On the Field of Glory: An Historical Novel of the Time of King John Sobieski
Page 18
CHAPTER XVII
That evening Pan Serafin was sitting on a bench in the front of hismansion, entertaining Father Voynovski, who had come after eveningprayers to see him, and the four Bukoyemskis, who were stopping thenpermanently at Yedlinka. Before them on a table, with legs crossed likethe letter X, stood a pitcher of mead and some glasses. They, whilelistening to the murmur of the forest, were drinking from time to timeand conversing of the war, raising their eyes to the heavens in whichthe sickle of the moon was shining clearly.
"Thanks to your grace, our benefactor, we shall be ready soon for theroad," said Mateush Bukoyemski. "What has happened is passed. Evensaints have their failings; then how must it be with frail men, whowithout the grace of God can do nothing? But when I look at that moon,which forms the Turkish standard, my fist is stung as if mosquitoeswere biting. Well, God grant a man to gratify his hands at theearliest."
The youngest Bukoyemski fell to thinking.
"Why is it, my reverend benefactor," asked he at last, "that Turkscherish some kind of worship for the moon, and bear it on theirstandards?"
"But have not dogs some devotion toward the moon also?" asked thepriest.
"Of course, but why should the Turks have it?"
"Just because they are dog-brothers."
"Well, as God is dear to me, that explains all," said the young man,looking at the moon then in wonderment.
"But the moon is not to blame," said the host, "and it is delightful togaze at it when in the calm of night it paints all the trees with itsbeams, as if some one had coated them with silver. I love greatly tosit by myself on such a night, gaze at the sky, and marvel at the LordGod's almightiness."
"Yes, at such times the soul flies on wings, as it were, to itsCreator," said Father Voynovski. "God in his mercy created the moon aswell as the sun, and what an immense benefaction. As to the sun, well,everything is visible in the daytime, but if there were no moon peoplewould break their necks in the night if they travelled, not to mentionthis, that in perfect darkness devilish wickedness would be greater byfar than it is at the present."
They were silent for a while and passed over the peaceful sky withtheir eyes; the priest took a pinch of snuff then, and added,--
"Fix this in your memories, gentlemen, that a kind Providence thinksnot only of the needs, but the comfort of people."
The rattle of wheels, which in the night stillness reached their earsvery clearly, interrupted the conversation. Pan Serafin rose from hisseat.
"God is bringing some guest," said he, "for the whole household ishere. I am curious to know who it may be."
"Surely some one with news from our lads," added Father Voynovski.
All rose, and thereupon a wagon drawn by two horses entered in throughthe gateway.
"Some woman is on the seat," called out Lukash.
"That is true."
The wagon passed through half the courtyard and stopped at theentrance. Pan Serafin looked at the face of the woman, recognized it inthe wonderful moonlight, and cried,--
"Panna Anulka!"
And he almost lifted her in his arms from the wagon, then she bent atonce to his knees, and burst into weeping.
"An orphan!" cried she, "who begs for rescue and a refuge!"
Then she nestled up to his knees, embraced them with still greatervigor, and sobbed more complainingly. Such great astonishment seizedevery man there, that for a time no one uttered a syllable; at last PanSerafin raised the orphan and pressed her to his heart.
"While there is breath in my nostrils," cried he, "I will be to thee afather. But tell me what has happened? Have they driven thee fromBelchantska?"
"Krepetski has beaten me, and threatened me with infamy," answered she,in a voice barely audible.
Father Voynovski, who was there very near her, heard this answer.
"Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews!" exclaimed he, seizing his whitehair with both hands.
The four Bukoyemskis gazed with open mouths, and eyes bursting fromtheir sockets, but understood nothing. Their hearts were moved at once,it is true, by the weeping of the orphan, but they considered thatPanna Anulka had wrought foul injustice on Yatsek. They remembered alsothe teaching of Father Voynovski, that woman is the cause of all evil.So they looked at one another inquiringly, as if hoping that some clearidea would come, if not to one, to another of them. At last words cameto Marek.
"Well, now, here is Krepetski for you. But in every case that Martsianwill get from us a----, or won't he?"
And he seized at his left side, and, following his example, the otherthree brothers began to feel for the hilts of their sabres.
Meanwhile, Pan Serafin had led in the young lady and committed her toPani Dzvonkovski, his housekeeper, a woman of sensitive heart andirrepressible eloquence, and explained to her that she was to concernherself with this the most notable guest that had come to them. He saidthat the housekeeper was to yield up her own bedroom to the lady, lightthe house, make a fire in the kitchen, find calming medicines andplasters for the blue spots, prepare heated wine and various dainties.He advised the young lady herself to lie down in bed until all wasgiven her, and to rest, deferring detailed discourse till the morrow.
But she desired to open her heart straightway to those gentlemen withwhom she had sought rescue. She wanted to cast out immediately from hersoul all that anguish which had been collecting so long in it, and thatmisfortune, shame, humiliation, and torture in which she had beenliving at Belchantska. So, shutting herself up with Father Voynovskiand Pan Serafin, she spoke as if to a confessor and a father. She toldthem everything, both her sorrow for Yatsek, and that she had consentedto marry her guardian only because she thought Yatsek had contemnedher, and because she had heard from the Bukoyemskis that Yatsek was tomarry Parma Zbierhovski. Finally, she explained what her life had beenin Belchantska,--or rather, what her sufferings had been there; sheexplained the torturing malice of the two sisters, the ghastly advancesof Martsian, and the happenings of that day which were the cause of herflight from the mansion.
And they seized their own heads while they listened. The hand of FatherVoynovski, an old soldier, went to his left side involuntarily, in themanner of the Bukoyemskis, though for many a day he had not carried aweapon; but the worthy Pan Serafin put his palms on the temples of themaiden, and said to her,--
"Let him try to take thee. I had an only son, but now God has given mea daughter."
Father Voynovski, who had been struck most by what she had saidtouching Yatsek, remembering all that had happened, could not take inthe position immediately. Hence he thought and thought, smoothed withhis palm the whole length of his crown which was milk-white, and thenhe asked finally,--
"Didst thou know of that letter which Pan Gideon wrote to Yatsek?"
"I begged him to write it."
"Then I understand nothing. Why didst thou do so?"
"Because I wanted Yatsek to return to us."
"How return?" cried the priest, with real anger. "The letter was suchthat just because of it Yatsek went away to the ends of the earthbroken-hearted, to forget, and cast out of him that love which thou, myyoung lady, didst trample."
Her eyes blinked from amazement, and she put her hands together, as ifpraying.
"My guardian told me that he had written the letter of a father. O HolyMother! What was there in it?"
"Insults, contempt, a trampling upon the man's poverty and his honor.Dost understand?"
Then from the gill's breast was rent a shriek of such pain andsincerity that the honest heart of the priest quivered in him. Heapproached her, removed the hands with which she had covered her face,and asked,--
"Then didst thou not know of this?"
"I did not--I did not!"
"And thou didst wish Yatsek to return to thee?
"I did!"
"In God's name! Why was that?"
Tears as large as pearls began again to drop from her closed lashes inabundance, and quickly; her face was red from m
aiden shame, she caughtfor air with her open lips, the heart was throbbing in her as in acaptured bird, and at last after great effort, she whispered,--
"Because--I love him!"
"My child, is that possible!" cried out Father Voynovski.
But the voice broke in his breast, for tears were choking him also. Hewas seized at the same instant by delight and immense compassion forthe girl, and astonishment that "a woman" in this case was not thecause of all evil, but an innocent lamb on which so much suffering hadfallen God knew for what reason. He caught her in his arms, pressed herto his heart. "My child! my child!" repeated he, time after time.
The Bukoyemskis, meanwhile, had betaken themselves, with the glassesand pitcher, to the dining-room; had emptied the pitcherconscientiously to the bottom, and were waiting for the priest and PanSerafin, in the hope that with their coming supper would be put on thetable.
They returned at last with moistened eyes and with emotion on theirfaces. Pan Serafin breathed deeply once, and a second time, then hesaid,--
"Pani Dzvonkovski is putting the poor thing to bed. Indeed, aman is unwilling to believe his own ears. We too, are to blame; butKrepetski,--what he has done is simply infamous and disgraceful. We maynot let him go without punishment."
"On the contrary," answered Marek, "we will talk about this with that'stump.' Oh-ho!"
Then he turned to Father Voynovski,--
"I am very sorry for her, but still, I think that God punished her forYatsek. Is that not true?"
"Thou art a fool!" called out Father Voynovski.
"But how is that? Why?"
The old man, whose breast was full of pity, fell to talking quickly andpassionately of the innocence and suffering of the girl, as if wishingin that way to make up for the injustice which he had permittedregarding her; but after a time all discussion was interrupted by thecoming of Pani Dzvonkovski, who burst into the room like a bomb into afortress.
Her face was as flooded with tears as if it had been dipped in a fullbucket, and right on the threshold she fell to crying, with armsstretched out before her,--
"People, whoso believes in God! Vengeance, justice! As God lives! herdear shoulders are all in blue lumps, those shoulders once white aswafers--hair torn out by the handful, golden hair! my dearest dove! myinnocent lamb! my precious little flower!"
On hearing this, Mateush Bukoyemski, already excited by the narrativeof Father Voynovski, bellowed out at one moment, the next he wasaccompanied by Marek, Lukash, and Yan till the servants rushed into thedining-hall and the dogs began to bark at the entrance. ButVilchopolski, who a moment later returned from his night review ofhaystacks, met now another humor of the brothers. Their hair was onend, their eyes were staring with rage, their right hands were graspingat their sabre hilts.
"Blood!" shouted Lukash.
"Give him hither, the son of a such a one!"
"Kill him!"
"On sabres with him!"
And they moved toward the door as one man; but Pan Serafin sprang tothe entrance and stopped them.
"Halt!" cried he. "Martsian deserves not the sabre, but the headsman!"