The Deluge. Vol. 2

"God has punished Boguslav with this hand." Then he stretched forth his right hand; but at that moment the little knight threw himself into his arms.

"Yendrek," cried he, "I am not envious! May God bless you!"

"You formed my hand!" answered Pan Andrei, with effusion.

But a further expression of brotherly feeling was stopped by Pan Michael Radzivill.

"Is my cousin killed?" asked he, quickly.

"Not killed," answered Kmita, "for I granted him life; but he is wounded and captive, and over there my Nogais are bringing him."

At these words astonishment was depicted on Volodyovski's face, and the eyes of the knight were turned to the plain, on which appeared a party of some tens of Tartars approaching slowly; at last, when they had passed a group of broken wagons, they came within some tens of yards of the intrenchment.

The hetman and the officers saw that the Tartar riding in advance was leading a prisoner; all recognized Boguslav, but in what a change of fortune!

He, one of the most powerful lords in the Commonwealth; he, who even yesterday was dreaming of independent rule; he, a prince of the German Empire, – was walking now with a lariat around his neck, at the side of a Tartar horse, without a hat, with bloody head bound in a filthy rag! But such was the venom in the hearts of the knights against this magnate that his terrible humiliation did not excite the pity of any, and nearly all mouths shouted at the same moment, —

"Death to the traitor! Bear him apart on sabres! Death, death!"

Prince Michael covered his eyes with his hand, for still that was a Radzivill led with such humiliation. Suddenly he grew red and shouted, —

"Gracious gentlemen! that is my cousin, that is my blood, and I have spared neither life nor property for the country. He is my enemy who will raise a hand against that ill-fated man."

The knights were silent at once.

Prince Michael was universally beloved for his bravery, liberality, and devotion to the country. Even when all Lithuania fell into the hands of the Northerners, he alone defended himself in Nyesvyej, and in the time of the Swedish wars he contemned the persuasions of Prince Yanush, and was one of the first to join the confederacy of Tyshovtsi. His voice therefore found hearing at once. Finally, it may be that no one wished to oppose so powerful a man; it is enough that the sabres were placed at once in the scabbards, and even some officers, clients of the Radzivills, exclaimed, —

"Take him from the Tartars! Let the Commonwealth judge him, but let not honorable blood be insulted by Pagans."

"Take him from the Tartars!" repeated the prince; "we will find surety, and he will pay the ransom himself. Pan Voynillovich, move your men and let them take him by force, if it is impossible otherwise."

"I offer myself as a surety to the Tartars," said Pan Gnoinski.

Then Volodyovski pushed up to Kmita and said: "Yendrek, what have you done? He will go safely out of this trouble!"

Kmita sprang forward like a wounded wild-cat.

"With the permission of your highness," cried he. "This is my prisoner! I granted him life, but under conditions to which he swore by his heretical gospel; and may I fall dead here if he will go out of the hands into which I gave him before he fulfils everything!"

When he had said this, he struck his horse, blocked the road, and his inborn impulsiveness had almost carried him away; for his face began to writhe, he distended his nostrils, and his eyes began to cast lightning.

Meanwhile Voynillovich pressed him with his horse. "Aside, Pan Babinich!" cried he.

"Aside, Pan Voynillovich!" roared Kmita, and struck with the hilt of his sabre Voynillovich's horse with such force that the steed tottered on his legs as if struck by a ball and dug the ground with his nostrils. Then there rose a fierce shout among the knights, so that Gosyevski pushed forward and cried, —

"Silence, gentlemen! Gracious prince, in virtue of my authority as hetman, I declare that Pan Babinich has a right to the prisoner, and that whoso wishes to free him from Tartar hands must give guarantee to his conqueror."

Prince Michael mastered his indignation, calmed himself, and said, directing his speech to Pan Andrei, —

"Say what you wish."

"That he observe the conditions with me before he leaves captivity."

"But he will keep them when he is free."

"Impossible! I do not believe him."

"Then I swear for him, by the Most Holy Mother, whom I recognize, and on the word of a knight, that all will be observed to you. In the opposite case you may make demand on my honor and property."

"That is sufficient for me!" said Kmita. "Let Pan Gnoinski go as hostage, for otherwise the Tartars will make resistance. I will give way on your word."

"I thank you, Cavalier!" answered Prince Michael. "Do not fear, either, that he will receive his freedom at once, for I will give him to the hetman by right, and he will remain a prisoner until the king pronounces sentence."

"That will be so!" answered the hetman; and ordering Voynillovich to sit on a fresh horse, for that one was hardly able to stand, he sent him with Pan Gnoinski for the prince.

But the affair did not pass easily yet; for Hassan Bey made a terrible resistance, and only the sight of Pan Gnoinski and the promise of a ransom of a hundred thousand thalers could pacify him.

In the evening Prince Boguslav found himself in the tents of Gosyevski. He was cared for with attention; two physicians did not leave him for a moment, and both guaranteed his life, for the wound, since it had been given with the very end of the sabre, was not too serious.

Volodyovski could not forgive Kmita for having granted the prince his life, and from sorrow avoided him all day. It was only in the evening that Pan Andrei himself went to Pan Michael's tent.

"Fear the wounds of God!" cried the little knight, at sight of him; "I should have expected this of any other than of you, to let that traitor go alive!"

"Listen to me, Michael, before you condemn me," said Kmita, gloomily. "I had him under my foot and held my sabre point at his throat, and then do you know what the traitor said? That there were commands given to kill Olenka in Taurogi if he should be slain. What had I, unfortunate man, to do? I purchased her life with his life. What had I to do? By the cross of Christ, what had I to do?"

Here Pan Andrei began to pull his hair, to stamp, from bewilderment; and Volodyovski thought for awhile, then said, —

"I understand your despair; but still – you see, you have let go a traitor who may bring grievous suffering to the country. There is no denying, Yendrek, that you have rendered wonderful service to-day; but at last you sacrificed the public good to your own private ends."

"And what would you have done if you were told that there was a knife at the throat of Panna Anusia?"

Pan Michael's mustaches quivered fiercely. "I do not offer myself as an example. H'm! what would I have done? But Pan Yan, who has a Roman soul, would not have let him live; and besides, I am certain that God would not have let innocent blood flow for the reason he mentioned."

"Let me do penance. Punish me, O God, not according to my heavy sin, but according to Thy mercy; for to sign a sentence against that dove – " Here Kmita closed his eyes. "Angels forefend! Never, never!"

"It is passed," said Volodyovski.

Here Pan Andrei took a paper out of his bosom. "See, Michael, what I obtained. This is a command to Sakovich, to all the officers of Radzivill, and to the Swedish commandants. We forced him to write it, though he could barely move his hand. Prince Michael himself saw to that. This is freedom for her, safety for her. I will lie in the form of a cross every day for a year, I will have myself scourged, I will build a church, but I will not sacrifice her life. I have not a Roman soul. Well, I am not a Cato like Pan Yan, true! But I will not sacrifice her; no, by a hundred thunders, I will not, even if at last I am roasted in hell on a spit – "

Kmita did not finish, for Pan Michael sprang up to him and stopped his mouth with his hand, crying in a terrified voice, —

"Do not blaspheme, for you will draw the vengeance of God on her. Beat your breast, quickly, quickly!"

And Pan Andrei began to beat his breast: "Mea culpa! mea culpa! mea maxima culpa!" At last the poor soldier burst into loud weeping, for he did not know himself what to do.

Pan Michael let him have his cry out; then he pacified him, and asked, —

"And what will you undertake now?"