CHAPTER XIII.
A few days later Zagloba wrote a letter to Pan Yan with the followingconclusion, "If I do not go home before election, be not astonished.This will not happen through my lack of good wishes for you; but as theDevil does not sleep, I do not wish that instead of a bird somethinguseless should remain in my hand. It will come out badly if whenMichael returns, I shall not be able to say to him, 'That one isengaged, and the haiduk is free.' Everything is in the power of God;but this is my thought, that it will not be necessary then to urgeMichael, nor to make long preparations, and that you will come when theengagement is made. Meanwhile, remembering Ulysses, I shall be forcedto use stratagems and exaggerate more than once, which for me is noteasy, since all my life I have preferred truth to every delight, andwas glad to be nourished by it. Still, for Michael and the haiduk Iwill take this on my head, for they are pure gold. Now I embrace youboth with the boys, and press you to my heart, commending you to theMost High God."
When he had finished writing, Zagloba sprinkled sand on the paper; thenhe struck it with his hand, read it once more, holding it at a distancefrom his eyes; then he folded it, took his seal ring from his finger,moistened it, and prepared to seal the letter, at which occupationKetling found him.
"A good day to your grace!"
"Good-day, good-day!" said Zagloba. "The weather, thanks be to God, isexcellent, and I am just sending a messenger to Pan Yan."
"Send an obeisance from me."
"I have done so already. I said at once to myself, 'It is necessary tosend a greeting from Ketling. Both of them will be glad to receive goodnews.' It is evident that I have sent a greeting from you, since I havewritten a whole epistle touching you and the young ladies."
"How is that?" inquired Ketling.
Zagloba placed his palms on his knees, which he began to tap with hisfingers; then he bent his head, and looking from under his brows atKetling, said, "My Ketling, it is not necessary to be a prophet to knowthat where flint and steel are, sparks will flash sooner or later. Youare a beauty above beauties, and even you would not find fault with theyoung ladies."
Ketling was really confused, "I should have to be wall-eyed or be awild barbarian altogether," said he, "if I did not see their beauty,and do homage to it."
"But, you see," continued Zagloba, looking with a smile on the blushingface of Ketling, "if you are not a barbarian, it is not right for youto have both in view, for only Turks act like that."
"How can you suppose--"
"I do not suppose; I only say it to myself. Ha! traitor! you have sotalked to them of love that pallor is on Krysia's lips this third day.It is no wonder; you are a beauty. When I was young myself, I used tostand in the frost under the window of a certain black brow; she waslike Panna Krysia; and I remember how I used to sing,--
'You are sleeping there after the day; And I am here thrumming my lute, Hoets! Hoets!'
If you wish, I will give you a song, or compose an entirely new one,for I have no lack of genius. Have you observed that Panna Krysiareminds one somewhat of Panna Billevich, except that Panna Billevichhad hair like flax and had no down on her lip? But there are men whofind superior beauty in that, and think it a charm. She looks withgreat pleasure on you. I have just written so to Pan Yan. Is it nottrue that she is like the former Panna Billevich?"
"I have not noticed the likeness, but it may be. In figure and statureshe recalls her."
"Now listen to what I say. I am telling family secrets directly; but asyou are a friend, you ought to know them. Be on your guard not to feedVolodyovski with ingratitude, for I and Pani Makovetski havepredestined one of those maidens to him."
Here Zagloba looked quickly and persistently into Ketling's eyes, andhe grew pale and inquired, "Which one?"
"Panna Krysia," answered Zagloba, slowly. And pushing out his lowerlip, he began to blink from under his frowning brow with his one seeingeye. Ketling was silent, and silent so long that at last Zaglobainquired, "What do you say to this?"
And Ketling answered with changed voice, but with emphasis, "You may besure that I shall not indulge my heart to Michael's harm."
"Are you certain?"
"I have suffered much in life; my word of a knight that I will notindulge it."
Then Zagloba opened his arms to him: "Ketling, indulge your heart;indulge it, poor man, as much as you like, for I only wanted to tryyou. Not Panna Krysia, but the haiduk, have we predestined to Michael."
Ketling's face grew bright with a sincere and deep joy, and seizingZagloba in his embrace, he held him long, then inquired, "Is it certainalready that they are in love?"
"But who would not be in love with my haiduk,--who?" asked Zagloba.
"Then has the betrothal taken place?"
"There has been no betrothal, for Michael has barely freed himself frommourning; but there will be,--put that on my head. The maiden, thoughshe evades like a weasel, is very much inclined to him, for with herthe sabre is the main thing."
"I have noticed that, as God is dear to me!" interrupted Ketling,radiant.
"Ha! you noticed it? Michael is weeping yet for the other; but if anyone pleases his spirit, it is certainly the haiduk, for she is mostlike the dead one, though she cuts less with her eyes, for she isyounger. Everything is arranging itself well. I am the guarantee thatthese two weddings will be at election-time."
Ketling, saying nothing, embraced Zagloba again, and placed hisbeautiful face against his red cheeks, so that the old man panted andasked, "Has Panna Krysia sewed herself into your skin like thatalready?"
"I know not,--I know not," answered Ketling; "but I know this, thatbarely had the heavenly vision of her delighted my eyes when I said atonce to myself that she was the one woman whom my suffering heart mightlove yet; and that same night I drove sleep away with sighs, andyielded myself to pleasant yearnings. Thenceforth she took possessionof my being, as a queen does of an obedient and loyal country. Whetherthis is love or something else, I know not."
"But you know that it is neither a cap nor three yards of cloth fortrousers, nor a saddle-girth, nor a crouper, nor sausage and eggs, nora decanter of gorailka. If you are certain of this, then ask Krysiaabout the rest; or if you wish, I will ask her."
"Do not do that," said Ketling, smiling. "If I am to drown, let it seemto me, even a couple of days yet, that I am swimming."
"I see that the Scots are fine men in battle; but in love they areuseless. Against women, as against the enemy, impetus is needful. 'Icame, I saw, I conquered!' that was my maxim."
"In time, if my most ardent desires are to be accomplished, perhaps Ishall ask you for friendly assistance; though I am naturalized, and ofnoble blood, still my name is unknown here, and I am not sure that PaniMakovetski--"
"Pani Makovetski?" interrupted Zagloba. "Have no fear about her. PaniMakovetski is a regular music-box. As I wind her, so will she play. Iwill go at her immediately; I must forewarn her, you know, so that shemay not look awry at your approaches to the young lady. To such adegree is your Scottish method one, and ours another, I will not make adeclaration straightway in your name, of course; I will say only thatthe maiden has taken your eye, and that it would be well if from thatflour there should be bread. As God is dear to me, I will go at once;have no fear, for in every case I am at liberty to say what I like."
And though Ketling detained him, Zagloba rose and went out. On the wayhe met Basia, rushing along as usual, and said to her, "Do you knowthat Krysia has captured Ketling completely?"
"He is not the first man!" answered Basia.
"And you are not angry about it?"
"Ketling is a doll!--a pleasant cavalier, but a doll! I have struck myknee against the wagon-tongue; that is what troubles me."
Here Basia, bending forward, began to rub her knee, looking meanwhileat Zagloba, and he said, "For God's sake, be careful! Whither are youflying now?"
"To Krysia."
"But
what is she doing?"
"She? For some time past she keeps kissing me, and rubs up to me like acat."
"Do not tell her that she has captured Ketling."
"Ah! but can I hold out?"
Zagloba knew well that Basia would not hold out, and it was for thatvery reason that he forbade her. He went on, therefore, greatlydelighted with his own cunning, and Basia fell like a bomb intoKrysia's chamber.
"I have smashed my knee; and Ketling is dead in love with you!" criedshe, right on the threshold. "I did not see the pole sticking out atthe carriage-house--and such a blow! There were flashes in my eyes, butthat is nothing. Pan Zagloba begged me to say nothing to you aboutKetling. I did not say that I would not; I have told you at once. Andyou were pretending to give him to me! Never fear; I know you-- My kneepains me a little yet. I was not giving Pan Adam to you, but Ketling.Oho! He is walking through the whole house now, holding his head andtalking to himself. Well done, Krysia; well done! Scot, Scot! kot,kot!"[13]
Here Basia began to push her finger toward the eye of her friend.
"Basia!" exclaimed Panna Krysia.
"Scot, Scot! kot, kot!"
"How unfortunate I am!" cried Krysia, on a sudden, and burst intotears.
After a while Basia began to console her; but it availed nothing, andthe maiden sobbed as never before in her life. In fact, no one in allthat house knew how unhappy she was. For some days she had been in afever; her face had grown pale; her eyes had sunk; her breast wasmoving with short, broken breath. Something wonderful had taken placein her; she had dropped, as it were, into extreme weakness, and thechange had come not gradually, slowly, but on a sudden. Like awhirlwind, like a storm, it had swept her away; like a flame, it hadheated her blood; like lightning, it had flashed on her imagination.She could not, even for a moment, resist that power which was somercilessly sudden. Calmness had left her. Her will was like a birdwith broken wings.
Krysia herself knew not whether she loved Ketling or hated him; and ameasureless fear seized her in view of that question. But she felt thather heart beat so quickly only through him; that her head was thinkingthus helplessly only through him; that in her and above her it was fullof him,--and no means of defence. Not to love him was easier than notto think of him, for her eyes were delighted with the sight of him, herears were lost in listening to his voice, her whole soul was absorbedby him. Sleep did not free her from that importunate man, for barelyhad she closed her eyes when his head bent above her, whispering, "Iwould rather have thee than a kingdom, than a sceptre, than fame, thanwealth." And that head was near, so near that even in the darknessblood-red blushes covered the face of the maiden. She was a Russianwith hot blood; certain fires rose in her breast,--fires of which shehad not known till that time that they could exist, and from the ardorof which she was seized with fear and shame, and a great weakness and acertain faintness at once painful and pleasant. Night brought her norest. A weariness continually increasing gained control of her, as ifafter great toil.
"Krysia! Krysia! what is happening to thee?" cried she to herself. Butshe was as if in a daze and in unceasing distraction. Nothing hadhappened yet; nothing had taken place. So far she had not exchanged twowords with Ketling alone; still, the thought of him had taken hold ofher thoroughly; still, a certain instinct whispered unceasingly, "Guardthyself! Avoid him." And she avoided him.
Krysia had not thought yet of her agreement with Pan Michael, and thatwas her luck; she had not thought specially, because so far nothing hadtaken place, and because she thought of no one,--thought neither ofherself nor of others, but only of Ketling. She concealed this too inher deepest soul; and the thought that no one suspected what was takingplace in her, that no one was occupied with her and Ketling at the sametime, brought her no small consolation. All at once the words of Basiaconvinced her that it was otherwise,--that people were looking at themalready, connecting them in thought, divining the position. Hence thedisturbance, the shame and pain, taken together, overcame her will, andshe wept like a little child.
But Basia's words were only the beginning of those various hints,significant glances, blinking of eyes, shaking of heads, finally, ofthose double meaning phrases which Krysia must endure. This beganduring dinner. Pan Michael's sister turned her gaze from Krysia toKetling, and from Ketling to Krysia, which she had not done hitherto.Pan Zagloba coughed significantly. At times the conversation wasinterrupted,--it was unknown wherefore; silence followed, and onceduring such an interval Basia, with dishevelled hair, cried out to thewhole table,--
"I know something, but I won't tell!"
Krysia blushed instantly, and then grew pale at once, as if someterrible danger had passed near her; Ketling too bent his head. Bothfelt perfectly that that related to them, and though they avoidedconversation with each other, so that people might not look at them,still it was clear to both that something was rising between them; thatsome undefined community of confusion was in process of creation; thatit would unite them and at the same time keep them apart, for by itthey lost freedom completely, and could be no longer ordinary friendsto each other. Happily for them, no one gave attention to Basia'swords. Pan Zagloba was preparing to go to the city and return with anumerous company of knights; all were intent on that event.
In fact, Ketling's house was gleaming with light in the evening;between ten and twenty officers came with music, which the hospitablehost provided for the amusement of the ladies. Dancing of course therecould not be, for it was Lent, and Ketling's mourning was in the way;but they listened to the music, and were entertained with conversation.The ladies were dressed splendidly. Pani Makovetski appeared inOriental silk. The haiduk was arrayed in various colors, and attractedthe eyes of the military with her rosy face and bright hair, whichdropped at times over her eyes; she roused laughter with the decisionof her speech, and astonished with her manners, in which Cossack daringwas combined with unaffectedness.
Krysia, whose mourning for her father was at an end, wore a white robetrimmed with silver. The knights compared her, some to Juno, others toDiana; but none came too near her; no man twirled his mustache, struckhis heels, or cast glances; no one looked at her with flashing eyes orbegan a conversation about love. But soon she noticed that those wholooked at her with admiration and homage looked afterward at Ketling;that some, on approaching him, pressed his hand, as if congratulatinghim and giving him good wishes; that he shrugged his shoulders andspread out his hands, as if in denial. Krysia, who by nature waswatchful and keen, was nearly certain that they were talking to him ofher, that they considered her as almost his affianced; and since shecould not see that Pan Zagloba whispered in the ear of each man, shewas at a loss to know whence these suppositions came. "Have I somethingwritten on my forehead?" thought she, with alarm. She was ashamed andanxious. And then even words began to fly to her through the air, as ifnot to her, but still aloud. "Fortunate Ketling!" "He was born in acaul." "No wonder, for he is a beauty!" and similar words.
Other polite cavaliers, wishing to entertain her and say somethingpleasant, spoke of Ketling, praising him beyond measure, exalting hisbravery, his kindness, his elegant manners, and ancient lineage.Krysia, whether willing or unwilling, had to listen, and involuntarilyher eyes sought him of whom men were talking to her, and at times theymet his eyes. Then the charm seized her with new force, and withoutknowing it, she was delighted at the sight of him; for how differentwas Ketling from all those rugged soldier-forms! "A king's son amonghis attendants," thought Krysia, looking at that noble, aristocratichead and at those ambitious eyes, full of a certain inborn melancholy,and on that forehead, shaded by rich golden hair. Her heart began tosink and languish, as if that head was the dearest on earth to her.Ketling saw this, and not wishing to increase her confusion, did notapproach, as if another were sitting by her side. If she had been aqueen, he could not have surrounded her with greater honor and higherattention. In speaking to her, he inclined his head and pushed back onefoot, as if in sign that he was ready to kneel at any moment; he spokewith digni
ty, never jestingly, though with Basia, for example, he wasglad to jest. In intercourse with Krysia, besides the greatest respectthere was rather a certain shade of melancholy full of tenderness.Thanks to that respect, no other man permitted himself either a wordtoo explicit, or a jest too bold, as if the conviction had been fixedupon every one that in dignity and birth she was higher than allothers,--a lady with whom there was never politeness enough.
Krysia was heartily grateful to him for this. In general, the eveningpassed anxiously for her, but sweetly. When midnight approached, themusicians stopped playing, the ladies took farewell of the company, andamong the knights goblets began to make the round frequently, and therefollowed a noisier entertainment, in which Zagloba assumed the dignityof hetman.
Basia went upstairs joyous as a bird, for she had amused herselfgreatly. Before she knelt down to pray she began to play tricks andimitate various guests; at last she said to Krysia, clapping herhands,--
"It is perfect that your Ketling has come! At least, there will be nolack of soldiers. Oho! only let Lent pass, and I will dance to kill.We'll have fun. And at your betrothal to Ketling, and at your wedding,well, if I don't turn the house over, let the Tartars take me captive!What if they should take us really! To begin with, there would be-- Ha!Ketling is good! He will bring musicians for you; but with you I shallenjoy them. He will bring you new wonders, one after another, until hedoes this--"
Then Basia threw herself on her knees suddenly before Krysia, andencircling her waist with her arms, began to speak, imitating the lowvoice of Ketling: "Your ladyship! I so love you that I cannot breathe.I love you on foot and on horseback. I love you fasting and afterbreakfast. I love you for the ages and as the Scots love. Will you bemine?"
"Basia, I shall be angry!" cried Krysia. But instead of growing angry,she caught Basia in her arras, and while trying, as it were, to lifther, she began to kiss her eyes.