Генрик Сенкевич
The Deluge. Vol. 2
CHAPTER XX
Though the Tartars, and especially those of the Dobrudja, knew how to stand breast to breast against armed men in the field, their most cherished warfare was the slaughter of defenceless people, the seizing of women and peasants captive, and above all, plunder. The road was very bitter therefore to that chambul which Kmita led, for under his iron hand these wild warriors had to become lambs, keep their knives in the sheaths, and the quenched tinder and coiled ropes in their saddle-bags. They murmured at first.
Near Tarnogrod a few remained behind of purpose to let free the "red birds" in Hmyelevsk and to frolic with the women. But Kmita, who had pushed on toward Tomashov, returned at sight of the first gleam of fire, and commanded the guilty to hang the guilty. And he had gained such control of Akbah Ulan, that the old Tartar not only did not resist, but he urged the condemned to hang quickly, or the "bogadyr" would be angry. Thenceforth "the lambs" marched quietly, crowding more closely together through the villages and towns, lest suspicion might fall on them. And the execution, though Kmita carried it out so severely, did not rouse even ill will or hatred against him; such fortune had that fighter that his subordinates felt just as much love for him as they did fear.
It is true that Pan Andrei permitted no one to wrong them. The country had been terribly ravaged by the recent attack of Hmelnitski and Sheremetyeff; therefore it was as difficult to find provisions and pasture as before harvest, and besides, everything had to be in time and in plenty; in Krinitsi, where the townspeople offered resistance and would not furnish supplies, Pan Andrei ordered that some of them be beaten with sticks, and the under-starosta he stretched out with the blow of a whirlbat.
This delighted the horde immensely, and hearing with pleasure the uproar of the beaten people, they said among themselves, —
"Ei! our Babinich is a falcon; he lets no man offend his lambs."
It is enough that not only did they not grow thin, but the men and horses improved in condition. Old Ulan, whose stomach had expanded, looked with growing wonder on the young hero and clicked with his tongue.
"If Allah were to give me a son, I should like such a one. I should not die of hunger in my old age in the Ulus," repeated he.
But Kmita from time to time struck him on the stomach and said, —
"Here listen, wild boar! If the Swedes do not open your paunch, you will hide the contents of all cupboards inside it."
"Where are the Swedes? Our ropes will rot, our bows will be mildewed," answered Ulan, who was homesick for war.
They were advancing indeed through a country to which a Swedish foot had not been able to come, but farther they would pass through one in which there had been garrisons afterward driven out by confederates. They met everywhere smaller and larger bands of armed nobles, marching in various directions, and not smaller bands of peasants, who more than once stopped the road to them threateningly, and to whom it was often difficult to explain that they had to do with friends and servants of the King of Poland.
They came at last to Zamost. The Tartars were amazed at sight of this mighty fortress; but what did they think when told that not long before it had stopped the whole power of Hmelnitski?
Pan Zamoyski, the owner by inheritance, permitted them as a mark of great affection and favor to enter the town. They were admitted through a brick gate, while the other two were stone. Kmita himself did not expect to see anything similar, and he could not recover from astonishment at sight of the broad streets, built in straight lines, Italian fashion; at sight of the splendid college, and the academy, the castle, walls, the great cannon and every kind of provision. As few among magnates could be compared with the grandson of the great chancellor, so there were few fortresses that could be compared with Zamost.
But the greatest ecstasy seized the Tartars, when they saw the Armenian part of the town. Their nostrils drew in greedily the odor of morocco, a great manufacture of which was carried on by industrial immigrants from Kaffa; and their eyes laughed at sight of the dried fruits and confectionery, Eastern carpets, girdles, inlaid sabres, daggers, bows, Turkish lamps, and every kind of costly article.
The cup-bearer of the kingdom himself pleased Kmita's heart greatly, he was a genuine kinglet in that Zamost of his; a man in the strength of his years, of fine presence though lacking somewhat robustness, for he had not restrained sufficiently the ardors of nature in early years. He had always loved the fair sex, but his health had not been shaken to that degree that joyousness had vanished from his face. So far he had not married, and though the most renowned houses in the Commonwealth had opened wide their doors, he asserted that he could not find in them a sufficiently beautiful maiden. He found her somewhat later, in the person of a young French lady, who though in love with another gave him her hand without hesitation, not foreseeing that the first one, disregarded, would adorn in the future his own and her head with a kingly crown.
The lord of Zamost was not distinguished for quick wit, though he had enough for his own use. He did not strive for dignities and offices, though they came to him of themselves; and when his friends reproached him with a lack of native ambition, he answered, – "It is not true that I lack it, for I have more than those who bow down. Why should I wear out the thresholds of the court? In Zamost I am not only Yan Zamoyski, but Sobiepan Zamoyski,"4 with which name he was very well pleased. He was glad to affect simple manners, though he had received a refined education and had passed his youth in journeys through foreign lands. He spoke of himself as a common noble, and spoke emphatically of the moderateness of his station, perhaps so that others might contradict him, and perhaps so that they might not notice his medium wit. On the whole he was an honorable man, and a better son of the Commonwealth than many others.
And as he came near Kmita's heart, so did Kmita please him; therefore he invited Pan Andrei to the chambers of the castle and entertained him, for he loved this also, that men should exalt his hospitality.
Pan Andrei came to know in the castle many noted persons; above all, Princess Griselda Vishnyevetski, sister of Pan Zamoyski and widow of the great Yeremi, – a man who in his time was well-nigh the greatest in the Commonwealth, who nevertheless had lost his whole immense fortune in the time of the Cossack incursion, so that the princess was now living at Zamost, on the bounty of her brother Yan.
But that lady was so full of grandeur, of majesty and virtue, that her brother was the first to blow away the dust from before her; and moreover he feared her like fire. There was no case in which he did not gratify her wishes, nor an affair the most important concerning which he did not advise with her. The people of the castle said that the princess ruled Zamost, the army, the treasury, and her brother; but she did not wish to take advantage of her preponderance, being given with her whole soul to grief for her husband and to the education of her son.
That son had recently returned for a short time from the court of Vienna and was living with her. He was a youth in the springtime of life; but in vain did Kmita seek in him those marks which the son of the great Yeremi should bear in his features.
The figure of the young prince was graceful; but he had a large, full face, and protruding eyes with a timid look; he had coarse lips, moist, as with people inclined to pleasures of the table; an immense growth of hair, black as a raven's wing, fell to his shoulders. He inherited from his father only that raven hair and dark complexion.
Pan Andrei was assured by those who were more intimate with the prince that he had a noble soul, unusual understanding, and a remarkable memory, thanks to which he was able to speak almost all languages; and that a certain heaviness of body and temperament with a native greed for food were the only defects of that otherwise remarkable young man.
In fact, after he had entered into conversation with him Pan Andrei became convinced that the prince not only had an understanding mind and a striking judgment touching everything, but the gift of attracting people. Kmita loved him after the first conversation with that feeling in which compassion is the greatest element. He felt that he would give much to bring back to that orphan the brilliant future which belonged to him by right of birth.
Pan Andrei convinced himself at the first dinner that what was said of the gluttony of Michael Vishnyevetski was true. The young prince seemed to think of nothing save eating. His prominent eyes followed each dish uneasily, and when they brought him the platter he took an enormous quantity on his plate and ate ravenously, smacking his lips as only gluttons do. The marble face of the princess grew clouded with still greater sorrow at that sight. It became awkward for Kmita, so that he turned away his eyes and looked at Sobiepan.
But Zamoyski was not looking either at Prince Michael or his own guest. Kmita followed his glance, and behind the shoulders of Princess Griselda he saw a wonderful sight indeed, which he had not hitherto noticed.
It was the small pretty head of a maiden, who was as fair as milk, as red as a rose, and beautiful as an image. Short wavy locks ornamented her forehead; her quick eyes were directed to the officers sitting near Zamoyski, not omitting Sobiepan himself. At last those eyes rested on Kmita, and looked at him fixedly, as full of coquetry as if they intended to gaze into the depth of his heart.
But Kmita was not easily confused; therefore he began to look at once into those eyes with perfect insolence, and then he punched in the side Pan Shurski, lieutenant of the armored castle squadron at Zamost, who was sitting near him, and asked in an undertone, —
"But who is that tailed farthing?"
"Worthy sir," answered Shurski, aloud, "do not speak slightingly when you do not know of whom you are speaking. That is Panna Anusia Borzobogati. And you will not call her otherwise unless you wish to regret your rudeness."
"You do not know, sir, that a farthing is a kind of bird and very beautiful, therefore there is no contempt in the name," answered Kmita, laughing; "but noticing your anger you must be terribly in love."
"But who is not in love?" muttered the testy Shurski. "Pan Zamoyski himself has almost looked his eyes out, and is as if sitting on an awl."
"I see that, I see that!"
"What do you see? He, I, Grabovski, Stolangyevich, Konoyadzki, Rubetski of the dragoons, Pyechynga, – she has sunk us all. And with you it will be the same, if you stay here. With her twenty-four hours are sufficient."
"Lord brother! with me she could do nothing in twenty-four months."
"How is that?" asked Shurski, with indignation; "are you made of metal, or what?"
"No! But if some one had stolen the last dollar from your pocket you would not be afraid of a thief."
"Is that it?" answered Shurski.
Kmita grew gloomy at once, for his trouble came to his mind, and he noticed no longer that the black eyes were looking still more stubbornly at him, as if asking, "What is thy name, whence dost thou come, youthful knight?"
But Shurski muttered: "Bore, bore away! She bored that way into me till she bored to my heart. Now she does not even care."
Kmita shook himself out of his seriousness.
"Why the hangman does not some one of you marry her?"
"Each one prevents every other."
"The girl will be left in the lurch," said Kmita, "though in truth there must be white seeds in that pear yet."
Shurski opened his eyes, and bending to Kmita's ear said very mysteriously, —
"They say that she is twenty-five, as I love God. She was with Princess Griselda before the incursion of the rabble?"
"Wonder of wonders, I should not give her more than sixteen or eighteen at the most."
This time the devil (the girl) guessed apparently that they were talking of her, for she covered her gleaming eyes with the lids, and only shot sidelong glances at Kmita, inquiring continually: "Who art thou, so handsome? Whence dost thou come?" And he began involuntarily to twirl his mustache.
After dinner Zamoyski, who from respect to the courtly manners of Kmita treated him as an unusual guest, took him by the arm. "Pan Babinich," said he, "you have told me that you are from Lithuania?"
"That is true, Pan Zamoyski."
"Tell me, did you know the Podbipientas?"
"As to knowing I know them not, for they are no longer in the world, at least those who had the arms Tear-Cowl. The last one fell at Zbaraj. He was the greatest knight that Lithuania had. Who of us does not know of Podbipienta?"
"I have heard also of him; but I ask for this reason: There is in attendance on my sister a lady of honorable family. She was the betrothed of this Podbipienta who was killed at Zbaraj. She is an orphan, without father or mother; and though my sister loves her greatly, still, being the natural guardian of my sister, I have in this way the maiden in guardianship."
"A pleasant guardianship!" put in Kmita.
Zamoyski smiled, winked, and smacked his tongue. "Sweetcakes! isn't she?"
But suddenly he saw that he was betraying himself, and assumed a serious air.
"Oh, you traitor!" said he, half jestingly, half seriously, "you want to hang me on a hook, and I almost let it out!"
"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.