Ogniem i mieczem. English

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  CHAPTER LXI.

  Zagloba and Volodyovski were standing on the rampart next morning amongthe soldiers, looking carefully toward the tabor, from the side ofwhich masses of peasants were approaching. Pan Yan was in counsel withthe prince; but they, taking advantage of the moment of quiet, weretalking about the preceding day and the present movement in the enemy'stabor.

  "That forebodes no good for us," said Zagloba, pointing at the darkmasses moving like an enormous cloud. "They are surely coming to anassault again, and here our hands will not move in their joints."

  "Why should there be an assault in the clear day? They will do nothingmore this time," said the little knight, "than occupy our rampart ofyesterday, dig into our new one, and fire from morning till evening."

  "We might stir them up nicely with our cannon."

  Volodyovski lowered his voice. "We haven't much powder. With ourpresent use it will not last six days probably; but by that time theking will come surely."

  "Let him do what he likes. If only our Pan Longin, poor man, has gotthrough in safety! I could not sleep the whole night. I was thinkingonly of him, and whenever I dozed I saw him in trouble; and such sorrowseized me that sweat stood out on my body. He is the best man to befound in the Commonwealth, looking with a lantern for three years andsix weeks."

  "And why did you always jeer at him?"

  "Because my lip is worse than my heart. But don't make it bleed, PanMichael, with remembrances, for as matters are I reproach myself; andGod forbid that anything should happen to Pan Longin! I should have nopeace till my death."

  "Don't grieve so much. He never had any ill feeling against you, and Ihave heard him say himself, 'An evil mouth, but a golden heart.'"

  "God give him health, the worthy friend! He never knew how to talk inhuman fashion, but he made up for a hundred such deficiencies by greatvirtue. What do you think, Pan Michael, did he pass through?"

  "The night was dark, and the peasants after the defeat were terriblytired. We had not a good watch; what must it have been with them?"

  "Praise God for that! I told Pan Longin to inquire carefully whetherour poor princess had been seen anywhere, for I think Jendzian musthave taken her to the king's headquarters. Pan Longin will be sure notto rest; he will not come back without the king. In that case we shallhave news again soon."

  "I have faith in the wit of that lad Jendzian, and think that he savedher somehow. I should know no peace if harm met her. I did not know herintimately, and I believe if I had a sister she would not have beendearer to me."

  "She was a sister to you, but to me a daughter. From these troubles mybeard will grow white altogether, and my heart break from sorrow. Whenyou love some one,--one, two, three, and that one is gone; then yousit, console yourself, worry, grieve, meditate,--having besides anempty stomach, and holes in your cap through which the water is fallingon your bald head like rain through a broken thatch. Dogs have atpresent a pleasanter life in the Commonwealth than the nobles, and wefour are the worst off of all. It is time to go to a better world, PanMichael, what do you think?"

  "I have thought more than once whether it would not be better to tellSkshetuski all; but this restrains me, that he himself never speaks ofher, and when any one utters a word he just quivers as if somethingpierced his heart."

  "Tell him, open the wounds dried up in the fire of this war, while nowsome Tartar maybe is leading her by the hair through Perekop! Flamingfires stand in my eyes when I think of such a thing. It is time to die,it cannot be otherwise; for there is torture alone in this world,nothing more. If only Pan Longin gets through!"

  "He must have more favor in heaven than others, for he is virtuous. Butlook! what are the rabble doing?"

  "There is such a glitter from the sun to-day that I cannot see."

  "They are cutting up our rampart of yesterday."

  "I said there would be an assault. Let us go, Pan Michael; we havestood here long enough."

  "They are not digging to make an assault; they must have an open roadto return, and besides they will surely bring machines to shoot from.Just see how the shovels are working; they have levelled the groundabout forty yards already."

  "I see now; but there is a terrible glare to-day." Zagloba covered hiseyes with his hand, and looked.

  At that moment through the cut made in the rampart rushed a stream ofpeople who scattered in the twinkle of an eye along the space betweenthe ramparts. Some fell to firing; others, digging the ground withspades, began to raise a new mound and trenches to enclose the Polishcamp with a third ring.

  "Oh, ho!" cried Volodyovski, "the word is scarcely out of my mouth, andthey are rolling in the machines."

  "Well, there will be an assault soon. Let us leave this place," saidZagloba.

  "No; this is another kind of tower," said the little knight.

  Really, the machines which appeared in the cut were built differentlyfrom the ordinary moving-tower. The walls were composed of laddersfastened together with hasps, covered with cloth and skins, from behindwhich the best marksmen, sitting from half the height of the machine tothe top, struck the enemy.

  "Come away! Let the dogs gnaw on where they are!"

  "Wait!" answered Volodyovski. They began to count the machines, as newones appeared in the cut.

  "One, two, three--it is evident they have no small supply--four, five,six--they are coming yet--seven, eight--they can kill a dog on oursquare, for there must be splendid marksmen there--nine, ten--evidentas on your hand, for the sun shines on it--eleven--" All at once PanMichael stopped counting. "What is that?" he asked, in a voice ofamazement.

  "Where?"

  "There on the highest one--a man is hanging!"

  Zagloba strained his glance. Indeed, on the highest machine the sun wasshining on the naked body of a man, swaying on a rope with the movementof the machine, like a great pendulum.

  "True," said Zagloba.

  Then Volodyovski grew pale as a sheet, and cried with a terrifiedvoice: "Almighty God! it is Podbipienta!"

  A murmur rose on the ramparts like wind through the leaves of trees,Zagloba bent his head, covered his eyes with his hands, and whisperedwith blue lips, groaning: "Jesus, Mary! Jesus, Mary!"

  The murmur changed into a noise of confused words, and then into a roaras of a stormy sea. The men on the ramparts saw that by that infamouscord was hanging the comrade of their sufferings, a knight withoutreproach. All knew that that was Pan Longin Podbipienta, and terribleanger began to raise the hair on the heads of the soldiers.

  Zagloba at last took his hands from his eyes. He was a terror to lookat. On his mouth was foam, his face was blue, his eyes bursting fromhis head. "Blood! blood!" roared he, with such a voice that a quiverpassed through those standing near him.

  He sprang into the ditch. After him rushed everything that had life onthe ramparts. No power--not even the commands of the prince--could haverestrained that outburst of rage. They climbed out of the ditch, oneover the shoulders of the other; they seized the bank of the ditch withtheir hands and with their teeth, and when one sprang out he ranwithout looking, not turning to see whether others were following. Themachines were smoking like tar-factories, and trembled from the roar ofmusketry, but nothing availed. Zagloba rushed on in advance, his sabreabove his head, raging like a mad bull. The Cossacks sprang forward toowith scythes and flails on the assailants. Two walls, as it were,struck with a crash. But fat dogs cannot defend themselves long againsthungry and raging wolves. Pushed from their place, cut with sabres,torn with teeth, beaten, crushed, the Cossacks could not withstand thefury; they were soon confused, and then fled to the cut. Zagloba,raging, rushed into the thickest crowd, like a lioness whose cubs aregone. An opening was made before him; and at his side went, likeanother devouring flame, Volodyovski, wild as a wounded leopard. Themarksmen in the machines were cut to pieces; the rest pursued to thecut in the ramparts. Then the soldiers mounted the machine and freedPan Longin, letting him down carefully to the ground.

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p; Zagloba fell on his body. Volodyovski's heart was rent in like degree,and he was covered with tears at the sight of his dead friend. It waseasy to see how Pan Longin had perished, for his whole body was coveredwith spots from the wounds inflicted by arrows. But the arrows had notinjured his face, except one, which had left a long line on his temple.The few drops of blood had grown dry on his cheek; his eyes wereclosed, and on his pale face was a quiet smile, and had it not been forthe azure paleness of the visage, the chill of death in the features,it might have seemed that Pan Longin was sleeping calmly. His comradestook him at last and bore him on their shoulders to the rampart, andthen to the chapel of the castle.

  Before evening a coffin was made, and the funeral celebrated by nightat the Zbaraj cemetery. All the clergy were present except the priestJabkovski, who, shot in the back during the last assault, was neardeath. Having given the command to Sobieski, the prince had come; alsoKonyetspolski, Pshiyemski, Skshetuski, Volodyovski, Zagloba, and theofficers of the squadron in which the dead man had served. The coffinwas placed at the newly dug grave, and the ceremony began.

  It was a starry night. The torches burned with an even flame, gleamingon the yellow planks of the freshly made coffin, on the figure of thepriest, and the stern faces of the knights standing in a circle. Thesmoke from the censer rose slowly, spreading the odor of myrrh andjuniper. The silence was broken only by the stifled sobs of Zagloba,the deep sighs of the strong breasts around, and the distant roar ofdischarges on the ramparts. But the priest Mukhovetski raised his handin sign that he was about to speak. The knights therefore held theirbreaths. He was silent a little longer; then fixing his eyes on thestarry heights, he began at length as follows:--

  "'What knocking do I hear at night on the door of heaven?' asks thehoary warden of Christ, springing up from sweet slumber. 'Open, holyPeter, open! I am Podbipienta.' But what deeds, what offices, whatservices embolden you, O Podbipienta, to trouble so important adoorkeeper? By what right do you wish to enter where neither birth,though as honorable as your own, nor senatorial dignity, nor offices ofthe Crown, nor the majesty even of the purple, of themselves alone givefree entrance, since men cannot drive there by the broad highway in acarriage and six, with haiduks, but must climb by the steep and thornypath of virtue? Ah, open, holy Peter, open quickly, for by just such asteep and thorny path did our fellow-soldier and dear comradePodbipienta pass, till he came to your presence like a dove weariedafter long flight; came naked, like Lazarus; came like Saint Stephen,torn with Pagan arrows; like poor Job; like the virgin who has neverknown a husband,--pure, obedient as a lamb, patient and quiet, withouta spot of sin, with a sacrifice of blood joyfully shed for his earthlyfatherland. Admit him, holy Peter; for if you do not admit him, whomwill you admit in these days of corruption and ungodliness? Admit him,holy warden! admit this lamb; let him pasture in the heavenly meadow;let him nip its grass, for he came hungry from Zbaraj."

  In this manner the priest Mukhovetski began his discourse; and then hedepicted the whole life of Pan Longin with such eloquence that everyone acknowledged himself wicked in the presence of the silent coffin ofthe knight without reproach, who had surpassed the lowliest in modestyand the loftiest in virtue. All then beat their breasts. Every momentgreater sadness seized them, and they saw more clearly what the countryhad suffered and Zbaraj had lost. The priest took a lofty flight, andwhen at last he described the passage through the enemy and the martyrdeath of Pan Longin, he forgot altogether his rhetoric and quotations;and while taking leave of the mortal remains in the name of the clergy,the officers, and the army, he broke into weeping himself, and said,sobbing like Zagloba: "Give us your blessing, brother; give us yourblessing, comrade! Not to an earthly, but to a heavenly king--to thesurest tribunal--have you carried our groans, our famine, our miseryand sufferings. You will gain for us there a more certain salvation.But you will never return yourself; therefore do we weep, therefore dowe pour tears upon your coffin,--for we loved you, dearest brother!"

  All wept with the worthy priest,--the prince, the commanders, the army,and most of all the friends of the deceased; but when the priestintoned for the first time, "Requiem aeternam dona ei Domine! (Grant himeternal rest, Lord!)," there was a universal outburst, though all weremen hardened against death, and long accustomed to it, through theirdaily service.

  When the coffin was placed on the ropes it was as difficult to tearZagloba away as if his father or brother had died. But at lastSkshetuski and Volodyovski drew him aside. The prince approached andtook a handful of earth; the priest began to say, "Anima ejus;" theropes rattled; the earth began to fall,--it was thrown in with hands,with helmets; and soon above the remains of Pan Longin rose a loftymound, shone on by the pale sad light of the moon.

  Three friends were returning from the town to the square, from whichcame an uninterrupted sound of firing. They walked in silence, forneither wished to speak the first word; but other groups were speakingof the deceased, giving him unanimous praise.

  "It was a splendid funeral," said an officer passing at the side ofSkshetuski; "they did not give a better to Serakovski, the secretary ofthe Crown."

  "For he deserved it," answered another officer; "who else would haveundertaken to break through to the king?"

  "But I heard," added the third, "that among Vishnyevetski's men therewas a number of volunteers; but after such a terrible example thedesire will surely desert them all."

  "Besides, the thing is impossible. A snake could not creep through."

  "As I live, it would be pure madness."

  The officers passed on. A new moment of silence followed. SuddenlyVolodyovski said: "You heard, Yan, what they said?"

  "Yes," answered Skshetuski; "it is my turn now."

  "Yan," said Volodyovski, seriously, "you know me of old, and you knowthat I am not quick to withdraw before peril; but peril is one thing,and downright suicide is another."

  "And you, Michael, say this?"

  "Yes, for I am your friend."

  "And I am your friend. Give me your word of honor that you will not gothird if I perish."

  "Impossible!" cried Volodyovski.

  "Ah, you see, Michael! How can you ask that of me which you will not doyourself? Let the will of God be done."

  "Then let me go with you."

  "The prince has prohibited that,--not I. You are a soldier, and youmust obey."

  Pan Michael was silent, for he was a soldier first of all; then hismustaches only quivered violently by the light of the moon. At last hesaid: "The night is very clear; don't go now."

  "I should prefer a darker one, but delay is impossible. The weather is,as you see, settled for a long time, our powder is almost gone, ourprovisions are at an end. The soldiers are digging through the square,looking for roots; the gums of some of them are rotting from therubbish they have eaten. I will go to-night,--at once; I have takenfarewell of the prince already."

  "I see that you are simply desperate."

  Skshetuski smiled gloomily. "God guard you, Michael! It is certain thatwe are not swimming in luxury, but I shall not seek death of my ownwill, for that is a sin; besides, it is not a question of perishing,but of getting through, going to the king, and saving the camp."

  Volodyovski was suddenly seized with such a desire to tell Skshetuskiall about the princess that he almost opened his mouth; but he thoughtto himself, "His head will be turned by the news, and they will catchhim the more easily," He bit his tongue therefore, was silent, and thenasked: "Which way are you going?"

  "I told the prince that I should go through the pond, and then by theriver till I passed far beyond the tabor. He said that this was abetter road than others."

  "There is no help, I see," said Volodyovski. "Since death ispredestined to a man, it is better on the field of glory than in bed.God attend you, God attend you, Yan! If we do not meet in this world weshall in the other, and I shall surely keep my heart for you."

  "As I shall mine for you. God reward you for all the good you havedone! And listen to me, Michael!
If I die, they will perhaps not put meup as they did Pan Longin, for they have received too severe a lesson;but they will be sure to boast of it in some way, in which case let oldZatsvilikhovski go to Hmelnitski for my body, for I do not wish thatdogs should drag me through their camp."

  "Rest assured!" said Volodyovski.

  Zagloba, who from the beginning had listened in semiconsciousness,understood the conversation at last, but he felt unable to restrain ordissuade; he only groaned deeply: "Yesterday that one, to-day this one.My God, my God, my God!"

  "Have faith," said Volodyovski.

  "Pan Yan--" began Zagloba, and he could go no further. His gray,suffering head rested on the breast of the knight, and he drew up tohim like a helpless little child.

  An hour later Skshetuski sank into the water of the western pond.

  The night was very clear, and the middle of the pond looked like asilver shield; but Skshetuski vanished straightway from the eye. Theshore was thickly overgrown with rushes and reeds; farther on, wherethe reeds were thinner, was a rich growth of pond-weed and plants. Thatmixture of wide and narrow leaves, slippery stalks, snaky stems windingaround the legs and body to the waist hindered his advance greatly, butat least concealed him from the patrol. To swim across the clear centreof the pond was out of the question, for any dark object would havebeen seen easily. Skshetuski determined therefore to pass along theshore of the pond to the swamp at the other side, through which theriver entered the pond. Patrols of Cossacks or Tartars were likely tobe there; but the place was overgrown with a whole forest of reeds,only the edge had been cut down to make cabins for the mob. The swamponce attained, it would be possible to push on through the reeds, evenin the daytime, unless the quagmire should be too deep. But that roadalso was a terrible one. Under the sleeping water, not farther than ayard from the shore, the mud was an ell or more in depth. After everystep Skshetuski took there rose to the surface of the water bubbles,the gurgling of which could be heard distinctly in the stillness.Besides, in spite of the slowness of his movements, ripples were formedwhich ran every moment farther from their source to the open water, inwhich the light of the moon was reflected. In time of rain Skshetuskiwould have swum straight across the pond, and in half an hour, at most,would have come to the swamp; but there was not a cloud in the sky.Whole torrents of greenish light fell upon the pond, changing theleaves of the lily into silver shields, and the tufts on the reeds tobrushes of silver. No breeze was blowing. Happily the gurgling ofthe bubbles was lost in the noise of the guns, noticing which,Skshetuski moved only when the discharges on the ramparts and trenchesbecame more lively. But that calm, pleasant night caused anotherdifficulty,--legions of mosquitoes rose from the reeds and swarmed overthe head of the knight, fastening on his face and eyes, biting him,buzzing and singing above his ears their mournful vespers.

  Pan Yan in selecting this road did not deceive himself as to itsdifficulties, but he did not foresee everything. He did not foresee,for instance, its terrors. Every depth of water, even the best known,has in it something mysterious and terrifying, and involuntarily urgesthe question, What is down at the bottom? And this pond of Zbaraj wassimply awful. The water in it seemed to be thicker than common water,and exuded the odor of corpses, for hundreds of Cossacks and Tartarshad decayed there. Both sides had drawn out corpses, but how many ofthem might be hidden among the reeds, the plants, and the thick growth!The cold of a wave embraced Pan Yan, and sweat stood on his forehead.What if some slippery arm should seize him suddenly, or if greenisheyes should look at him from under the leaves? The long stems of thewater-lily wound around his knees, and the hair stood on his head,because that may be the spirit of a drowned man to keep him from goingfarther. "Jesus, Mary! Jesus, Mary!" whispered he unceasingly, pushingahead. At times he raised his eyes, and at the sight of the moon, thestars, and the silence of the sky he found a certain rest. "There Godis," repeated he, in an undertone, so that he might hear himself. Thenhe would look on the shore, and it seemed to him that he was lookingon the ordinary world of God from some condemned world beyond theearth,--a world of swamps, black depths, pale moonlight, ghosts,corpses, and night. Yearning took such hold of him that he wantedimmediately to rush forth from that net of reeds.

  But he pushed along the shore unceasingly, and he had already gone sofar from the camp that on that God's world (outside) he saw at somepaces distant from the shore a Tartar on horseback; he stopped then andlooked at the figure, which, nodding with uniform motion toward theneck of the horse, seemed to be sleeping.

  It was a strange sight. The Tartar nodded continually, as if bowing insilence to Skshetuski, and the latter did not take his eye from him.There was something terrible in this; but Skshetuski breathed withsatisfaction, for in presence of that definite fear fancies a hundredtimes more difficult to be borne disappeared. The world of ghosts fledsomewhere, his coolness returned at once; and only questions like thesebegan to crowd into his head: "Does he sleep, or not? Must I go on, orwait?"

  At length he went on, moving still more quietly, still more cautiouslythan at the beginning of his journey. He already half-way to the swampand the river when the first breath of a light wind rose. The reedsmoved therefore, and gave forth a strong sound by striking one another;and Skshetuski was rejoiced, for in spite of all his care, in spite ofthe fact that sometimes he lost several minutes in taking a step, aninvoluntary movement, a stumble, a splash might betray him. Now headvanced more boldly, covered by the loud noise of the reeds with whichthe whole pond was filled; and everything grew vocal about him, thewater on the bank began to plash with its rocking wave.

  But this movement evidently roused not the plants along the shorealone, for at that time some dark object appeared before Pan Yan andbegan to move toward him as if preparing for a spring. He almostscreamed at first; but fear and aversion restrained the voice in hisbosom, and at the same time a terrible odor came to him. But after awhile, when the first idea that this might be a drowned person barringhis road on purpose disappeared, and there remained only aversion, theknight passed on. The talk of the reeds continued and increased everymoment. Through, their moving tufts Skshetuski saw a second and a thirdTartar patrol. He passed these, passed a fourth also. "I must have gonearound half the pond," thought he; and he raised himself a little tolook through the reeds and see where he was. Something pushed his legs;he looked around and saw there at his knees a human face. "This is thesecond," thought he.

  This time he was not frightened, for the second body lay on its back,without signs of life or movement. Skshetuski merely hastened his stepsso as not to become dizzy. The reeds grew thicker, which on the onehand gave him a safe shelter, but on the other greatly impeded hisadvance. Half an hour passed, an hour; he went on unceasingly, but grewmore and more weary. The water in some places was so shallow that itjust reached above his ankles, but in others it came almost to hiswaist. He was tortured beyond measure by the slow dragging of his feetout of the mud. His forehead was streaming with perspiration, and fromtime to time a quiver went through him from head to foot.

  "What is this?" thought he, with terror in his heart; "is deliriumseizing me? Somehow the swamp does not appear; I don't recognize theplace among the reeds. Shall I miss it?"

  It was a terrible danger; for in that way he might circle about thepond all night, and in the morning find himself at the same point fromwhich he had started, or fall into the hands of the Cossacks at anotherplace.

  "I have chosen a bad road," thought he, failing in spirits; "it isimpossible to get through the pond. I will return, and in the morninggo as Pan Longin did. I might rest till morning."

  But he went on, for he saw that by promising to return and rest he wastempting himself; it also occurred to him that by going so slowly andhalting every moment he could not have reached the swamp yet. Still thethought of rest grew on him more and more. At moments he wished to liedown somewhere in the reeds, just to draw breath. He struggled with hisown thoughts and prayed at the same time. The trembling passed over himoftener; he drew his
legs out of the mud with less force. The sight ofthe Tartar patrol sobered him; but he felt that his head as well as hisbody was tormenting him, and that a fever was coming upon him.

  Again half an hour passed; the swamp was not visible yet. But bodies ofdrowned men appeared more frequently. Night, fear, corpses, the noiseof reeds, toil, and sleeplessness benumbed his thoughts. Visions beganto come to him. Now Helena is in Kudak; and he is sailing with Jendzianin a boat down the Dnieper. The reeds are rustling; he hears theboatmen sing. The priest Mukhovetski is waiting in his stole; PanGrodzitski takes the place of a father. The girl is there looking dayafter day on the river, from the walls. Suddenly she sees something,claps her hands, and cries: "He is coming! he is coming!" "My master,"says Jendzian, pulling him by the sleeve, "the lady is here--"

  Skshetuski wakes. It is the tangled reeds that stop him on the way.Visions disappear; consciousness returns. Now he does not feel suchweariness, for the fever lends him strength.

  "Oh, is not this the swamp yet?" But around him the reeds were stillthe same as if he had not stirred from the spot. Near the river theremust be open water; therefore this is not the swamp yet.

  He goes on, but his thoughts return with invincible stubbornness to thepleasant vision. In vain he defends himself; in vain he begins to say,"Oh, Venerable Lady!" in vain he tries to retain all his consciousness.Again he is sailing down the Dnieper; he sees the boats, the skiffs,Kudak, the Saitch; only this time the vision is more disordered, thereis a multitude of persons in it. At the side of Helena are the princeand Hmelnitski, the koshevoi ataman, Pan Longin, Zagloba, Bogun,Volodyovski,--all in gala attire for his wedding. But where is thewedding? They are in some strange place,--neither Lubni nor Rozlogi northe Saitch nor Kudak,--in unknown waters among floating corpses.

  Skshetuski wakes a second time, or rather he is roused by a loudrustling coming from the direction in which he is going; he haltstherefore, and listens. The rustling approaches; a kind of grating andplashing is heard,--it is a boat, visible already through the reeds.Two Cossacks are sitting in it,--one is pushing with an oar; the otherholds in his hand a long pole gleaming in the distance like silver, andhe pushes the water-plants aside with it.

  Skshetuski sank in the water up to his neck, so that only his head wassticking out above the lilies, and he looked. "Is that an ordinarypicket," thought he, "or are they already on the trail?" But soon heconcluded by the quiet and careless motions of the Cossacks that itmust be an ordinary picket. There must be more than one boat on thepond, and if the Cossacks were on his trail a number of boats would beassembled and a crowd of men. Meanwhile they passed by, the noise ofthe reeds deafened their words; he caught only the following snatch ofconversation:--

  "Devil take them, they have given orders to patrol this filthy water."

  The boat pushed on behind bunches of reeds; but the Cossack standing atthe prow struck continually with measured blows of his pole among thewater-plants, as if he wished to frighten the fish.

  Skshetuski hurried on. After a time he saw a Tartar picket standing atthe bank. The light of the moon fell straight on the face of the Nogai,which was like the snout of a dog. But Skshetuski feared these picketsless than loss of consciousness. He exerted all his will, therefore, togive himself a clear account of where he was and whither he was going.But the struggle only increased his weariness, and soon he discoveredthat he was seeing double and treble, and at moments the pond seemed tohim the square and the camp, and the bunches of reeds tents. At suchmoments he wished to call Volodyovski to go with him, but he hadsufficient consciousness to restrain himself. "Don't call, don't call!"repeated he to himself; "that would be death."

  But the struggle with himself was more and more difficult. He leftZbaraj tormented with hunger and terrible sleeplessness, from whichsoldiers there were dying already. That night-journey, the cold bath,the odor of corpses in the water, weakened him completely. Added tothis were the excitement of fear, and pain from the biting ofmosquitoes which pierced his face so that it was covered with blood. Hefelt therefore that if he did not reach the swamp soon he would eithergo out on the shore and let what might meet him meet him quickly, or hewould fall among the reeds and be drowned.

  That swamp and the mouth of the river seemed to him a port ofsalvation, though in fact new difficulties and dangers began there. Hedefended himself feverishly, and went on, taking less care each moment.In the rustle he heard the voices of men,--conversation; it seemed tohim that the pond was talking about him. Will he reach the swamp ornot? Will he go on shore or not? The mosquitoes sang with their thinvoices more sadly. The water became deeper; soon it reached to hisbelt, then to his breast. He thought that if he should have to swim, hewould be entangled in the thick web and drown.

  Again an almost irrestrainable, unconquerable desire of callingVolodyovski seized him. He had already put his hand to his mouth tocry: "Michael! Michael!" Fortunately some kind reed struck him with itswet, dripping brush in the face. He came to his mind, and saw in frontbut a little to one side a dim light. He looked steadily at the light,and went straight toward it for a while. He stopped suddenly; he saw abelt of clear water lying athwart him. He drew breath. It was theriver, and on both sides of it a swamp.

  "I will stop going by the shore, and will go into that wedge," thoughthe.

  On both sides of the wedge extended two strips of reeds. The knightentered that one to which he had come. After a while he saw he was on agood road. He looked around. The pond was already behind him. He movedparallel with the narrow strip of water, which could be nothing but theriver. The water there was cooler also. But after a time terribleweariness possessed him. His legs trembled, and before his eyes rose asit were a dark fog.

  "It cannot be helped; I will go to the shore and lie down. I will notgo farther; I will rest."

  Then he fell on his knees. His hands felt a dry tuft covered with moss;it was like a little island among the rushes. He sat down and began towipe his bloody face with his hands, and then to draw long breaths.

  After a while the odor of smoke reached his nostrils. Turning to theshore, he saw, about a hundred paces from the brink, a fire, and aroundit a knot of people. He was directly in front of this fire, and atmoments when the wind bent the reeds he could see everything perfectly.At the first glance he recognized the Tartar horse-herds, who weresitting at the fire eating.

  Then he felt a fearful hunger. Yesterday morning he had eaten a bit ofhorse-flesh which would not have satisfied a wolf-whelp two months old;since then he had had nothing in his mouth. He began to pluck the roundstems growing about him and suck them greedily. He allayed his thirstas well as his hunger,--for thirst tormented him too. At the same timehe looked continually at the fire, which grew paler and dimmer. Thepeople near it began to be hidden by a mist, and seemed to go into thedistance.

  "Oh, sleep torments me! I will sleep here on the mound," thought theknight.

  But there was a noise by the fire. The horse-herds rose. Soon therecame to Skshetuski's ears the cries: "Losh! losh!" They were answeredby a short neigh. The fire was deserted and went out. After a time heheard whistling and the dull thump of hoofs on the moist meadow.

  Skshetuski could not understand why the horse-herds had ridden away.Then he saw the tops of the reeds and the broad leaves of the lilieswere somewhat pale; the water received a different light from that ofthe moon; the air was shrouded with a light of joy. He looked around.The day was breaking. He had spent the whole night in going around thepond before reaching the river and the swamp. He was barely at thebeginning of the road. Now he must go by the river and pass through thetabor in the day. The air was filled more and more with the light ofdawn. In the east the sky took on a pale sea-green color.

  Skshetuski slipped down again from the tuft into the swamp, and pushingtoward the shore, after a short interval thrust his head out of thereeds. At the distance of five hundred yards, perhaps, a Tartar picketwas visible; with this exception the meadow was empty,--only the fireshone with a dying light on a dry place a
t some little distance.Skshetuski determined to crawl to it through the high grassinterspersed here and there with tall rushes.

  Having crawled to the place, he looked carefully to find some remnantsof food. He found in fact freshly picked mutton bones with bits ofsinew and fat, then some pieces of roasted turnips thrown into the hotashes. He began to eat with the greed of a wild beast, and ate till hesaw that the pickets stationed along the road which he had passed wereapproaching him through the meadow on their way to the tabor.

  Then he began to retreat, and in a few minutes disappeared in the wallof reeds. Having found his tuft, he put himself on it without a rustle.The pickets rode by at the same time. Skshetuski began at once on thebones which he had brought with him, and which he broke in his jaws,powerful as those of a wolf. He gnawed off the fat and the sinews,sucked out the marrow, chewed the bone-fat,--allayed his first hunger.Such a morning feast he had not had for a long time in Zbaraj.

  He felt stronger now. The food, as well as the rising day, strengthenedhim. It became brighter every moment. The eastern side of the sky fromgreenish became rosy and golden. The cool of the morning troubled himgreatly, it is true; but he was comforted by the thought that the sunwould soon warm his wearied body. He examined the place carefully. Thetuft was pretty large, rather short, because round, but wide enough fortwo persons to lie side by side with ease. The reeds stood around likea wall, hiding it completely from the eyes of men.

  "They will not find me here," thought he, "unless they go fishing inthe reeds; and there are no fish, for they have died of infection. Herewill I rest and think what further to do." And he began to thinkwhether he should go on by the river or not. Finally he determined togo if the wind should rise and the reeds tremble; if not, the noise andrustle might betray him,--especially as most likely he would have topass near the tabor.

  "Thanks to thee, O Lord, that I am alive till now," whispered hequietly; and he raised his eyes to Heaven. Then his thoughts flew awayto the Polish ramparts. The castle was visible from that tuft,especially since it was gilded by the first rays of the rising sun.Maybe some one is looking from the tower to the pond and reeds througha field-glass. Volodyovski is there surely; and Zagloba will pass thewhole day in looking from the ramparts to see if he can find himhanging on some moving tower.

  "They will not see me," thought the knight, and his breast was full ofthe happy feeling of security. "They will not see me, they will not seeme," he repeated several times. "I have passed only a short road, butit had to be passed. God will help me to go farther."

  Here he saw, with the eyes of his imagination, beyond the tabor, in theforest, behind which stand the armies of the king, the general militiaof the whole country,--hussars, infantry, foreign regiments. The earthgroaned under the weight of men, horses, and cannon, and in the midstof this swarm of people is the king himself. Then he saw an immensebattle, broken tabors, the prince with all his cavalry flying overpiles of bodies, the greetings of armies. His eyes, aching and swollen,closed beneath the excess of light, and his head bent under the excessof thought; a kind of pleasant weakness began to embrace him. At lasthe stretched himself at full length and fell asleep.

  The reeds rustled. The sun rose high in the sky, warmed with itsburning glance the knight, and dried the clothing on his body. He sleptsoundly without motion. Whoever should see him lying thus on the tuftwith bloody face, would think that a corpse thrown up by the water waslying there. Hours passed; still he slept. The sun reached the zenith,and began to descend the other side of the sky; he was sleeping yet. Hewas roused by the piercing cry of horses feeding on the meadow, and theloud calls of the herdsmen lashing the stallions with whips.

  He rubbed his eyes, remembered where he was, looked in the sky; starswere twinkling in the red and still unquenched gleams of the sunset. Hehad slept the whole day. He felt neither refreshed nor stronger; allhis bones were aching. He thought, however, that new toil would restorethe activity of his body, and putting his feet into the water he movedon his journey without delay.

  He went now through clear water by the reeds, so as not to rouse theattention of the horse-herds on shore by the rustle. The last gleamshad disappeared and it was quite dark, for the moon had not risen yetfrom behind the woods. The water was so deep that Skshetuski lostbottom in places and had to swim, which was difficult to do, for he wasdressed, and he swam against the current, which, though slow, stillpushed him back toward the pond. But as a recompense the sharpestTartar eyes could not see that head advancing along the dark wall ofreeds. He pushed on therefore rather boldly, swimming at times, but forthe greater part wading to his waist and armpits, till at last hereached the place from which his eyes beheld, on both sides of theriver, thousands upon thousands of lights.

  "These are the tabors," thought he; "now God aid me!" And he listened.

  The bustle of mingled voices reached his ear. Yes, these were thetabors. On the left bank of the river stood the Cossack camp withthousands of wagons and tents; on the right the Tartar camp,--bothnoisy, uproarious, full of conversation, wild sounds of drums andflutes, bellowing of cattle, camels, neighing of horses, shouts. Theriver divided them, forming a barrier against disputes and fights; forthe Tartars could not remain in peace at the side of the Cossacks. Theriver was widest at this place, and perhaps dug out on purpose. On oneside the wagons, on the other reed huts were near the bank, judging bythe fires, within a few score of yards; but at the water itself therewere surely pickets.

  The reeds and rushes became thinner; opposite the camps the banks wereevidently bare. Skshetuski pushed on some yards farther, and halted. Acertain power and terror came out against him from those swarms. Atthat moment it seemed to him that all the watchfulness and rage ofthose thousands of human beings were turned upon him, and in presenceof them he felt perfectly helpless. He was alone.

  "No one can pass them," thought he; but he pushed on still, for acertain painful, irrestrainable curiosity attracted him. He wished tolook more nearly on that terrible power.

  Suddenly he stopped. The forest of reeds ended as if cut with a knife;perhaps they had been cut to make cabins. Farther on the clear waterwas red from the reflection of the fires. Two great and clear flameswere blazing there at the banks. Before one stood a Tartar onhorseback; before the other a Cossack with a long lance in his hand.Both looked at each other and at the water. In the distance were to beseen others standing on guard in the same way and looking. The gleam ofthe piles threw as it were a fiery bridge across the river. Under thebanks were to be seen rows of small boats used by the guards on thepond.

  "An impossibility!" muttered Skshetuski.

  Despair seized him at once. He could neither go backward nor forward.The time had been passing as he was pushing through the swamps andreeds breathing the infected air and soaked in water, only to discoverafter he had come to those very camps through which he had undertakento pass, that it was impossible.

  But it was impossible to go back; the knight knew that he might findsufficient strength to drag himself ahead, but he could not find it togo back. In his despair there was at the same time a dull rage; for thefirst time he wished to emerge from the water, throttle the guard, thenrush on the crowd and perish.

  Again the wind began to move along the reeds with a wonderful whisper,bringing with it the sound of bells from Zbaraj. Skshetuski began topray ardently and beat his breast, imploring aid from heaven with thestrength and the desperate faith of a drowning man; he prayed, but thetwo camps roared ominously as if in answer to his prayer. Black figuresand figures red from fire pushed around like herds of devils in hell.The guards stood motionless; the river flowed on with its blood-coloredwater.

  "The fires will go down when deep night comes," said Pan Yan tohimself, and waited.

  One hour passed, and another. The noise decreased; the fires reallybegan to smoulder, except the two fires of the guards, which blazed upmore brightly. The guards were changed, and it was evident that thefresh ones would remain till morning. The thought came to Skshetuskitha
t perhaps he might be able to slip through more easily in thedaytime; but he soon abandoned that idea. In the daytime they tookwater, watered the cattle, bathed; the river must be full of people.Suddenly his glance fell upon the boats. On both banks of the riverthere was a number of them in a line, and on the Tartar side the rushesextended to the first boat.

  Skshetuski sank in the water to his neck, and pushed slowly toward theboats, keeping his eyes fastened on the Tartar guard as on a rainbow.At the end of half an hour he was at the first boat. His plan wassimple. The sterns of the boats were raised over the water, formingabove it a kind of arch through which the head of a man might passeasily. If all the boats stood side by side there, the Tartar guardcould not see a head pushing under them. There was more danger from theCossack; but he might not see it, for under the boats, notwithstandingthe opposite fire, it was dark. Anyhow there was no other passage.

  Skshetuski hesitated no longer, and soon found himself under the sternsof the boats. He crawled on his hands and feet, or rather draggedhimself, for the water was shallow. He was so near the Tartar standingon the bank that he heard the breathing of his horse. He stopped amoment and listened. Fortunately the boats were placed side by side. Hehad his eyes then fastened on the Cossack guard, whom he saw as on thepalm of his hand. The Cossack was looking at the Tartar camp.Skshetuski had passed fifteen boats, when suddenly he heard steps onshore and Tartar voices. He stopped immediately and listened. In hisjourneys to the Crimea he had learned Tartar. Now a shiver ran throughhis whole body when he heard the words of command: "Get in and go!"

  He grew feverish, though he was in the water. If they should take theboat under which he was hiding, that moment he was lost; if they shouldtake the one before him he was lost too, for there remained an openlighted space. Each second seemed to him an hour. Soon steps sounded onthe planks. The Tartars sat in the fourth or fifth boat behind him,pushed it out and began to sail in the direction of the pond. But thatmovement directed the eyes of the Cossack guard to the boats.Skshetuski did not stir for something like half an hour. Only when theguards were changed did he resume his onward movement.

  In this way he reached the end of the boats. After the last boat beganthe rushes again, and farther on the reeds. When he reached the rushesthe knight, breathless, dripping with perspiration, fell upon his kneesand thanked God with his whole heart.

  He hastened on somewhat more boldly, taking advantage of every breezewhich filled the banks with rustling. From time to time he lookedaround. The guard-fires began to retreat, to be hidden, to glimmer, toweaken. The lines of rushes and reeds became darker and thicker, forthe shores were more swampy. The guards could not stand close to oneanother; the noise of the camp grew less. A kind of superhuman powerstrengthened the limbs of the knight. He pushed through reeds, clumpsof earth, sank in the swamp, went under water, swam, and rose again. Hedid not dare yet to go on shore; but he almost felt that he was saved.He could not render account to himself of how long he advanced, wadingin this way; but when he looked around again the watch-fires seemedlike little points gleaming in the distance. A few hundred yardsfarther, and they vanished altogether. The moon went down; around aboutwas silence. Now a noise was heard louder and more solemn than therustle of the reeds. Skshetuski came near screaming with joy,--thewoods were on both sides of the river.

  He turned then to the bank and came out of the reeds. The pine-forestbegan here, beyond the rushes and reeds. The odor of rosin came to hisnostrils; here and there in the depths shone the fern, like silver. Hefell a second time on his knees, and kissed the earth in prayer. He wassaved!

  Then he entered the forest darkness, asking himself where he should go,where those forests would take him, where the king and the army were.His journey was not finished; it was not easy, it was not safe; butwhen he thought that he had come out of Zbaraj,--that he had stolenthrough the guards, swamps, tabors, and almost half a million ofenemies,--then it seemed to him that all dangers were passed, that thatforest was a clear highway which would lead him straight to his Majestythe King; and that wretched-looking, hungry, shivering man, bespatteredwith his own blood, with red filth, and black mud, passed on with joyin his heart, and hope that he would soon return in differentcircumstances and with greater power.

  "They will not be left hungry and hopeless," thought he of his friendsin Zbaraj, "for the king will come."

  His heart rejoiced at the near rescue of the prince, the commandingofficers, Volodyovski, Zagloba, and all those heroes confined in theramparts. The forest depths opened before him and covered him withtheir shade.