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

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  CHAPTER XIX

  Old Krepetski, as had been foreseen by the butler, went to Yedlinkaafter midday on the morrow, but beyond all expectation he appearedthere with so kindly a face, and so gladsome, that Pan Serafin, who hadthe habit of dozing after dinner, and felt somewhat drowsy, became wideawake with astonishment at sight of him. Almost at the threshold theold fox began to mention neighborly friendship and say what delight hisold age would find in more frequent and mutual visits; he gave thanksfor the kindly reception, and only after finishing these courtesies didhe come to the real question.

  "Benefactor and neighbor," said he, "I have come with the salute whichwas due you, but also, as you must have divined, with a request which,in view of my age, you, I trust, will give ear to most kindly."

  "I will yield gladly to every proper wish which you may utter," saidPan Serafin.

  The old man began to rub his hands.

  "I knew that! I knew it beforehand," said he. "What a thing it is todeal with a man who has real wisdom; one comes to an agreementimmediately. I said to my son 'Leave that to me! the moment,' said I,'that thou hast to do with Pan Serafin all will go well, for there isnot another man, not merely so wise, but so honorable in this region.'"

  "You praise me too greatly."

  "No, no, I say too little. But let us come to the question."

  "Let us."

  Old Krepetski was silent for a while, as if seeking expressions. Hemerely moved his jaws, so that his chin met his nose. At last helaughed joyously, put his hand on Pan Serafin's knee, and continued,--

  "My benefactor, you see our goldfinch has flown from the cage."

  "I know. Because the cat frightened it."

  "Is there not pleasure in talking with such people?" cried the old man,rubbing his hands. "Oh, that is wit! The prelate Tvorkovski would burstwith envy, as God is dear to me!"

  "I am listening."

  "Well, to the question, and straight from the bridge. We should like totake back that goldfinch."

  "Why should you not?"

  Pan Krepetski moved his chin toward his nose once, and a second time.He was alarmed; the affair went too easily; but he clapped his hands,and cried with feigned joyousness,--

  "Well, now the affair is finished! Would to God that such men as youwere born everywhere!"

  "It is finished so far as I am concerned," said Pan Serafin. "Onlythere is need to ask that little bird whether she wants to go backagain; besides she cannot go back to-day, for your son has so throttledher that she is barely breathing."

  "Is she sick?"

  "Sick; she is lying in bed."

  "But is she not pretending?"

  Pan Serafin's face grew dark in a moment.

  "My gracious sir," said he, "let us talk seriously. Your son Martsianhas acted unworthily with Panna Anulka, not in human fashion, and notas a noble; he has acted altogether with infamy. Before God and man youhave offended grievously to give an orphan into hands such as his, andintrust her to a tyrant so shameless."

  "There is not a bit of truth in what she says," cried the old man.

  "Why not? You know not what she has said, and still you deny. It is notshe who is speaking; blue lumps and marks of blows speak for her, markswhich my housekeeper saw on her young body. As to Martsian, all theservants in Belchantska have seen his approaches and his cruelty, andare ready to testify when needed. In my house is Vilchopolski who isgoing to-day to Radom to tell the prelate Tvorkovski what hashappened."

  "But you have promised to give me the girl."

  "No, I only said that I would not detain her. If she wants to go back,very well! If she wishes to stay with me, very well also! But attemptnot to bring me to refuse my roof and a morsel of bread to an orphanwho is grievously offended."

  Old Krepetski's jaws moved time after time. For a while he was silent,and then began,--

  "You are right, and you are wrong. To refuse a shelter and bread to anorphan would be unworthy, but as a wise man consider that it is onething not to refuse hospitality, and something different to stand withrebellion against the authority of a father. I love Tekla, my youngestdaughter, sincerely, but it happens sometimes that I give her a push.Well, what then? If she, after being punished by me, should flee toyou, would you not permit me to take her, or would you refer me to herpleasure? Think of this--what sort of order would there be in theworld, if women had their will? A married woman, even when old, musthearken to her husband, and yield to him; but what must it be in thecase of an immature girl, as against the commands of her father, orguardian?"

  "Panna Anulka is not your daughter, nor even your relative."

  "But we inherited the guardianship over her from Pan Gideon. If PanGideon had punished the girl, you, of course, would not have had a wordagainst him; but it is the same thing touching me and my son, to whom Ihave committed the management of Belchantska. Some one must manage,some one must have authority to punish. Difficult to do without that. Ido not deny that Martsian, as a man, young and impulsive, exceeded themeasure, perhaps, especially since he was met with ingratitude. Butthat is my affair! I will examine, judge, and punish; but I will takethe girl back, and I think, with your permission, that even the kinghimself would have no right to raise any hindrance."

  "You speak as in a tribunal," said Pan Serafin. "I do not deny that youhave appearances on your side; but appearance is one thing, and thereal truth another. I do not wish to hinder you in anything, but I tellyou honestly what the opinion of people is, and with that opinion Iadvise you to reckon. For you it is not a question of Panna Anulka, norof guardianship over her, but you suspect that there may be a will inthe hands of the prelate, with a provision for the young lady,therefore you are afraid that Belchantska might slip from you togetherwith Panna Anulka. Not long ago I heard one of the neighbors speak inthis way: 'Were it not for that uncertainty the Krepetskis would be thefirst to drive the orphan from the house, for those people have not Godin their hearts.' It is very disagreeable for me and repulsive to saysuch things in my house to you, but you ought to know them."

  Flames of anger gleamed in the eyes of the old man, but he controlledhimself, and said with a voice which was quiet, though somewhatbroken,--

  "The malice of people! Low malice, nothing more, and stupidity besidesthat. How could it be? We would then drive from the house a young ladywhom Martsian wants to marry? By the dear God, think over this! The twothings do not hold together."

  "They talk in this way: 'If it shall appear that Belchantska is hersthen Martsian will marry her, but if the place is not hers he willsimply disgrace her.' I am not any man's conscience, so I merely repeatwhat people say, but with this addition of my own, that your sonthreatened shame to the girl. I know that surely, and you, who knowMartsian and his vile desires, know it also."

  "I know one and another thing, but I know not what you wish to say."

  "What I wish to say? This, which I have said to you already. If PannaAnulka agrees to return to you I have no right to oppose her or you,but if she is not willing, I will not expel her from this house, for Ihave given my word not to do so."

  "The question is not that you should expel her, but that you shouldpermit me to take her, just as you would permit me if one of my owndaughters were with you. This only I beg, that you stand not in myway."

  "Then I will tell you clearly. I will permit no violence in my house! Iam master, and you, who have just mentioned the king, should understandthat on this point the king himself could not oppose me."

  On hearing this Pan Krepetski balled his fists, so that his palms werepierced by his finger-nails.

  "Violence? That is just what I fear. I, if ever I have had to actagainst people (and who has not had to deal with the malice of men?),have acted against them through the law, always, not through violence.But what the proverb says is not true, that the apple falls near itstree.--It falls far away sometimes. I, for your good and safety,desired to settle this question in peacefulness. You are undefended inthe forest, while Martsian--it
is grievous for a father to say this ofa son--has not taken after me in any way. I am ashamed to confess it,but I am not able to answer for him. The whole district is in dread ofhis passionateness, and justly, for he is ready to disregard everythingand he has about fifty sabres at his order. You, on the other hand, areunarmed. I repeat it, you live in the forest, and I advise you toreckon with this situation. I am alarmed myself at it."

  Hereupon Pan Serafin rose, walked up to Krepetski, and gazed into hiseyes.

  "Do you wish to frighten me?" inquired he.

  "I am afraid myself," repeated the old man.

  But their further conversation was interrupted by sudden shouts in thecourtyard from the direction of the granary and the kitchen, so theysprang to the open window, and at the first moment were petrified withamazement. There between two fences ran with tremendous speed towardthe gate and the courtyard some kind of rare monster, unlike anycreature on earth, and behind it on excited horses dashed the fourBukoyemskis, shouting and cutting the air with their whip-lashes. Themonster rushed into the yard, and behind it came the brothers, likehell hunters, and continued their chasing.

  "Jesus, Mary!" cried out Pan Serafin.

  He ran to the porch, and after him ran old Krepetski.

  Only there could they see with more clearness. The monster seemed likea giant bird, but also like a horse and a rider, for it ran on fourlegs with a certain form sitting on it. But the rider and the beastwere so covered with feathers that their heads seemed two bundles.

  It was impossible to see clearly, for the steed rushed like a windround the courtyard. The Bukoyemskis followed closely, and did notspare blows, by which feathers were torn away and fell to the ground,or circled in the air as do snowflakes.

  Meanwhile the monster roared like a wounded bear, and so did thebrothers. Pan Serafin's voice and that of his visitor were lost in thegeneral tumult, though all the power in their lungs was used then inshouting.

  "Stop! By God's wounds, will ye stop!"

  But the four brothers urged on, as if seized by insanity--and they hadrushed five times round the yard when from the kitchen, and thestables, and barns, and granaries, and outhouses a great crowd ofservants ran in, who hearing the cry "Stop!" repeated as if indesperation by Pan Serafin, plunged forward and, seizing bits andbridles, strove to stop the horses.

  At last the horses of the four brothers were brought to a standstill,but with the feathery steed there was very great trouble. Without abridle, beaten, terrified, the beast reared at sight of the servants,or sprang to one side with the suddenness of lightning. They stopped itonly at the fence when preparing to spring over. One of the men graspedits forelock, another caught its nostrils, a number seized its mane; itcould not jump with such a burden, and fell to its knees. The beastsprang up quickly, it is true, but did not try to rush away; it onlytrembled throughout its whole body.

  They removed the rider, who, as it seemed then, had not been thrownbecause his feet were bound firmly beneath the beast's belly. Theypulled the feathers from his head, and under the feathers appeared avisage covered so thickly with tar that no man there recognized thefeatures.

  The rider gave faint signs of life, and only when taken to the porchdid old Krepetski and Pan Serafin see who it was and cry out"Martsian!" with amazement.

  "This is that vile scoundrel!" said Mateush. "We have punished him nota little, and have hunted him in here, so that Panna Sieninski may knowthat tender souls have not gone from this world yet."

  Pan Serafin seized his head with his hands, and shouted,--

  "The devil take you and your tender souls! Ye are nothing but bandits!"

  Then, turning to Pani Dzvonkovski who had run up with the others andwas crossing herself, he cried,--

  "Pour vodka into his mouth. Let him regain consciousness, and be takento bed."

  There was hurry and disorder. Some ran to make the bed ready, othersfor hot water, still others for vodka; a number began to pull thefeathers off Martsian, in which they were aided by his father, who wasgritting his teeth, and repeating,--

  "Is he alive? Is he dead? He is alive! Vengeance! Oh Vengeance!"

  Then he sprang up on a sudden, jumped forward, and thrusting up to thevery eyes of Pan Serafin, fingers, bent now like talons, he shouted,--

  "You were in the conspiracy! You have killed my son--you Armenianassassin!"

  Pan Serafin grew very pale, and seized his sabre, but almost at thesame instant he remembered that he was the host, and Krepetski avisitor, so he dropped the hilt, and raised two fingers immediately.

  "By that God who is above us," said he, "I swear that I knewnothing--and I am ready to swear on the cross in addition--Amen!"

  "We are witnesses that he knew nothing!" cried Marek Bukoyemski.

  "God has punished," said Pan Serafin; "for you threatened me, as adefenceless old man, with the passion of your son. Here is his passionfor you!"

  "A criminal offence!" bellowed the old man. "The headsman against you,and your heads under the sword edge! Vengeance! Justice!"

  "See what ye have done!" said Pan Serafin, as he turned to theBukoyemskis.

  "I said it was better to run away at once," answered Lukash.

  Pani Dzvonkovski now came with Dantsic liquor, and fell to pouring itfrom the bottle into the open mouth of the sufferer. Martsian coughed,and opened his eyes the next minute. His father knelt down to him.

  "Art alive? Art alive?" asked he in a wild joyful outburst.

  But the son could not answer yet, and was like a great owl, which,struck with a bullet, has fallen on its back and lies there, withoutstretched wings, panting. Still consciousness was coming to him, andwith it memory. His glance passed from the face of his father to thatof Pan Serafin, and then to the Bukoyemskis. Thereupon it grew soterrible that if there had been the least place for fear in the heartsof the brothers, a shiver would have passed from foot to head throughtheir bodies.

  But they only went nearer to Martsian, like four bulls which are readyto rush with, their horns at an enemy, and Mateush inquired,--

  "Well? Was that too little?"