Ogniem i mieczem. English

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  CHAPTER XX.

  Helena was wakened by the barking of dogs. Opening her eyes, shesaw in the distance before her a great shady oak, an enclosure, and awell-sweep. She roused her companion at once: "Oh, wake up!"

  Zagloba opened his eyes. "What is this? Where are we?"

  "I don't know."

  "Wait a moment! This is a Cossack wintering-place."

  "So it appears to me."

  "Herdsmen live here, no doubt. Not too pleasant company! And these dogshowl as if wolves had bitten them. There are horses and men at theenclosure. No help for it; we must ride up to them, lest they pursue usif we pass. You must have been asleep."

  "I was."

  "One, two, three, four horses saddled,--four men there at theenclosure. Well, that is no great force. True, they are herdsmen. Theyare doing something in a hurry. Hallo there, men, come this way!"

  The four Cossacks approached immediately. They were, in fact, herderswho watched horses in the steppe during the summer. Zagloba noticed atonce that only one of them had a sabre and a gun. The other three werearmed with horse-jaws fastened to staves, but he knew that suchherdsmen were often dangerous to travellers.

  When all four approached they gazed from under their brows at thenew-comers; in their bronzed faces could not be found the least traceof welcome. "What do you want?" asked they, without removing theircaps.

  "Glory to God!" said Zagloba.

  "For the ages of ages! What do you want?"

  "Is it far to Syrovati?"

  "We don't know of any Syrovati."

  "And what is this place called?"

  "Gusla."

  "Give our horses water."

  "We have no water; it is dried up. But where do you ride from?"

  "From Krivaya Ruda."

  "Where are you going?"

  "To Chigirin."

  The herdsmen looked at one another. One of them, black as a bug andcrooked-eyed, began to gaze intently at Zagloba. At last he asked: "Whydid you leave the highway?"

  "It was hot there."

  The crooked-eyed man put his hand on the reins of Zagloba's horse:"Come down from the horse, come down! You have nothing to go toChigirin for."

  "How so?" asked Zagloba, quietly.

  "Do you see that young fellow there?" asked crooked-eye, pointing toone of the herdsmen.

  "I do."

  "He has come from Chigirin. They are slaughtering Poles there."

  "And do you know, fellow, who is following us to Chigirin?"

  "Who?"

  "Prince Yeremi."

  The insolent face of the herdsman dropped in a moment. All, as if bycommand, removed their caps.

  "Do you know, you trash!" continued Zagloba, "what the Poles do tothose who slaughter? They hang them. And do you know how many menPrince Yeremi has, and do you know that he is no farther than two orthree miles from here? And how have you received us, you dog souls!What stuff you tell!--the well is dried up, you have no water forhorses! Ah, basilisks! I'll show you!"

  "Oh, don't be angry, Pan! The well is dried up. We go to the Kagamlikwith our horses, and bring water for ourselves. But say the word and wewill run for water."

  "Oh, I can get on without you! I will go with my attendant. Where isthe Kagamlik?" inquired he, sternly.

  "About a mile and a quarter from here," said the crooked-eyed man,pointing to a line of reeds.

  "And must I return this way, or can I go along the bank?"

  "Go by the bank. The river turns to the road about a mile from here."

  "Dash ahead, young man!" said Zagloba, turning to Helena.

  The pretended youth turned his horse and galloped on.

  "Listen!" said Zagloba, turning to the herdsman. "If the vanguard comesup, say that I went to the road along the river."

  "I will."

  A quarter of an hour later Zagloba was riding again by the side ofHelena.

  "I invented the prince for them in season," said he, blinking with hiscataract-covered eye. "Now they will stay all day waiting for thevanguard. They shuddered at the mere name of the prince."

  "T see you have such ready wit that you will save us from everytrouble," said Helena, "and I thank God for sending me such aguardian."

  These words went to the heart of the noble. He smiled, stroked hisbeard, and said,--

  "Well, hasn't Zagloba a head on his shoulders? Cunning as Ulysses! andI must tell you, had it not been for that cunning, the crows would haveeaten me long ago. Can't help it, I must save myself. They believedeasily that the prince was coming, for it is probable that he willappear to-morrow or next day in this neighborhood with a fiery swordlike an archangel. And if he should only strike Bogun somewhere on theroad, I would make a vow to walk barefoot to Chenstokhova. Even ifthose herdsmen did not believe, the very mention of the power of theprince was enough to restrain them from attacks on our lives. Still Itell you that their impudence is no good sign to us, for it means thatthe peasants here have heard of the victories of Hmelnitski, and willbecome more and more insolent every moment. We must keep therefore tothe waste places and visit few villages, for they are dangerous. Wehave got into such a snare that, as I live, it would be hard to inventa worse one."

  Alarm again seized Helena. Wishing to get some word of hope fromZagloba, she said: "But you will save me and yourself this time?"

  "Of course," said the old fox; "the head is given to think about thebody. I have become so attached to you that I will struggle for you asfor my own daughter. But, to tell the truth, the worst is that we don'tknow where to take refuge, for Zolotonosha is no safe asylum."

  "I know surely that my cousins are there."

  "They are, or they are not; they may have left there and returned toRozlogi by a different road from the one we are travelling. I countmore on the garrison, if there is only half a regiment in the castle.But here is the Kagamlik and plenty of reeds. We will cross to theother side, and instead of going with the current toward the road, wewill go up stream to elude pursuit. It is true that we shall go towardRozlogi, but not far."

  "We shall approach Brovarki," said Helena, "from which there is a roadto Zolotonosha."

  "That is better. Stop your horse!"

  They watered the horses. Zagloba, leaving Helena carefully hidden inthe reeds, went to look for a ford. He found one easily, for it wasonly a few yards from the place to which they had come,--just where theherdsmen used to drive their horses through the river, which wasshallow enough, but the bank was inconvenient because overgrown withreeds and soft. When they had crossed the river they hurried up streamand rode without resting till night. The road was bad; for the Kagamlikhad many tributary streams, which spreading out toward the mouth formedswamps and soft places. Every little while it was necessary to look forfords, or to push through reeds difficult of passage for mountedtravellers. The horses were tired and barely able to drag their legsalong; at times they stumbled so badly that it seemed to Zagloba theycould hold out no longer. At last they came out on a lofty dry bankcovered with oaks. But it was night already, and very dark. Furthermovement was impossible, for in the darkness it was easy to stumbleinto deep swamps and perish. Zagloba therefore decided to wait tillmorning.

  He unsaddled the horses, fettered and let them out to graze; then hegathered leaves for a bed, spread the saddlecloths over them, andcovering both with a burka, said to Helena,--

  "Lie down and sleep, for you have nothing better to do. The dew willwash your eyes, and that is good. I will put my head on the saddle too,for I don't feel a bone in my body. We will not make a fire, for thelight would attract herdsmen. The night is short, and we will move onat daybreak. We doubled on our tracks like hares, not advancing much,it is true; but we have so hidden the trail that the devil who finds uswill puff. Good-night!"

  "Good-night!"

  The slender young Cossack knelt down and prayed long with eyes raisedto the stars. Zagloba took the saddle on his shoulders and carried itto some distance, where he sought out a place to sleep. The b
ank waswell chosen for a halting-place; it was high and dry, also free frommosquitoes. The thick leaves of the oak-trees might furnish a passableprotection from rain.

  Helena could not sleep for a long time. The events of the past nightrose at once in her memory as vividly as life. In the darkness appearedthe faces of her murdered aunt and cousins. It seemed to her that shewas shut up in the chamber with their bodies, and that Bogun would comein a moment. She saw his pale face and his dark sable brows contracted,with pain, and his eyes fixed upon her. Unspeakable terror seized her.But will she really see on a sudden through the darkness around her twogleaming eyes?

  The moon, looking for a moment from behind the clouds, whitened with afew rays the oaks, and lent fantastic forms to the stumps and branches.Landrails called in the meadows, and quails in the steppes; at timescertain strange and distant cries of birds or beasts of the night cameto them. Nearer was heard the snorting of their horses, who eating thegrass and jumping in their fetters went farther and farther from thesleepers. But all those sounds quieted Helena, for they dissipated thefantastic visions and brought her to reality; told her that thatchamber which was continually present before her eyes, and thosecorpses of her friends, and that pale Bogun, with vengeance in hislooks, were an illusion of the senses, a whim of fear, nothing more. Afew days before, the thought of such a night under the open sky in thedesert would have frightened her to death; now, to gain rest she wasobliged to remember that she was really on the bank of the Kagamlik,and far from home.

  The voices of the quails and landrails lulled her to sleep. The starstwinkled whenever the breeze moved the branches, the beetles sounded inthe oak-leaves; she fell asleep at last. But nights in the desert havetheir surprises too. Day was already breaking, when from a distanceterrible noises came to Helena's ears,--howling, snorting, later asqueal so full of pain and terror that the blood stopped in her veins.She sprang to her feet, covered with cold sweat, terror-stricken, andnot knowing what to do. Suddenly Zagloba shot past her. He rushedwithout a cap, in the direction of the cry, pistol in hand. After awhile his voice was heard: "U-ha! u-ha!" a pistol-shot, then all wassilent. It seemed to Helena as if she had waited an age. At last sheheard Zagloba below the bank.

  "May the dogs devour you, may your skins be torn off, may the Jews wearyou in their collars!"

  Genuine despair was in the voice of Zagloba.

  "What has happened?" inquired Helena.

  "The wolves have eaten our horses."

  "Jesus, Mary! both of them?"

  "One is eaten, the other is maimed so that he cannot stand. They didn'tgo more than three hundred yards, and are lost."

  "What shall we do now?"

  "What shall we do? Whittle out sticks for ourselves and sit on them. DoI know what we shall do? Here is pure despair. I tell you, the devilhas surely got after us,--which is not to be wondered at, for he mustbe a friend of Bogun, or his blood relation. What are we to do? May Iturn into a horse if I know,--you would then at least have something toride on. I am a scoundrel if ever I have been in such a fix."

  "Let us go on foot."

  "It is well for your ladyship to travel in peasant fashion, with yourtwenty years, but not for me with my circumference. I speakincorrectly, though, for here any clown can have a nag, only dogstravel on foot. Pure despair, as God is kind to me! Of course we shallnot sit here, we shall walk on directly; but when we are to reachZolotonosha is unknown to me. If it is not pleasant to flee onhorseback, it is sorest of all on foot. Now the worst thing possiblehas happened to us. We must leave the saddles and carry on our ownshoulders whatever we put between our lips."

  "I will not allow you to carry the burden alone; I too will carrywhatever is necessary."

  Zagloba was pleased to see such resolution in Helena.

  "I should be either a Turk or a Pagan to permit you. Those white handsand slender shoulders are not for burdens. With God's help I willmanage; only I must rest frequently, for, always too abstemious ineating and drinking, I have short breath now. Let us take thesaddle-cloths to sleep on and some provisions; but there will not bemuch of them, since we shall have to strengthen ourselves directly."

  Straightway they began the strengthening, during which Pan Zagloba,abandoning his boasted abstemiousness, busied himself about longbreath. Near midday they reached a ford through which men and wagonspassed from time to time, for on both banks there were marks of wheelsand horses' tracks.

  "Maybe that is the road to Zolotonosha."

  "There is no one to ask."

  Zagloba had barely stopped speaking, when voices reached their earsfrom a distance.

  "Wait!" whispered Zagloba, "we must hide."

  The voices continued to approach them.

  "Do you see anything?" inquired Helena.

  "I do."

  "Who are coming?"

  "A blind old man with a lyre. A youth is leading him, Now they aretaking off their boots. They will come to us through the river."

  After a time the plashing of water indicated that they were reallycrossing. Zagloba and Helena came out of the hiding-place.

  "Glory be to God!" said the noble, aloud.

  "For the ages of ages!" answered the old man. "But who are you?"

  "Christians. Don't be afraid, grandfather!"

  "May Saint Nicholas give you health and happiness!"

  "And where are you coming from, grandfather?"

  "From Brovarki."

  "And where does this road lead to?"

  "Oh, to farmhouses and villages."

  "It doesn't go to Zolotonosha?"

  "Maybe it does."

  "Is it long since you left Brovarki?"

  "Yesterday morning."

  "And were you in Rozlogi?"

  "Yes. But they say that the knights came there, that there was abattle."

  "Who said that?"

  "Oh, they said so in Brovarki. One of the servants of the princesscame, and what he told was terrible!"

  "And you didn't see him?"

  "I? I see no man, I am blind."

  "And this youth?"

  "He sees, but he is dumb. I am the only one who understands him."

  "Is it far from here to Rozlogi, for we are going there?"

  "Oh, it is far!"

  "You say, then, that you were in Rozlogi?"

  "Yes, we were."

  "So!" said Zagloba; and suddenly he seized the youth by the shoulder."Ha! scoundrels, criminals, thieves! you are going around as spies,rousing the serfs to rebellion. Here, Fedor, Oleksa, Maksim, take them,strip them naked, and hang or drown them; beat them,--they are rebels,spies,--beat, kill them!"

  He began to pull the youth about and to shake him roughly, shoutinglouder and louder every moment. The old man threw himself on his knees,begging for mercy; the youth uttered sounds of terror peculiar to thedumb, and Helena looked with astonishment at the attack.

  "What are you doing?" inquired she, not believing her own eyes.

  But Zagloba shouted, cursed, moved hell, summoned all the miseries,misfortunes, and diseases, threatened with every manner of torment anddeath.

  The princess thought that his mind had failed.

  "Go away!" cried he to her; "it is not proper for you to see what isgoing to take place here. Go away, I tell you!"

  He turned to the old man. "Take off your clothes, you clown! If youdon't, I'll cut you to pieces."

  When he had thrown the youth to the ground Zagloba began to strip himwith his own hands. The old man, frightened, dropped his lyre, his bag,and his coat as quickly as he could.

  "Throw off everything or you will be killed!" shouted Zagloba.

  The old man began to take off his shirt.

  Helena, seeing whither matters were tending, hurried away, and as shefled she heard the curses of Zagloba.

  After she had gone some distance she stopped, not knowing what to do.Near by was the trunk of a tree thrown down by the wind; she sat onthis and waited. The noises of the dumb youth, the groans of the oldman, and the uproar of Zagloba ca
me to her ears.

  At last all was silent save the twittering of birds and the rustle ofleaves. After a time the heavy steps of a man panting were heard. Itwas Zagloba. On his shoulders he carried the clothing stripped from theold man and the youth, in his hands two pair of boots and a lyre. Whenhe came near he began to wink with his sound eye, to smile, and topuff. He was evidently in perfect humor.

  "No herald in a court would have shouted as I have," said he, "until Iam hoarse; but I have got what I wanted. I let them go naked as theirmother bore them. If the Sultan doesn't make me a pasha, or hospodar ofWallachia, he is a thankless fellow, for I have made two Turkishsaints. Oh, the scoundrels! they begged me to leave them at least theirshirts. I told them they ought to be grateful that I left them theirlives. And see here, young lady! Everything is new,--the coats and theboots and the shirts. There must be nice order in that Commonwealth, inwhich trash dress so richly. But they were at a festival in Brovarki,where they collected no small amount of money and bought everything newat the fair. Not a single noble will plough out so much in this countryas a minstrel will beg. Therefore I abandon my career as a knight, andwill strip grandfathers on the highway, for I see that in this manner Ishall arrive at fortune more quickly."

  "For what purpose did you do that?" asked Helena.

  "Just wait a minute, and I will show you for what purpose."

  Saying this, he took half the plundered clothing and went into thereeds which covered the bank. After a time the sounds of a lyre wereheard in the rushes, and there appeared, not Pan Zagloba, but a real"grandfather" of the Ukraine, with a cataract on one eye and a graybeard. The "grandfather" approached Helena, singing with a hoarsevoice,--

  "Oh, bright falcon, my own brother, High dost thou soar, And far dost thou fly!"

  The princess clapped her hands, and for the first time since her flightfrom Rozlogi a smile brightened her beautiful face.

  "If I did not know that it was you, I should never have recognizedyou."

  "Well," said Zagloba, "I know you have not seen a better mask at afestival. I looked into the Kagamlik myself; and if ever I have seen abetter-looking grandfather, then hang me. As for songs, I have no lackof them. What do you prefer? Maybe you would like to hear of MarusiaBoguslava, of Bondarivna, or the death of Sierpahova; I can give youthat. I am a rogue if I can't get a crust of bread among the worstknaves that exist."

  "Now I understand your action, why you stripped the clothing from thosepoor creatures,--because it is safer to go over the road in disguise."

  "Of course," said Zagloba; "and what do you suppose? Here, east of theDnieper, the people are worse than anywhere else; and now when theyhear of the war with the Zaporojians, and the victories, of Hmelnitski,no power will keep them from rebellion. You saw those herdsmen whowanted to get our skins. If the hetmans do not put down Hmelnitski atonce, the whole country will be on fire in two or three days, and howshould I take you through bands of peasants in rebellion? And if youhad to fall into their hands, you would better have remained inBogun's."

  "That cannot be! I prefer death," interrupted Helena.

  "But I prefer life; for death is a thing from which you cannot rise byany wit. I think, however, that God sent us this old man and the youth.I frightened them with the prince and his whole army as I did theherdsmen. They will sit in the reeds naked for three days from terror,and by that time we shall reach Zolotonosha in disguise somehow. Weshall find your cousins and efficient aid; if not, we will go fartherto the hetmans,--and all this in safety, for grandfathers have no fearof peasants and Cossacks. We might take our heads in safety throughHmelnitski's camp. But we have to avoid the Tartars, for they wouldtake you as a youth into captivity."

  "Then must I too disguise myself?"

  "Yes; throw off your Cossack clothes, and disguise yourself as apeasant youth,--though you are rather comely to be a clodhopper'schild, as I am to be a grandfather; but that is nothing. The wind willtan your face, and my stomach will fall in from walking. I shall sweataway all my thickness. When the Wallachians burned out my eye, Ithought that an absolutely awful thing had come upon me; but now I seeit is really an advantage, for a grandfather not blind would besuspected. You will lead me by the hand, and call me Onufri, for thatis my minstrel name. Now dress up as quickly as you can, since it istime for the road, which will be so long for us on foot."

  Zagloba went aside, and Helena began at once to array herself as aminstrel boy. Having washed in the river, she cast aside the Cossackcoat, and took the peasant's svitka, straw hat, and knapsack.Fortunately the youth stripped by Zagloba was tall, so that everythingfitted Helena well.

  Zagloba, returning, examined her carefully, and said,--

  "God save me! more than one knight would willingly lay aside his armorif he only had such an attendant as you; and I know one hussar whowould certainly. But we must do something with that hair. I sawhandsome boys in Stamboul, but never one so handsome as you are."

  "God grant my beauty may work no ill for me!" said Helena. But shesmiled; for her woman's ear was tickled by Zagloba's praise.

  "Beauty never turns out ill, and I will give you an example of this;for when the Turks in Galats burned out one of my eyes, and wanted toburn out the other, the wife of the Pasha saved me on account of myextraordinary beauty, the remnants of which you may see even yet."

  "But you said that the Wallachians burned your eye out."

  "They were Wallachians, but had become Turks, and were serving thePasha in Galats."

  "They didn't burn even one of your eyes out."

  "But from the heated iron a cataract grew on it. It's all the same.What do you wish to do with your tresses?"

  "What! I must cut them off?"

  "You must. But how?"

  "With your sabre."

  "It is well to cut a head off with this sword, but hair--I don't knowhow."

  "Well, I will sit by that log and put my hair across it, you can strikeand cut it off; but don't cut my head off!"

  "Oh, never fear! More than once have I shot the wick from candles whenI was drunk, without cutting the candle. I will do no harm to you,although this act is the first of its kind in my life."

  Helena sat near the log, and throwing her heavy dark hair across it,raised her eyes to Zagloba. "I am ready," said she; "cut!"

  She smiled somewhat sadly; for she was sorry for those tresses, whichnear the head could hardly be clasped by two hands. Zagloba had a sortof awkward feeling. He went around the trunk to cut more conveniently,and muttered:

  "Pshaw, pshaw! I would rather be a barber and cut Cossack tufts. I seemto be an executioner going to my work; for it is known to you that theycut the hair off witches, so that the devils shouldn't hide in it andweaken the power of torture. But you are not a witch; therefore thisact seems disgraceful to me,--for which if Pan Skshetuski does not cutmy ears, then I'll pay him. Upon my word, shivers are going along myarm. At least, close your eyes!"

  "All ready!" said Helena.

  Zagloba straightened up, as if rising in his stirrups for a blow. Themetallic blade whistled in the air, and that moment the dark tressesslipped down along the smooth bark to the ground.

  "All over!" said Zagloba, in his turn.

  Helena sprang up, and immediately the short-cut hair fell in a darkcircle around her face, on which blushes of shame were beating,--for atthat period the cutting of a maiden's hair was considered a greatdisgrace; therefore it was on her part a grievous sacrifice, which shecould make only in case of extreme necessity. In fact, tears came toher eyes; and Zagloba, angry at himself, made no attempt to comforther.

  "It seems to me that I have ventured on something dishonorable, and Irepeat to you that Pan Skshetuski, if he is a worthy cavalier, is boundto cut my ears off. But it could not be avoided, for your sex wouldhave been discovered at once. Now at least we can go on withconfidence. I inquired of the old man too about the road, holding adagger to his throat. According to what he said, we shall see threeoaks in
the steppe; near them is the Wolf's Ravine, and along theravine lies the road through Demianovka to Zolotonosha. He said thatwagoners go by the road, and it would be possible to sit with them inthe wagons. You and I are passing through a grievous time, which Ishall ever remember; for now we must part with the sabre, since itbefits neither the minstrel nor his boy to have marks of nobility abouttheir persons. I will push it under this tree. God may permit me tofind it here some other day. Many an expedition has this sabre seen,and it has been the cause of great victories. Believe me, I should becommander of an army now were it not for the envy and malice of menwho accused me of a love for strong drinks. So is it always in theworld,--no justice in anything! When I was not rushing into destructionlike a fool, and knew how to unite prudence with valor like a secondCunctator, Pan Zatsvilikhovski was the first to say that I was acoward. He is a good man, but he has an evil tongue. The other day hegnawed at me because I played brother with the Cossacks; but had it notbeen for that you would not have escaped the power of Bogun."

  While talking, Zagloba thrust the sabre under the tree, covered it withplants and grass, then threw the bag and lyre over his shoulder, tookthe staff pointed with flintstones, waved his hands a couple of times,and said,--

  "Well, this is not bad. I can strike a light in the eyes of some dog orwolf with this staff and count his teeth. The worst of all is that wemust walk; but there is no help. Come!"

  They went on,--the dark-haired youth in front, the old man following.The latter grunted and cursed; for it was hot for him to travel onfoot, though a breeze passed over the steppe. The breeze burned andtanned the face of the handsome boy. Soon they came to the ravine, atthe bottom of which was a spring which distilled its pure waters intothe Kagamlik. Around that ravine not far from the river three strongoaks were growing on a mound; to these our wayfarers turned at once.They came also upon traces of the road, which looked yellow along thesteppe from flowers which were growing on droppings of cattle. The roadwas deserted; there were neither teamsters, nor tar-spots on theground, nor gray oxen slowly moving. But here and there lay the bonesof cattle torn to pieces by wolves and whitening in the sun. Thewayfarers went on steadily, resting only under the shade of oak-groves.The dark-haired boy lay down to slumber on the green turf, and the oldman watched. They passed through streams also; and when there was noford they searched for one, walking for a distance along the shore.Sometimes, too, the old man carried the boy over in his arms, with apower that was wonderful in a man who begged his bread. But he was asturdy minstrel! Thus they dragged on till evening, when the boy satdown by the wayside at an oak-forest and said,--

  "My breath is gone, I have spent my strength; I can walk no farther, Iwill lie down here and die."

  The old man was terribly distressed. "Oh, these cursed wastes,--not ahouse nor a cottage by the roadside, nor a living soul! But we cannotspend the night here. Evening is already falling, it will be dark in anhour,--and just listen!"

  The old man stopped speaking, and for a while there was deep silence.But it was soon broken by a distant dismal sound which seemed to comefrom the bowels of the earth; it did really come from the ravine, whichlay not far from the road.

  "Those are wolves," said Zagloba. "Last night we had horses,--they atethem; this time they will get at our own persons. I have, it is true, apistol under my svitka; but I don't know whether my powder would holdout for two charges, and I should not like to be the supper at a wolf'swedding. Listen! Another howl!"

  The howling was heard again, and appeared to be nearer.

  "Rise, my child!" said the old man; "and if you are unable to walk, Iwill carry you. What's to be done? I see that I have a great affectionfor you, which is surely because living in a wifeless condition I amunable to leave legitimate descendants of my own; and if I haveillegitimate they are heathen, for I lived a long time in Turkey. Withme ends the family of Zagloba, with its escutcheon 'In the Forehead.'You will take care of my old age, but now you must get up and sit on myshoulders."

  "My feet have grown so heavy that I cannot move."

  "You were boasting of your strength. But stop! stop! As God is dear tome, I hear the barking of dogs. That's it. Those are dogs, not wolves.Then Demianovka, of which the old minstrel told me, must be near.Praise be to God in the highest! I had thought not to make a fire onaccount of the wolves; for we should have surely gone to sleep, we areso tired. Yes, they are dogs. Do you hear?"

  "Let us go on," said Helena, whose strength returned suddenly.

  They had barely come out of the wood when smoke from a number ofcottages appeared at no great distance. They saw also three domes of achurch, covered with fresh shingles, which shone yet in the dusk fromthe last gleams of the evening twilight. The barking of dogs seemednearer, more distinct each moment.

  "Yes, that is Demianovka; it cannot be another place," said Zagloba."They receive minstrels hospitably everywhere; maybe we shall findsupper and lodging, and perhaps good people will take us farther. Waita moment! this is one of the prince's villages; there must be an agentliving in it. We will rest and get news. The prince must be already onthe way. Rescue may come sooner than you expect. Remember that you area mute. I began at the wrong end when I told you to call me Onufri, forsince you are a mute you cannot call me anything. I shall speak for youand for myself, and, praise be to God! I can use peasants' speech aswell as Latin. Move on, move on! Now the first cottage is near. My God!when will our wanderings come to an end? If we could get some warmedbeer, I should praise the Lord God for even that."

  Zagloba ceased, and for a time they went on in silence together; thenhe began to talk again.

  "Remember that you are dumb. When they ask you about anything, point tome and say, 'Hum, hum, hum! niya, niya!' I have seen that you have muchwit, and besides, it is a question of our lives. If we should chance ona regiment belonging to the hetmans or the prince, then we would tellwho we are at once, especially if the officer is courteous and anacquaintance of Pan Skshetuski. It is true that you are under theguardianship of the prince, and you have nothing to fear from soldiers.Oh! what fires are those bursting out in the glen? Ah, there areblacksmiths--there is a forge! But I see there is no small number ofpeople at it. Let us go there."

  In the cleft which formed the entrance to the ravine there was a forge,from the chimney of which bundles and bunches of golden sparks werethrown out; and through the open doors and numerous chinks in the wallssparkling light burst forth, intercepted from moment to moment by darkforms moving around inside. In front of the forge were to be seen inthe evening twilight a number of dark forms standing together in knots.The hammers in the forge beat in time, till the echo was heard allabout; and the sound was mingled with songs in front of the forge, withthe buzz of conversation and the barking of dogs. Seeing all this,Zagloba turned immediately into the ravine, touched his lyre, and beganto sing,--

  "Hei! on the mountain Reapers are seen, Under the mountain, The mountain green, Cossacks are marching on."

  Singing thus, he approached the crowd of people standing in front ofthe forge. He looked around. They were peasants, for the most partdrunk. Nearly all of them had sticks in their hands; on some of thesesticks were scythes, double-edged and pointed. The blacksmiths in theforge were occupied specially in the making of these points and thebending of the scythes.

  "Ah, grandfather! grandfather!" they began to call out in the crowd.

  "Glory be to God!" said Zagloba.

  "For the ages of ages!"

  "Tell me, children, is this Demianovka?"

  "Yes, it is Demianovka. But why do you ask?"

  "I ask because men told me on the way," continued the grandfather,"that good people dwell here, that they will take in the old man, givehim food and drink, let him spend the night, and give him some money. Iam old; I have travelled a long road, and this boy here cannot go astep farther. He, poor fellow, is dumb; he leads me because I amsightless. I am a blind unfortunate. God will
bless you, kind people.Saint Nicholas, the wonder-worker, will bless you. Saint Onufri willbless you. In one eye there is a little of God's light left me; in theother it is dark forever. So I travel with my lyre. I sing songs, and Ilive like the birds on what falls from the hands of kind people."

  "And where are you from, grandfather?"

  "Oh, from afar, afar! But let me rest, for I see here by the forge abench. And sit down, poor creature!" said he, showing the bench toHelena. "We are from Ladava, good people, and left home long, long ago;but to-day we come from the festival in Brovarki."

  "And have you heard anything good there?" asked an old peasant with ascythe in his hand.

  "We heard, we heard, but whether it is anything good we don't know.Many people have collected there. They spoke of Hmelnitski,--that hehad conquered the hetman's son and his knights. We heard, too, that thepeasants are rising against the nobles on the Russian bank."

  Immediately the crowd surrounded Zagloba, who, sitting by Helena,struck the strings of the lyre from time to time.

  "Then you heard, father, that the people are rising?"

  "I did; for wretched is our peasant lot."

  "But they say there will be an end to it?"

  "In Kieff they found on the altar a letter from Christ, saying therewould be fearful and awful war and much blood-spilling in the wholeUkraine."

  The half-circle in front of the bench on which Zagloba sat contractedstill more.

  "You say there was a letter?"

  "There was, as I am alive. About war and the spilling of blood. But Icannot speak further, for the throat is dried up within me, poor oldman!"

  "Here is a measure of gorailka for you, father; and tell us what youhave heard in the world. We know that minstrels go everywhere and knoweverything. There have been some among us already. They said that theblack hour would come from Hmelnitski on the lords. We had thesescythes and pikes made for us, so as not to be the last; but we don'tknow whether to begin now or to wait for a letter from Hmelnitski."

  Zagloba emptied the measure, smacked his lips, thought awhile, and thensaid: "Who tells you it is time to begin?"

  "We want to begin ourselves."

  "Begin! begin!" said numerous voices. "If the Zaporojians have beatenthe lords, then begin!"

  The scythes and pikes quivered in strong hands, and gave out an ominousclatter. Then followed a moment of silence, but the hammers in theforge continued to beat. The future killers waited for what the old manwould say. He thought and thought; at last he asked,--

  "Whose people are you?"

  "Prince Yeremi's."

  "And whom will you kill?"

  The peasants looked at one another.

  "Him?" asked the old man.

  "We couldn't manage him."

  "Oh, you can't manage him, children, you can't manage him! I was inLubni, and I saw that prince with my own eyes. He is awful! When heshouts the trees tremble in the woods, and when he stamps his foot aravine is made. The king is afraid of him, the hetmans obey him, andall are terrified at him. He has more soldiers than the Khan or theSultan. Oh, you can't manage him, children, you can't manage him! He isafter you, not you after him. And I know what you don't know yet, thatall the Poles will come to help him; and where there is a Pole, thereis a sabre."

  Gloomy silence seized the crowd; the old man struck his lyre again, andraising his face toward the moon, continued:

  "The prince is coming, he is coming, and with him as many beautifulplumes and banners as there are stars in heaven or thistles on thesteppe. The wind flies before him and groans; and do you know, mychildren, why the wind groans? It groans over your fate. Mother Deathflies before him with a scythe, and strikes; and do you know what shestrikes at? She strikes at your necks."

  "O Lord, have mercy on us!" said low, terrified voices.

  Again nothing was heard but the beating of hammers.

  "Who is the prince's agent here?" asked the old man.

  "Pan Gdeshinski."

  "And where is he?"

  "He ran away."

  "Why did he run away?"

  "He ran away, for he heard that they were making scythes and pikes forus. He got frightened and ran away."

  "So much the worse, for he will tell the prince about you."

  "Why do you croak, grandfather, like a raven?" asked an old peasant."We believe that the black hour is coming on the lords; and there willbe neither on the Russian nor Tartar bank lords or princes,--onlyCossacks, free people; there will be neither land-rent, nor barrel-tax,nor mill-tax, nor transport-tax, nor any more Jews, for thus does itstand in the letter from Christ which you yourself spoke of. AndHmelnitski is as strong as the prince. Let them go at it!"

  "God grant!" said the old man. "Oh, bitter is our peasant lot! It wasdifferent in old times."

  "Who owns the land? The prince. Who owns the steppe? The prince. Whoowns the woods? The prince. Who has the cattle? The prince. And in oldtimes it was God's woods and God's steppe; whoever came first, took it,and was bound to no man. Now everything belongs to the lords andprinces."

  "All belongs to you, my children; but I tell you one thing youyourselves know, that you can't manage the prince here. I tell youthis,--whoever wants to slay lords, let him not stay here tillHmelnitski has tried his hand on the prince, but let him be off toHmelnitski, and right away, to-morrow, for the prince is on the roadalready. If Pan Gdeshinski brings him to Demianovka, the prince won'tleave one of you alive; he will kill the last man of you. Make your wayto Hmelnitski. The more of you there, the easier for Hmelnitski tosucceed. Oh, but he has heavy work before him! The hetmans in front ofhim, the armies of the king without number, and then the prince morepowerful than the hetmans. Hurry on, children, to help Hmelnitski andthe Zaporojians; for they, poor men, won't hold out unless you help,and they are fighting against the lords for your freedom and property.Hurry! You will save yourselves from the prince and you will helpHmelnitski."

  "He speaks the truth!" cried voices in the crowd.

  "He speaks well!"

  "A wise grandfather!"

  "Did you see the prince on the road?"

  "See him I didn't, but I heard in Brovarki that he had left Lubni, thathe is burning and slaying; and where he finds even one pike before him,he leaves only the sky and the earth behind."

  "Lord, have mercy on us!"

  "And where are we to look for Hmelnitski?"

  "I came here, children, to tell you where to look for Hmelnitski. Go,my children, to Zolotonosha, then to Trakhtimiroff, and thereHmelnitski will be waiting for you. There people are collecting fromall the villages, houses, and cottages; the Tartars will come theretoo. Go! Unless you do, the prince will not leave you to walk over theearth."

  "And you will go with us, father?"

  "Walk I will not, for the ground pulls down my old legs. But get readya telega, and I will ride with you. Before we come to Zolotonosha Iwill go on ahead to see if there are Polish soldiers. If there are, wewill pass by and go straight to Trakhtimiroff. That is a Cossackcountry. But now give me something to eat and drink, for I am hungry,and this lad here is hungry too. We will start off in the morning, andalong the road I will sing to you of Pan Pototski and Prince Yeremi.Oh, they are terrible lions! There will be great bloodshed in theUkraine. The sky is awfully red, and the moon just as if swimming inblood. Beg, children, for the mercy of God, for no one will walk longin God's world. I have heard also that vampires rise out of theirgraves and howl."

  A vague terror seized the crowd of peasants; they began to look aroundinvoluntarily, make the sign of the cross and whisper among themselves.At last one cried out,--

  "To Zolotonosha!"

  "To Zolotonosha!" repeated all, as if there in particular were refugeand safety.

  "To Trakhtimiroff!"

  "Death to the Poles and lords!"

  All at once a young Cossack stepped forward, shook his pike, and cried:"Fathers, if we go to Zolotonosha to-morrow, we, will go to themanager's house to-night."

  "To the manage
r's house!" cried a number of voices at once.

  "Burn it up! take the goods!"

  But the minstrel, who held his head drooping on his breast, raised itand said,--

  "Oh, children, do not go to the manager's house, and do not burn it, oryou will suffer. The prince may be close by, he is going along with hisarmy; he will see the fire, he will come, and there will be trouble.Better give me something to eat and show me a place to rest. And do youkeep your peace!"

  "He tells the truth!" said a number of voices.

  "He tells the truth, and, Maksim, you are a fool!"

  "Come, father, to my house for bread and salt and a cup of mead, andrest on the hay till daylight," said an old peasant, turning to theminstrel.

  Zagloba rose, and pulled the sleeve of Helena's svitka. She was asleep.

  "The boy is tired to death; he fell asleep under the very sound of thehammers," said Zagloba. But in his soul he thought: "Oh, sweetinnocence, thou art able to sleep amidst pikes and knives! It is clearthat angels of heaven are guarding thee, and me in thy company."

  He roused her, and they went on toward the village, which lay at somedistance. The night was calm and quiet; the echo of the strikinghammers followed them. The old peasant went ahead to show the way inthe darkness; and Zagloba, pretending to say his prayers, muttered in amonotone,--

  "O God, have mercy on us, sinners--Do you see, Princess--O Holy MostPure--what would have happened to us without this peasant disguise?--Asit is on earth, so in heaven--We shall get something to eat, andto-morrow ride to Zolotonosha instead of going on foot--Amen, amen,amen!--Bogun may come upon our tracks, for our tracks will notdeceive him; but it will be late, for we shall cross the Dnieper atProhorovka--Amen!--May black death choke them, may the hangman lighttheir way! Do you hear, Princess, how they are howling at theforge?--Amen!--Terrible times have come on us, but I am a fool if Idon't rescue you even if we have to flee to Warsaw itself."

  "What are you muttering there, brother?" asked the peasant.

  "Oh, nothing! I am praying for your health. Amen, amen!"

  "Here is my cottage."

  "Glory be to God!"

  "For the ages of ages!"

  "I beg you to eat my bread and salt."

  "God will reward you."

  A little later the minstrel had strengthened himself powerfully withmutton and a good portion of mead. Next morning early, he moved on withhis attendant lad, in a comfortable telega, toward Zolotonosha,escorted by a number of mounted peasants armed with pikes and scythes.

  They went through Kovraiets, Chernobai, and Krapivna. The wayfarers sawthat everything was seething; the peasants were arming at all points,the forges were working from morning till night, and only the terriblename and power of Prince Yeremi still restrained the bloody outburst.West of the Dnieper the tempest was let loose in all its fury. News ofthe defeat at Korsun had spread over all Russia with the speed oflightning, and every living soul was rushing forth.