The guests rose, except ladies, and filled their glasses, but without shouts, without enthusiasm. Pan Shchanyetski of Dalnovo muttered something to his neighbors, and they bit their mustaches to avoid laughter. It was evident that he was jeering at the King of Sweden.
It was only when the prince raised the other toast to his "beloved guests" kind to Kyedani, who had come even from distant places to testify their confidence in the intentions of the host, that they answered him with a loud shout, -
"We thank you from our hearts!"
"The health of the prince!"
"Our Hector of Lithuania!"
"May he live! Long life to the prince hetman, our voevoda."
Now Pan Yujits, a little drunk already, cried with all the strength of his lungs, "Long life to Yanush I., Grand Prince of Lithuania!"
Radzivill blushed like a young lady at her betrothal, but remarking that those assembled were stubbornly silent and looking at him with astonishment, he said, -
"That is in your power; but your wishes are premature, Pan Yujits, premature."
"Long live Yanush I., Grand Prince of Lithuania!" repeated Pan Yujits, with the stubbornness of a drunken man.
Pan Shchanyetski rose in his turn and raised his glass. "True," said he, coolly, "Grand Prince of Lithuania, King of Poland, and Emperor of Germany!"
Again an interval of silence. Suddenly the company burst out into laughter. All were staring, their mustaches were dancing on their reddened faces, and laughter shook their bodies, echoed from the arches of the hall, and lasted long; and as suddenly as it rose so suddenly did it die on the lips of all at sight of the hetman's face, which was changing like a rainbow.
Radzivill restrained the terrible anger which had seized his breast and said, "Low jests, Pan Shchanyetski."
The noble pouted, and not at all disconcerted answered: "That also is an elective throne, and we cannot wish your highness too much. If as a noble your highness may become King of Poland, as a prince of the Gorman Empire you might be raised to the dignity of Emperor. It is as far or near for you to the one as to the other; and who does not wish this to you, let him rise. I will meet him with the sabre." Here he turned to the company: "Rise, whoso does not wish the crown of the German Empire to the voevoda of Vilna!"
Of course no one rose. They did not laugh either, for in the voice of Pan Shchanyetski there was so much insolent malice that an involuntary disquiet came upon all as to what would happen.
Nothing happened, save that relish for the banquet was spoiled. In vain did the servants of the castle fill the glasses every moment. Wine could not scatter gloomy thoughts in the minds of the banqueters, nor the disquiet increasing every moment. Radzivill concealed his anger with difficulty, for he felt that, thanks to the toasts of Pan Shchanyetski, he was belittled in the eyes of the assembled nobles, and that, intentionally or not, that man had forced the conviction on those present that the voevoda of Vilna was no nearer the throne of grand prince than the crown of Germany. Everything was turned into jests, into ridicule, while the banquet was given mainly to accustom men's minds to the coming rule of the Radzivills. What is more, Radzivill was concerned lest this ridicule of his hopes should make a bad impression on the officers, admitted to the secret of his plans. In fact, deep dissatisfaction was depicted on their faces.
Ganhoff filled glass after glass, and avoided the glance of the prince. Kmita, however, did not drink, but looked at the table before him with frowning brow, as if he were thinking of something, or lighting an internal battle. Radzivill trembled at the thought that a light might flash into that mind any moment, and bring forth truth from the shadows, and then that officer, who furnished the single link binding the remnants of the Polish squadrons with the cause of Radzivill, would break the link, even if he had at the same time to drag the heart out of his own breast.
Kmita had annoyed Radzivill already over much; and without the marvellous significance given him by events, he would long since have fallen a victim to his own impetuosity and the wrath of the hetman. But the prince was mistaken in suspecting him of a hostile turn of thought, for Pan Andrei was occupied wholly with Olenka and that deep dissension which separated them.
At times it seemed to him that he loved that woman sitting at his side beyond the whole world; then again he felt such hatred that he would give death to her if he could but give it to himself as well.
Life had become so involved that for his simple nature it was too difficult, and he felt what a wild beast feels when entangled in a net from which it cannot escape.
The unquiet and gloomy humor of the whole banquet irritated him in the highest degree. It was simply unendurable.
The banquet became more gloomy every moment. It seemed to those present that they were feasting under a leaden roof resting on their heads.
At that time a new guest entered the hall. The prince, seeing him, exclaimed, -
"That is Pan Suhanyets, from Cousin Boguslav! Surely with letters!"
The newly arrived bowed profoundly. "True, Most Serene Prince, I come straight from Podlyasye."
"But give me the letters, and sit at the table yourself. The worthy guests will pardon me if I do not defer the reading, though we are sitting at a banquet, for there may be news which I shall need to impart to you. Sir Marshal, pray think of the welcome envoy there."
Speaking thus, he took from the hands of Pan Suhanyets a package of letters, and broke the seal of the first in haste.
All present fixed curious eyes on his face, and tried to divine the substance of the letter. The first letter did not seem to announce anything favorable, for the face of the prince was filled with blood, and his eyes gleamed with wild anger.
"Brothers!" said the hetman, "Prince Boguslav reports to me that those men who have chosen to form a confederation rather than march against the enemy at Vilna, are ravaging at this moment my villages in Podlyasye. It is easier of course to wage war with peasant women in villages. Worthy knights, there is no denying that! – Never mind! Their reward will not miss them."
Then he took the second letter, but had barely cast his eyes on it when his face brightened with a smile of triumph and delight, -
"The province of Syeradz has yielded to the Swedes!" cried he, "and following Great Poland, has accepted the protection of Karl Gustav."
And after a while another, -
"This is the latest dispatch. Good for us, worthy gentlemen, Yan Kazimir is beaten at Vidava and Jarnov. The army is leaving him! He is retreating on Cracow; the Swedes are pursuing. My cousin writes that Cracow too must fall."
"Let us rejoice, gracious gentlemen," said Shchanyetski, with a strange voice.
"Yes, let us rejoice!" repeated the hetman, without noticing the tone in which Shchanyetski had spoken. And delight issued from the whole person of the prince, his face became in one moment as it were younger, his eyes gained lustre; with hands trembling from happiness, he broke the seal of the last letter, looked, became all radiant as the sun, and cried, -
"Warsaw is taken! Long life to Karl Gustav!"
Here he first noticed that the impression which these tidings produced on those present was entirely different from that which he felt himself. For all sat in silence, looking forward with uncertain glance. Some frowned; others covered their faces with their hands. Even courtiers of the hetman, even men of weak spirit, did not dare to imitate the joy of the prince at the tidings that Warsaw was taken, that Cracow must fall, and that the provinces, one after the other, would leave their legal king and yield to the enemy. Besides, there was something monstrous in the satisfaction with which the supreme leader of half the armies of the Commonwealth, and one of its most exalted senators, announced its defeats. The prince saw that it was necessary to soften the impression.
"Gentlemen," said he, "I should be the first to weep with you, if harm were coming to the Commonwealth; but here the Commonwealth suffers no harm, it merely changes kings. Instead of the ill-fated Yan Kazimir we shall have a great and fortunate warrior. I see all wars now finished, and enemies vanquished."
"Your highness is right," answered Shchanyetski. "Cup for cup, the same thing that Radzeyovski and Opalinski held forth at Uistsie. Let us rejoice, gracious gentlemen! Death to Yan Kazimir!"
When he had said this, Shchanyetski pushed back his chair with a rattle, and walked out of the hall.
"The best of wines that are in the cellar!" cried the prince.
The marshal hastened to carry out the order. In the hall it was as noisy as in a hive. When the first impression had passed, the nobles began to talk of the news and discuss. They asked Pan Suhanyets for details from Podlyasye, and adjoining Mazovia, which the Swedes had already occupied.
After a while pitchy kegs were rolled into the hall and opened. Spirits began to grow brighter and improve by degrees.
More and more frequently voices were heard to repeat: "All is over! perhaps it is for the best!" "We must bend to fortune!" "The prince will not let us be wronged." "It is better for us than for others. Long life to Yanush Radzivill, our voevoda, hetman, and prince!"
"Grand Prince of Lithuania!" cried again Pan Yujits.
But at this time neither silence nor laughter answered him; but a number of tens of hoarse throats roared at once, -
"That is our wish, – from heart and soul our wish! Long life to him! May he rule!"
The magnate rose with a face as red as purple. "I thank you, brothers," said he, seriously.
In the hall it had become as suffocating and hot, from lights and the breath of people, as in a bath.
Panna Aleksandra bent past Kmita to her uncle. "I am weak," said she; "let us leave here."