Pan Michael: An Historical Novel of Poland, the Ukraine, and Turkey
Page 16
CHAPTER XV.
After they had left the castle, Ketling needed to collect his thoughtsand shake himself free from the astonishment into which Krysia's actionhad brought him. He took farewell of her and Zagloba in front of thegate, and they went to their lodgings. Basia and Pani Makovetski hadreturned already from the sick lady; and Pan Michael's sister greetedZagloba with the following words,--
"I have a letter from my husband, who remains yet with Michael at thestanitsa. They are both well, and promise to be here soon. There is aletter to you from Michael, and to me only a postscript in my husband'sletter. My husband writes also that the dispute with the Jubris aboutone of Basia's estates has ended happily. Now the time of provincialdiets is approaching. They say that in those parts Pan Sobieski's namehas immense weight, and that the local diet will vote as he wishes.Every man living is preparing for the election; but our people will allbe with the hetman. It is warm there already, and rains are falling.With us in Verhutka the buildings were burned. A servant dropped fire;and because there was wind--"
"Where is Michael's letter to me?" inquired Zagloba, interrupting thetorrent of news given out at one breath by the worthy lady.
"Here it is," said she, giving him a letter. "Because there was wind,and the people were at the fair--"
"How were the letters brought here?" asked Zagloba, again.
"They were taken to Ketling's house, and a servant brought them here.Because, as I say, there was wind--"
"Do you wish to listen, my benefactress?"
"Of course, I beg earnestly."
Zagloba broke the seal and began to read, first in an undertone, forhimself, then aloud for all,--
"I send this first letter to you; but God grant that there will not beanother, for posts are uncertain in this region, and I shall soonpresent myself personally among you. It is pleasant here in the field,but still my heart draws me tremendously toward you, and there is noend to thoughts and memories, wherefore solitude is dearer to me inthis place than company. The promised work has passed, for the hordessit quietly, only smaller bands are rioting in the fields; these alsowe fell upon twice with such fortune that not a witness of their defeatgot away."
"Oh, they warmed them!" cried Basia, with delight. "There is nothinghigher than the calling of a soldier!"
"Doroshenko's rabble" (continued Zagloba) "would like to have an uproarwith us, but they cannot in any way without the horde. The prisonersconfess that a larger chambul will not move from any quarter, which Ibelieve, for if there was to be anything like this it would have takenplace already, since the grass has been green for a week past, andthere is something with which to feed horses. In ravines bits of snoware still hiding here and there; but the open steppes are green, and awarm wind is blowing, from which the horses begin to shed their hair,and this is the surest sign of spring. I have sent already for leave,which may come any day, and then I shall start at once. Pan Adamsucceeds me in keeping guard, at which there is so little labor thatMakovetski and I have been fox-hunting whole days,--for simpleamusement, as the fur is useless when spring is near. There are manybustards, and my servant shot a pelican. I embrace you with my wholeheart; I kiss the hands of my sister, and those of Panna Krysia, towhose good-will I commit myself most earnestly, imploring God speciallyto let me find her unchanged, and to receive the same consolation. Givean obeisance from me to Panna Basia. Pan Adam has vented the angerroused by his rejection at Mokotov on the backs of ruffians, but thereis still some in his mind, it is evident. He is not wholly relieved. Icommit you to God and His most holy love.
"P. S. I bought a lot of very elegant ermine from passing Armenians; Ishall bring this as a gift to Panna Krysia, and for your haiduk therewill be Turkish sweetmeats."
"Let Pan Michael eat them himself; I am not a child," said Basia, whosecheeks flushed as if from sudden pain.
"Then you will not be glad to see him? Are you angry at him?" askedZagloba.
But Basia merely muttered something in low tones, and really settleddown in anger, thinking some of how lightly Pan Michael was treatingher, and a little about the bustard and that pelican, which roused hercuriosity specially.
Krysia sat there during the reading with closed eyes, turned from thelight; in truth, it was lucky that those present could not see herface, for they would have known at once that something uncommon washappening. That which took place in the church, and the letter of PanVolodyovski, were for her like two blows of a club. The wonderful dreamhad fled; and from that moment the maiden stood face to face with areality as crushing as misfortune. She could not collect her thoughtsto wait, and indefinite, hazy feelings were storming in her heart. PanMichael, with his letter, with the promise of his coming, and with abundle of ermine, seemed to her so flat that he was almost repulsive.On the other hand, Ketling had never been so dear. Dear to her was thevery thought of him, dear his words, dear his face, dear hismelancholy. And now she must go from love, from homage, from him towardwhom her heart is struggling, her hands stretching forth, in endlesssorrow and suffering, to give her soul and her body to another, who forthis alone, that he is another, becomes wellnigh hateful to her.
"I cannot, I cannot!" cried Krysia, in her soul. And she felt thatwhich a captive feels whose hands men are binding; but she herself hadbound her own hands, for in her time she might have told Pan Michaelthat she would be his sister, nothing more.
Now the kiss came to her memory,--that kiss received and returned,--andshame, with contempt for her own self, seized her. Was she in love withPan Michael that day? No! In her heart there was no love, and exceptsympathy there was nothing in her heart at that time but curiosity andgiddiness, masked with the show of sisterly affection. Now she hasdiscovered for the first time that between kissing from great love andkissing from impulse of blood, there is as much difference as betweenan angel and a devil. Anger as well as contempt was rising in Krysia;then pride began to storm in her and against Pan Michael. He too was atfault; why should all the penance, contrition, and disappointment fallupon her? Why should he too not taste the bitter bread? Has she not theright to say when he returns, "I was mistaken; I mistook pity for love.You also were mistaken; now leave me, as I have left you."
Suddenly fear seized her by the hair,--fear before the vengeance of theterrible man; fear not for herself, but for the head of the loved one,whom vengeance would strike without fail. In imagination she sawKetling standing up to the struggle with that ominous swordsman beyondswordsmen, and then falling as a flower falls cut by a scythe; she seeshis blood, his pale face, his eyes closed for the ages, and hersuffering goes beyond every measure. She rose with all speed and wentto her chamber to vanish from the eyes of people, so as not to hearconversation concerning Pan Michael and his approaching return. In herheart rose greater and greater animosity against the little knight. ButRemorse and Regret pursued her, and did not leave her in time ofprayer; they sat on her bed when, overcome with weakness, she lay init, and began to speak to her.
"Where is he?" asked Regret. "He has not returned yet; he is walkingthrough the night and wringing his hands. Thou wouldst incline theheavens for him, thou wouldst give him thy life's blood; but thou hastgiven him poison to drink, thou hast thrust a knife through his heart."
"Had it not been for thy giddiness, had it not been for thy wish tolure every man whom thou meetest," said Remorse, "all might bedifferent; but now despair alone remains to thee. It is thy fault,--thygreat fault! There is no help for thee; there is no rescue for theenow,--nothing but shame and pain and weeping."
"How he knelt at thy feet in the church!" said Regret, again. "It is awonder that thy heart did not burst when he looked into thy eyes andbegged of thee pity. It was just of thee to give pity to a stranger,but to the loved one, the dearest, what? God bless him! God solacehim!"
"Were it not for thy giddiness, that dearest one might depart in joy,"repeated Remorse; "thou mightest walk at his side, as his chosen one,his wife--"
"And be with him forever," added
Regret.
"It is thy fault," said Remorse.
"Weep, O Krysia," cried Regret.
"Thou canst not wipe away that fault!" said Remorse, again.
"Do what thou pleasest, but console him," repeated Regret.
"Volodyovski will slay him!" answered Remorse, at once.
Cold sweat covered Krysia, and she sat on the bed. Bright moonlightfell into the room, which seemed somehow weird and terrible in thosewhite rays.
"What is that?" thought Krysia. "There Basia is sleeping. I see her,for the moon is shining in her face; and I know not when she came, whenshe undressed and lay down. And I have not slept one moment; but mypoor head is of no use, that is clear." Thus meditating, she lay downagain; but Regret and Remorse sat on the edge of her bed, exactly liketwo goddesses, who were diving in at will through the rays ofmoonlight, or sweeping out again through its silvery abysses.
"I shall not sleep to-night," said Krysia to herself, and she began tothink about Ketling, and to suffer more and more.
Suddenly the sorrowful voice of Basia was heard in the stillness of thenight, "Krysia!"
"Are you not sleeping?"
"No for I dreamed that some Turk pierced Pan Michael with an arrow. OJesus! a deceiving dream. But a fever is just shaking me. Let us saythe Litany together, that God may avert misfortune."
The thought flew through Krysia's head like lightning, "God grant someone to shoot him!" But she was astonished immediately at her ownwickedness; therefore, though it was necessary for her to getsuperhuman power to pray at that particular moment for the return ofPan Michael, still she answered,--
"Very well, Basia."
Then both rose from their beds, and kneeling on their naked knees onthe floor, began to say the Litany. Their voices responded to eachother, now rising and now falling; you would have said that the chamberwas changed into the cell of a cloister in which two white nuns wererepeating their nightly prayers.