The Deluge. Vol. 1

"Does Uncle know that if not the first, then the second, has to be Roh? – for Roh is our special patron."

"Let us drink again."

"Very well."

Zagloba raised the bottle; he did not drink all, however, but gave it to the officer and said, "To the bottom, to the bottom! It is a pity that I cannot see you," continued he. "The night is so dark that you might hit a man in the face, you would not know your own fingers by sight. But hear me, Roh, where was that army going from Kyedani when we drove out?"

"Against the insurgents."

"The Most High God knows who is insurgent, – you or they."

"I an insurgent? How could that be? I do what my hetman commands."

"But the hetman does not do what the king commands, for surely the king did not command him to join the Swedes. Would you not rather slay the Swedes than give me, your relative, into their hands?"

"I might; but for every command there is obedience."

"And Pani Kovalski would rather slay Swedes; I know her. Speaking between us, the hetman has rebelled against the king and the country. Don't say this to any one, but it is so; and those who serve him are rebels too."

"It is not proper for me to hear this. The hetman has his superior, and I have mine; what is his own belongs to the hetman, and God would punish me if I were to oppose him. That is an unheard of thing."

"You speak honestly; but think, Roh, if you were to happen into the hands of those insurgents, I should be free, and it would be no fault of yours, for nec Hercules contra plures!-I do not know where those squadrons are, but you must know, and you see we might turn toward them a little."

"How is that?"

"As if we went by chance to them? It would not be your fault if they rescued us. You would not have me on your conscience, – and to have a relative on a man's conscience, believe me, is a terrible burden."

"Oh Uncle, what are you saying! As God lives, I will leave the wagon and sit on my horse. It is not I who will have uncle on my conscience, but the hetman. While I live, nothing will come of this talk."

"Nothing is nothing!" said Zagloba; "I prefer that you speak sincerely, though I was your uncle before Radzivill was your hetman. And do you know, Roh, what an uncle is?"

"An uncle is an uncle."

"You have calculated very adroitly; but when a man has no father, the Scriptures say that he must obey his uncle. The power of an uncle is as that of a father, which it is a sin to resist. For consider even this, that whoever marries may easily become a father; but in your uncle flows the same blood as in your mother. I am not in truth the brother of your mother, but my grandmother must have been your grandmother's aunt. Know then that the authority of several generations rests in me; for like everything else in the world we are mortal, therefore authority passes from one of us to another, and neither the hetman nor the king can ignore it, nor force any one to oppose it. It is sacred! Has the full hetman or even the grand hetman the right to command not merely a noble or an officer, but any kind of camp-follower, to rise up against his father, his mother, his grandfather, or his blind old grandmother? Answer me that, Roh. Has he the right?"

"What?" asked Kovalski, with a sleepy voice.

"Against his blind old grandmother!" repeated Zagloba. "Who in that case would be willing to marry and beget children, or wait for grandchildren? Answer me that, Roh."

"I am Kovalski, and this is Pani Kovalski," said the still sleepier officer.

"If it is your wish, let it be so," answered Zagloba. "Better indeed that you have no children, there will be fewer fools to storm around in the world. Is it not true, Roh?"

Zagloba held down his ear, but heard nothing, – no answer now.

"Roh! Roh!" called he, in a low voice.

Kovalski was sleeping like a dead man.

"Are you sleeping?" muttered Zagloba. "Wait a bit-I will take this iron pot off your head, for it is of no use to you. This cloak is too tight at the throat; it might cause apoplexy. What sort of relative were I, did I not save you?"

Here Zagloba's hands began to move lightly about the head and neck of Kovalski. In the wagon all were in a deep sleep; the soldiers too nodded in the saddles; some in front were singing in a low voice, while looking out the road carefully, – for the night, though not rainy, was exceedingly dark.

After a time, however, the soldier leading Kovalski's horse behind the wagon saw in the darkness the cloak and bright helmet of his officer. Kovalski, without stopping the wagon, slipped out and nodded to give him the horse. In a moment he mounted.

"Pan Commandant, where shall we stop to feed?" asked the sergeant, approaching him.

Pan Roh gave no word in reply, but moving forward passed slowly those riding in front and vanished in the darkness. Soon there came to the ears of the dragoons the quick tramp of a horse.

"The commandant has gone at a gallop!" said they to one another. "Surely he wants to look around to see if there is some public house near by. It is time to feed the horses, – time."

A half-hour passed, an hour, two hours, and Pan Kovalski seemed to be ahead all the time, for somehow he was not visible. The horses grew very tired, especially those drawing the wagon, and began to drag on slowly. The stars were leaving the sky.

"Gallop to the commandant," said the sergeant; "tell him the horses are barely able to drag along, and the wagon horses are tired."

One of the soldiers moved ahead, but after an hour returned alone.

"There is neither trace nor ashes of the commandant," said the soldier; "he must have ridden five miles ahead."

The soldiers began to grumble.

"It is well for him he slept through the day, and just now on the wagon; but do thou, soldier, pound through the night with the last breath of thy horse and thyself!"

"There is an inn eighty rods distant," said the soldier who had ridden ahead. "I thought to find him there, but no! I listened, trying to hear the horse-Nothing to be heard. The devil knows where he is!"

"We will stop at the inn anyhow," said the sergeant. "We must let the horses rest."

In fact they halted before the inn. The soldiers dismounted. Some went to knock at the door; others untied bundles of hay, hanging at the saddles, to feed the horses even from their hands.

The prisoners woke when the movement of the wagon ceased.

"But where are we going?" asked old Stankyevich.

"I cannot tell in the night," answered Volodyovski, "especially as we are not going to Upita."

"But does not the load from Kyedani to Birji lie through Upita?" asked Pan Yan.

"It does. But in Upita is my squadron, which clearly the prince fears may resist, therefore he ordered Kovalski to take another road. Just outside Kyedani we turned to Dalnovo and Kroki; from the second place we shall go surely through Beysagoli and Shavli. It is a little out of the way, but Upita and Ponyevyej will remain at the right. On this road there are no squadrons, for all that were there were brought to Kyedani, so as to have them at hand."

"But Pan Zagloba," said Stankyevich, "instead of thinking of stratagems, as he promised, is sleeping sweetly, and snoring."

"Let him sleep. It is clear that he was wearied from talk with that stupid commandant, relationship with whom he confessed. It is evident that he wanted to capture him, but with no result. Whoso would not leave Radzivill for his country, will surely not leave him for a distant relative."

"Are they really relatives?" asked Oskyerko.

"They? They are as much relatives as you and I," answered Volodyovski. "When Zagloba spoke of their common escutcheon, I knew it was not true, for I know well that his is called wczele (in the forehead)."

"And where is Pan Kovalski?"