Ogniem i mieczem. English

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  CHAPTER LX.

  Many a simple knight covered himself with undying glory on thatmemorable rampart of Zbaraj; but the lyre will celebrate Pan LonginPodbipienta among the first, since the greatness of his gifts could beequalled only by his modesty. The night was gloomy, dark, and wet; thesoldiers, wearied with watching at the ramparts, dozed, leaning ontheir weapons. After the recent ten days of firing and assaults, thiswas the first moment of quiet and rest. From the neighboring trenchesof the Cossacks--for they were scarcely thirty yards distant--therewere neither cries, curses, nor the usual uproar. It appeared as thoughthe enemy, wishing to weary the Poles, had grown weary themselves. Hereand there only glittered the faint light of a fire, covered under amound; from one place came the sweet, low sound of a lute, on whichsome Cossack was playing; far away in the Tartar camp the horsesneighed; and on the embankments, from time to time, was heard the voiceof the guards.

  The armored cavalry of the prince was on infantry duty that night.Skshetuski, Podbipienta, Volodyovski, and Zagloba on the bulwark werewhispering quietly among themselves; in the intervals of theconversation they listened to the sound of the rain falling into theditch.

  "This quiet is strange to me," said Skshetuski. "My ears are soaccustomed to thundering and uproar that silence rings in them; but Ihope treachery is not hidden in this silence."

  "Since I am on half-rations it is all one to me," muttered Zagloba,gloomily. "My courage demands three things,--to eat well, to drinkwell, and to sleep well. The best strap, if not oiled, will grow dryand break; what if, in addition, you soak it in water, like hemp? Therain soaks us, the Cossacks hackle us, and why should not strips fallfrom us? Beautiful conditions!--a biscuit costs a florin, and a measureof vudka five. A dog would not take this foul water in his mouth, forin the wells is the essence of the dead; and I am as thirsty as myboots, which have their mouths open like fish."

  "But your boots drink water without extravagant talk."

  "You might keep your mouth shut, Pan Michael! You are no bigger than atitmouse; you can live on a grain of millet and drink out of a thimble.But I thank God that I am not so delicate, and that a hen did notscratch me out of the sand with her hind legs, but a woman gave mebirth; therefore I must live by eating and drinking, like a man, notlike a May-bug; and as I have had nothing in my mouth but spittle sinceyesterday noon, your jokes are not at all to my taste."

  Here Zagloba began to puff with anger, and Pan Michael put his hand onhis side and said,--

  "I have in my pocket a flask, which I got of a Cossack to-day; but if ahen scratched me out of the sand, I think gorailka from such aninsignificant person would not be to your taste. Here's to you, Yan!"said he, turning to Skshetuski. "Give it here," said Skshetuski, "forthe air is cold."

  "Drink to Pan Longin."

  "You are a rogue, Pan Michael," said Zagloba, "but you are one in ahundred; you take from yourself and give to others. A blessing on hensthat scratch such soldiers from the sand! But there are none such, andI was not thinking of you."

  "Then take it after Podbipienta. I have no wish to offend you."

  "What are you doing? Leave some to me!" cried Zagloba in alarm, when hesaw the Lithuanian drinking. "Why do you throw your head back so far?God grant it to remain in its usual place. You are too long; it is nosmall task to moisten you. May you burst!"

  "I've barely touched it," said Podbipienta, handing him the flask.

  Zagloba turned over the flask completely, and drank to the bottom; thenhe snorted, and said,--

  "The only consolation is that if our miseries come to an end, and Godlets us take our heads out of these dangers in safety, we'll rewardourselves for all. They will be sure to prepare some loaves for us. Thepriest Jabkovski has fine skill in eating, but I'll make a ram's-hornof him."

  "And what word of truth have you and Jabkovski heard to-day fromMukhovetski?"

  "Silence!" said Skshetuski; "there is some one coming in the square."

  They were silent; and soon a dark figure stood near them, and asked ina hushed voice: "Are you watching?"

  "We are," answered Skshetuski, straightening himself.

  "Give careful attention; this calm is of evil augury."

  The prince passed on to see if sleep had overcome the wearied soldiersanywhere. Pan Longin clasped his hands: "What a leader! what awarrior!"

  "He takes less rest than we do," said Skshetuski. "He examines thewhole rampart in this way every night as far as the second pond."

  "God grant him health!"

  "Amen!"

  Silence followed. All looked with strained eyes into the darkness, butnothing could be seen. The Cossack trenches were quiet, the last lightin them quenched.

  "They might be caught napping now, like susliks," muttered Volodyovski.

  "Who knows?" answered Skshetuski.

  "Sleep torments me," said Zagloba, "so that my eyes are coming out, andsleep is not permitted. I am curious to know when it will be permitted.Whether there is firing or not, one must stand under arms and nod fromweariness, like a Jew on the Sabbath. It's a dog's service! I don'tknow myself what has got hold of me,--whether it's the gorailka, or theirritation from that blow which I with the priest Jabkovski was forcedto endure without reason."

  "How was that?" asked Podbipienta; "you began to tell us, and didn'tfinish."

  "I'll tell you now. Maybe we'll shake off sleep somehow. I went thismorning with Jabkovski to the castle, hoping to come upon something tognaw. We search and search, look everywhere, find nothing; we return inbad humor. In the yard we meet a Calvinist minister who had been givingthe last consolation to Captain Shenberk, of Firlei's battalion, whowas shot yesterday. I opened on him: 'Haven't you,' said I, 'strolledaround about long enough, and displeased the Lord sufficiently? Youwill draw a curse on us.' But he, relying evidently on the protectionof the castellan of Belsk, answered: 'Our faith is as good as yours, ifnot better!' And he spoke in such a way that we were petrified fromhorror. But we kept silent. I thought to myself: 'Jabkovski is here;let him do the arguing.' But my Jabkovski snorted, and whacked himunder the ribs with arguments. He made no answer to this strongest ofreasons, for he went spinning around till he was brought up standingagainst the wall. That moment the prince came in with Mukhovetski andfell upon us; said that we were making an uproar and disturbance; thatit was neither the time nor the place, nor were ours the arguments.They washed our heads for us, as if we had been a couple of boys. Iwish they were right; for unless I am a false prophet, these ministersof Firlei will bring misfortune to us yet."

  "And did not that Captain Shenberk renounce his errors?" askedVolodyovski.

  "What, renounce! He died, as he had lived, in abomination!"

  "Oh that men should yield up their salvation rather than theirstubbornness!" sighed Pan Longin.

  "God is defending us against Cossack predominance and witchcraft,"continued Zagloba; "but these heretics are offending him. It is knownto you, gentlemen, that yesterday, from this very intrenchment beforeus, they shot balls of thread into the square; and the soldiers saythat immediately on the place where the balls fell the ground wascovered with a leprosy."

  "It's a known fact that devils wait on Hmelnitski," said theLithuanian, making the sign of the cross.

  "I saw the witches myself," added Skshetuski, "and I'll tell you--"

  Further conversation was stopped by Volodyovski, who pressedSkshetuski's arm suddenly, and whispered: "Silence!" Then he sprang tothe very edge of the rampart, and listened attentively.

  "I hear nothing," said Zagloba.

  "Ts! the rain drowns it," answered Skshetuski.

  Pan Michael began to beckon with his hand not to interrupt him, and helistened carefully for some time. At last he approached his comrades."They are marching!" whispered he.

  "Let the prince know; he has gone to Ostrorog's quarters," whisperedPan Yan. "We will run to warn the soldiers."

  Straightway they hurried along the ramparts, stopping from moment tomoment and whisperi
ng everywhere to the soldiers on guard: "They arecoming! they are coming!"

  The words flew like silent lightning from mouth to mouth. In a quarterof an hour the prince, already on horseback, was present, and issuingorders to the officers. Since the enemy wished, evidently, to springinto the camp while the Poles were asleep and off guard, the princeenjoined on all to maintain this error. The soldiers were to remain inimmovable stillness and let the assaulters come to the very rampart,and when cannon-shot was given as a signal, to strike unexpectedly.

  The soldiers were ready. They dropped the muzzles of their guns, bentforward noiselessly, and deep silence followed. Skshetuski, Pan Longin,and Volodyovski drew long breaths, side by side. Zagloba stayed nearthem, for he knew by experience that most balls fell on the square, andthat it was safest on the ramparts near three such sabres. They merelydrew back a little, that the first onrush might not strike them.Podbipienta knelt somewhat to one side with his double-handed sword;Volodyovski crouched near Skshetuski, and whispered in his very ear,--

  "They are coming, surely."

  "With measured tread."

  "That's not the mob, nor the Tartars."

  "Zaporojian infantry."

  "Or janissaries; they march well. We could strike them better withcavalry."

  "It is too dark for cavalry to-night."

  "Do you hear them now?"

  "Ts! Ts!"

  The camp seemed sunk in deepest sleep. In no place movement, in noplace life; everywhere the most profound silence, broken only by therustle of rain fine as if scattered from a sieve. Gradually, however,there rose in this another rustle, low, but more easily caught by theear, for it was measured, drawing nearer, growing clearer; at last, afew steps from the ditch, appeared a sort of prolonged dense mass,visible in so far that it was blacker than the darkness, and halted.

  The soldiers held their breaths; but the little knight punchedSkshetuski in the side, as if wishing in this way to show his delight.The assailants reached the ditch, let down their ladders into it,descended on them, and moved toward the rampart. The rampart was assilent as if on it and behind it everything had expired; a silence ofthe grave succeeded. Here and there, in spite of all the care of theassailants, the ladder-rounds squeaked and trembled.

  "You'll get beans!" thought Zagloba.0

  Volodyovski stopped punching Skshetuski, Pan Longin pressed the hilt ofhis double-handed sword, and distended his eyes, for he was nearest theedge of the rampart and expected to give the first blow.

  Three pairs of hands appeared on the outer rim, and grasped it firmly;after them began to rise slowly and carefully three helmet points,higher and higher.

  "Those are Turks!" thought Pan Longin.

  At that moment was heard the awful roar of several thousand muskets; itwas clear as day. Before the light had gone out Pan Longin had drawnhis weapon and cut terribly, so that the air whined under hissword-edge. Three bodies fell into the ditch, three heads in helmetsrolled to the knees of the kneeling knight. Then, though hell wasraging on earth, heaven opened before Pan Longin; wings grew from hisshoulders; choirs of angels were singing in his breast, and he was asif caught up to heaven; he fought as in a dream, and the blows of hissword were like thanks giving prayers. All the Podbipientas, long sincedead, beginning with Stoveiko, the founder of the line, were rejoicingin heaven that the last surviving, Zervikaptur Podbipienta, was such aman.

  This assault, in which auxiliary forces of Rumelian and SilistrianTurks, with guards from the janissaries of the Khan, took apreponderant part, received a more terrible repulse than others, anddrew a fearful storm on Hmelnitski's head. He had guaranteed in advancethat the Poles would fight with less rage against the Turks, and ifthose companies were given him he would capture the camp. He wasobliged therefore to mollify the Khan and the enraged murzas, and atthe same time win them with presents. He gave the Khan ten thousandthalers; Tugai Bey, Korz Aga, Subahazi, Nureddin, and Galga, twothousand each.

  Meanwhile the camp-servants drew the bodies out of the ditch. In thisthey were not hindered by firing from the intrenchment. The soldiersrested till morning, for it was certain that the assault would not berepeated. All slept uninterruptedly, except the troops on guard andPodbipienta, who lay, in the form of a cross, all night on his sword,thanking God, who had permitted him to accomplish his vow and coverhimself with such renown that his name had gone from mouth to mouth inthe camp and the town. Next morning the prince summoned him, andpraised him greatly, and the soldiers came in crowds all day tocongratulate him and look at the three heads which the attendants hadbrought before his tent, and which were already blackening in the air.There was wonder and envy not a little, and some would not believetheir eyes, for the heads and the capes of the helmets were cut off asevenly as if some one had cut them with shears.

  "You are an awful tailor!" said the nobles. "We knew that you were agood knight; but the ancients might envy such a blow, for the bestexecutioner could not give a better."

  "The wind does not take off caps as those heads were taken!" saidanother.

  All pressed the palms of Pan Longin; but he stood with downcast eyes,sunshiny, sweet, timid as a maiden before marriage, and said as if inexplanation: "They were in good position."

  Then they tested the sword; but since it was the double-handed sword ofa crusader, no man could move it freely, not excepting even the priestJabkovski, though he could break a horse-shoe like a reed.

  Around the tent it grew noisier; and Zagloba, Skshetuski, andVolodyovski did the honors to the visitors, treating them with stories,for they had nothing else to give them since the last biscuits in thecamp had been eaten; they had long had no other meat than driedhorse-flesh. But valor gave them meat and drink. Toward the end, whenthe others began to disperse, Marek Sobieski appeared with hislieutenant, Stempovski. Pan Longin ran out to meet him; the starostagreeted him with thanks, and said,--

  "It is a holiday with you?"

  "In truth it is a holiday," answered Zagloba, "for our friend hasfulfilled a vow."

  "Praise be to the Lord God!" answered the starosta. "Then it is notlong, brother, till we may congratulate you on your marriage. And haveyou any one in mind?"

  Pan Longin was extremely confused, grew red to his ears; and thestarosta continued,--

  "I see by your confusion that you have. It is your sacred duty toremember that such a stock should not perish."

  Then he pressed the hands of Pan Longin, Skshetuski, Zagloba, and thelittle knight; and they were rejoiced in their hearts to hear praisefrom such lips, for the starosta of Krasnostav was the mirror ofbravery, honor, and every knightly virtue,--he was an incarnate Mars.All the gifts of God were richly united in him, for in remarkablebeauty he surpassed even his younger brother Yan, who was afterwardking. He was equal in fortune and name to the very first, and the greatYeremi himself exalted his military gifts to the skies. He would havebeen a wonderful star in the heaven of the Commonwealth, but that bythe disposition of God, the younger, Yan, took his glory to himself,and Marek vanished before his time in a day of disaster.

  Hitherto our knights had rejoiced greatly at the praises of this hero;but he did not stop at that, and continued,--

  "I have heard much of you from the prince himself, who loves you beyondothers. I do not wonder that you serve him without reference topromotion, which comes more readily in the regiments of the king."

  "We are all," answered Skshetuski, "really enrolled in the hussarregiment of the king, except Pan Zagloba, who is a volunteer fromnative valor. We serve under the prince, first, out of love for hisperson, and, secondly, because we wish to have as much as we can of thewar."

  "If such be your wish, you have chosen well. Surely Pan Podbipientacould not have found his heads under any other command so easily. Butas to war in these times, we all have enough of it."

  "More than of anything else," said Zagloba. "Men have been coming herefrom early morning with praises; but if any one would ask us to a biteof food and a drink of gorailka, he would honor us best."
>
  Having said this, Zagloba looked diligently into Sobieki's eyes, andmuttered unquietly; but the starosta sighed, and said,--

  "Since yesterday noon I have taken nothing into my mouth. A gulp ofgorailka, however, I think can be found somewhere. I am at yourservice, gentlemen, for that."

  Skshetuski, Pan Longin, and Volodyovski began to draw back and scoldZagloba, who extricated himself as he could and explained matters as hewas able.

  "I did not press myself," said he, "for it is my ambition rather togive away my own than touch what belongs to another; but when such adistinguished person invites, it would be churlish to refuse."

  "Well, come on!" said the starosta. "I like to sit in good company, andwhile there is no firing we have time. I do ask you to eat, for it isdifficult to get horse-flesh,--for each horse killed on the square ahundred hands are stretched forth; but there are two flasks of gorailkawhich certainly I shall not keep for myself."

  The others were unwilling, and refused; but when he insisted urgently,they went. Pan Stempovski hurried on in advance, and exerted himself sothat a few biscuits and some bits of horse-flesh were found as a biteafter the gorailka. Zagloba was in better spirits immediately, andsaid,--

  "God grant the king, to liberate us from this siege, then we will go atonce to the wagons of the general militia. They always carry a world ofgood things with them, and care more for their stomachs than they dofor the Commonwealth. I'd rather eat with them than fight in theircompany; but being under the eye of the king, perhaps they will fightfairly well."

  The starosta grew serious. "Since we have sworn," said he, "to fall oneafter another without surrender, we shall do so. We must be ready forstill harder times. We have scarcely any provisions, and what is worse,our powder is coming to an end. I should not say this to others, but toyou I can speak. Soon we shall have nothing but desperate determinationin our hearts and sabres in our hands, readiness for death, and nothingmore. God grant the king to come at the earliest moment, for this isour last hope! He is a military man, and is sure not to spare life,health, or comfort in rescuing us; but his forces are too few, and hemust wait,--you know how slowly the general militia muster. Besides,how is the king to know the conditions in which we are defendingourselves, and that we are eating the last fragments?"

  "We have sacrificed ourselves," said Skshetuski.

  "But couldn't we let him know?" asked Zagloba.

  "If there could be found a man of such virtue as to undertake to stealthrough," said the starosta, "he would win immortal glory in hislifetime,--he would be the savior of the whole army, and would avertdefeat from the fatherland. Even if the general militia has not allappeared yet, perhaps the nearness of the king might disperse therebellion. But who will go, who will undertake it, since Hmelnitski hasso possessed every road and exit that a mouse could not squeeze throughfrom the camp? Such an undertaking is clear and evident death!"

  "But what are stratagems for?--and one is now entering my head."

  "What is it, what is it?" asked the starosta.

  "This. Every day we take prisoners: bribe one of these; let them feignescape from us, and run to the king."

  "I must mention this to the prince," said the starosta.

  Pan Longin fell into deep thought; his brows were covered with furrows,and he sat a whole hour in silence. Suddenly he raised his head, andspoke with his usual sweetness: "I will undertake to steal through theCossacks."

  The knights, hearing these words, sprang from their seats in amazement.Zagloba opened his mouth, Volodyovski's mustaches quivered, Skshetuskigrew pale; and the starosta, striking himself on the breast, cried:"Would you undertake to do this?"

  "Have you considered what you say?" asked Pan Yan.

  "I considered it long ago," answered the Lithuanian; "for this is notthe first day that the knights say that notice must be given the kingof our position. And I, hearing this, thought to myself: 'If the MostHigh God permits me to fulfil my vow, I will go at once. I am anobscure man; what do I signify? What harm to me, even am killed on theroad?'"

  "But they will cut you to pieces, without doubt!" cried Zagloba, "Haveyou heard what the starosta says,--that it is evident death?"

  "What of that, brother? If God wishes, he will carry me through; if not,he will reward me in heaven."

  "But first they will seize you, torture you, give you a fearful death.Have you lost your reason, man?" asked Zagloba.

  "I will go, anyhow," answered the Lithuanian, mildly.

  "A bird could not fly through, for they would shoot it from their bows.They have surrounded us like a badger in his hole."

  "Still I will go!" repeated the Lithuanian. "I owe thanks to the Lordfor permitting me to fulfil my vow."

  "Well, look at him, examine him!" said Zagloba, in desperation. "Youwould better have your head cut off at once and shoot it from a cannonover the tabor, for in this way alone could you push through them."

  "But permit me, my friends," said Pan Longin, clasping his hands.

  "Oh, no; you will not go alone, for I will go with you," saidSkshetuski.

  "And I with you both!" added Volodyovski, striking his sword.

  "And may the bullets strike you!" cried Zagloba, seizing himself by thehead. "May the bullets strike you with your 'And I,' 'And I,' with yourdaring! They have not had enough of blood yet, not enough ofdestruction, not enough of bullets! What is doing here is notsufficient for them; they want more certainty of having their neckstwisted. Go to the dogs, and give me peace! I hope you will be cut topieces." When he had said this he began to circle about in the tent asif mad. "God is punishing me," cried be, "for associating withwhirlwinds instead of honorable, solid men. It serves me right." Hewalked through the tent awhile longer with feverish tread; at last hestopped before Skshetuski; then, putting his hands behind his back andlooking into his eyes, began to puff terribly: "What have I done thatyou persecute me?"

  "God save us!" exclaimed the knight. "What do you mean?"

  "I do not wonder that Podbipienta invents such things; he always hadhis wit in his fist. But since he has killed the three greatest foolsamong the Turks he has become the fourth himself--"

  "It is disgusting to hear him," interrupted the Lithuanian.

  "And I don't wonder at _him_," continued Zagloba, pointing atVolodyovski. "He will jump on a Cossack's bootleg, or hold to histrousers as a burr does to a dog's tail, and get through quicker thanany of us. The Holy Spirit has not shone upon either of the two; butthat you, instead of restraining their madness, should add excitementto it, that you are going yourself, and wish to expose us four tocertain death and torture,--that is the final blow! Tfu! I did notexpect this of an officer whom the prince himself has esteemed avaliant knight."

  "How four?" asked Skshetuski, in astonishment. "Do you want to go?"

  "Yes!" cried Zagloba, beating his breast with his fists, "I will go. Ifany of you go, or all go together, I will go too. My blood be on yourheads! I shall know next time with whom to associate."

  "Well may you!" said Skshetuski.

  The three knights began to embrace him; but he was angry in earnest,and puffed and pushed them away with his elbows, saying: "Go to thedevil! I don't want your Judas kisses." Then was heard on the walls thefiring of cannon and muskets. "There it is for you, go!"

  "That is ordinary firing," remarked Pan Yan.

  "Ordinary firing!" repeated Zagloba, mocking him. "Well, just thinkthis is not enough for them. Half the army is destroyed by thisordinary firing, and they turn up their noses at it."

  "Be of good cheer," said Podbipienta.

  "You ought to keep your mouth shut, Botvinia. You are most to blame;you have invented an undertaking which if it is not a fool's errandthen I'm a fool."

  "But still I'll go, brother," said Pan Longin.

  "You'll go, you'll go; and I know why. Don't exhibit yourself as ahero, for they know you. You have virtue for sale, and are in ahurry to take it out of camp. You the worst among knights, notthe best,--simply a drab, trading in virtue.
Tfu! an offence toGod,--that's what you are. It is not to the king you want to go, butyou would like to snort through the villages like a horse through ameadow. Look at him! There is a knight with virtue for sale! Vexation,vexation, as God is dear to me!"

  "Disgusting to hear him!" cried the Lithuanian, thrusting his fingersin his ears.

  "Let disputes rest," said Skshetuski, seriously. "Better let us thinkabout this question."

  "In God's name," said the starosta, who had listened hitherto withastonishment to Zagloba, "this is a great question, but we can decidenothing without the prince. This is no place for discussion. You are inservice and obliged to obey orders. The prince must be in his quarters;let us go to him and see what he will say to your offer."

  "I agree to that," answered Zagloba; and hope shone in his face. "Let usgo as quickly as possible."

  They went out and crossed the square on which already the balls werefalling from the Cossack trenches. The troops were at the ramparts,which at a distance looked like booths at a fair, so overhung were theywith many-colored clothing sheepskin coats, packed with wagons,fragments of tents, and every kind of object which might become ashelter against the shots which at times ceased neither day nor night.And now above those rags hung a long bluish line of smoke, and behindthem ranks of prostrate red and yellow soldiers, working hard againstthe nearest trenches of the enemy. The square itself was like a ruin;the level space was cut up with spades, or trampled by horses; it wasnot made green by a single grass-blade. Here and there were mounds ofearth freshly raised by the digging of walls and graves; here and therelay fragments of broken wagons, cannon, barrels, or piles of bones,gnawed, and whitening before the sun. Bodies of horses were nowherevisible, for each one was removed immediately as food for the soldiers;but everywhere were piles of iron,--mostly cannon-balls, red from rust,which fell every day on that piece of land. Grievous war and hungerwere evident at every step. On their way our knights met greater orsmaller groups of soldiers,--some carrying wounded or dead, othershurrying to the ramparts to relieve their overworked comrades. Thefaces of all were black, sunken, overgrown with beard; their fierceeyes were inflamed, their clothing faded and torn; many had filthy ragson their heads in place of caps or helmets; their weapons were broken.Involuntarily came the question. What will happen a week or two laterto that handful hitherto victorious?

  "Look, gentlemen," said the starosta; "it is time to give notice to theking."

  "Want is showing its teeth, like a dog," said the little knight.

  "What will happen when we have eaten the horses?" asked Skshetuski.

  Thus conversing, they reached the tents of the prince, situated at theright side of the rampart, before which were a few mounted messengersto carry orders through the camp. Their horses, fed with dried andground horse-flesh and excited by continual fire, reared restively,unable to stand in one place. This was the case too with all thecavalry horses, which in going against the enemy seemed like a herd ofgriffins or centaurs going rather by air than by land.

  "Is the prince in the tent?" asked the starosta of one of the horsemen.

  "Yes, with Pan Pshiyemski," answered the orderly.

  The starosta entered first without announcing himself, but the fourknights remained outside. After a while the canvas opened, andPshiyemski thrust out his head. "The prince is anxious to see you,"said he.

  Zagloba entered the tent in good humor, for he hoped the prince wouldnot expose his best knights to certain death; but he was mistaken, forthey had not yet bowed when he said,--

  "The starosta has told me of your readiness to issue from the camp, andI accept your good will. Too much cannot be sacrificed for thecountry."

  "We have only come for permission to try," said Skshetuski, "since yourHighness is the steward of our blood."

  "Then you want to go together?"

  "Your Highness," said Zagloba, "they want to go, but I do not. God ismy witness that I have not come here to praise myself or to makemention of my services; and if I do mention them, I do so lest some onemight suppose that I am afraid. Pan Skshetuski, Volodyovski, andPodbipienta of Myshekishki are great knights; but Burlai, who fell bymy hand (not to speak of other exploits), was also a famous warrior,equal to Burdabut, Bogun, and the three heads of the janissaries. Imean to say by this that in knightly deeds I am not behind others. Butheroism is one thing, and madness another. We have no wings, and wecannot go by land; that is certain."

  "You will not go then?" said the prince.

  "I have said that I do not wish to go, but I have not said that I willnot go. Since God has punished me with their company, I must remain init till death. If we should be hard pressed, the sabre of Zagloba willbe of service yet; but I know not why death should be put upon us four,and I hope that your Highness will avert it from us by not permittingthis mad undertaking."

  "You are a good comrade," answered the prince, "and it honorable onyour part not to wish to leave your friends; you are mistaken in yourconfidence in me, for I accept your offer."

  "The dog is dead!" muttered Zagloba, and his hands dropped.

  At that moment Firlei, castellan of Belsk, entered the tent. "YourHighness, my people have seized a Cossack who says that they arepreparing an assault for to-night."

  "I have received information too," answered the prince. "All is ready,only let our people hurry with the ramparts."

  "They are nearly finished."

  "That is well! We will occupy them in the evening." Then he turned tothe four knights. "It is best to try after the storm, if the night isdark."

  "How is that?" asked Firlei; "are you preparing a sally?"

  "The sally in its own order,--I will lead it myself; but now we aretalking about something else. These gentlemen undertake to creepthrough the enemy and inform the king of our condition."

  The castellan was astonished, opened his eyes, and looked at theknights in succession. The prince smiled with delight. He had thisvanity,--he loved to have his soldiers admired.

  "In God's name!" said the castellan; "there are such hearts then in theworld? As God lives, I will not dissuade you from the daring deed."

  Zagloba was purple from rage; but he said nothing, he only puffed likea bear. The prince thought awhile, then said,--

  "I do not wish, however, to spend your blood in vain, and I am notwilling that all four should go together. One will go first; if theenemy kill him, they will not delay in boasting of it, as they haveonce already boasted of the death of my servant whom they seized atLvoff. If they kill the first, the second will go; afterward in case ofnecessity the third and the fourth. But perhaps the first will passthrough; in such an event I do not wish to expose the others to auseless death."

  "Your Highness," interrupted Skshetuski.

  "This is my will and command," said Yeremi, with emphasis. "To bringyou to agreement, I say that he shall go first who offered himselffirst."

  "It was I!" cried Pan Longin, with a beaming face.

  "To-night, after the storm, if it is dark," added the prince. "I willgive no letters to the king; you will tell what you have seen,--merelytake a signet-ring as credential."

  Podbipienta took the signet-ring and bowed to the prince, who caughthim by the temples and held him awhile with his two hands; then hekissed him several times on the forehead, and said in a voice ofemotion,--

  "You are as near to my heart as a brother. May the God of Hosts and ourQueen of Angels carry you through, warrior of the Lord! Amen!"

  "Amen!" repeated Sobieski, the castellan of Belsk, and Pan Pshiyemski.

  The prince had tears in his eyes, for he was a real father to theknights. Others wept, and a quiver of enthusiasm shook the body of PanPodbipienta. A flame passed through his bones; and rejoiced to itsdepth was his soul, pure, obedient, and heroic, with the hope of comingsacrifice.

  "History will write of you!" cried the castellan.

  "Non nobis, non nobis, sed nomini tuo, Domine, da gloriam (Not to us,not to us, but to thy name, Lord, give the glory)," said the prince.
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  The knights issued from the tent.

  "Tfu! something has seized me by the throat and holds me," saidZagloba; "and it is as bitter in my mouth as wormwood, and there theyare firing continually. Oh, if the thunders would fire you away!" saidhe, pointing to the smoking trenches of the Cossacks. "Oh, it is hardto live in this world! Pan Longin, are you really going out? May theangels guard you! If the plague would choke those ruffians!"

  "I must take farewell of you," said Podbipienta.

  "How is that? Where are you going?" asked Zagloba.

  "To the priest Mukhovetski,--to confess, my brother. I must cleanse mysinful soul."

  Pan Longin hastened to the castle; the others returned to the ramparts.Skshetuski and Volodyovski were silent, but Zagloba said,--

  "Something holds me by the throat. I did not think to be sorrowful, butthat is the worthiest man in the world. If any one contradicts me, I'llgive it to him in the face. Oh, my God, my God! I thought the castellanof Belsk would restrain the prince, but he beat the drums still more.The hangman brought that heretic! 'History,' he says, 'will write ofyou.' Let it write of him, but not on the skin of Pan Longin. And whydoesn't he go out himself? He has six toes on his feet, like everyCalvinist, and he can walk better. I tell you, gentlemen, that it isgetting worse and worse on earth, and Jabkovski is a true prophet whenhe says that the end of the world is near. Let us sit down awhile atthe ramparts, and a go to the castle, so as to console ourselves withthe company of our friend till evening at least."

  But Pan Longin, after confession and communion, spent whole time inprayer. He made his first appearance at the storm in the evening, whichwas one of the most awful, for the Cossacks had struck just when thetroops were transporting their cannon and wagons to the newly raisedramparts. For a time it seemed that the slender forces of the Poleswould fall before the onrush of two hundred thousand foes. The Polishbattalions had become so intermingled with the enemy that they couldnot distinguish their own, and three times they closed in this fashion.Hmelnitski exerted all his power; for the Khan and his own colonels hadtold him that this must be the last storm, and that henceforth theywould only harass the besieged with hunger. But after three hours allattacks were repulsed with such terrible losses that according tolater reports forty thousand of the enemy had fallen. One thing iscertain,--after the battle a whole bundle of flags was thrown at thefeet of the prince; and this was really the last great assault, afterwhich followed more difficult times of digging under the ramparts,capturing wagons, continual firing, suffering, and famine.

  Immediately after the storm the soldiers, ready to drop from weariness,were led by the tireless Yeremi in a sally, which ended in a new defeatfor the enemy. Quiet then soothed the tabor and the camp.

  The night was warm but cloudy. Four black forms pushed themselvesquietly and carefully to the eastern edge of the ramparts. They werePan Longin, Zagloba, Skshetuski, and Volodyovski.

  "Guard your pistols well, to keep the powder dry," whispered Pan Yan."Two battalions will be ready all night. If you fire, we will spring tothe rescue."

  "Nothing to be seen, even if you strain your eyes out!" whisperedZagloba.

  "That is better," answered Pan Longin.

  "Be quiet!" interrupted Volodyovski, "I hear something."

  "That is only the groan of a dying man,--nothing!"

  "If you can only reach the oak grove."

  "Oh, my God! my God!" sighed Zagloba, trembling as if in a fever.

  "In three hours it will be daylight."

  "It is time!" said Pan Longin.

  "Time! time!" repeated Skshetuski, in a stifled voice. "Go with God!"

  "With God, with God!"

  "Farewell, brothers, and forgive me if I have offended any of you inanything."

  "You offend? O God!" cried Zagloba, throwing himself into his arms.

  Skshetuski and Volodyovski embraced him in turn. The moment came.Suppressed gulping shook the breasts of these knights. One alone, PanLongin, was calm, though full of emotion. "Farewell!" he repeated oncemore; and approaching the edge of the rampart, he dropped into theditch, and soon appeared as a black figure on the opposite bank. Oncemore he beckoned farewell to his comrades, and vanished in the gloom.

  Between the road to Zalostsitse and the highway from Vishnyovets grewan oak-grove, interspersed with narrow openings. Beyond and joiningwith it was an old pine-forest, thick and large, extending north ofZalostsitse. Podbipienta had determined to reach that grove. The roadis very perilous, for to reach the oaks it was necessary to pass alongthe entire flank of the Cossack tabor; but Pan Longin selected it onpurpose, for it was just around the camp that most people were movingduring the whole night, and the guards gave least attention topassers-by. Besides, other roads, valleys, thickets, and narrow placeswere set by guards who rode around continually, by essauls, sotniks,and even Hmelnitski himself. A passage through the meadows and alongthe Gnyezna was not to be dreamt for the Cossack horse-herders werewatching there from dusk till daylight with their herds.

  The night was gloomy, cloudy, and so dark that at ten paces not onlycould a man not be seen, but not even a tree. This circumstance wasfavorable for Pan Longin; though on the other hand he was obliged to govery slowly and carefully, so as not to fall into any of the pits orditches, occupying the whole expanse of the battle-field and dug byPolish and Cossack hands. In this fashion he made way to the secondPolish rampart, which had been abandoned just before evening, and hadpassed through the ditch. He stopped and listened; the trenches wereempty. The sally made by Yeremi after the storm had pushed the Cossacksout, who either fell, or took refuge in the tabor. A multitude ofbodies were lying on the slopes and summits of these mounds. Pan Longinstumbled against bodies every moment, stepped over them, and passed on.From time to time a low groan or sigh announced that some one of theprostrate was living yet.

  Beyond the ramparts there was a broad expanse stretching to anothertrench made before the arrival of Yeremi, also covered with corpses;but some tens of steps farther on were those earth-shelters, likestacks of hay in the darkness. But they were empty. Everywhere thedeepest silence reigned,--nowhere a fire or a man; no one on thatformer square but the prostrate.

  Pan Longin began the prayer for the souls of the dead, and went on. Thesounds of the Polish camp, which followed him to the second rampart,grew fainter and fainter, melting in the distance, till at last theyceased altogether. Pan Longin stopped and looked around for the lasttime. He could see almost nothing, for in the camp there was no light;but one window in the castle glimmered weakly as a star which theclouds now expose and now conceal, or like a glow-worm which shines anddarkens in turn.

  "My brothers, shall I see you again in this life?" thought Pan Longin;and sadness pressed him down like a tremendous stone. He was barelyable to breathe. There, where that pale light was trembling, are hispeople; there are brother hearts,--Prince Yeremi, Pan Yan, Volodyovski,Zagloba, the priest Mukhovetski; there they love him and would gladlydefend him. But here is night, with desolation, darkness, corpses;under his feet choruses of ghosts; farther on, the blood-devouringtabor of sworn, pitiless enemies. The weight of sadness became so greatthat it was too heavy even for the shoulders of this giant. His soulbegan to waver within him.

  In the darkness pale Alarm flew upon him, and began to whisper in hisear: "You will not pass, it is impossible! Return, there is still time!Fire the pistol, and a whole battalion will rush to your aid. Throughthose tabors, through that savageness nothing will pass."

  That starving camp, covered every day with balls, full of death and theodor of corpses, appeared at that moment to Pan Longin a calm,peaceful, safe haven. His friends there would not think ill of him ifhe returned. He would tell them that the deed passed human power; andthey would not go themselves, would not send another,--would waitfurther for the mercy of God and the coming of the king. But ifSkshetuski should go and perish! "In the name of the Father, Son, andHoly Ghost! These are temptations of Satan," thought Pan Longin. "I amready for death, and nothing w
orse can meet me. And this is Satanterrifying a weak soul with desolation, corpses, and darkness; for hemakes use of all means." Will the knight return, cover himself withshame, suffer in reputation, disgrace his name, not save the army,renounce the crown of heaven? Never! And he moved on, stretching outhis hands before him.

  Now a murmur reached him again, not from the Polish camp, however, butfrom the opposite side, still indefinite, but as it were deep andterrible, like the growling of a bear giving sudden answer in a darkforest. Disquiet had now left Pan Longin's soul; sadness had ceased,and changed into a mere sweet remembrance of those near to him. Atlast, as if answering that menace coming up from the tabor, he repeatedonce more in spirit: "But still I will go."

  After a certain time he found himself on that battle-field ere on thefirst day of the storm the prince's cavalry had defeated the Cossacksand janissaries. The road here was more even,--fewer pits, ditches,shelters, and no corpses, those who had fallen in the earlier struggleshad been buried by the Cossacks. It was also somewhat clearer, for theground was not covered with various obstacles. The land inclinedgradually toward the north. But Pan Longin turned immediately to theflank, wishing to push through between the western pond and the tabor.

  He went quickly now, without hindrance, and it seemed him already thathe was reaching the line of the tabor, when some new sound caught hisattention. He halted at once, and after waiting a quarter of an hourheard the tramp and breathing of horses. "Cossack patrols!" thought he.The voices of men reached his ears. He sprang aside with speed, andsearching with his foot for the first depression in the ground, fell tothe earth and stretched out motionless, holding his pistol in one handand his sword the other.

  The riders approached still nearer, and at last were abreast of him. Itwas so dark he could not count them; but he heard every word of theirconversation.

  "It is hard for them, but hard for us too," said some sleepy voice."And how many good men of ours have bitten the dust!"

  "Oh, Lord!" said another voice, "they say the king is far. What willbecome of us?"

  "The Khan got angry with our father; and the Tartars threaten to takeus, if there will be no other prisoners."

  "And in the pastures they fight with our men. Father has forbidden usto go to the Tartar camp, for whoever goes there is lost."

  "They say there are disguised Poles among the market-men. I wish thiswar had never begun."

  "It is worse this time than before."

  "The king is not far away, with the Polish forces. That is the worst!"

  "Ha, ha! You would be sleeping in the Saitch at this hour; now you havegot to push around in the dark like a vampire."

  "There must be vampires here, for the horses are snorting."

  Their voices receded gradually, and at last were silent. Pan Longinrose and went on.

  A rain fine as mist began to fall. It grew still darker. On the leftside of Pan Longin gleamed at the distance of two furlongs a smalllight; after that a second, a third, and a tenth. Then he knew he wason the line of the tabor. The lights were far apart and weak. It wasevident that all were sleeping, and only here and there might they bedrinking or preparing food for the morrow.

  "Thank God that I am out after the storm and the sally," said PanLongin to himself. "They must be mortally weary."

  He had scarcely thought this when he heard again in the distance thetramp of horses,--another patrol was coming. But the ground in thisplace was more broken; therefore it was easier to hide. The patrolpassed so near that the guards almost rode over Pan Longin. Fortunatelythe horses, accustomed to pass among prostrate bodies, were notfrightened. Pan Longin went on.

  In the space of a thousand yards he met two more patrols. It wasevident that the whole circle occupied by the tabor was guarded likethe apple of the eye. But Pan Longin rejoiced in spirit that he was notmeeting infantry outposts, who are generally placed before camps togive warning to mounted patrols.

  But his joy was of short duration. Scarcely had he advanced anotherfurlong of the road when some dark figure shifted before him not morethan twenty yards distant. Though unterrified, he felt a slight tremoralong his spine. It was too late to withdraw and go around. The formmoved; evidently it had seen him. A moment of hesitation followed,short as the twinkle of an eye. Then a suppressed voice called,--

  "Vassil, is that you?"

  "I," said Pan Longin, quietly.

  "Have you gorailka?"

  "I have."

  "Give me some."

  Pan Longin approached.

  "Why are you so tall?" asked the voice, in tones of terror.

  Something rustled in the darkness. A scream of "Lor--!" smothered theinstant it was begun, came from the mouth the picket; then was heardthe crash as it were of broken bones, heavy breathing, and one figurefell quietly to the earth. Pan Longin moved on.

  But he did not pass along the same line, for it was evidently a line ofpickets; he turned therefore a little nearer to the tabor, wishing togo between the pickets and the line of wagons. If there was not anotherline of pickets, Pan Longin could meet in that space only those whowent out from camp to relieve those on duty. Mounted patrols had noduty here.

  After a time it became evident that there was no second line ofpickets. But the tabor was not farther than two bow-shots; andwonderful! it seemed to grow nearer continually, though he tried to goat an equal distance from line of wagons.

  It was evident too that not all were asleep in the tabor. At the firessmouldering here and there sitting figures were visible. In one placethe fire was greater,--so large indeed it almost reached Pan Longinwith its light, and he was forced to draw back toward the pickets so asnot to pass through the line of illumination. From the distance hedistinguished, hanging on cross-sticks near the fire, oxen which thebutchers were skinning. Disputing groups of looked on. A few wereplaying quietly on pipes for butchers. It was that part of the campoccupied by herdsmen. The more distant rows of wagons were surroundedby darkness.

  But the line of the tabor lighted by the smouldering fires againappeared as if nearer to Pan Longin. In the beginning he had it only onhis right hand; suddenly he saw that he had it in front of him. Then hehalted and meditated what to do. He was surrounded. The tabor, theTartar camp, and the camps of the mob encircled all Zbaraj like a ring.Inside this ring sentries were standing and mounted guards moving, thatno one might pass through.

  The position of Pan Longin was terrible. He had now the choice eitherto go through between the wagons or seek another exit between theCossacks and the Tartars. Otherwise he would have to wander tilldaylight along that rim, unless he wished to return to Zbaraj; but evenin the latter case he might fall into the hands of the mounted patrol.He understood, however, that the very nature of the ground did notpermit that one wagon should stand close to another. There had to beintervals in the rows, and considerable ones. Such intervals werenecessary for communication, for an open road, for necessary travel. Hedetermined to look for such a passage, and with that object approachedstill nearer to the wagons. The gleam of fires burning here and theremight betray him, but on the other hand they were useful, for withoutthem he could see neither the wagons nor the road between them.

  After a quarter of an hour he found a road, and recognized it easily,for it looked like a black belt between the wagons. There was no fireon it; there could be no Cossacks there, since the cavalry had to passthat way. Pan Longin put himself on his knees and hands, and began tocrawl to that dark throat like a snake to a hole.

  A quarter of an hour passed, half an hour; he crawled continually,praying at the same time, commending his body and soul to theprotection of the heavenly powers. He thought that perhaps the fate ofall Zbaraj was depending on him then, could he pass that throat; heprayed therefore not for himself alone, but for those who at thatmoment in the trenches were praying for him.

  On both sides of him all was silent,--no man moved, no horse snorted,no dog barked; and Pan Longin went through. The bushes and thicketslooked dark before him; behind them was the oa
k-grove; behind theoak-grove the pine-woods, all the way to Toporoff; beyond thepine-woods, the king, salvation, and glory, service before God and man.What was the cutting of three heads in comparison with this deed, forwhich something was needed beyond an iron hand? Pan Longin felt thedifference, but pride stirred not that clean heart; it was only movedlike that of a child with tears of thankfulness.

  Then he rose and passed on. Beyond the wagons there were either nopickets or few easily avoided. Now heavier rain began to fall,pattering on the bushes and drowning the noise of his steps. Pan Longinthen gave freedom to his long legs, and walked like a giant, tramplingthe bushes; every step was like five of a common man,--the wagons everymoment farther, the oak-grove every moment nearer, and salvation everymoment nearer.

  Here are the oaks. Night beneath them is as black as under the ground;but that is better. A gentle breeze sprang up; the oaks murmuredlightly,--you would have said they were muttering a prayer; "O greatGod, good God, guard this knight, for he is thy servant and a faithfulson of the land on which we have grown up for thy glory!"

  About seven miles and a half divided Pan Longin from the Polish camp.Sweat poured from his forehead, for the air was sultry, as if gatheringfor a storm; but he went on, caring nothing for the storm, for theangels were singing in his heart. The oaks became thinner. The firstfield is surely near. The oaks rustle more loudly, as if wishing tosay: "Wait; you were safe among us." But the knight has no time, and heenters the open field. Only one oak stands on it, and that in thecentre; but it is larger than the others. Pan Longin moves toward thatoak.

  All at once, when he was a few yards from the spreading branchesof the giant, about a dozen figures push out and approach him withwolf-springs: "Who are you? who are you?" Their language is unknown;their heads are covered with something pointed. They are the Tartarhorse-herders, who have taken refuge from the rain. At that moment redlightning flashed through the field, revealing the oak, the wildfigures of the Tartars, and the enormous noble. A terrible cry shookthe air, and the battle began in a moment.

  The Tartars rushed on Pan Longin like wolves on a deer, I seizedhim with sinewy hands; but he only shook himself, and all theassailants fell from him as ripe fruit from a tree. Then the terribledouble-handed sword gritted in scabbard; and then were heard groans,howls, calls for aid, the whistle of the sword, the groans of thewounded, the neighing and the frightened horses, the clatter of brokenTartar swords. The silent field roared with all the wild sounds thatcan possibly find place in the throats of men.

  The Tartars rushed on him repeatedly in a crowd; but he put his back tothe oak, and in front covered himself with the whirlwind of his sword,and slashed awfully. Bodies lay dark under his feet; the others fellback, impelled by panic terror. "A div! a div!" howled they, wildly.

  The howling was not without an answer. Half an hour had not passed whenthe whole field swarmed with footmen and horsemen. Cossacks ran up, andTartars also with poles and bows and pieces of burning pitch-pine.Excited questions began to fly from mouth to mouth. "What is it, whathas happened?" "A div!" answered the Tartars. "A div!" repeated thecrowd. "A Pole! A div! Take him alive, alive!"

  Pan Longin fired twice from his pistols, but those reports could not beheard by his comrades in the Polish camp. Now the crowd approached himin a half-circle. He was standing in the shade, gigantic, supported bythe tree, and he waited with sword in hand. The crowd came nearer,nearer. At last the voice of command shouted: "Seize him!"

  They rushed ahead. The cries were stopped. Those who could not push ongave light to the assailants. A whirl of men gathered and turned underthe tree. Only groans came out of that whirl, and for a long time itwas impossible to distinguish anything. At last a scream of terror waswrested from the assailants. The crowd broke in a moment. Under thetree remained Pan Longin, and at his feet a crowd of bodies stillquivering in agony.

  "Ropes, ropes!" thundered a voice.

  The horsemen ran for the ropes, and brought them in the twinkle of aneye. Then a number of strong men seized the two ends of a long rope,endeavoring to fasten Pan Longin to the tree; but he cut with hissword, and the men fell on the ground on both sides. Then the Tartarstried, with the same result.

  Seeing that too many men in a crowd interfere with one another, anumber of the boldest Nogais advanced once more, wishing absolutely toseize the enormous man alive; but he tore them as a wild boar tearsresolute dogs. The oak, which had grown together from two great trees,guarded in its central depression the knight; whoever approached himfrom the front within the length of his sword perished without utteringa groan. The superhuman power of Pan Longin seemed to increase witheach moment. Seeing this, the enraged hordes drove away the Cossacks,and around were heard the wild cries: "Bows! bows!"

  At the sight of the bows, and of the arrows poured out at the feet ofhis enemies from their quivers, Pan Longin saw that the moment of deathwas at hand, and he began the litany to the Most Holy Lady.

  It became still. The crowds restrained their breath, waiting for whatwould happen. The first arrow whistled, as Pan Longin was saying,"Mother of the Redeemer!" and it scratched his temple. Another arrowwhistled, as he was saying, "O glorious Lady," and it stuck in hisshoulder. The words of the litany had mingled with the whistling ofarrows; and when Pan Longin had said, "Morning Star," arrows werestanding in his shoulders, his side, in his legs. The blood from histemples was flowing into his eyes; he saw as through a mist the fieldand the Tartars; he heard no longer the whistle of the arrows. He feltthat he was weakening, that his legs were bending under him; his headdropped on his breast. At last he fell on his knees. Then he said, witha half groan: "Queen of the Angels--" These words were his last onearth. The angels of heaven took his soul, and placed it a clear pearlat the feet of the "Queen of the Angels."