Kitabı oku: «Pan Michael», sayfa 11

CHAPTER XVIII

After his interview with Zagloba, Ketling went to Pan Michael's sister, whom he informed that because of urgent affairs he must remain in the city, and perhaps too before his final journey he would go for some weeks to Courland; therefore he would not be able in person to entertain her in his suburban house longer. But he implored her to consider that house as her residence in the same way as hitherto, and to occupy it with her husband and Pan Michael during the coming election. Pani Makovetski consented, for in the opposite event the house would become empty, and bring profit to no one.

After that conversation Ketling vanished, and showed himself no more either in the inn, or later in the neighborhood of Mokotov, when Pan Michael's sister returned to the suburbs with the young ladies. Krysia alone felt that absence; Zagloba was occupied wholly with the coming election; while Basia and Pani Makovetski had taken the sudden decision of Krysia to heart so much that they could think of nothing else.

Still, Pani Makovetski did not even try to dissuade Krysia; for in those times opposition to such undertakings seemed to people an injury and an offence to God. Zagloba alone, in spite of all his piety, would have had the courage to protest, had it concerned him in any way; but since it did not, he sat quietly, and he was content in spirit that affairs had arranged themselves so that Krysia retired from between Pan Michael and the haiduk. Now Zagloba was convinced of the successful accomplishment of his most secret desires, and gave himself with all freedom to the labors of the election; he visited the nobles who had come to the capital, or he spent the time in conversations with the vice-chancellor, with whom he fell in love at last, becoming his trusted assistant. After each such conversation he returned home a more zealous partisan of the "Pole," and a more determined enemy of foreigners. Accommodating himself to the instructions of the vice-chancellor, he remained quietly in that condition so far, but not a day passed that he did not win some one for the secret candidate, and that happened which usually happens in such cases, – he pushed himself forward so far that that candidacy became the second object in his life, at the side of the union of Basia and Pan Michael. Meanwhile they were nearer and nearer the election.

Spring had already freed the waters from ice; breezes warm and strong had begun to blow; under the breath of these breezes the trees were sprinkled with buds, and flocks of swallows were hovering around, to spring out at any moment, as simple people think, from the ocean of winter into the bright sunlight. Guests began to come to the election, with the swallows and other birds of passage. First of all came merchants, to whom a rich harvest of profit was indicated, in a place where more than half a million of people were to assemble, counting magnates with their forces, nobles, servants, and the army. Englishmen, Hollanders, Germans, Russians, Tartars, Turks, Armenians, and even Persians came, bringing stuffs, linen, damask, brocades, furs, jewels, perfumes, and sweetmeats. Booths were erected on the streets and outside the city, and in them was every kind of merchandise. Some "bazaars" were placed even in suburban villages; for it was known that the inns of the capital could not receive one tenth of the electors, and that an enormous majority of them would be encamped outside the walls, as was the case always during time of election. Finally, the nobles began to assemble so numerously, in such throngs, that if they had come in like numbers to the threatened boundaries of the Commonwealth, the foot of any enemy would never have crossed them.

Reports went around that the election would be a stormy one, for the whole country was divided between three chief candidates, – Condé, the Princes of Neuberg and of Lorraine. It was said that each party would endeavor to seat its own candidate, even by force. Alarm seized hearts; spirits were inflamed with partisan rancor. Some prophesied civil war; and these forebodings found faith, in view of the gigantic military legions with which the magnates had surrounded themselves. They arrived early, so as to have time for intrigues of all kinds. When the Commonwealth was in peril, when the enemy was putting the keen edge to its throat, neither king nor hetman could bring more than a wretched handful of troops against him; but now in spite of laws and enactments, the Radzivills alone came with an army numbering between ten and twenty thousand men. The Patses had behind them an almost equivalent force; the powerful Pototskis were coming with no smaller strength; other "kinglets" of Poland, Lithuania, and Russia were coming with forces but slightly inferior. "When wilt thou sail in, O battered ship of my country?" repeated the vice-chancellor, more and more frequently; but he himself had selfish objects in his heart. The magnates, with few exceptions, corrupted to the marrow of their bones, were thinking only of themselves and the greatness of their houses, and were ready at any moment to rouse the tempest of civil war.

The throng of nobles increased daily; and it was evident that when, after the Diet, the election itself would begin, they would surpass even the greatest force of the magnates. But these throngs were incompetent to bring the ship of the Commonwealth into calm waters successfully, for their heads were sunk in darkness and ignorance, and their hearts were for the greater part corrupted. The election therefore gave promise of being prodigious, and no one foresaw that it would end only shabbily, for except Zagloba, even those who worked for the "Pole" could not foresee to what a degree the stupidity of the nobles and the intrigues of the magnates would aid them; not many had hope to carry through such a candidate as Prince Michael. But Zagloba swam in that sea like a fish in water. From the beginning of the Diet he dwelt in the city continually, and was at Ketling's house only when he yearned for his haiduk; but as Basia had lost much joyfulness by reason of Krysia's resolve, Zagloba took her sometimes to the city to let her amuse herself and rejoice her eyes with the sight of the shops.

They went out usually in the morning; and Zagloba brought her back not infrequently late in the evening. On the road and in the city itself the heart of the maiden was rejoiced at sight of the merchandise, the strange people, the many-colored crowds, the splendid troops. Then her eyes would gleam like two coals, her head turn as if on a pivot; she could not gaze sufficiently, nor look around enough, and overwhelmed the old man with questions by the thousand. He answered gladly, for in this way he showed his experience and learning. More than once a gallant company of military surrounded the equipage in which they were riding; the knighthood admired Basia's beauty greatly, her quick wit and resolution, and Zagloba always told them the story of the Tartar, slain with duck-shot, so as to sink them completely in amazement and delight.

A certain time Zagloba and Basia were coming home very late; for the review of Pan Felix Pototski's troops had detained them all day. The night was clear and warm; white mists were hanging over the fields. Zagloba, though always watchful, since in such a concourse of serving-men and soldiers it was necessary to pay careful attention not to strike upon outlaws, had fallen soundly asleep; the driver was dozing also; Basia alone was not sleeping, for through her head were moving thousands of thoughts and pictures. Suddenly the tramp of a number of horses came to her ears. Pulling Zagloba by the sleeve, she said, —

"Horsemen of some kind are pushing on after us."

"What? How? Who?" asked the drowsy Zagloba.

"Horsemen of some kind are coming."

"Oh! they will come up directly. The tramp of horses is to be heard; perhaps some one is going in the same direction – "

"They are robbers, I am sure!"

Basia was sure, for the reason that in her soul she was eager for adventures, – robbers and opportunities for her daring, – so that when Zagloba, puffing and muttering, began to draw out from the seat pistols, which he took with him always for "an occasion," she claimed one for herself.

"I shall not miss the first robber who approaches. Auntie shoots wonderfully with a musket, but she cannot see in the night. I could swear that those men are robbers! Oh, if they would only attack us! Give me the pistol quickly!"

"Well," answered Zagloba, "but you must promise not to fire before I do, and till I say fire. If I give you a weapon, you will be ready to shoot the noble that you see first, without asking, 'Who goes there?' and then a trial will follow."

"I will ask first, 'Who goes there?'"

"But if drinking-men are passing, and hearing a woman's voice, say something impolite?"

"I will thunder at them out of the pistol! Isn't that right?"

"Oh, man, to take such a water-burner to the city! I tell you that you are not to fire without command."

"I will inquire, 'Who goes there?' but so roughly that they will not know me."

"Let it be so, then. Ha! I hear them approaching already. You may be sure that they are solid people, for scoundrels would attack us unawares from the ditch."

Since ruffians, however, really did infest the roads, and adventures were heard of not infrequently, Zagloba commanded the driver not to go among the trees which stood in darkness at the turn of the road, but to halt in a well-lighted place. Meanwhile the four horsemen had approached a number of yards. Then Basia, assuming a bass voice, which to her seemed worthy of a dragoon, inquired threateningly, —

"Who goes there?"

"Why have you stopped on the road?" asked one of the horsemen, who thought evidently that they must have broken some part of the carriage or the harness.

At this voice Basia dropped her pistol and said hurriedly to Zagloba, "Indeed, that is uncle. Oh, for God's sake!"

"What uncle?"

"Makovetski."

"Hei there!" cried Zagloba; "and are you not Pan Makovetski with Pan Volodyovski?"

"Pan Zagloba!" cried the little knight.

"Michael!"

Here Zagloba began to put his legs over the edge of the carriage with great haste; but before he could get one of them over, Volodyovski had sprung from his horse and was at the side of the equipage. Recognizing Basia by the light of the moon, he seized her by both hands and cried, —

"I greet you with all my heart! And where is Panna Krysia, and sister? Are all in good health?"

"In good health, thank God! So you have come at last!" said Basia, with a beating heart. "Is uncle here too? Oh, uncle!"

When she had said this, she seized by the neck Pan Makovetski, who had just come to the carriage; and Zagloba opened his arms meanwhile to Pan Michael. After long greetings came the presentation of Pan Makovetski to Zagloba; then the two travellers gave their horses to attendants and took their places in the carriage. Makovetski and Zagloba occupied the seat of honor; Basia and Pan Michael sat in front.

Brief questions and brief answers followed, as happens usually when people meet after a long absence. Pan Makovetski inquired about his wife; Pan Michael once more about the health of Panna Krysia; then he wondered at Ketling's approaching departure, but he had not time to dwell on that, for he was forced at once to tell of what he had done in the border stanitsa, how he had attacked the ravagers of the horde, how he was homesick, but how wholesome it was to taste his old life.

"It seemed to me," said the little knight, "that the Lubni times had not passed; that we were still together with Pan Yan and Kushel and Vyershul; only when they brought me a pail of water for washing, and gray-haired temples were seen in it, could a man remember that he was not the same as in old times, though, on the other hand, it came to my mind that while the will was the same the man was the same."

"You have struck the point!" replied Zagloba; "it is clear that your wit has recovered on fresh grass, for hitherto you were not so quick. Will is the main thing, and there is no better drug for melancholy."

"That is true, – is true," added Pan Makovetski. "There is a legion of well-sweeps in Michael's stanitsa, for there is a lack of spring water in the neighborhood. I tell you, sir, that when the soldiers begin to make those sweeps squeak at daybreak, your grace would wake up with such a will that you would thank God at once for this alone, that you were living."

"Ah, if I could only be there for even one day!" cried Basia.

"There is one way to go there," said Zagloba, – "marry the captain of the guard."

"Pan Adam will be captain sooner or later," put in the little knight.

"Indeed!" cried Basia, in anger; "I have not asked you to bring me Pan Adam instead of a present."

"I have brought something else, nice sweetmeats. They will be sweet for Panna Basia, and it is bitter there for that poor fellow."

"Then you should have given him the sweets; let him eat them while his mustaches are coming out."

"Imagine to yourself," said Zagloba to Pan Makovetski, "these two are always in that way. Luckily the proverb says, 'Those who wrangle, end in love.'"

Basia made no reply; but Pan Michael, as if waiting for an answer, looked at her small face shone upon by the bright light. It seemed to him so shapely that he thought in spite of himself, "But that rogue is so pretty that she might destroy one's eyes."

Evidently something else must have come to his mind at once, for he turned to the driver and said, "Touch up the horses there with a whip, and drive faster."

The carriage rolled on quickly after those words, so quickly that the travellers sat in silence for some time; and only when they came upon the sand did Pan Michael speak again: "But the departure of Ketling surprises me. And that it should happen to him, too, just before my coming and before the election."

"The English think as much of our election as they do of your coming," answered Zagloba. "Ketling himself is cut from his feet because he must leave us."

Basia had just on her tongue, "Especially Krysia," but something reminded her not to mention this matter nor the recent resolution of Krysia. With the instinct of a woman she divined that the one and the other might touch Pan Michael at the outset; as to pain, something pained her, therefore in spite of all her impulsiveness she held silence.

"Of Krysia's intentions he will know anyhow," thought she; "but evidently it is better not to speak of them now, since Pan Zagloba has not mentioned them with a word."

Pan Michael turned again to the driver, "But drive faster!"

"We left our horses and things at Praga," said Pan Makovetski to Zagloba, "and set out with two men, though it was nightfall, for Michael and I were in a terrible hurry."

"I believe it," answered Zagloba. "Do you see what throngs have come to the capital? Outside the gates are camps and markets, so that it is difficult to pass. People tell also wonderful things of the coming election, which I will repeat at a proper time in the house to you."

Here they began to converse about politics. Zagloba was trying to discover adroitly Makovetski's opinions; at last he turned to Pan Michael and asked without ceremony, "And for whom will you give your vote, Michael?"

But Pan Michael, instead of an answer, started as if roused from sleep, and said, "I am curious to know if they are sleeping, and if we shall see them to-day?"

"They are surely sleeping," answered Basia, with a sweet and as it were drowsy voice. "But they will wake and come surely to greet you and uncle."

"Do you think so?" asked the little knight, with joy; and again he looked at Basia, and again thought involuntarily, "But that rogue is charming in this moonlight."

They were near Ketling's house now, and arrived in a short time. Pani Makovetski and Krysia were asleep; a few of the servants were up, waiting with supper for Basia and Pan Zagloba. All at once there was no small movement in the house; Zagloba gave command to wake more servants to prepare warm food for the guests.

Pan Makovetski wished to go straightway to his wife; but she had heard the unusual noise, and guessing who had come, ran down a moment later with her robe thrown around her, panting, with tears of joy in her eyes, and lips full of smiles; greetings began, embraces and conversation, interrupted by exclamations.

Pan Michael was looking continually at the door, through which Basia had vanished, and in which he hoped any moment to see Krysia, the beloved, radiant with quiet joy, bright, with gleaming eyes, and hair twisted up in a hurry; meanwhile, the Dantzig clock standing in the dining-room ticked and ticked, an hour passed, supper was brought, and the maiden beloved and dear to Pan Michael did not appear in the room.

At last Basia came in, but alone, serious somehow, and gloomy; she approached the table, and taking a light in her hand, turned to Pan Makovetski: "Krysia is somewhat unwell, and will not come; but she begs uncle to come, even near the door, so that she may greet him."

Pan Makovetski rose at once and went out, followed by Basia.

The little knight became terribly gloomy and said, "I did not think that I should fail to see Panna Krysia to-night. Is she really ill?"

"Ei! she is well," answered his sister; "but people are nothing to her now."

"Why is that?"

"Then has his grace, Pan Zagloba, not spoken of her intention?"

"Of what intention, by the wounds of God?"

"She is going to a convent."

Pan Michael began to blink like a man who has not heard all that is said to him; then he changed in the face, stood up, sat down again. In one moment sweat covered his face with drops; then he began to wipe it with his palms. In the room there was deep silence.

"Michael!" said his sister.

But he looked confusedly now on her, now on Zagloba, and said at last in a terrible voice, "Is there some curse hanging over me?"

"Have God in your heart!" cried Zagloba.

CHAPTER XIX

Zagloba and Pani Makovetski divined by that exclamation the secret of the little knight's heart; and when he sprang up suddenly and left the room, they looked at each other with amazement and disquiet, till at last the lady said, "For God's sake go after him! persuade him; comfort him; if not, I will go myself."

"Do not do that," said Zagloba. "There is no need of us there, but Krysia is needed; if he cannot see her, it is better to leave him alone, for untimely comforting leads people to still greater despair."

"I see now, as on my palm, that he was inclined to Krysia. See, I knew that he liked her greatly and sought her company; but that he was so lost in her never came to my head."

"It must be that he returned with a proposition ready, in which he saw his own happiness; meanwhile a thunderbolt, as it were, fell."

"Why did he speak of this to no one, neither to me, nor to you, nor to Krysia herself? Maybe the girl would not have made her vow."

"It is a wonderful thing," said Zagloba; "besides, he confides in me, and trusts my head more than his own; and not merely has he not acknowledged this affection to me, but even said once that it was friendship, nothing more."

"He was always secretive."

"Then though you are his sister, you don't know him. His heart is like the eyes of a sole, on top. I have never met a more outspoken man; but I admit that he has acted differently this time. Are you sure that he said nothing to Krysia?"

"God of power! Krysia is mistress of her own will, for my husband as guardian has said to her, 'If the man is worthy and of honorable blood, you may overlook his property.' If Michael had spoken to her before his departure, she would have answered yes or no, and he would have known what to look for."

"True, because this has struck him unexpectedly. Now give your woman's wit to this business."

"What is wit here? Help is needed."

"Let him take Basia."

"But if, as is evident, he prefers that one – Ha! if this had only come into my head."

"It is a pity that it did not."

"How could it when it did not enter the head of such a Solomon as you?"

"And how do you know that?"

"You advised Ketling."

"I? God is my witness, I advised no man. I said that he was inclined to her, and it was true; I said that he was a worthy cavalier, for that was and is true; but I leave match-making to women. My lady, as things are, half the Commonwealth is resting on my head. Have I even time to think of anything but public affairs? Often I have not a minute to put a spoonful of food in my mouth."

"Advise us this time, for God's mercy! All around I hear only this, that there is no head beyond yours."

"People are talking of this head of mine without ceasing; they might rest awhile. As to counsels, there are two: either let Michael take Basia, or let Krysia change her intention; an intention is not a vow."

Now Pan Makovetski came in; his wife told him everything straightway. The noble was greatly grieved, for he loved Pan Michael uncommonly and valued him; but for the time he could think out nothing.

"If Krysia will be obstinate," said he, rubbing his forehead, "how can you use even arguments in such an affair?"

"Krysia will be obstinate!" said Pani Makovetski. "Krysia has always been that way."

"What was in Michael's head that he did not make sure before departing?" asked Pan Makovetski. "As he left matters, something worse might have happened; another might have won the girl's heart in his absence."

"In that case, she would not have chosen the cloister at once," said Pani Makovetski. "However, she is free."

"True!" answered Makovetski.

But already it was dawning in Zagloba's head. If the secret of Krysia and Pan Michael had been known to him, all would have been clear to him at once; but without that knowledge it was really hard to understand anything. Still, the quick wit of the man began to break through the mist, and to divine the real reason and intention of Krysia and the despair of Pan Michael. After a while he felt sure that Ketling was involved in what had happened. His supposition lacked only certainty; he determined, therefore, to go to Michael and examine him more closely. On the road alarm seized him, for he thought thus to himself, —

"There is much of my work in this. I wanted to quaff mead at the wedding of Basia and Michael; but I am not sure that instead of mead, I have not provided sour beer, for now Michael will return to his former decision, and imitating Krysia, will put on the habit."

Here a chill came on Zagloba; so he hastened his steps, and in a moment was in Pan Michael's room. The little knight was pacing up and down like a wild beast in a cage. His forehead was terribly wrinkled, his eyes glassy; he was suffering dreadfully. Seeing Zagloba, he stopped on a sudden before him, and placing his hands on his breast, cried, —

"Tell me the meaning of all this!"

"Michael!" said Zagloba, "consider how many girls enter convents each year; it is a common thing. Some go in spite of their parents, trusting that the Lord Jesus will be on their side; but what wonder in this case, when the girl is free?"

"There is no longer any secret!" cried Pan Michael. "She is not free, for she promised me her love and hand before I left here."

"Ha!" said Zagloba; "I did not know that."

"It is true," repeated the little knight.

"Maybe she will listen to persuasion."

"She cares for me no longer; she would not see me," cried Pan Michael, with deep sorrow. "I hastened hither day and night, and she does not even want to see me. What have I done? What sins are weighing on me that the anger of God pursues me; that the wind drives me like a withered leaf? One is dead; another is going to the cloister. God Himself took both from me; it is clear that I am accursed. There is mercy for every man, there is love for every man, except me alone."

Zagloba trembled in his soul, lest the little knight, carried away by sorrow, might begin to blaspheme again, as once he blasphemed after the death of Anusia; therefore, to turn his mind in another direction, he called out, "Michael, do not doubt that there is mercy upon you also; and besides, you cannot know what is waiting for you to-morrow. Perhaps that same Krysia, remembering your loneliness, will change her intention and keep her word to you. Secondly, listen to me, Michael. Is not this a consolation that God Himself, our Merciful Father, takes those doves from you, and not a man walking upon the earth? Tell me yourself if this is not better?"

In answer the little knight's mustaches began to tremble terribly; the noise of gritting came from his teeth, and he cried with a suppressed and broken voice, "If it were a living man! Ha! Should such a man be found, I would – Vengeance would remain."

"But as it is, prayer remains," said Zagloba. "Hear me, old friend; no man will give you better counsel. Maybe God Himself will change everything yet for the better. I myself – you know – wished another for you; but seeing your pain, I suffer together with you, and together with you will pray to God to comfort you, and incline the heart of that harsh lady to you again."

When he had said this, Zagloba began to wipe away tears; they were tears of sincere friendship and sorrow. Had it been in the power of the old man, he would have undone at that moment everything that he had done to set Krysia aside, and would have been the first to cast her into Pan Michael's arms.

"Listen," said he, after a while; "speak once more with Krysia; take your lament to her, your unendurable pain, and may God bless you! The heart in her must be of stone if she does not take pity on you; but I hope that she will. The habit is a praiseworthy thing, but not when made of injustice to others. Tell her that. You will see – Ei, Michael, to-day you are weeping, and to-morrow perhaps we shall be drinking at the betrothal. I am sure that will be the outcome. The young lady grew lonely, and therefore the habit came to her head. She will go to a cloister, but to one in which you will be ringing for the christening. Perhaps too she is affected a little with hypochondria, and mentioned the habit only to throw dust in our eyes. In every case, you have not heard of the cloister from her own lips, and if God grants, you will not. Ha, I have it! You agreed on a secret; she did not wish to betray it, and is throwing a blind in our eyes. As true as life, nothing else but woman's cunning."

Zagloba's words acted like balsam on the suffering heart of Pan Michael: hope entered him again; his eyes were filled with tears. For a long time he could not speak; but when he had restrained his tears he threw himself into the arms of his friend and said, "But will it be as you say?"

"I would bend the heavens for you. It will be as I say! Do you remember that I have ever been a false prophet? Do you not trust in my experience and wit?"

"You cannot even imagine how I love that lady. Not that I have forgotten the beloved dead one; I pray for her every day. But to this one my heart has grown fixed like fungus to a tree; she is my love. What have I thought of her away off there in the grasses, morning and evening and midday! At last I began to talk to myself, since I had no confidant. As God is dear to me, when I had to chase after the horde in the reeds, I was thinking of her when rushing at full speed."

"I believe it. From weeping for a certain maiden in my youth one of my eyes flowed out, and what of it did not flow out was covered with a cataract."

"Do not wonder; I came here, the breath barely in my body; the first word I hear, – the cloister. But still I have trust in persuasion and in her heart and her word. How did you state it? 'A habit is good' – but made of what?"

"But not when made of injustice to others."

"Splendidly said! How is it that I have never been able to make maxims? In the stanitsa it would have been a ready amusement. Alarm sits in me continually, but you have given me consolation. I agreed with her, it is true, that the affair should remain a secret; therefore it is likely that the maiden might speak of the habit only for appearance' sake. You brought forward another splendid argument, but I cannot remember it. You have given me great consolation."

"Then come to me, or give command to bring the decanter to this place. It is good after the journey."

They went, and sat drinking till late at night.

Next day Pan Michael arrayed his body in fine garments and his face in seriousness, armed himself with all the arguments which came to his own head, and with those which Zagloba had given him; thus equipped, he went to the dining-room, where all met usually at meal-time. Of the whole company only Krysia was absent, but she did not let people wait for her long; barely had the little knight swallowed two spoonfuls of soup when through the open door the rustle of a robe was heard, and the maiden came in.

She entered very quickly, rather rushed in. Her cheeks were burning; her lids were dropped; in her face were mingled fear and constraint. Approaching Pan Michael, she gave him both hands, but did not raise her eyes at all, and when he began to kiss those hands with eagerness, she grew very pale; besides, she did not find one word for greeting. But his heart filled with love, alarm, and rapture at sight of her face, delicate and changeful as a wonder-working image, at sight of that form shapely and beautiful, from which the warmth of recent sleep was still beating; he was moved even by that confusion and that fear depicted in her face.

"Dearest flower!" thought he, in his soul, "why do you fear? I would give even my life and blood for you." But he did not say this aloud, he only pressed his pointed mustaches so long to her hands that red traces were left on them. Basia, looking at all this, gathered over her forehead her yellow forelock of purpose, so that no one might notice her emotion; but no one gave attention to her at that time; all were looking at the pair, and a vexatious silence followed.