Complete works of henryk.., p.194
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz, page 194
“What?” asked Kmita, looking him quickly in the eyes.
Here Zamoyski saw clearly that in quickness of wit he was not the equal of his guest, and turned the conversation at once.
“That Podbipienta,” said he, “bequeathed her some estates there in your region. I don’t remember the names of them, for they are strange, — Baltupie, Syrutsiani, Myshykishki, — in a word, all that he had. Would I could remember them! Five or six estates.”
“They are adjoining estates, not separate. Podbipienta was a very wealthy man, and if that lady should come to his fortune she might have her own ladies-in-waiting, and seek for a husband among senators.”
“Do you tell me that? Do you know those places?”
“I know only Lyubovich and Sheputy, for they are near my land. The forest boundary alone is ten miles long, and the fields and meadows are as much more.”
“Where are they?”
“In Vityebsk.”
“Oh, far away! the affair is not worth the trouble, and the country is under the enemy.”
“When we drive out the enemy we shall come to the property. But the Podbipientas have property in other places, — in Jmud very considerable, I know, for I have a piece of land there myself.”
“I see that your substance is not a bag of chopped straw.”
“It brings in nothing now. But I need nothing from others.”
“Advise me how to put that maiden on her feet.”
Kmita laughed.
“I prefer to talk over this matter rather than others. It would be better for her to go to Pan Sapyeha. If he would take the affair in hand, he could do a great deal as voevoda of Vityebsk and the most noted man in Lithuania. He could send notices to the tribunals that the will was made to Panna Borzobogati, so that Podbipienta’s more distant relatives should not seize the property.”
“That is true; but now there are no tribunals, and Sapyeha has something else in his head.”
“The lady might be placed in his hands and under his guardianship. Having her before his eyes, he would give aid more speedily.”
Kmita looked with astonishment at Zamoyski. “What object has he in wishing to remove her from this place?” thought he.
Zamoyski continued: “It would be difficult for her to live in camp, in the tent of the voevoda of Vityebsk; but she might stay with his daughters.”
“I do not understand this,” thought Kmita; “would he consent to be only her guardian?”
“But here is the difficulty: how can I send her to those parts in the present time of disturbance? Several hundred men would be needed, and I cannot strip Zamost. If I could only find some one to conduct her. Now, you might take her; you are going to Sapyeha. I would give you letters, and you would give me your word of honor to take her in safety.”
“I conduct her to Sapyeha?” asked Kmita, in amazement.
“Is the office unpleasant? Even if it should come to love on the road—”
“Ah,” said Kmita, “another one is managing my affections; and though the tenant pays nothing, still I do not think of making a change.”
“So much the better; with all the greater satisfaction can I confide her to you.”
A moment of silence followed.
“Well, will you undertake it?” asked the starosta,
“I am marching with Tartars.”
“People tell me that the Tartars fear you worse than fire. Well, what? Will you undertake it?”
“H’m! why not, if thereby I can oblige your grace? But—”
“Ah, you think that the princess must give permission; she will, as God is dear to me! For she, — fancy to yourself, — she suspects me.”
Here the starosta whispered in Kmita’s ear; at last he said aloud, —
“She was very angry with me for that, and I put my ears aside; for to war with women, — behold you! I would rather have the Swedes outside Zamost. But she will have the best proof that I am planning no evil, when I wish to send the girl away. She will be terribly amazed, it is true; but at the first opportunity I’ll talk with her touching this matter.”
When he had said this, Zamoyski turned and went away. Kmita looked at him, and muttered, —
“You are setting some snare, Pan Sobiepan; and though I do not understand the object, I see the snare quickly, for you are a terribly awkward trapper.”
Zamoyski was pleased with himself, though he understood well that the work was only half done; and another remained so difficult that at thought of it despair seized him, and even terror. He had to get permission of Princess Griselda, whose severity and penetrating mind Pan Sobiepan feared from his whole soul. But having begun, he wished to bring the work to completion as early as possible; therefore next morning, after Mass, and breakfast, and after he had reviewed the hired German infantry, he went to the chambers of the princess.
He found the lady embroidering a cope for the college. Behind her was Anusia winding silk hung upon two armchairs; a second skein of rose color she had placed around her neck, and moving her hands quickly, she ran around the chairs in pursuit of the unwinding thread.
Zamoyski’s eyes grew bright at sight of her; but he assumed quickly a serious look, and greeting the princess, began as if unwillingly, —
“That Pan Babinich who has come here with the Tartars is a Lithuanian, — a man of importance, a very elegant fellow, a born knight in appearance. Have you noticed him?”
“You brought him to me yourself,” answered the princess, indifferently, “he has an honest face.”
“I asked him concerning that property left Panna Borzobogati. He says it is a fortune almost equal to that of the Radzivills.”
“God grant it to Anusia; her orphanhood will be the lighter, and her old age as well,” said the lady.
“But there is a danger lest distant relatives tear it apart. Babinich says that Sapyeha might occupy himself with it, if he wished. He is an honest man, and very friendly to us: I would confide my own daughter to him. It would be enough for him to send notices to the tribunals, and proclaim the guardianship. But Babinich says it is needful that Panna Anusia should go to those places in person.”
“Where, — to Pan Sapyeha?”
“Or to his daughters, so as to be there, that the formal installation might take place.”
The starosta invented at that moment “formal installation,” thinking justly that the princess would accept this counterfeit money instead of true coin. She thought a moment, and asked, —
“How could she go now, when Swedes are on the road?”
“I have news that the Swedes have left Lublin. All this side of the Vistula is free.”
“And who would take Anusia to Pan Sapyeha?”
“Suppose this same Babinich.”
“With Tartars? Lord Brother, fear God; those are wild, chaotic people!”
“I am not afraid,” put in Anusia, curtesying.
But Princess Griselda had noted already that her brother came with some plan all prepared; therefore she sent Anusia out of the room, and began to look at Pan Sobiepan with an inquiring gaze. But he said as if to himself, —
“These Tartars are down in the dust before Babinich; he hangs them for any insubordination.”
“I cannot permit this journey,” answered the princess. “The girl is honest but giddy, and rouses enthusiasm quickly. You know that best yourself. I would never confide her to a young, unknown man.”
“Unknown here he is not, for who has not heard of the Babiniches as men of high family and steady people? [Zamoyski had never heard of the Babiniches in his life.] Besides,” continued he, “you might give her some sedate woman as companion, and then decorum would be observed. Babinich I guarantee. I tell you this, too, Lady Sister, that he has in those places a betrothed with whom he is, as he tells me himself, in love; and whoso is in love has something else in his head. The foundation of the matter is this, that another such chance may not come for a long time, — the fortune may be lost to the girl, and in ripe years she may be without a roof above her.”
The princess ceased embroidering, raised her head, and fixing her penetrating eyes on her brother, asked, —
“What reason have you to send her from here?”
“What reason have I?” repeated he, dropping his glance; “what can I have? — none!”
“Yan, you have conspired with Babinich against her virtue!”
“There it is! As God is dear to me, only that was wanting! You will read the letter which I shall send to Sapyeha, and give your own. I will merely say this to you, that I shall not leave Zamost. Finally examine Babinich himself, and ask him whether he will undertake the office.
“The moment you suspect me I step aside.”
“Why do you insist so that she shall leave Zamost?”
“For I wish her good, and it is the question of an immense fortune. Besides, I confess it concerns me much that she should leave Zamost. Your suspicions have grown disagreeable; it is not to my taste that you should be frowning at me forever and looking stern. I thought that in consenting to the departure of the young lady I should find the best argument against suspicions. God knows I have enough of this, for I am no student who steals under windows at night. I tell you more: my officers are enraged one against the other, and shaking their sabres at one another. There is neither harmony, nor order, nor service as there should be. I have enough of this. But since you are boring me with your eyes, then do as you wish; but look after Michael yourself, for that is your affair, not mine.”
“Michael!” exclaimed the astonished princess.
“I say nothing against the girl. She does not disturb him more than others; but if you do not see his arrowy glances and ardent affection, then I tell you this, that Cupid has not such power to blind as a mother’s love.”
Princess Griselda’s brows contracted, and her face grew pale.
Pan Sobiepan, seeing that he had struck home at last, slapped his knees with his hands and continued, —
“Lady Sister, thus it is, thus it is! What is the affair to me? Let Michael give her silk to unwind, let his nostrils quiver when he looks at her, let him blush, let him look at her through keyholes! What is that to me? Still, I know — she has a good fortune — her family — well, she is of nobles, and I do not raise myself above nobles. If you want it yourself, all right. Their years are not the same, but again it is not my affair.”
Zamoyski rose, and bowing to his sister very politely, started to go out.
The blood rushed to her face. The proud lady did not see in the whole Commonwealth a match worthy of Vishnyevetski, and abroad, perhaps among the archduchesses of Austria; therefore these words of her brother burned her like iron red hot.
“Yan!” said she, “wait!”
“Lady Sister,” said Zamoyski, “I wished first to give you proof that you suspect me unjustly; second, that you should watch some one besides me. Now you will do as you please; I have nothing more to say.”
Then Pan Zamoyski bowed and went out.
CHAPTER XXI.
Pan Zamoyski had not uttered pure calumny to his sister when he spoke of Michael’s love for Anusia, for the young prince had fallen in love with her, as had all, not excepting the pages of the castle. But that love was not over-violent, and by no means aggressive; it was rather an agreeable intoxication of the head and mind, than an impulse of the heart, which, when it loves, impels to permanent possession of the object beloved. For such action Michael had not the energy.
Nevertheless, Princess Griselda, dreaming of a brilliant future for her son, was greatly terrified at that feeling. In the first moment the sudden consent of her brother to Anusia’s departure astonished her; now she ceased thinking of that, so far had the threatening danger seized her whole soul. A conversation with her son, who grew pale and trembled, and who before he had confessed anything shed tears, confirmed her in the supposition that the danger was terrible.
Still she did not conquer her scruples of conscience at once, and it was only when Anusia, who wanted to see a new world, new people, and perhaps also turn the head of the handsome cavalier, fell at her feet with a request for permission, that the princess did not find strength sufficient to refuse.
Anusia, it is true, covered herself with tears at the thought of parting with her mistress and mother; but for the clever girl it was perfectly evident that by asking for the separation she had cleared herself from every suspicion of having with preconceived purpose turned the head of Prince Michael, or even Zamoyski himself.
Princess Griselda, from desire to know surely if there was a conspiracy between her brother and Kmita, directed the latter to come to her presence. Her brother’s promise not to leave Zamost had calmed her considerably, it is true; she wished, however, to know more intimately the man who was to conduct the young lady.
The conversation with Kmita set her at rest thoroughly.
There looked from the blue eyes of the young noble such sincerity and truth that it was impossible to doubt him. He confessed at once that he was in love with another, and besides he had neither the wish nor the head for folly. Finally he gave his word as a cavalier that he would guard the lady from every misfortune, even if he had to lay down his head.
“I will take her safely to Pan Sapyeha, for Pan Zamoyski says that the enemy has left Lublin. But I can do no more; not because I hesitate in willing service for your highness, since I am always willing to shed my blood for the widow of the greatest warrior and the glory of the whole Commonwealth, but because I have my own grievous troubles, out of which I know not whether I shall bring my life.”
“It is a question of nothing more,” answered the princess, “than that you give her into the hands of Pan Sapyeha, and he will not refuse my request to be her guardian.”
Here she gave Kmita her hand, which he kissed with the greatest reverence, and she said in parting, —
“Be watchful, Cavalier, be watchful, and do not place safety in this, that the country is free of the enemy.”
These last words arrested Kmita; but he had no time to think over them, for Zamoyski soon caught him.
“Gracious Knight,” said he, gayly, “you are taking the greatest ornament of Zamost away from me.”
“But at your wish,” answered Kmita.
“Take good care of her. She is a toothsome dainty. Some one may be ready to take her from you.”
“Let him try! Oh, ho! I have given the word of a cavalier to the princess, and with me my word is sacred.”
“Oh, I only say this as a jest. Fear not, neither take unusual caution.”
“Still I will ask of your serene great mightiness a carriage with windows.”
“I will give you two. But you are not going at once, are you?”
“I am in a hurry. As it is, I am here too long.”
“Then send your Tartars in advance to Krasnystav. I will hurry off a courier to have oats ready for them there, and will give you an escort of my own to that place. No evil can happen to you here, for this is my country. I will give you good men of the German dragoons, bold fellows and acquainted with the road. Besides, to Krasnystav the road is as if cut out with a sickle.”
“But why am I to stay here?”
“To remain longer with us; you are a dear guest. I should be glad to detain you a year. Meanwhile I shall send to the herds at Perespa; perhaps some horse will be found which will not fail you in need.”
Kmita looked quickly into the eyes of his host; then, as if making a sudden decision, said, —
“I thank you, I will remain, and will send on the Tartars.”
He went straight to give them orders, and taking Akbah Ulan to one side he said, —
“Akbah Ulan, you are to go to Krasnystav by the road, straight as if cut with a sickle. I stay here, and a day later will move after you with Zamoyski’s escort. Listen now to what I say! You will not go to Krasnystav, but strike into the first forest, not far from Zamost, so that a living soul may not know of you; and when you hear a shot on the highroad, hurry to me, for they are preparing some trick against me in this place.”
“Your will,” said Akbah Ulan, placing his hand on his forehead, his mouth, and his breast.
“I have seen through you, Pan Zamoyski,” said Kmita to himself. “In Zamost you are afraid of your sister therefore you wish to seize the young lady, and secret her somewhere in the neighborhood, and make of me the instrument of your desires, and who knows if not to take my life. But wait! You found a man keener than yourself; you will fall into your own trap!”
In the evening Lieutenant Shurski knocked at Kmita’s door. This officer, too, knew something, and had his suspicions; and because he loved Anusia he preferred that she should depart, rather than fall into the power of Zamoyski. Still he did not dare to speak openly, and perhaps because he was not sure; but he wondered that Kmita had consented to send the Tartars on in advance; he declared that the roads were not so safe as was said, that everywhere armed bands were wandering, — hands swift to deeds of violence.
Pan Andrei decided to feign that he divined nothing “What can happen to me?” asked he; “besides, Zamoyski gives me his own escort.”
“Bah! Germans!”
“Are they not reliable men?”
“Is it possible to depend upon those dog-brothers ever? It has happened that after conspiring on the road they went over to the enemy.”
“But there are no Swedes on this side of the Vistula.”
“They are in Lublin, the dogs! It is not true that they have left. I advise you honestly not to send the Tartars in advance, for it is always safer in a large company.”
“It is a pity that you did not inform me before. I have one tongue in my mouth, and an order given I never withdraw.”
Next morning the Tartars moved on. Kmita was to follow toward evening, so as to pass the first night at Krasnystav. Two letters to Pan Sapyeha were given him, — one from the princess, the other from her brother.
Kmita had a great desire to open the second, but he dared not; he looked at it, however, before the light, and saw that inside was blank paper. This discovery was proof to him that both the maiden and the letters were to be taken from him on the road.
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