words in the worst manner possible,--

  "Anulka has shown the world," said Johanna, "that age does not troubleher. Our late uncle and Pani Vinnitski have proved this--so we are nottoo old for her."

  "We are as much older than she, as Tekla is younger, and I do not knowas we are that much," added the second sister; "besides our heads mustmanage this household."

  But Martsian broke into the conversation,--

  "Tekla's service," said he, "is dearest to father. He loves her beyondany one, at which we cannot wonder. We thought to send Panna Anulkawith them, but she is accustomed to this house, so I think she willfeel more at home in it. As to our care, I will do what I can to makeit not too disagreeable."

  Then, with feet clattering, he approached the young lady, and tried tokiss her hand, which she drew away quickly, as if frightened. PanSerafin thought that it was not proper to remove Pani Vinnitski, but hekept to himself that idea, not wishing to interfere in questions beyondhis authority. He noted more than once that on Anulka's face fear aswell as sadness was evident, but at this he was not greatly astonished,for her fate was in fact very grievous. An orphan, without a kindredsoul near her, without her own roof above her head, she was forced tolive on the favor of people who to her were repulsive, and who had anevil fame generally, she was forced to suffer pain over the vanishedand brighter past, and to be in dread of the present. And though aperson may be in suffering to the utmost, that person will have somesolace if he, or she, may cherish hope of a better future. But she hadno chance for hope, and she had none. To-morrow must be for her asto-day and the endless years to come, with the same drag of orphanhood,loneliness, and living on the bread of a stranger's favor.

  Pan Serafin spoke of this often with Father Voynovski, whom he sawalmost daily, since it was pleasant for them to talk about their youngheroes. Father Voynovski, however, shrugged his shoulders with sympathyand magnified the keenness of the prelate who, by hanging the threat ofa will like a Damocles sword above the Krepetskis, had protected theorphan, at least from evil treatment.

  "Such a keen man!" said he. "Now you have him, and now he has slippedfrom you. Sometimes I think that perhaps he has not told the wholetruth to us, and that there is a will in his hands, and that he willbring it out unexpectedly."

  "That has occurred to me also, but why should he hide it?"

  "I know not; perhaps to test human nature. I think only of this: PanGideon was a clear-sighted man, and it cannot find place in my headthat he should not have made long ago some provision."

  But after a time the ideas of both men were turned in a differentdirection, for the Bukoyemskis arrived, or rather walked in from Radom.

  They appeared at Yedlinka one evening, with sabres, it is true, butwith not very sound boots, and with torn coats on their bodies. Theyhad such woe-be-gone faces that, if Pan Serafin had not for some timebeen expecting them, he would have been terribly frightened, and wouldhave thought that news of his son's death had come with them.

  The four brothers embraced his knees, and kissed his hands straightway;he, looking at their misery, dropped his arms at his sides inamazement.

  "Stashko wrote," said he, "that it had gone ill with you, but this isterrible!"

  "We have sinned, benefactor!" answered Marek, beating his breast.

  The other brothers repeated his words.

  "We have sinned, we have sinned, we have sinned!"

  "Tell me how, and in what. How is Stashko? He has written me that hes
aved you. What happened?"

  "Stashko is well, benefactor; he and Pan Yatsek are as bright as twosuns."

  "Glory to God! glory to God! Thanks for the good news. Have you noletter?"

  "He wrote, but did not give us the letter. It might be lost," said he.

  "Are you not hungry? Oh, what a condition! It is as if I had four menrisen from the dead now before me."

  "We are not hungry, for entertainment is ready at the house of everynoble--but we are unfortunate."

  "Sit down. Drink something warm, but while the servants are heating ittell me what happened. Where have you been?"

  "In Warsaw," said Mateush, "but that is a vile city."

  "Why so?"

  "It is swarming with gamblers and drunkards, and on Long Street and inthe Old City at every step there is a tavern."

  "Well, what?"

  "One son of a such a one persuaded Lukash to play dice with him. Wouldto God that the pagans had impaled the wicked scoundrel on a stake erethat happened."

  "And he cheated?"

  "He won all that Lukash had, and then all that we had. Desperation tookhold of us, and we wanted to win the coin back, but he won further ourhorse with a saddle and with pistols in the holsters. Then, I say toyour grace, that Lukash wished to stab himself. What was to be done?How were we to help comforting a brother? We sold the second horse, sothat Lukash might have a companion to walk with him."

  "I understand what happened," remarked Pan Serafin.

  "When we became sober there was still keener suffering; two horses weregone, and we had greater need of consolation."

  "So ye consoled yourselves till the fourth horse was gone?"

  "Till the fourth horse. We sinned, we sinned!" repeated the contritebrothers.

  "But was that the end?" continued Pan Serafin.

  "How the end, our father and special benefactor? We met a deceiver, onePoradski, who scoffed at us. 'So this is the way they shear fools!'says he. 'I will take you,' says he, 'as my serving men, for I ammaking the levy for a regiment.' Lukash cried out that the man wasexposing us to ridicule, and when he would not stop Lukash slashed himon the snout with a sabre. Poradski's friends sprang to help him, andwe to help Lukash, and we cut till the marshal's guard whirled in andwent at us. And we yielded only when the others fell to shouting:'Gracious gentlemen, they are attacking freedom, and injuring theCommonwealth in our persons.' That is how it happened, and God blessedus immediately, for we wounded eight attendants in a flash, and threeof these mortally; the others were at our feet,--there were five ofthem."

  Pan Serafin seized his head, and Marek continued,--

  "Yes! Now we know all; God helped us till people shouted that the fightwas near the king's palace, and a crime,--that we should die for it. Wewere frightened and ran. They tried to seize us, but when we, in oldfashion, cut one on the face and another on the neck, they fled in ahurry. Stanislav saved us with the horses of his attendants, but eventhen we had to work hard to bring our heads with us; we were hunted toSenkotsin; if the horses had been slow our case would have ended. Ournames were not known; that was lucky, and there will be no accusationagainst us."

  Long silence followed.

  "Where are those horses which Stanislav gave you?" asked Pan Serafin.

  The brothers began their confession a third time,--

  "We have sinned, benefactor, we have sinned!"

  Pan Serafin walked with long strides through the chamber.

  "Now I understand," said he, "why ye did not bring Stashko's letter. Hewrote me that various sad things had happened you, and he predictedyour return, thinking that ye would need money for horses and outfits,but how ye would end was unknown to him."

  "So it is, benefactor," said Yan.

  Men now brought in heated wine, to which the brothers betook themselveswith great willingness, for they were road weary. Still they werefrightened by the silence of Pan Serafin, who was striding up and downin the chamber, his face severe and gloomy. So again Marek spoke tohim,--

  "Your grace, my benefactor, has asked about Stanislav's horses. Two ofthem foundered before we reached Groyets, for we galloped all the wayin a terrible windstorm; we sold them for a trifle to Jew wagoners, forthe beasts were no good after foundering. And we had not a coin to keepthe souls in us; since we left in such a hurry Pan Stanislav had notime to assist us. Then strengthened a little we rode farther, two menon each animal. But your grace will understand this. We met then somenoble on the road, and immediately he seized his side, laughing. 'Whatkind of Jerusalem nobles are these?' asked he. And we from suchterrible scornfulness were ready for anything. So we had endlessencounters and fights till we came to Bialobregi, where for dear peacewe sold the last two of our crowbaits; then, when people wondered atour travelling on foot we replied that we were making that journeythrough a vow of devotion. So forgive us now like a father, for thereare not more ill-fated men in this world, as I think, than webrothers."

  "It is true! it is true!" exclaimed Mateush and Lukash; while Yan, theyoungest, moved by remembrance of past suffering, and wine, raised hisvoice, and cried,--

  "We are orphans of the Lord! What is left now in this world to us?"

  "Nothing but brotherly love," put in Marek.

  And they fell to embracing one another, shedding bitter tears as theydid so; then all drew up to Pan Serafin, but Marek seized his kneesbefore the others.

  "Oh, father," said he, "our first-born protector, be not angry. Lend usonce more for the levy, and from plunder, God grant, we will give itback faithfully; if you lend not--it is well also, but be not angry,only forgive us! Forgive us through that great friendship which wecherish for Stashko; for I tell you, let any man harm even one ofStashko's fingers, we will bear that man apart on our sabres! Is thisnot true, dearest brothers?--on our sabres?"

  "Give him hither, the son of a such a one!" cried Mateush, Lukash, andYan.

  Pan Serafin halted before them, put his hand on his forehead, andanswered in these words,--

  "I am angry, it is true! but less angry than grief-stricken; for when Ithink that in this Commonwealth there are many such men as ye, theheart in me is straitened, and I ask myself: Will this mother of ourshave the power with such children to meet the attacks which arethreatening her? Ye wish to implore me, and ye expect my forgiveness.By the living God! it is not a question here of me, and not of myhorses, but of something a hundred times greater, a question of thepublic weal, and the future of this Commonwealth; and of this, that yedo not understand the position, that even such a thought has not cometo you; and since there are thousands such as ye are, the greater isthe sorrow and the keener the anxiety, the more dreadful thedesperation both of me and each honest son of this country--"

  "For God's sake, benefactor! How have we sinned against the country?"

  "How? By lawlessness, license, by riot and drunkenness. Oh! With us,people treat such things over lightly, and do not see how thepestilence is spreading, how the walls of this lordly building areweakened, and our heads are endangered by the ceiling. War isapproaching; it is not known yet whether the foe will turn his poweragainst us directly--but, ye Christian soldiers, what is the best thatye are doing? The trumpet is calling you to battle, but in your headsthere is nothing save wine and lawlessness. With a glad heart ye cutdown the guardians of that law which gives order of some kind. Whoestablished those laws? Nobles. Who trampled them? Nobles! How can thiscountry move to the field of glory, if this advance post ofChristianity is inhabited not by warriors but drunkards, not bycitizens but roysterers and rioters?"

  Here Pan Serafin stopped and, pressing his hand to his forehead, walkedagain with great steps through the chamber. The brothers glanced at oneanother in amazement and confusion, for they had not thought to hearfrom him anything of that sort.

  But he sighed deeply and continued,--

  "Ye were called out against pagans, and ye spill the blood ofChristians; ye were summoned in defence of this country, and ye havegone out as its enemies, for it is evident that the great
er thedisorder in a fortress, the weaker is the fortress. Fortunately thereare still honest children of this mother, but of men such as ye thereare, as I have said, many legions; for here not freedom, but riot isnourishing, not obedience, but impunity, not stern discipline, butwantonness, not love of country, but self-seeking; for here diets arebroken, here the treasury is plundered, disorder increases, and civilwars like unbridled horses trample the country; hence drunken heads arefixing its fortunes; here is oppression of peasants, and from high tolow lawlessness so that my heart bleeds, and I fear defeat, with God'sanger as the consequence."

  "In God's name must we hang ourselves?" cried Lukash.

  Pan Serafin measured the chamber a number of times with his steps yet,and spoke on, as if it were to himself, and not to the Bukoyemskis,--

  "Through the length and the breadth of this Commonwealth there isone immense feast, and on the wall an unknown hand is now writing:'Mane--Tekel--Fares.' Wine is flowing, but blood and tears also areflowing. I am not the only person who sees this, I am not the only manpredicting evil, but it is vain to put a light before the sightless, orsing songs to those who have no hearing."

  Silence followed. The four brothers stared now at one another, and nowat Pan Serafin with increasing confusion; at last Lukash said in a lowvoice to the other three,--

  "May I split, if I understand anything!"

  "And may I split!"

  "And may I!"

  "If we could drink a couple of times--"

  "Quiet, do not mention it--"

  "Let us go home."

  "Let us go."

  "With the forehead to your grace, our benefactor!" said Marek, pushingout in front and bending down to the knees of Pan Serafin.

  "But whither?"

  "To Lesnichovka. God help us."

  "And I will help you," said Pan Serafin; "but such grief seized me thatI had to pour it out. Go upstairs, gentlemen,--rest; later on ye willlearn my decision."

  An hour later he commanded to drive to Father Voynovski's. The priestwas scandalized no little by the deeds of the Bukoyemskis, but atmoments he could not restrain himself from laughter, for having servedmany years in the army he recalled various happenings which had met himand his comrades. But he could not forgive the brothers for drinkingaway the horses.

  "A soldier will often run riot," said he, "but to drink away his horse!that is treason to the service. I will tell the Bukoyemskis that Ishould have been glad if martial law had taken the heads from theirshoulders, and that certainly would have given an example to rioters,but I confess to you that I should have been sorry, for all four aresplendid fellows. I know from of old what men are, and I can say inadvance what each is good for. As to the Bukoyemskis, it will beunhealthy for those pagans who strike breast to breast with them inbattle. What do you think to do with them?"

  "I will not leave them without rescue, but I think if I were to sendthem off alone the same kind of thing might meet them a second time."

  "True!" said the priest.

  "Hence it has occurred to me to go with them, and give them straightinto the hands of the captain. Once with the flag and under discipline,they can grant themselves nothing."

  "True, this is a splendid idea! Take them to Cracow; there theregiments will assemble. As I live I will go with you! Thus we shallsee our boys, and come back with more pleasantness."

  At this Pan Serafin laughed, and said,--

  "Your grace will come back alone."

  "How is that?"

  "I am going myself to the war."

  "Do you wish to serve again in the army?" asked Father Voynovski, inastonishment.

  "Yes, and no; for it is one thing to go to the army and make a careerout of service, and another to go on a single expedition. Of course, Iam old, but older than I have gone to the ranks more than once in replyto Gradiva's trumpet. I have sent my only son, that is true, but it isnot possible to yield up too much for the country. Thus did my fathersthink, therefore, that Mother showed them the greatest honor at herdisposal. Hence my last copper coin, and my last drop of blood are nowready to be sacrificed for her sake! Should it come to die--think, yourgrace, what nobler death, what greater happiness could meet me? A manmust die once, and is there not greater pleasure in dying on the fieldof glory, at the side of one's son, than in bed; to die from a sabre ora bullet than from sickness; in addition fighting against pagans forthe faith and the country?"

  Then Pan Serafin, moved by his own words, opened his arms andrepeated,--

  "God grant this! God grant this!"

  Then Father Voynovski took him in his arms, and pressing him, said,--

  "God grant that in this Commonwealth there be as many men like you aspossible; there are not many as honorable, more honorable there arenone whatever. It is true that it becomes a noble better to die on thefield than in bed, and in old times every man held that idea, butto-day worse times have come on us. The country and the faith are oneimmense altar, and a man is a morsel of myrrh, predestined for burningto the glory of that altar. Yes, times are worse at the present. Thenwar is nothing new to you?"

  Pan Serafin felt his breast, and continued,--

  "I have here a few wounds from sabres and shots of the old time."

  "It would be pleasanter for me to defend the flag," said FatherVoynovski, "than listen to old women's sins in this neighborhood. Andmore than one of them tells me such nonsense, just as if she had cometo shake out fleas at confession. When a man commits sin he has atleast something to speak about, and all the more if he is a soldier!When I took this robe of a priest I became a chaplain in the regimentof Pan Modlishevski. Ah, I remember that well. Between one absolutionof sins and another there was sometimes a shooting in the teeth, orblades were drawn. Ah, there was great need of chaplains in that time.I should like now to go, but my parish is large, and there is a tempestof work in it; the vicar is wilful but worst of all is a wound from agunshot, which I received long ago, and which does not let me stay morethan an hour in the saddle."

  "I should be happy to have a comrade," said Pan Serafin, "but Iunderstand that even without that wound your grace could not leave theparish."

  "Well, I shall see. In a couple of days I will ride and learn how longI can stay in the saddle. Something may have straightened out in me.But who will look to the management at Yedlinka?"

  "I have a forester, a simple man, but so honest that he might almost becanonized."

  "I know; that one who is followed by wild beasts. Some say that he is awizard; you know better, however. But he is old and sickly."

  "I wish to take also that Vilchopolski who on a time served Pan Gideon.Perhaps you remember him? a young noble who lost one foot, but he isvigorous and daring. Krepetski removed him because he was tooindependent. He came to me two days ago offering his service, andto-day I will agree with him surely. Pan Gideon did not like him, sincethe man would not let any one blow on his pudding, but Pan Gideonpraised his activity and faithfulness."

  "What is to be heard in Belchantska?"

  "I have not been there for some time. It is clear that Vilchopolskidoes not praise the Krepetskis, but I had no chance to inquire abouteverything in detail."

  "I will look in there to-morrow, though they are not over glad tobehold me, and then I will return to rub the ears of the Bukoyemskis. Iwill command them to come to confession, and for penance the whips willbe moving. Let them give one another fifty lashes; that will be goodfor them."

  "It will, that is certain. But now I must take farewell of your gracebecause of Vilchopolski."

  Then Pan Serafin shortened his belt-strap, so that his sabre might notbe in the way when he was entering the wagon. A moment later he was onthe road moving toward Yedlinka, thinking meanwhile of his expedition,and smiling at the thought that he would work stirrup to stirrup withhis one son, against pagans. After he had passed Belchantska he saw twohorses under packs, and a trunk-laden wagon which Vilchopolski wasdriving. He commanded the young man to sit over into his wagon, andthen he inquired,--

&nb
sp; "Are you leaving Belchantska already?"

  Vilchopolski pointed to the trunks, and wishing to prove that though heserved he was not without learning, he said,--

  "See, your grace, _omnia mea mecum porto_" (I am taking all my thingswith me).

  "Then was there such a hurry?"

  "There was not a hurry, but there was need; therefore I accept all yourgrace's conditions with pleasure, and in case you go away, as you havementioned, I will guard your house and possessions with faithfulness."

  Pan Serafin was pleased with the answer and the daring, firm face ofthe young man; so, after a moment of meditation, he added,--

  "Of faithfulness I have no doubt, for I know that you are a noble, butinexperience I fear, and incautiousness. In Yedlinka one must sit likea stone, and watch day and night, because it is almost in thewilderness, and in great forests there is no lack of bandits, who attimes attack houses."

  "I do not wish an attack upon Yedlinka, but for myself I should likeit, to convince your grace that courage and alertness would not belacking on my part."

  "You look as though you had both," said Pan Serafin.

  He was silent a while, and then continued,--

  "There is one other thing of importance of which to forewarn you. PanGideon is in God's hands at the present, and touching the dead nothingsave that which is good may be mentioned; but it is known that he washard to his people. Father Voynovski blamed him for this, and there wasvariance between them. The sweat of the peasant was not spared inBelchantska; trials were short and punishment grievous. We will beoutspoken--there was oppression, and his agents were too cruel withpeople. This is not my case, be sure of that; there must be discipline,but paternal. I look on excessive severity as a great sin against Godand the country. Fix it well in your mind that a man is not curds, andit is not allowable to press him too cruelly. I do not wring outpeople's tears--and I remember that before God all are equal."

  A moment of silence followed. Vilchopolski seized Pan Serafin's handand put his lips to it.

  "I see that you understand me," said Pan Serafin.

  "I understand, your grace; and I answer, More than a hundred times Iwanted to say to Pan Gideon: 'Find another manager;' more than ahundred times I wanted to go from his service, but--well, I could notdo so."

  "Why was that? Is there a lack of work in the world?"

  Vilchopolski was confused and spoke as if fear had seized hold of him.

  "It did not happen--I could not go--day after day I loitered. Besides,there was severity, and there was not."

  "How was that?"

  "The people were driven to work, it is true, no one could prevent that;but as to flogging, I will say briefly that instead of whips strawropes were used on them."

  "Who was so merciful--you?"

  "No. But I chose to obey the will of an angel, not that of a devil."

  "I understand, but tell me whose will?"

  "Panna Anulka's."

  "Ah! so it was she?"

  "Really an angel. She too was in dread of Pan Gideon, who in recenttimes only began to regard what she told him. But all loved her so muchthat each man exposed himself to Pan Gideon's anger rather than refusewhat she asked of him."

  "May God bless her for that! So you all conspired against Pan Gideon?"

  "Yes, your grace."

  "And it was not discovered?"

  "It was discovered once, but I did not betray the young lady. PanGideon flogged me himself, for I declared to him that if any other manflogged, or if he flogged me except on a carpet, I, a noble, would lethis house up in smoke, and shoot him besides that. And it would havebeen done as I promised, even had I to join forest bandits inconsequence."

  "You please me for this," said Pan Serafin.

  "More than once I found it difficult to stay with Pan Gideon,"continued Vilchopolski; "but in the house there was simply one of God'scherubim, and so, though a man might wish to go, he would stay there.After that, as the young lady grew up Pan Gideon gave her moreconsideration, and recently he gave thought to no one save PannaAnulka. He knew often that she commanded to give wheat to the poor fromthe granary, then, as I have said, she had straw used instead of whips;besides, she had labor remitted; he affected not to notice it. At lasthe was so much ashamed that she had no need to do anything in secret.She was a real protector of people, and for that reason may God, as youhave said, bless and save her."

  "Why do you say 'save'?" inquired Pan Serafin.

  "Because it is worse for her now than it has been."

  "Have the fear of God! What is the danger?"

  "The two women are terrible. Young Krepetski himself restrains themapparently, but I know why he does this; but let him be careful, someone may shoot him down like a dog if he is not."

  It was deep night then, but very clear, for the full moon was shining,and by the light of it Pan Serafin saw that the eyes of the young manwere glittering like wolf eyes.

  "What dost thou know of him?" asked Pan Serafin, with curiosity.

  "I know that he removed me not merely for my independence, but becauseI watched and listened carefully to what people in the house said. Iwent away because I had to go, but Belchantska is not far fromYedlinka, and in case of need--"

  Here he was silent, and on the road was heard only the sound of thepines as they were moved by the night wind.