The Deluge: An Historical Novel of Poland, Sweden, and Russia. Vol. 2 (of 2)

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  CHAPTER XL.

  July 1, between Povanski and the settlement afterward called Marymont,was celebrated a great field Mass, which ten thousand men of thequarter-soldiers heard with attentive mind. The king made a vow that incase of victory he would build a church to the Most Holy Lady.Dignitaries, the hetmans, the knights made vows, and even simplesoldiers, following the example, each according to his means, for thiswas to be the day of the final storm.

  After the Mass each of the leaders moved to his own command. Sapyehatook his position opposite the Church of the Holy Ghost, which at thattime was outside the walls; but because it was the key to the walls, itwas greatly strengthened by the Swedes, and occupied in fitting mannerby the troops. Charnyetski was to capture Dantzig House, for the rearwall of that building formed a part of the city wall, and by passingthrough the building it was possible to reach the city. PyotrOpalinski, the voevoda of Podlyasye, with men from Great Poland andMazovia, was to attack from the Cracow suburbs and the Vistula. Thequarter-regiments were to attack the gates of New City. There were somany men that they almost exceeded the approaches to the walls; theentire plain, all the neighboring suburban villages and the meadowswere overflowed with a sea of soldiers. Beyond the men were whitetents, after the tents wagons far away; the eye was lost in the bluedistance before it could reach the end of that swarm.

  Those legions were standing in perfect readiness, with weapons pointforward, and one foot in advance for the run; they were ready at anymoment to rush to the breaches made by the guns of heavy calibre, andespecially by Zamoyski's great guns. The guns did not cease to play fora moment; the storm was deferred only because they were waiting for thefinal answer of Wittemberg to the letter which the grand chancellorKorytsinski had sent him. When about midday the officer returned with arefusal, the ominous trumpets rang out around the city, and the stormbegan.

  The armies of the kingdom under the hetmans, Charnyetski's men, theregiments of the king, the infantry regiments of Zamoyski, theLithuanians of Sapyeha, and the legions of the general militia rushedtoward the walls like a swollen river. But from behind the wallsbloomed out against them rolls of white smoke and darts of flame; heavycannon, arquebuses, double-barrelled guns, muskets thunderedsimultaneously; the earth was shaken in its foundations. The ballsbroke into that throng of men, ploughed long furrows in it; but the menran on and tore up to the fortress, regarding neither fire nor death.Clouds of powder smoke hid the sun.

  Each attacked furiously what was nearest him,--the hetmans the gates ofNew City; Charnyetski, Dantzig House; Sapyeha with the Lithuanians, theChurch of the Holy Ghost; the Mazovians and men of Great Poland, theCracow suburbs.

  The heaviest work fell to the last-mentioned men, for the palaces andhouses along the Cracow suburbs were turned into fortresses. But thatday such fury of battle had seized the Mazovians that nothing couldstand before their onset. They took by storm house after house, palaceafter palace; they fought in windows, in doors, in passages.

  After the capture of one house, before the blood was dry on their handsand faces, they rushed to another; again a hand-to-hand battle, andagain they rushed farther. The private regiments vied with the generalmilitia, and the general militia with the infantry. They had beencommanded before advancing to the storm to carry at their breastsbundles of unripe grain to ward off the bullets, but in the ardor andfrenzy of battle they hurled aside every defence, and ran forward withbare bosoms. In the midst of a bloody struggle the chapel of the TsarShuiski and the lordly palace of the Konyetspolskis were captured. TheSwedes were destroyed to the last man in the smaller buildings, in thestables of the magnates, in the gardens descending to the Vistula. Nearthe Kazanovski Palace the Swedish infantry tried to make a stand in thestreet, and reinforced from the walls of the palace, from the churchand the bell-tower of the Bernardines, which was turned into a strongfortress, they received the attack with a cutting fire.

  But the hail of bullets did not stop the attack for a moment; and thenobles, with the cry of "Mazovians victorious!" rushed with sabres intothe centre of the quadrangle; after them came the land infantry,servants armed with poles, pickaxes, and scythes. The quadrangle wasbroken in a twinkle, and hewing began. Swedes and Poles were so mingledtogether that they formed one gigantic mass, which squirmed, twisted,and rolled in its own blood between the Kazanovski Palace, the house ofRadzeyovski, and the Cracow gate.

  But new legions of warriors breathing blood came on continually, like afoaming river, from the direction of the Cracow gate. The Swedishinfantry was cut to pieces at last, and then began that famous storm ofthe Kazanovski Palace and the Bernardines' Church which in great partdecided the fate of the day.

  Zagloba commanded, for he was mistaken the day before in thinking thatthe king called him to his person only to be present; for, on thecontrary, he confided to him, as to a famous and experienced warrior,command over the camp servants, who with the quarter-soldiers and thegeneral militia were to go as volunteers to storm from that side.Zagloba was willing, it is true, to go with these men in the rear, andcontent himself with occupying the palaces already captured; but whenin the very beginning all vying with one another were mingledcompletely, the human current bore him on with the others. So he went;for although he had from nature great circumspection as a gift, andpreferred, where it was possible, not to expose his life to danger, hehad for so many years become accustomed to battles in spite of himself,had been present in so many dreadful slaughters, that when theinevitable came he fought with others, and even better than others, forhe fought with desperation and rage in a manful heart.

  So at this time he found himself at the gate of the Kazanovski Palace,or rather in the hell which was raging dreadfully in front of thatgate; that is, amid a whirlpool, heat, crushing, a storm of bullets,fire, smoke, groans and shouts of men. Thousands of scythes, picks, andaxes were driven against the gate; a thousand arms pressed and pushedit furiously. Some men fell as if struck by lightning; others pushedthemselves into their places, trampled their bodies, and forcedthemselves forward, as if seeking death of purpose. No one had seen orremembered a more stubborn defence, but also not a more resoluteattack. From the highest stories bullets were rained and pitch poureddown on the gate; but those who were under fire, even had they wishedcould not withdraw, so powerfully were they pressed from behind. Yousaw single men, wet from perspiration, black from smoke, with setteeth, with wild eyes, hurling at the gate beams of such size that atan ordinary time three strong men would not have been able to liftthem. So their strength was trebled by frenzy. All the windows werestormed simultaneously, ladders were placed at the upper stories,lattices were hewn from the walls. But still from those latticesand windows, from openings cut in the walls, were sticking outmusket-barrels, which did not cease to smoke for a moment. But at lastsuch smoke ascended, such dust rose, that on that bright sunny day theassailants could scarcely recognize one another. In spite of that theydid not desist from the struggle, but climbed ladders the morefiercely, attacked the gate the more wildly, because the sounds fromthe Church of the Bernardines announced that there other parties werestorming with similar energy.

  Now Zagloba cried with a voice so piercing that it was heard amid theuproar and shots: "A box with powder under the gate!"

  It was brought to him in a twinkle; he gave command at once to cut justbeneath the bolt an opening of such size that the box alone would findplace in it. When the box was fitted in, Zagloba himself set fire tothe sulphur thread, then commanded,--

  "Aside! Close to the wall!"

  Those standing near rushed to both sides, toward those who had placedthe ladders at the farther windows. A moment of expectation followed.

  A mighty report shook the air, and new bundles of smoke rose toward thesky. Zagloba sprang forward with his men; they saw that the explosionhad not rent the gate to small pieces, but had torn the hinges from theright side, wrested away a couple of strong beams, already partly cut,turned the handle, and pulled off one half of the lower par
t, so that apassage was open through which large men might enter easily.

  Sharpened stakes, axes, and scythes began to beat violently on theweakened door; a hundred arms pushed it with utmost effort, a sharpcrash was heard, and all one half fell, uncovering the depth of thedark antechamber.

  In that darkness gleamed discharges of musketry; but the human riverrushed forward with an irresistible torrent,--the palace was captured.

  At the same time they broke in through the windows, and a terriblebattle with cold weapons began in the interior of the palace. Chamberwas taken after chamber, corridor after corridor, story after story.The walls had been so shattered and weakened beforehand that theceiling in many rooms fell with a crash, covering with their ruinsPoles and Swedes. But the Mazovians advanced like a conflagration; theypenetrated every place, overturning with their long knives, cutting andthrusting. No man of the Swedes asked for quarter, but neither was itgiven. In some corridors and passages the piles of bodies so blockedthe way that the Swedes made barricades of them; the Poles pulled themout by the feet, by the hair, and hurled them through the windows.Blood flowed in streams through the passages. Groups of Swedes defendedthemselves yet here and there, and repelled with weakening hands thefurious blows of the stormers. Blood had covered their faces, darknesswas covering their eyes, more than one sank on his knees, and stillfought; pressed on every side, suffocated by the throng of opponents,the Scandinavians died in silence, in accord with their fame, asbeseemed warriors. The statues of divinities and ancient heroes,bespattered with blood, looked with lifeless eyes on that death.

  Roh Kovalski raged specially in the upper stories; but Zagloba rushedwith his men to the terraces, and when he had cut to pieces theinfantry defending themselves there, he hurried from the terraces tothose wonderful gardens which were famed throughout Europe. The treeswere already cut down, the rare plants destroyed by Polish balls, thefountains broken, the earth ploughed up by bombshells,--in a word,everywhere a desert and destruction, though the Swedes had not raisedtheir robber hands against this place, out of regard for the person ofRadzeyovski. A savage struggle set in there, too; but it lasted only ashort time, for the Swedes gave but feeble resistance, and were cut topieces under the personal command of Zagloba. The soldiers dispersednow through the garden, and the whole palace was plundered.

  Zagloba betook himself to a corner of the garden, to a place where thewalls formed a strong "angle," and where the sun did not come, for theknight wished to rest somewhat; and he rubbed the sweat from his heatedforehead. All at once he espied some strange monsters, looking at himwith hostility through an iron grating.

  The cage was fixed in a corner of the wall, so that balls falling fromthe outside could not reach it. The door of the cage was wide open; butthose meagre and ugly creatures did not think of taking advantage ofthis. Evidently terrified by the uproar, the whistling of bullets, andthe fierce slaughter at which they had looked a moment before, theycrowded into a corner of the cage, and hidden in the straw, gave noteof their terror only by muttering.

  "Are those monkeys or devils?" said Zagloba to himself.

  Suddenly anger seized him, courage swelled in his breast, and raisinghis sabre he fell upon the cage.

  A terrible panic was the answer to the first blow of his sabre. Themonkeys, which the Swedish soldiers had treated kindly and fed fromtheir own slender rations, fell into such a fright that madness simplyseized them; and since Zagloba stopped their exit, they began to rushthrough the cage with unnatural springs, hanging to the sides, to thetop, screaming and biting. At last one in frenzy sprang on Zagloba'sshoulder, and seizing him by the head, fastened to it with all hispower; another hung to his right shoulder, a third caught him in frontby the neck, the fourth hung to his long split sleeves which were tiedtogether behind; and Zagloba, stifled, sweating, struggled in vain, invain struck blindly toward the rear. Breath soon failed him, his eyeswere standing out of his head, and he began to cry with despairingvoice,--

  "Gracious gentlemen! save me!"

  The cry brought a number of men, who, unable to understand what washappening, rushed to his aid with blood-streaming sabres; but theyhalted at once in astonishment, they looked at one another, and as ifunder the influence of some spell they burst out in one great laugh.More soldiers ran up, a crowd was formed; but laughter was communicatedto all as an epidemic. They staggered as if drunk, they held theirsides; their faces, besmeared with the gore of men, were twistingspasmodically, and the more Zagloba struggled the more did they laugh.Now Roh Kovalski ran down from an upper story, scattered the crowd, andfreed his uncle from the Simian embraces.

  "You rascals!" cried the panting Zagloba, "I would you were slain! Youare laughing to see a Catholic in oppression from these Africanmonsters. I would you were slain! Were it not for me you would bebutting your heads to this moment against the gate, for you deservenothing better. I wish you were dead, because you are not worth thesemonkeys."

  "I wish you were dead yourself, king of the monkeys!" cried the manstanding nearest.

  "_Simiarum destructor_ (destroyer of monkeys)!" cried another.

  "Victor!" cried the third.

  "What, victor! he is _victus_ (conquered)!"

  Here Roh Kovalski came again to the aid of his uncle, and struck thenearest man in the breast with his fist; the man dropped to the earththat instant with blood coming from his mouth. Others retreated beforethe anger of Kovalski, some drew their sabres; but further disputeswere interrupted by the uproar and shots coming from the Bernardines'Church. Evidently the storm continued there yet in full force, andjudging from the feverish musketry-tire, the Swedes were not thinkingof surrender.

  "With succor! to the church! to the church!" cried Zagloba.

  He sprang himself to the top of the palace; there, from the right wing,was to be seen the church, which seemed to be in flames. Crowds ofstormers were circling around it convulsively, not being able to enterand perishing for nothing in a cross tire; for bullets were rained onthem from the Cracow gate as thickly as sand.

  "Cannon to the windows!" shouted Zagloba.

  There were guns enough, large and small, in the Kazanovski Palace,therefore they were drawn to the windows; from fragments of costlyfurniture and pedestals of statues, platforms were constructed; and inthe course of half an hour a number of guns were looking, out throughthe empty openings of the windows toward the church.

  "Roh!" said Zagloba, with uncommon irritation, "I must do somethingconsiderable, or my glory is lost through those monkeys,--would thatthe plague had stifled them! The whole army will ridicule me; andthough there is no lack of words in my mouth, still I cannot meet thewhole world. I must wipe away this confusion, or wide as thisCommonwealth is they will herald me through it as king of the monkeys!"

  "Uncle must wipe away this confusion!" repeated Roh, with a thunderingvoice.

  "And the first means will be that, as I have captured the KazanovskiPalace,--for let any one say that it was not I who did it--"

  "Let any one say that it was not Uncle who did it!" repeated Roh.

  "I will capture that church, so help me the Lord God, amen!" concludedZagloba.

  Then he turned to his attendants who were there at the guns,--

  "Fire!"

  Fear seized the Swedes, who were defending themselves with despair inthe church, when the whole side wall began on a sudden to tremble.Bricks, rubbish, lime, fell on those who were sitting in the windows,at the port-holes, on the fragments of the inside cornices, at thepigeon-holes, through which they were firing at the besiegers. Aterrible dust rose in the house of God, and mixed with the smoke beganto stifle the wearied men. One man could not see another in thedarkness. Cries of "I am suffocating, I am suffocating!" stillincreased the terror. The noise of balls falling through the windows,of leaden lattice falling to the floor, the heat, the exhalations frombodies, turned the retreat of God into a hell upon earth. Thefrightened soldiers stood aside from entrances, windows, andport-holes. The panic is changed into frenzy. Again terrified
voicescall: "I am suffocating! Air! Water!" Hundreds of voices begin toroar,--

  "A white flag! a white flag!"

  Erskine, who is commanding, seizes the flag with his own hand todisplay it outside. At that moment the entrance bursts, a line ofstormers rush in like an avalanche of Satans, and a slaughter follows.There is sudden silence in the church; there is heard only thebeast-like panting of the strugglers, the bite of steel on bones, andon the stone floor groans, the patter of blood; and at times some voicein which there is nothing human cries, "Quarter! Quarter!" After anhour's fighting the bell on the tower begins to thunder, and thunders,thunders,--to the victory of the Mazovians, to the funeral of theSwedes.

  The Kazanovski Palace, the cloister, and the bell-tower are captured.

  Pyotr Opalinski himself, the voevoda of Podlyasye, appeared in theblood-stained throng before the palace on his horse.

  "Who came to our aid from the palace?" cried he, wishing to outcry thesound and the roar of men.

  "He who captured the palace!" said a powerful man, appearing before thevoevoda,--"I!"

  "What is your name?"

  "Zagloba."

  "Vivat Zagloba!" bellowed thousands of throats.

  But the terrible Zagloba pointed with his stained sabre toward thegate,--

  "We have not done enough yet. Turn the cannon toward the wall andagainst the gate. Advance! follow me!"

  The mad throng rush in the direction of the gate. Meanwhile, oh wonder!the fire of the Swedes instead of increasing is growing weak. At thesame moment some voice unexpected and piercing cries from the top ofthe bell-tower,--

  "Charnyetski is in the city! I see our squadrons!"

  The Swedish fire was weakening more and more.

  "Halt! halt!" commanded the voevoda.

  But the throng did not hear him and rushed at random. That moment awhite flag appeared on the Cracow gate.

  In truth, Charnyetski, having forced his way through Dantzig House,rushed like a hurricane into the precincts of the fortress; when theDanillovich Palace was taken, and when a moment later the Lithuaniancolors glittered on the walls near the Church of the Holy Ghost,Wittemberg saw that further resistance was vain. The Swedes mightdefend themselves yet in the lofty houses of Old and New City; but theinhabitants had already taken arms, and the defence would end in aterrible slaughter of the Swedes without hope of victory.

  The trumpeters began then to sound on the walls and to wave whiteflags. Seeing this, the Polish commanders withheld the storm. GeneralLoewenhaupt, attended by a number of colonels, went out through the gateof New City, and rushed with all breath to the king.

  Yan Kazimir had the city in his hands now; but the kind king wished tostop the flow of Christian blood, therefore he settled on theconditions offered to Wittemberg at first. The city was to besurrendered, with all the booty collected in it. Each Swede waspermitted to take with him only what he had brought from Sweden. Thegarrison with all the generals and with arms in hand were to march outof the city, taking their sick and wounded and the Swedish ladies, ofwhom a number of tens were in Warsaw. To the Poles who were servingwith the Swedes, amnesty was given, with the idea that surely none wereserving of their own will. Boguslav Radzivill alone was excepted. Tothis Wittemberg agreed the more readily since the prince was at thatmoment with Douglas on the Bug.

  The conditions were signed at once. All the bells in the churchesannounced to the city and the world that the capital had passed againinto the hands of its rightful monarch. An hour later a multitude ofthe poorest people came out from behind the walls, seeking charity andbread in the Polish camp; for all in the city except the Swedes were inwant of food. The king commanded to give what was possible, and wenthimself to look at the departure of the Swedish garrison.

  He was surrounded by church and lay dignitaries, by a suite so splendidthat it dazzled the people. Nearly all the troops--that is, the troopsof the kingdom under the hetmans, Charnyetski's division, theLithuanians under Sapyeha, and an immense crowd of general militia,together with the camp servants--assembled around his Majesty; or allwere curious to see those Swedes with whom a few hours before they hadfought so terribly and bloodily. Polish commissioners were posted atall the gates, from the moment of signing the conditions; thesecommissioners were intrusted with the duty of seeing that the Swedesbore off no booty. A special commission was occupied with receiving thebooty in the city itself.

  In the van came the cavalry, which was not numerous, especially sinceBoguslav's men were excluded from the right of departure; next came thefield artillery with light guns; the heavy pieces were given to thePoles. The men marched at the sides of the guns with lighted matches.Before them waved their unfurled flags, which as a mark of honor werelowered before the Polish king, recently a wanderer. The artilleristsmarched proudly, looking straight into the eyes of the Polish knights,as if they wished to say, "We shall meet again!" And the Poles wonderedat their haughty bearing and courage unbent by misfortune. Thenappeared the wagons with officers and wounded. In the first one layBenedikt Oxenstiern the chancellor, before whom Yan Kazimir hadcommanded the infantry to present arms, wishing to show that he knewhow to respect virtue even in an enemy.

  Then to the sound of drums, and with waving flags, marched thequadrangle of unrivalled Swedish infantry, resembling, according to theexpression of Suba Gazi, moving castles. After them advanced abrilliant party of cavalry, armored from foot to head, and with a bluebanner on which a golden lion was embroidered. These surrounded thechief of staff. At sight of them a murmur passed through the crowd,--

  "Wittemberg is coming! Wittemberg is coming!"

  In fact, the field-marshal himself was approaching; and with him theyounger Wrangel, Horn, Erskine, Loewenhaupt, Forgell. The eyes of thePolish knights were turned with eagerness toward them, and especiallytoward the face of Wittemberg. But his face did not indicate such aterrible warrior as he was in reality. It was an aged face, pale,emaciated by disease. He had sharp features, and above his mouth athin, small mustache turned up at the ends. The pressed lips and long,pointed nose gave him the appearance of an old and grasping miser.Dressed in black velvet and with a black hat on his head, he lookedmore like a learned astrologer or a physician; and only the gold chainon his neck, the diamond star on his breast, and a field-marshal'sbaton in his hand showed his high office of leader.

  Advancing, he cast his eyes unquietly on the king, on the king's staff,on the squadrons standing in rank; then his eyes took in the immensethrongs of the general militia, and an ironical smile came out on hispale lips.

  But in those throngs a murmur was rising ever greater, and the word"Wittemberg! Wittemberg!" was in every mouth.

  After a while the murmur changed into deep grumbling, but threatening,like the grumbling of the sea before a storm. From instant to instantit was silent; and then far away in the distance, in the last ranks,was heard some voice in peroration. This voice was answered by others;greater numbers answered them; they were heard ever louder and spreadmore widely, like ominous echoes. You would swear that a storm wascoming from a distance, and that it would burst with all power.

  The officers were anxious and began to look at the king with disquiet.

  "What is that? What does that mean?" asked Yan Kazimir.

  Then the grumbling passed into a roar as terrible as if thunders hadbegun to wrestle with one another in the sky. The immense throng ofgeneral militia moved violently, precisely like standing grain when ahurricane is sweeping around it with giant wing. All at once some tensof thousands of sabres were glittering in the sun.

  "What is that? What does that mean?" asked the king, repeatedly.

  No one could answer him. Then Volodyovski, standing near Sapyeha,exclaimed: "That is Pan Zagloba!"

  Volodyovski had guessed aright. The moment the conditions of surrenderwere published and had come to the ears of Zagloba, the old noble fellinto such a terrible rage that speech was taken from him for a while.When he came to himself his first act was to spring among the ranks ofthe genera
l militia and fire up the minds of the nobles. They heard himwillingly; for it seemed to all that for so much bravery, for suchtoil, for so much bloodshed under the walls of Warsaw, they ought tohave a better vengeance against the enemy. Therefore great circles ofchaotic and stormy men surrounded Zagloba, who threw live coals by thehandful on the powder, and with his speech fanned into greaterproportions the fire which all the more easily seized their heads, thatthey were already smoking from the usual libations consequent onvictory.

  "Gracious gentlemen!" said he, "behold these old hands have toiledfifty years for the country; fifty years have they been shedding theblood of the enemy at every wall of the Commonwealth; and to-day--Ihave witnesses--they captured the Kazanovski Palace and theBernardines' Church! And when, gracious gentlemen, did the Swedes loseheart, when did they agree to capitulate? It was when we turned ourguns from the Bernardines to the Old City. We have not spared ourblood, brothers; it has been shed bountifully, and no one has beenspared but the enemy. But we, brothers, have left our lands withoutmasters, our servants without lords, our wives without husbands, ourchildren without fathers,--oh, my dear children, what is happening toyou now?--and we have come here with our naked breasts against cannon.And what is our reward for so doing? This is it: Wittemberg goes forthfree, and besides, they give him honor for the road. The executioner ofour country departs, the blasphemer of religion departs; the ragingenemy of the Most Holy Lady, the burner of our houses, the thief of ourlast bit of clothing, the murderer of our wives and children,--oh, mychildren, where are you now?--the disgracer of the clergy and virginsconsecrated to God! Woe to thee, country! Shame to you, nobles! A newagony is awaiting you. Oh, our holy faith! Woe to you, sufferingchurches! weeping to thee and complaint, O Chenstohova! for Wittembergis departing in freedom, and will return soon to press out tears andblood, to finish killing those whom he has not yet killed, to burn thatwhich he has not yet burned, to put shame on that which he has not yetput to shame! Weep, O Poland and Lithuania! Weep, ranks of people, as Iweep,--an old soldier who, descending to the grave, must look on youragony! Woe to thee, Ilion, the city of aged Priam! Woe! woe! woe!"

  So spoke Zagloba; and thousands listened to him, and wrath raised thehair on the heads of the nobles; but he moved on farther. Again hecomplained, tore his clothing, and laid bare his breast. He enteredalso into the army, which gave a willing ear to his complaints; for, intruth, there was a terrible animosity in all hearts against Wittemberg.The tumult would have burst out at once; but Zagloba himself restrainedit, lest, if it burst too early, Wittemberg might save himself somehow;but if it broke out when he was leaving the city and would show himselfto the general militia, they would bear him apart on their sabresbefore any one could see what was done.

  And his reckoning was justified. At sight of the tyrant frenzy seizedthe brains of the chaotic and half-drunken nobles, and a terrible stormburst forth in the twinkle of an eye. Forty thousand sabres wereflashing in the sun, forty thousand throats began to bellow,--

  "Death to Wittemberg! Give him here! Make mince-meat of him! makemince-meat of him!"

  To the throngs of nobles were joined throngs more chaotic still andmade brutal by the recent shedding of blood, the camp servants; eventhe more disciplined regular squadrons began to murmur fiercely againstthe oppressor, and the storm began to fly with rage against the Swedishstaff.

  At the first moment all lost their heads, though all understood whatthe matter was. "What is to be done?" cried voices near the king. "Oh,merciful Jesus!" "Rescue! defend! It is a shame not to observe theconditions!"

  Enraged crowds rush in among the squadrons, press upon them; thesquadrons are confused, cannot keep their places. Around them aresabres, sabres, and sabres; under the sabres are inflamed faces,threatening eyes, howling mouths; uproar, noise, wild cries grow withamazing rapidity. In front are rushing camp servants, camp followers,and every kind of army rabble, more like beasts or devils than men.

  Wittemberg understood what was happening. His face grew pale as asheet; sweat, abundant and cold, covered his forehead in a moment; and,oh wonder! that field-marshal who hitherto was ready to threaten thewhole world, that conqueror of so many armies, that captor of so manycities, that old soldier was then so terribly frightened at the howlingmass that presence of mind left him utterly. He trembled in his wholebody, he dropped his hands and groaned, spittle began to flow from hismouth to the golden chain, and the field-marshal's baton dropped fromhis hand. Meanwhile the terrible throng was coming nearer and nearer;ghastly forms were surrounding already the hapless generals; a momentmore, they would bear them apart on sabres, so that not a fragment ofthem would remain.

  Other Swedish generals drew their sabres, wishing to die weapon inhand, as beseemed knights; but the aged oppressor grew weak altogether,and half closed his eyes.

  At this moment Volodyovski, with his men, sprang to the rescue of thestaff. Going wedge-form on a gallop, he split the mob as a ship movingwith all sails bears apart the towering waves of the sea. The cry ofthe trampled rabble was mingled with the shouts of the Lauda squadron;but the horsemen reached the staff first, and surrounded it in thetwinkle of an eye with a wall of horses, a wall of their own breastsand sabres.

  "To the king!" cried the little knight.

  They moved on. The throng surrounded them from every side, ran alongthe flanks and the rear, brandished sabres and clubs, howled more andmore terribly; but the Lauda men pushed forward, thrusting out theirsabres from moment to moment at the sides, as a strong stag thrustswith his antlers when surrounded by wolves.

  Then Voynillovich sprang to the aid of Volodyovski; after himVilchkovski with a regiment of the king, then Prince Polubinski; andall together, defending themselves unceasingly, conducted the staff tothe presence of Yan Kazimir.

  The tumult increased instead of diminishing. It seemed, after a time,that the excited rabble would try to seize the Swedish generals withoutregard to the king. Wittemberg recovered; but fear did not leave him inthe least. He sprang from his horse then; and as a hare pressed by dogsor wolves takes refuge under a wagon in motion, so did he, in spite ofhis gout, throw himself at the feet of Yan Kazimir.

  Then he dropped on his knees, and seizing the king's stirrup, began tocry: "Save me, Gracious Lord, save me! I have your royal word; theagreement is signed. Save me, save me! Have mercy on us! Do not letthem murder me!"

  The king, at sight of such abasement and such shame turned away hiseyes with aversion and said,--

  "Field-marshal, pray be calm."

  But he had a troubled face himself, for he knew not what to do. Aroundthem were gathering crowds ever greater, and approaching with morepersistence. It is true that the squadrons stood as if for battle, andZamoyski's infantry had formed a terrible quadrangle round about; butwhat was to be the end of it all?

  The king looked at Charnyetski; but Charnyetski only twisted his beardwith rage, his soul was storming with such anger against thedisobedience of the general militia. Then the chancellor, Korytsinski,said,--

  "Gracious Lord, we must keep the agreement."

  "We must!" replied the king.

  Wittemberg, who was looking carefully into their eyes, breathed morefreely.

  "Gracious Lord," said he, "I believe in your words as in God."

  To which Pototski, the old hetman of the kingdom, cried,--

  "And why have you broken so many oaths, so many agreements, so manyterms of surrender? With what any man wars, from that will he perish.Why did you seize, in spite of the terms of capitulation, the king'sregiment commanded by Wolf?"

  "Miller did that, not I," answered Wittemberg.

  The hetman looked at him with disdain; then turned to the king,--

  "Gracious Lord, I do not say this to incite your Royal Grace to breakagreements also, for let perfidy be on their side alone."

  "What is to be done?" asked the king. "If we send them to Prussia,fifty thousand nobles will follow and cut them to pieces before theyreach Pultusk, unless we give them the whole regular army as
a guard,and we cannot do that. Hear, your Royal Grace, how the militia arehowling! In truth, there is a well-founded animosity againstWittemberg. It is needful first to safeguard his person, and then tosend all away when the fire has cooled down."

  "There is no other way!" said Korytsinski.

  "But where are they to be kept? We cannot keep them here; for here,devil take it! civil war would break out," said the voevoda of Rus.

  Now Sobiepan Zamoyski appeared, and pouting his lips greatly, said withhis customary spirit,--

  "Well, Gracious Lord, give them to me at Zamost; let them sit theretill calm comes. I will defend Wittemberg there from the nobles. Letthem try to get him from me!"

  "But on the road will your worthiness defend the field-marshal?" askedthe chancellor.

  "I can depend on my servants yet. Or have I not infantry and cannon?Let any one take him from Zamoyski! We shall see."

  Here he put his hands on his hips, struck his thighs, and bent from oneside of the saddle to the other.

  "There is no other way," said the chancellor.

  "I see no other," added Lantskoronski.

  "Then take them," said the king to Zamoyski.

  But Wittemberg, seeing that his life was threatened no longer,considered it proper to protest.

  "We did not expect this!" said he.

  "Well, we do not detain you; the road is open," said Pototski, pointingto the distance with his hand.

  Wittemberg was silent

  Meanwhile the chancellor sent a number of officers to declare to thenobles that Wittemberg would not depart in freedom, but would be sentto Zamost. The tumult, it is true, was not allayed at once; still thenews had a soothing effect. Before night fell attention was turned inanother direction. The troops began to enter the city, and the sight ofthe recovered capital filled all minds with the delight of triumph.

  The king rejoiced; still the thought that he was unable to observe theconditions of the agreement troubled him not a little, as well as theendless disobedience of the general militia.

  Charnyetski was chewing his anger. "With such troops one can never besure of to-morrow," said he to the king. "Sometimes they fight badly,sometimes heroically, all from impulse; and at any outbreak rebellionis ready.

  "God grant them not to disperse," said the king, "for they are neededyet, and they think that they have finished everything."

  "The man who caused that outbreak should be torn asunder with horses,without regard to the services which he has rendered," continuedCharnyetski.

  The strictest orders were given to search for Zagloba, for it was asecret to no man that he had raised the storm; but Zagloba had as itwere dropped into water. They searched for him in the tents, in thetabor, even among the Tartars, all in vain. Tyzenhauz even said thatthe king, always kind and gracious, wished from his whole soul thatthey might not find him, and even undertook a nine days' devotion tothat effect.

  But a week later, after some dinner when the heart of the monarch wasbig with joy, the following words were heard from the mouth of YanKazimir,--

  "Announce that Pan Zagloba is not to hide himself longer, for we arelonging for his jests."

  When Charnyetski was horrified at this, the king said,--

  "Whoso in this Commonwealth should have justice without mercy in hisheart would be forced to carry an axe in his bosom, and not a heart.Faults come easier here than anywhere, but in no land does repentancefollow so quickly."

  Saying this, the king had Babinich more in mind than Zagloba; and hewas thinking of Babinich because the young man had bowed down to theking's feet the day before with a petition that he would not hinder himfrom going to Lithuania. He said that he wished to freshen the warthere, and attack the Swedes, as he had once attacked Hovanski. And asthe king intended to send there a soldier experienced in partisanwarfare, he permitted Babinich to go, gave him the means, blessed him,and whispered some wish in his ear, after which the young knight fellhis whole length at his feet.

  Then, without loitering, Kmita moved briskly toward the east. SuoaGazi, captured by a considerable present, permitted him to take fivehundred fresh Dobrudja Tartars; fifteen hundred other good men marchedwith him,--a force with which it was possible to begin something. Andthe young man's head was fired with a desire for battle and warlikeachievements. The hope of glory smiled on him; he heard already how allLithuania was repeating his name with pride and wonder. He heardespecially how one beloved mouth repeated it, and his soul gave himwings.

  And there was another reason why he rode forward so briskly. Whereverhe appeared he was the first to announce the glad tidings: "The Swedeis defeated, and Warsaw is taken!" Wherever his horse's hoofs sounded,the whole neighborhood rang with these words; the people along theroads greeted him with weeping; they rang bells in the church-towersand sang _Te Deum Laudamus!_ When he rode through the forest the darkpines, when through the fields the golden grain, rocked by the wind,seemed to repeat and sound joyously,--

  "The Swede is defeated! Warsaw is taken! Warsaw is taken!"