Pan Michael

"No, but I know; and that is why he is going to England. He fooled everybody but me."

"A wonderful thing!" said Zagloba.

"This is your work," said Basia; "you should not have pushed them against each other."

"Sit there in quiet, and do not thrust yourself into what does not belong to you," answered Zagloba, who was struck to the quick because this reproach was made in presence of Makovetski. Therefore he added after a while, "I push anybody! I advise! Look at that! I like such suppositions."

"Ah, ha! do you think you did not?" retorted the maiden.

They went forward in silence. Still, Zagloba could not free himself from the thought that Basia was right, and that he was in great part the cause of all that had happened. That thought grieved him not a little; and since the carriage jolted unmercifully, the old noble fell into the worst humor and did not spare himself reproaches.

"It would be the proper thing," thought he, "for Michael and Ketling to cut off my ears in company. To make a man marry against his will is the same as to command him to ride with his face to a horse's tail. That fly is right! If those men have a duel, Ketling's blood will be on me. What kind of business have I begun in my old age! Tfu, to the Devil! Besides, they almost fooled me, for I barely guessed why Ketling was going beyond the sea – and that daw to the cloister; meanwhile the haiduk had long before found out everything, as it seems." Here Zagloba meditated a little, and after a while muttered, "A rogue, not a maiden! Michael borrowed eyes from a crawfish to put aside such as she for that doll!"

Meanwhile they had arrived at the city; but there their troubles began really. None of them knew where Ketling was lodging, or where Pan Michael might go; to look for either was like looking for a particular poppy-seed in a bushel of poppy-seeds. They went first to the grand hetman's. People told them there that Ketling was to start that morning on a journey beyond the sea. Pan Michael had come, inquired about the Scot, but whither the little knight had gone, no one knew. It was supposed that he might have gone to the squadron stationed in the field behind the city.

Zagloba commanded to return to the camp; but there it was impossible to find an informant. They went to every inn on Dluga Street; they went to Praga; all was in vain. Meanwhile night fell; and since an inn was not to be thought of, they were forced to go home. They went back in tribulation. Basia cried some; the pious Makovetski repeated a prayer; Zagloba was really alarmed. He tried, however, to cheer himself and the company.

"Ha!" said he, "we are distressed, and perhaps Michael is already at home."

"Or killed!" said Basia. And she began to wail there in the carriage, repeating, "Cut out my tongue! It was my fault, my fault! Oh, I shall go mad!"

"Quiet there, girl! the fault is not yours," said Zagloba; "and know this, – if any man is killed, it is not Michael."

"But I am sorry for the other. We have paid him handsomely for his hospitality; there is nothing to be said on that point. O God, O God!"

"That is the truth!" added Pan Makovetski.

"Let that rest, for God's sake! Ketling is surely nearer to Prussia than to Warsaw by this time. You heard that he is going away; I have hope in God too, that should he meet Volodyovski they will remember old friendship, service rendered together. They rode stirrup to stirrup; they slept on one saddle; they went together on scouting expeditions; they dipped their hands in one blood. In the whole army their friendship was so famous that Ketling, by reason of his beauty, was called Volodyovski's wife. It is impossible that this should not come to their minds when they see each other."

"Still, it is this way sometimes," said the discreet Makovetski, "that just the warmest friendship turns to the fiercest animosity. So it was in our place when Pan Deyma killed Pan Ubysh, with whom he had lived twenty years in the greatest agreement. I can describe to you that unhappy event in detail."

"If my mind were more at ease, I would listen to you as gladly as I do to her grace, my benefactress, your grace's spouse, who has the habit also of giving details, not excepting genealogies; but what you say of friendship and animosity has stuck in my head. God forbid! God forbid that it should come true this time!"

"One was Pan Deyma, the other Pan Ubysh. Both worthy men and fellow-soldiers – "

"Oi, oi, oi!" said Zagloba, gloomily. "We trust in the mercy of God that it will not come true this time; but if it does, Ketling will be the corpse."

"Misfortune!" said Makovetski, after a moment of silence. "Yes, yes! Deyma and Ubysh. I remember it as if to-day. And it was a question also of a woman."

"Eternally those women! The first daw that comes will brew such beer for you that whoever drinks will not digest it," muttered Zagloba.

"Don't attack Krysia, sir!" cried Basia, suddenly.

"Oh, if Pan Michael had only fallen in love with you, none of this would have happened!"

Thus conversing, they reached the house. Their hearts beat on seeing lights in the windows, for they thought that Pan Michael had returned, perhaps. But Pani Makovetski alone received them; she was alarmed and greatly concerned. On learning that all their searching had resulted in nothing, she covered herself with bitter tears and began to complain that she should never see her brother again. Basia seconded her at once in these lamentations. Zagloba too was unable to master his grief.

"I will go again to-morrow before daylight, but alone," said he; "I may be able to learn something."

"We can search better in company," put in Makovetski.

"No; let your grace remain with the ladies. If Ketling is alive, I will let you know."

"For God's sake! We are living in the house of that man!" said Makovetski. "We must find an inn somehow to-morrow, or even pitch tents in the field, only not to live longer here."

"Wait for news from me, or we shall lose each other," said Zagloba. "If Ketling is killed – "

"Speak more quietly, by Christ's wounds!" said Pani Makovetski, "for the servants will hear and tell Krysia; she is barely alive as it is."

"I will go to her," said Basia.

And she sprang upstairs. Those below remained in anxiety and fear. No one slept in the whole house. The thought that maybe Ketling was already a corpse filled their hearts with terror. In addition, the night became close, dark; thunder began to roar and roll through the heavens; and later bright lightning rent the sky each moment. About midnight the first storm of the spring began to rage over the earth. Even the servants woke.

Krysia and Basia went from their chamber to the dining-room. There the whole company prayed and sat in silence, repeating in chorus, after each clap of thunder, "And the Word was made flesh!" In the whistling of the whirlwind was heard at times, as it were, a certain horse-tramp, and then fear and terror raised the hair on the heads of Basia, Pani Makovetski, and the two men; for it seemed to them that at any moment the door might open, and Pan Michael enter, stained with Ketling's blood. The usually mild Pan Michael, for the first time in his life, oppressed people's hearts like a stone, so that the very thought of him filled them with dread.

However, the night passed without news of the little knight. At daylight, when the storm had abated in a measure, Zagloba set out a second time for the city. That whole day was a day of still greater alarm. Basia sat till evening in the window in front of the gate, looking at the road along which Pan Zagloba might return.

Meanwhile the servants, at command of Pan Makovetski, were packing the trunks slowly for the road. Krysia was occupied in directing this work, for thus she was able to hold herself at a distance from the others. For though Pani Makovetski did not mention Pan Michael in the young lady's presence even by one word, still that very silence convinced Krysia that Pan Michael's love for her, their former secret engagement, and her recent refusal had been discovered; and in view of this, it was difficult to suppose that those people, the nearest to Pan Michael, were not offended and grieved. Poor Krysia felt that it must be so, that it was so, – that those hearts, hitherto loving, had withdrawn from her; therefore she wished to suffer by herself.

Toward evening the trunks were ready, so that it was possible to move that very day; but Pan Makovetski was waiting yet for news from Zagloba. Supper was brought; no one cared to eat it; and the evening began to drag along heavily, insupportably, and as silent as if all were listening to what the clock was whispering.

"Let us go to the drawing-room," said Pan Makovetski, at last. "It is impossible to stay here."

They went and sat down; but before any one had been able to speak the first word, the dogs were heard under the window.

"Some one is coming!" cried Basia.

"The dogs are barking as if at people of the house," said Pani Makovetski.

"Quiet!" said her husband. "There is a rattling of wheels!"

"Quiet!" repeated Basia. "Yes; it comes nearer every moment. That is Pan Zagloba."

Basia and Pan Makovetski sprang up and ran out. Pani Makovetski's heart began to throb; but she remained with Krysia, so as not to show by great haste that Pan Zagloba was bringing news of exceeding importance. Meanwhile the sound of wheels was heard right under the window, and then stopped on a sudden. Voices were heard at the entrance, and after a while Basia rushed into the room like a hurricane, and with a face as changed as if she had seen an apparition.

"Basia, who is that? Who is that?" asked Pani Makovetski, with astonishment.

But before Basia could regain her breath and give answer, the door opened; through it entered first Pan Makovetski, then Pan Michael, and last Ketling.

CHAPTER XXI

Ketling was so changed that he was barely able to make a low obeisance to the ladies; then he stood motionless, with his hat at his breast, with his eyes closed, like a wonder-working image. Pan Michael embraced his sister on the way, and approached Krysia. The maiden's face was as white as linen, so that the light down on her lip seemed darker than usual; her breast rose and fell violently. But Pan Michael took her hand mildly and pressed it to his lips; then his mustaches quivered for a time, as if he were collecting his thoughts; at last he spoke with great sadness, but with great calmness, —

"My gracious lady, or better, my beloved Krysia! Hear me without alarm, for I am not some Scythian or Tartar, or a wild beast, but a friend, who, though not very happy himself, still desires your happiness. It has come out that you and Ketling love each other; Panna Basia in just anger threw it in my eyes. I do not deny that I rushed out of this house in a rage and flew to seek vengeance on Ketling. Whoso loses his all is more easily borne away by vengeance; and I, as God is dear to me, loved you terribly and not merely as a man never married loves a maiden. For if I had been married and the Lord God had given me an only son or a daughter, and had taken them afterward, I should not have mourned over them, I think, as I mourned over you."

Here Pan Michael's voice failed for a moment, but he recovered quickly; and after his mustache had quivered a number of times, he continued, "Sorrow is sorrow; but there is no help. That Ketling fell in love with you is not a wonder. Who would not fall in love with you? And that you fell in love with him, that is my fate; there is no reason either to wonder at that, for what comparison is there between Ketling and me? In the field he will say himself that I am not the worse man; but that is another matter. The Lord God gave beauty to one, withheld it from the other, but rewarded him with reflection. So when the wind on the road blew around me, and my first rage had passed, conscience said straightway, Why punish them? Why shed the blood of a friend? They fell in love, that was God's will. The oldest people say that against the heart the command of a hetman is nothing. It was the will of God that they fell in love; but that they did not betray, is their honesty. If Ketling even had known of your promise to me, maybe I should have called to him, 'Quench!' but he did not know of it. What was his fault? Nothing. And your fault? Nothing. He wished to depart; you wished to go to God. My fate is to blame, my fate only; for the finger of God is to be seen now in this, that I remain in loneliness. But I have conquered myself; I have conquered!"

Pan Michael stopped again and began to breathe quickly, like a man who, after long diving in water, has come out to the air; then he took Krysia's hand. "So to love," said he, "as to wish all for one's self, is not an exploit. 'The hearts are breaking in all three of us,' thought I; 'better let one suffer and give relief to the other two.' Krysia, God give you happiness with Ketling! Amen. God give you, Krysia, happiness with Ketling! It pains me a little, but that is nothing – God give you – that is nothing – I have conquered myself!"