Complete works of henryk.., p.27
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz, page 27
Though Bogun was in a hurry, he slackened his pace, for the heat was terrible. They fed the horses a little. During that time Bogun spoke to the essauls, — apparently gave them orders, for up to that time they did not know where they were going. The last word of the command reached Zagloba’s ear, —
“Wait the pistol-shot!”
“Very well, father.”
Bogun turned suddenly to Zagloba: “You will go in advance with me.”
“I?” asked Zagloba, in evident bad humor. “I love you so much that I have already sweated out one half of my soul; why should I not sweat out the other half? We are like a coat and its lining, and I hope the devil will take us together, — which is all the same to me, for I think it cannot be hotter in hell than here.”
“Forward!”
“At breakneck speed.”
They moved on, and soon after them the Cossacks; but the latter rode slowly, so that in a short time they were a good distance in the rear, and finally were lost to sight.
Bogun and Zagloba rode side by side in silence, both in deep thought. Zagloba pulled his mustache, and it was evident that he was working vigorously with his brain; he was planning, perhaps, how to extricate himself from the whole affair. At times he muttered something to himself half audibly; then again he looked at Bogun, on whose face was depicted now unrestrained anger, now grief.
“It is a wonder,” thought Zagloba to himself, “that though such a beauty, he was not able to bring the girl to his side. He is a Cossack, it is true, but a famous knight and a lieutenant-colonel, who sooner or later will become a noble, unless he joins the rebellion, which depends entirely on himself. Pan Skshetuski is a respectable cavalier and good-looking but he cannot compare in appearance with the Cossack, who is as beautiful as a picture. Ha! they will grapple when they meet, for both are champions of no common kind.”
“Bogun, do you know Pan Skshetuski well?” asked Zagloba, suddenly.
“No,” answered the Cossack, briefly.
“You will have difficult work with him. I saw him when he opened the door for himself with Chaplinski. He is a Goliath in drinking as well as fighting.”
Bogun made no reply, and again they were both buried in their own thoughts and anxieties; following which, Zagloba repeated from time to time: “So there is no help!”
Some hours passed. The sun had travelled far to the west, toward Chigirin; from the east a cool breeze sprang up. Zagloba took off his lynx-skin cap, raised his hand to his sweat-moistened head, and repeated again: “So there is no help!”
Bogun roused himself, as if from sleep. “What do you say?” he inquired.
“I say that it will be dark directly. Is it far yet?”
“No.”
In an hour it had grown dark in earnest, but they had already reached a woody ravine. At the end of the ravine a light was gleaming.
“That is Rozlogi,” said Bogun, suddenly.
“Is it? Whew! there is something cold in that ravine.”
Bogun reined in his horse. “Wait!” said he.
Zagloba looked at him. The eyes of the leader, which had the peculiarity of shining in the night, were gleaming at that moment like a pair of torches.
Both of them stood for a long time motionless at the edge of the ravine. At length the snorting of horses was heard in the distance. These were Bogun’s Cossacks coming on slowly from the depth of the forest.
The essaul approached for orders, which Bogun whispered in his ear; then the Cossacks halted again.
“Forward!” said Bogun to Zagloba.
Soon the dark masses of buildings around the mansion, the storehouses and well-sweeps stood in outline before their eyes. It was quiet in the yard. The dogs did not bark. A great golden moon shone above the buildings. From the garden came the odor of the cherry and apple blossoms. Everywhere it was quiet, — a night so wonderful that in truth it lacked only the sound of a lyre somewhere under the windows of the beautiful princess. There was light yet in some parts of the house.
The two horsemen approached the gate.
“Who is there?” called the voice of the night-guard.
“Don’t you know me, Maksim?”
“Oh, that is you! Glory to God!”
“For the ages of ages. Open the gate! And how is it with you?”
“All is well. You haven’t been in Rozlogi for a long time.”
The hinges of the gate squeaked sharply, the bridge fell over the fosse, and the two horsemen rode into the square.
“Look here, Maksim! don’t shut the gate, and don’t raise the bridge, for I am going out directly.”
“Oh! you hurry as if you had come for fire.”
“True! Tie the horse to the post!”
CHAPTER XVIII.
The Kurtsevichi were not sleeping yet. They were supping in that anteroom, filled with weapons, which extended the whole width of the house, from the garden to the square on the other side. At the sight of Bogun and Zagloba, they sprang to their feet. On the face of the princess was reflected not only astonishment, but displeasure and fright as well. Only two of the young men were present, — Simeon and Nikolai.
“Oh, Bogun!” exclaimed the princess. “But what are you here for?”
“I came to do you homage, mother. Are you not glad to see me?”
“I am glad to see yon, — glad; but I wonder that you came, for I heard that you were on guard in Chigirin. But whom has God sent to us with you?”
“This is Pan Zagloba, — a noble, my friend.”
“We are glad to see you, sir,” said the princess.
“We are glad,” repeated Simeon and Nikolai.
“Worthy lady!” said Zagloba, “an untimely guest, it is true, is worse than a Tartar; but it is known also that whoever wishes to enter heaven must receive the traveller into his house, give meat to the hungry, and drink to the thirsty” —
“Sit down, then; eat and drink,” said the old princess. “We are thankful that you have come. But, Bogun, I did not expect to see you; perhaps you have some business with us.”
“Perhaps I have,” answered Bogun, slowly.
“What is it?” asked the princess, disturbed.
“When the moment comes, we will talk about it. Let us rest a little. I have come straight from Chigirin.”
“It is evident that you were in a hurry to see us.”
“And whom should I be in a hurry to see, if not you? Is Princess Helena well?”
“Well,” replied the old lady, dryly.
“I should like to gladden my eyes with her.”
“Helena is sleeping.”
“That is too bad, for I shall not stay long.”
“Where are you going?”
“War, mother! There is no time for aught else. Any moment the hetmans may send us to the field, and it will be a pity to strike Zaporojians. Was it seldom that we went with them for Turkish booty? Isn’t it true, Princes? We sailed upon the sea with them, ate bread and salt with them, drank and caroused, and now we are their enemies.”
The princess looked quickly at Bogun. The thought flashed through her mind that perhaps Bogun intended to join the rebellion, and came to tamper with her sons.
“And what do you think of doing?” inquired she.
“I, mother? Well, it is hard to strike our own, but it is demanded.”
“That is what we will do,” said Simeon.
“Hmelnitski is a traitor!” added the young Nikolai.
“Death to traitors!” said Bogun.
“Let the hangman light their way,” added Zagloba.
Bogun began to speak again: “So it is in this world. He who to-day is your friend is to-morrow a Judas. It is impossible to trust any one.”
“Except good people,” said the princess.
“True, you can believe good people; therefore I believe and love you; for you are good people, not traitors.”
There was something so strange in the voice of the leader that in a moment deep silence reigned. Zagloba looked at the princess, and blinked with his sound eye; but the princess fixed her glance on Bogun.
He spoke on: “War does not give life to men, but death; therefore I wanted to see you once more before going to the field. And you would mourn over me, for you are my friends from the heart, are you not?”
“We are, as God is our aid. From childhood we have known you.”
“You are our brother,” added Simeon.
“You are princes, you are nobles, and you did not despise the Cossack; you took him to your house and promised him the maiden, your relative, for you knew that for the Cossack there was neither life nor existence without her; so you had mercy on the Cossack.”
“There is nothing to talk about,” said the princess, hurriedly.
“But there is, mother, something to talk about; for you are my benefactress, and I have asked of this noble, my friend, to make me his son and give me his escutcheon, so that you may not be ashamed to give your relative to a Cossack. Pan Zagloba has agreed to this, and we shall seek the permission of the Diet, and when the war is over will go to the Grand Hetman, who is kind to me. He can assist. He too acquired nobility for Krechovski.”
“God give you aid!” said the princess.
“You are sincere people, and I thank you. But before the war I should like to hear once more from your lips that you give me the maiden, and that you will keep your word. The word of a noble is not smoke, and you are a princess.”
Bogun spoke with a slow and solemn voice, but at the same time in his speech there vibrated, as it were, a threat declaring that there must be consent to what he demanded.
The old princess looked at her sons; they looked at her, and for a moment silence continued. Suddenly the falcon, sitting on her perch by the wall, began to make a noise, though it was long before daylight; others followed her. The great eagle woke, shook his wings, and began to scream. The pitch-pine burned low; it was growing gloomy and dark in the room.
“Nikolai, put wood on the fire!” said the old princess.
The young prince threw on more wood.
“Well, do you consent?” inquired Bogun.
“We must ask Helena.”
“Let her speak for herself; you speak for yourselves. Do you promise?”
“We promise,” said the mother.
“We promise,” said the sons.
Bogun stood up suddenly, and turning to Zagloba, said with a clear voice, —
“My friend Zagloba, ask for the maiden too; maybe they will give her to you.”
“What do you mean, Cossack? Are you drunk?” cried the princess.
Bogun, in place of an answer, took out Skshetuski’s letter, and turning to Zagloba, said: “Read!”
Zagloba took the letter, and began to read it in the midst of deep silence. When he had finished, Bogun crossed his arms on his breast.
“To whom then do you give the girl?” asked he.
“Bogun!”
The voice of the Cossack became like the hiss of a serpent: “Traitors, murderers, faith-breakers, Judases!”
“Sons, to your sabres!” screamed the princess.
The princes sprang like lightning to the walls, and seized their arms.
“Quiet, gentlemen, quiet!” began Zagloba.
But before he had finished speaking, Bogun drew a pistol from his belt and fired.
“Jesus!” groaned Prince Simeon. Advancing a step, he began to beat the air with his hands, and fell heavily on the floor.
“People, to the rescue!” screamed the princess, in despair.
But that moment, in the yard and from the side of the garden, were heard other volleys. The windows and the doors flew open with a crash, and several tens of Cossacks rushed into the room.
“Destruction!” thundered wild voices.
The alarm-bell was tolled on the square. The birds in the room began to scream. Uproar, firing, and shouts took the place of the recent quiet of a drowsy house.
The old princess threw herself, howling like a wolf, on the body of Simeon, shuddering in the last convulsions; but soon two Cossacks seized her by the hair and drew her aside. Meanwhile Nikolai, driven to the corner of the room, defended himself with fury and the boldness of a lion.
“Aside!” cried Bogun suddenly, to the Cossacks around him. “Aside!” repeated he, with a thundering voice.
The Cossacks withdrew. They thought that he wished to save the life of the young man. But Bogun himself, with sabre in hand, rushed on the prince.
Now began a terrible hand-to-hand struggle, on which the princess, whose hair was grasped by four iron hands, looked with glaring eyes and open mouth. The young prince hurled himself like a storm on the Cossack, who, retreating slowly, led him out into the middle of the room. Then suddenly stooping, he parried a powerful blow, and from defence changed to attack.
The Cossacks, holding their breath, let their sabres hang, and motionless, as if fastened to the floor, followed with their eyes the course of the conflict. Only the breathing and panting of the combatants were heard in the silence, with the gnashing of teeth, and the sharp click of the swords striking each other.
For a while it appeared as if Bogun would yield to the gigantic power and obstinacy of the youth, for he began again to retreat and defend himself. His countenance was contracted as if by over-exertion. Nikolai redoubled his blows; dust rose from the floor and covered the two men with a cloud, but through the masses of it the Cossacks saw blood flowing from the face of their leader.
All at once Bogun sprang aside; the prince’s sword struck the empty air. Nikolai staggered from the effort and bent forward; that instant the Cossack struck him such a blow on the neck that he dropped as if struck by lightning.
The joyful cries of the Cossacks were mingled with the unearthly shriek of the princess. It seemed as though the ceiling would break from the noise. The struggle was finished. The Cossacks rushed at the weapons hanging along the walls, and began to pull them down, tearing from one another the most costly sabres and daggers, and trampling upon the bodies of the princes and their own comrades who had fallen at the hands of Nikolai. Bogun permitted everything. He stood at the door leading to Helena’s rooms, guarding the way. He breathed heavily from weariness; his face was pale and bloody, for the sword of the prince had struck his head twice. His wandering look passed from the body of Nikolai to the body of Simeon, and then fell upon the blue face of the princess, whom the Cossacks, holding by the hair, pressed to the floor with their knees, for she was tearing herself from their hands to the bodies of her children.
The tumult and confusion in the room increased every moment. The Cossacks tied the servants with ropes and tormented them without mercy. The floor was covered with blood and dead bodies, the room filled with smoke from pistol-shots; the walls were stripped, the birds killed.
All at once the door at which Bogun stood was opened wide. He turned and started back. In the door appeared the blind Vassily, and at his side Helena, dressed in a white gown, pale herself as the gown, with eyes starting out from terror, and with open mouth.
Vassily carried in both hands a cross, which he held as high as his face. In the midst of the uproar in the room, in the presence of the corpses, and the blood scattered in pools on the floor, in front the glitter of sabres and of flashing eyes, that lofty figure had an appearance of wonderful solemnity. Emaciated, with hair growing gray, and with depressions instead of eyes, you would have said that it was a spirit, or a dead body which had left its shroud and was coming for the punishment of crime.
The clamor ceased; the Cossacks drew back in a fright. Silence was broken by the calm, but painful and groaning voice of the prince, —
“In the name of the Father, the Saviour, the Spirit, and the Holy Virgin! Oh, you men who come from distant lands, do you come in the name of God? — for blessed is the wayfarer who goes announcing the word of God. And do you bring good news? Are you apostles?”
A deathlike stillness reigned after the words of Vassily; but he turned slowly with the cross to one side and then the other, and continued, —
“Woe to you, brothers, for whoso makes war for gain or vengeance will be damned forever. Let us pray, so that we obtain mercy. Woe to you, brothers, woe to me! Woe! woe! woe!”
A groan came from the breast of the prince.
“Lord, have mercy upon us!” answered the dull voices of the Cossacks, who under the influence of fear began to make the sign of the cross in terror.
Suddenly a wild piercing shriek from the princess was heard: “Vassily! Vassily!”
There was something in her voice as full of anguish as in the last voice of life passing away. But the Cossacks pressing her with their knees knew that she could not escape from their hands.
The prince shuddered, but immediately covered himself with the cross, on the side from which the voice came, and said: “Oh, lost soul, crying from the abyss, woe to thee!”
“Lord, have mercy upon us!” repeated the Cossacks.
“To me!” said Bogun to the Cossacks that moment, and he staggered.
The Cossacks sprang and supported him under the shoulders.
“You are wounded, father?”
“I am! But that is nothing; I have lost blood. Here, boys! guard this young woman as the eyes in your head. Surround the house; let no one out! Princess—”
He could say no more; his lips grew white, and his eyes were covered with a mist.
“Bear the ataman to the rooms!” cried Zagloba, who creeping out of some corner or another appeared unexpectedly at Bogun’s side. “This is nothing, nothing at all,” said he, feeling the wounds with his fingers. “He will be well to-morrow. I will take care of him. Mix up bread and spider-webs for me! You, boys, go off to the devil with yourselves, to frolic with the girls in the servants’ quarters, for you have nothing to do here; but let two carry the ataman. Take him — that’s the way! Be off now! What are you standing here for? I will take care of the house, I will look after everything.”
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