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

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  CHAPTER XVI

  AT Belchantska it was not only evil for the young woman, but worse andworse daily. A good deal of time had passed since that moment in whichold Pan Gideon had noticed that Martsian gazed at the young girl withtoo much of a "goat's look," and had driven him from the mansion. Lateron, Martsian saw her at church, and sometimes at the houses ofneighbors, and always her beauty of springtime roused fresh desires inhim. Now when he was living under one roof with her, when he saw herdaily, he fell in love in his own way, that is, with the beastlikedesire, and that feeling of which he was alone capable. A change hadtaken place in his wishes. His first intent had been to bring the girlto shame, and then marry her only in case that a will should be foundin her favor. Now he was ready to go with her to the altar, if he couldin any case have and possess her forever. Reason, which when urged bydesire becomes its obedient assistant, told him, moreover, that a younglady bearing the name of Sieninski was, although dowerless, a match ofgreat moment. But even if reason had told him the opposite, Martsianwould not have listened, for as each day appeared he lost some part ofhis self-mastery. He burnt, he raged, and if up to that time he hadrestrained himself from violence it was only because desire, even themost urgent, craves and yearns for a willing surrender, and is charmedwith the thought of mutuality in which it sees the highest pleasure,and deceives itself even when there is no cause whatever for doing so.

  Thus Krepetski deceived himself, and thus he pampered his wishes withpictures of that blissful moment in which the young lady would herself,radiant and willing, incline to his embraces. But he dreaded to loseshould he risk all on the hazard of a trial, and when he put to himselfin spirit this question, What would follow? fear seized him in presenceof himself, and in presence of the terror which would threaten him; forthe laws of the Commonwealth guarding the honor of woman were pitiless,and around him were sabres of nobles by the hundred, which would flashabove his head most unfailingly. But he felt also that the hour mightcome in which he would care for nothing, since in his insolent, wildspirit there was hidden a craving for battle, and a hunger for peril;so not without a certain charm for him was the picture of a greatthrong of nobles besieging Belchantska--the flame of conflagrationabove him, and a red executioner standing, axe in hand, somewhere offin the mist of a distant city.

  And thus desire, dread, and also a longing for battle struggled likethree whirlwinds within him. At the same time, wishing to give exit tothat storm, and to cool that flood which was seething in his person aswater in a caldron, he grew mad, wallowed in riot throughout villageinns, rode down his horses, fell upon people, and drank to kill inevery dramshop of Radom, Prityk, and Yedlina. He collected around him acompany of road-blockers, who did not go to the war because of evilfame, or of poverty. He paid these men and tyrannized over them; he didthis thinking that such a mob might be useful in the future, but he didnot admit any man of them to confidence, and never mentioned in theirpresence the name of the young lady. Once when a certain Vysh, fromsome Vyshkov of unknown situation, mentioned her in rude, obscenefashion, Martsian slashed the fellow on his snout and drew blood fromhim.

  Martsian galloped home at breakneck speed, and usually about daylight.But that mad riding sobered him thoroughly. He dropped down in hisclothes to the horse skin which covered his bed, and slept like a stonefor some hours on it; when he rose he put on his best garments, wentthen to the women, and strove to please the young lady, whom his eyesdid not leave for one moment, he meanwhile rousing desire, while hisglances crawled over her person. And more than once, when he was alonewith Anulka, his lips were pushed forward, his arms of monstrouslength quivered as if powerless against his wish to seize hold ofher; his voice became stifled, his words became insolent, vague,and double-meaning; through them circled both flattery and anill-restrained threatening.

  But Anulka feared him simply as she would have feared a tamed wolf, ora bear, and with difficulty did she hide the repulsion with which thesight of him filled her. For in spite of the parrot-like colors inwhich he arrayed himself, in spite of the shining jewels at his neck,and the costly flageolet which he never let slip from his fingers, helooked worse each day, and more repulsive. Sleepless nights, rioting,drinking, and flaming desires had placed on him their impress. He grewthin, his shoulders drooped, through this his arms, long by nature,seemed longer, so that his hands reached below his knees and werebeyond human proportions. His gigantic trunk was like a knotty sectionof a tree trunk, and his short bow-legs bent still more from madriding. Moreover, the skin of his face took on a kind of green pallor,and because of his sunken cheeks, his protruding eyes and pouting lipswere pushed forward phenomenally. He became simply dreadful to look at,especially when he laughed, for from his eyeballs when lighted withlaughter looked out a kind of nervous, unrestrained threat and malice.But the feeling of her misfortune, deep sadness, and unhappinessproduced in Anulka a dignity of which she had not a trace somewhatearlier. This dignity imposed on Krepetski. Once she had been atwittering maiden, active all day as a water-mill; now she had learnedto be silent, and her eyes had a fixity of expression. So, though herheart trembled often from fear of Krepetski, she restrained him by hercalm glance and her silence. He drew back then as if fearing to offendsuch a majesty. It is true that she seemed to him still more desirable,but also more difficult of access. She, however, feeling that from himimmense danger was threatening, and later on being perfectly convincedof this, strove to avoid him, to be alone with him the shortest timepossible, to turn away conversation from things which might facilitateconfession, and finally she had the boldness sometimes to indicate thatshe was not by any means abandoned and left to the favor or ill-will offortune, as it might seem to him.

  She avoided even memories of Yatsek, understanding that after what hadpassed between them he could not be then, and would not be ever adefence to her. She felt besides that every word touching him wouldrouse hatred and anger in Martsian. But having noted that theKrepetskis were careful of the prelate, and looked as if with secretdread on him, she let it be understood frequently that she was underhis special protection, which rose from a secret agreement which, inview of every contingency, Pan Gideon had concluded. The prelate, whofrom time to time came to Belchantska, aided her notably, for he turnedto the Krepetskis with pleasure, since he was studying mankind; heexpressed himself with mystery, and quoted subtle phrases in Latin; hereminded Martsian of various things which that young man mightinterpret as suited him.

  But a great point was this: The servants and the whole village lovedthe "young lady." People considered the Krepetskis as intruders, andher as the genuine inheritor. All feared Martsian, except Vilchopolski.But even after the removal of that young noble, the unseen care of thepeople went, as it were, with Anulka, and Martsian understood that thefear which he roused had its limit, beyond which for him would beginreal danger. He understood also that Vilchopolski, whose eyes had adaring expression, would not go far from Belchantska, and that if theyoung lady should be in need of defence he would not draw back beforeanything; hence he confessed to himself that she was not really sodeserted by every one as at first he had thought, and as on a time hehad told his old father.

  "Who will take her part? No one!" said he, when the old man commandedhim to remember the terrible punishments which the laws threatened foran attempt on the honor of a woman.

  At last he understood that there were such defenders. That raised onemore obstacle, but obstacles and perils were only an incitement to anature like Martsian's. He deceived himself yet, thinking that he wouldmove the young lady and make her love him; but there came moments inwhich he saw, as clearly as a thing on the palm, that he was quitepowerless; and then he raged, as said the comrades of his revels, andhad it not been for a certain dull, but strong and irresistibleforeboding that if he attacked the girl he should lose her forever, hewould long ere that have set free the wild beast within him.

  And in just those times did he drink without measure and memory.

  Mean
while relations in the house had become unendurable, seasoned withbitterness and poison. The Krepetski old maids hated Anulka, not onlybecause she was younger than they and more beautiful, but becausepeople loved her, and because Martsian took her part for every reason,and even for no reason. They flamed up at last with implacable hatredtoward their brother; but seeing that Anulka never complained, theytortured her all the more stubbornly. Once Agneshka burnt her with ared-hot shovel, as if by accident. Martsian, hearing of this throughthe servants, went to ask pardon of the young lady, and beg her to seekhis protection at all times; but he pushed up to her with suchinsistence, and fell to kissing her hand with such greed and sodisgustingly, that she fled from him, unable to repress her abhorrence.Thereupon he broke into a rage and beat his sister so viciously thatfor two days she feigned illness.

  The two "heiresses" as they were called at the mansion did not sparebiting words on the young lady, or open inventions and humiliations,taking vengeance in this way for all they were forced to endure fromtheir brother. But out of hatred for Martsian they warned her againsthim, censuring her at the same time for yielding to his wishes, forthey saw that with nothing could they wound and offend her so painfullyas with this implication. The house became a hell for her, and everyhour in it a torment.

  Hatred toward those people, who themselves hated one another, waspoisoning even her heart. She began to think of a cloister, but shekept the thought in her bosom, for she knew that they would not let herenter one, and that by unfettering Martsian's anger she would exposeherself to great peril. Alarm and fear of danger dwelt in hercontinually, and produced the desire of death, a desire which she hadnever felt previously. Meanwhile each day added to her cup new drops ofbitterness. Once, early in the morning, Agneshka surprised Martsianlooking through the keyhole of the orphan's chamber. He withdrewgritting his teeth and threatening with his fist, but the "heiress"called her sister immediately, and the two, finding the girl stillundressed, began to torment her, as usual.

  "Thou didst know that he was standing there," said the elder, "for thefloor squeaks outside the door, and there is a noise when any onestands near it; but to thee, as is clear, his presence was agreeable."

  "Bah! he licked his lips before dainties, and she did not hide them,"interrupted Agneshka. "Hast thou no fear of God, shameless creature?"

  "Such a one should be put before the church at a pillory."

  "And expelled from the mansion."

  "Sodom and Gomorrah!"

  "Tfu!"

  "And when will the need be to send to Radom for a woman?"

  "What sort of a name wilt thou give it?"

  "Tfu! thou dish-rag!"

  And they spat on her.

  The heart stormed up in the hapless maiden, for the measure was passedthen.

  "Be off!" cried she, pointing to the door.

  But her face grew pale as linen, and darkness fell on her eyes; for amoment it seemed to her that she was flying into some gulf withoutbottom, then she lost consciousness, feeling, and memory. On recoveringshe found herself wet from water which had been poured on her, and herbreast pinched in places. The faces of the old maids bending over hershowed fear, but after a while they felt reassured when they saw thatshe was conscious.

  "Complain, complain!" said Johanna. "Thy paramour will defend thee."

  "And thou wilt thank him in thy own way."

  Setting her teeth Anulka answered no syllable.

  But Martsian divined all that must have happened upstairs, for somehours later from the chancellery, where he had shut himself in with hissisters, came howls from which the whole mansion was terrified.

  In the afternoon, when old Krepetski came, the two sisters fell with ascream to his knees imploring him to remove them from that den ofprofligacy and torture. But he to the same degree that he loved hisyoungest daughter hated the elder ones; so he not only took no pity onthe ill-fated hags, but he called for sticks, and compelled them tostay there.

  The only being in that terrible house in whom Johanna and Agneshka, ifthey had wished to be friendly and kind, might have found compassion,sympathy, and even protection, was Panna Anulka. But they preferred totorment the poor girl, and gloat over her, for, with the exception ofTekla, that was a family in which each member did all in his or herpower to poison the life and increase the misfortune of the others.

  But Panna Anulka feared the love of Martsian more than the hatred ofhis sisters. And he thrust himself more and more on her, pushed himselfforward more and more shamelessly, was more and more insistent, andgazed at her more and more greedily. It had become clear that he wasceasing to command himself, that wild desire was tearing him as awhirlwind tears a tree, and that he might give way at any moment.

  In fact that moment came soon.

  Once, after warm weather had grown settled, Anulka went at daybreak tobathe in the shady river; before undressing she saw Martsian's face onthe opposite bank sticking out from thick bushes. That instant sherushed away breathlessly. He pursued her, but trying to spring over thewater he failed and fell into it; he was barely able to climb out, andwent home drenched to the very last thread of his clothing. Beforedinner he had beaten a number of servants till the blood came; duringdinner he said not a word to any person. Only at the end of the mealdid he turn to his sisters,--

  "Leave me alone," said he, "with Panna Anulka; I have to talk with heron matters of importance."

  The sisters, on hearing this, looked at each other significantly, andthe young lady grew pale from amazement; though he had long tried toseize every moment in which he might be alone with her, he had neverlet himself ask for such a moment openly.

  When the sisters had gone he rose, looked beyond one door and another,to convince himself that no one was listening, then he drew up toAnulka.

  "Give me your hand," said he, "and be reconciled."

  She drew back both hands unconsciously, and pushed away from him.

  Martsian's wish for calmness was evident, but he sprang forward twiceon his bow-legs, for he could never abandon that habit, and said, witha voice full of effort,--

  "You are unwilling! But to-day I came very near drowning for your sake.I beg your pardon for that fright, but it was not caused by any badreason. Mad dogs began yesterday to run between Vyrambki and thismansion, and I took a gun to make sure of your safety."

  Anulka's knees trembled under her a little, but she said with goodpresence of mind and with calmness,--

  "I want no protection which would bring only shame to me."

  "I should like to defend you, not merely now, but till death and at alltimes! Not offending God, but with His blessing. Dost understand me?"

  A moment of silence followed this question. Through the open windowcame the sound of cutting wood, made by an old lame man attached to thekitchen.

  "I do not understand."

  "Because thou hast no wish to understand," replied Martsian. "Thouseest this long time that I cannot live without thee. Thou art asneedful to me as this air is for breathing. To me thou art wonderful,and dear above all things. I cannot exist--without thee I shall burn upand vanish! If I had not restrained myself I should have grabbed theelong ago as a hawk grabs a dove. It grows dry in my throat withoutthee, as it does without water--everything in me quivers toward thee. Icannot sleep, I cannot live--see here even now--"

  And he stopped, for his teeth were chattering as if in a fever. He hada spasm, he caught at the arms of the chair with his bony fingers, asif fearing to fall, and panted some time very loudly. Then hecontinued,--

  "Thou lackest fortune--that is nothing! I have enough. I need notfortune, but thee. Dost thou wish to be mistress in this mansion? Thouwert to marry Pan Gideon; I am not worse, as I think, than Pan Gideon.But do not say no! do not, by the living God, do not say it, for Icannot tell what will happen. Thou art wonderful! thou, my--!"

  He knelt quickly, embraced her knees with his two hands, and pressedthem toward his bosom. But, beyond even her own expectation, Anulka'sfear vanished without a trace in th
at terrible moment. The knightlyblood began to act in her; readiness for battle to the last breathwas roused in the woman. Her hands pushed back with all force hissweat-covered forehead, which was nestling up toward her knees at thatmoment.

  "No! no! I would rather die a thousand deaths! No!"

  He rose up, pallid, his hair erect, his mustache quivering. Beneath themustache were glittering his long decayed teeth, and for a time he wasfilled with cold rage as he stood there; but still he controlledhimself, still presence of mind did not desert him entirely. But whenAnulka pushed toward the door on a sudden, he stopped the way to her.

  "Is this true?" inquired he, with a hoarse voice. "Thou wilt not haveme? Wilt thou repeat that once more to me, to my eyes? Wilt thou nothave me?"

  "I will not! And do not threaten, for I feel no fear."

  "I do not threaten thee, but I want to take thee as wife, nay more, Ibeg thee bethink thyself! By the living God, bethink thyself!"

  "In what am I to bethink myself? I am free, I have my will, and I saybefore your eyes: Never!"

  He approached her, so nearly that his face pushed up to hers, and hecontinued,--

  "Then perhaps instead of being mistress, thou dost choose to carry woodto the kitchen? Or dost thou not wish it? How will it be, O noble lady!To which of thy estates wilt thou go from this mansion? And if thoustay, whose bread wilt thou eat here; on whose kindness wilt thou live?In whose power wilt thou find thyself? Whose bed, whose chamber is thatin which thou art sleeping? What will happen if I command to remove thedoor fastenings? And dost thou ask in what thou art to bethink thyself?In this: which thou art to choose!--marriage, or no marriage!"

  "Ruffian!" screamed Panna Anulka.

  But now happened something unheard of. Seized with sudden fury,Krepetski bellowed with a voice that was not human, and seizing thegirl by the hair he began with a certain wild and beastly relish tobeat her without mercy or memory. The longer he had mastered himself upto that time, the more did his madness seem wild then, and terrible; atthat moment beyond doubt he would have killed the young lady had it notbeen that to her cries for assistance servants burst into the chamber.First that man cutting wood at the kitchen broke in with an axe throughthe window, after him came kitchen servants, the two sisters, thebutler, and two of Pan Gideon's old servitors.

  The butler was a noble from a distant village in Mazovia, moreover, aman of rare strength, though rather aged; he caught Martsian's armsfrom behind, and drew them so mightily that the elbows almost met athis shoulders.

  "This is not permitted, your grace!" exclaimed he. "It is infamous!"

  "Let me go!" roared Krepetski.

  But the iron hands held him as in vices, and a serious, low voice washeard near his ear,--

  "I will break your bones unless you restrain yourself!"

  Meanwhile the sisters led, or rather carried the young lady from thechamber.

  "Come to the chancellery to rest," said the butler. "I advise yourgrace earnestly."

  And he pushed the man before him as he would a child, while Martsian,with chattering teeth, moved on with his short legs, crying for ahalter and the hangman; but he could not resist, for a moment later hehad grown so weak all at once, from the outburst, that he was unableeven to stand unassisted. So, when the butler in the chancellery threwhim on the horse skin with which the bed was covered, Martsian did noteven try to rise; he lay there panting with heaving sides, like a horseafter over-exertion.

  "Something to drink!" shouted he.

  The butler opened the door, called a boy, and, whispering some words,gave him keys: the lad returned with a pint glass and a demijohn ofbrandy.

  The butler filled the glass to the brim, sniffed at it, and saidapproaching Martsian,--

  "Drink, your grace."

  Krepetski seized it with both hands, but they trembled so that liquordropped on his breast; then the butler raised him, put the glass to hislips, and inclined it.

  He drank and drank, holding the glass greedily when the butler tried toremove it from his mouth. At last he drank all, and fell backward.

  "It may be too much," said the butler, "but you had become very weakwhen I gave it."

  Though Martsian wished to say something, he merely hissed in the air,like a man who has burnt his mouth with too hot a liquid.

  "Eh," said the butler, "you owe me a good gift, for I have shown nopetty service. God preserve us, if anything is done--in such an affairit is the axe and the executioner, not to mention this, that misfortunemight happen here any minute. The people love that young lady beyondmeasure. And it will be difficult to hide what has been done from theprelate, though I will tell all to be silent. How do you feel?"

  Martsian looked at him with staring eyes and open mouth as he panted.Once and a second time he tried to say something, then hiccoughingseized him, his eyes grew expressionless, he closed his lids on asudden, and then began a rattling in his throat as if the man weredying.

  "Sleep, or die, dirty dog!" growled the butler as he looked at him. Andhe went from the room to the outbuildings. Half an hour later hereturned and knocked at the young lady's chamber. Finding the twosisters with her he said to them,--

  "Ladies, perhaps you would look in a moment at the chancellery, for theyoung lord has grown very feeble. But if he sleeps it is better not towake him."

  Then when alone with Panna Anulka he inclined to her knees, and said,--

  "Young lady, there is need to flee from this mansion. All is ready."

  And she, though broken and barely able to stand on her feet, sprang upin one instant.

  "It is well, and I am ready! Save me!"

  "I will conduct you to a wagon which is waiting beyond the river.To-night I will bring your clothing. Pan Krepetski is as drunk as Bela,and will lie like a dead man till morning. Only take a cloak, and letus go. No one will stop us; have no fear on that point."

  "God reward! God reward!" repeated she, feverishly.

  They went out through the garden to that gate by which Yatsek used toenter from Vyrambki. On the way the butler said to her,--

  "Long ago Vilchopolski arranged with the servants that if an attackupon you were attempted, they would set fire to the granary. PanKrepetski would be forced to the fire, and you would have time toescape through the garden to a place beyond the river, where a man wasto wait with a wagon. But it is better not to burn anything. To setfire is a crime, no matter what happens. Krepetski will be like a stoneuntil morning, so no pursuit threatens you."

  "Where are we going?"

  "To Pan Serafin's; defence there is easy. Vilchopolski is there. So arethe Bukoyemskis and other foresters. Krepetski will try to take youback, but will fail. And later on Pan Serafin will conduct you toRadom, or farther. That will be settled with the priests. Here is thewagon! Fear no pursuit. It is not far to Yedlinka, and God gives awonderful evening. I will bring your clothing to-night. If they try tostop me I will not mind them. May the Most Holy Mother, the guardianand protectress of orphans conduct you!"

  And taking her by the hand like a child, he seated her in the wagon.

  "Move on!" cried he to the driver.

  It was growing dark in the world, and the twilight of evening wasquenching, but from the remnant of its rays the stars in the clear skywere rosy. The calm evening was filled with the odors of the earth, ofleaves, and of blossoming alders, while nightingales were filling withtheir song, as with a warm rain of spring, the garden, the trees, andthe whole region.