The Deluge. Vol. 1

"Speak boldly," said the hetman.

"I pray," said Kmita, "that Billevich and she-suffer no harm while here."

"Be certain of that. But I see that you love the girl yet."

"Impossible," answered Kmita. "Do I know! An hour I love her, an hour I hate her. The devil alone knows! All is over, as I have said, – suffering only is left. I do not want her, but I do not want another to take her. Your highness, pardon me, I know not myself what I say. I must go, – go with all haste! Pay no heed to my words, God will give back my mind the moment I have gone through the gate."

"I understand that, because till love has grown cold with time, though not wanting her yourself, the thought that another might take her burns you. But be at rest on that point, for I will let no man come here, and as to going away they will not go. Soon it will be full of foreign soldiers all around, and unsafe. Better, I will send her to Tanrogi, near Tyltsa, where my daughter is. Be at rest, Yendrek. Go, prepare for the road, and come to me to dine."

Kmita bowed and withdrew, and Radzivill began to draw deep breaths. He was glad of the departure of Kmita. He left him his squadron and his name as an adherent; for his person the prince cared less.

But Kmita in going might render him notable services; in Kyedani he had long since grown irksome to the hetman, who was surer of him at a distance than near at hand. The wild courage and temper of Kmita might at any instant bring an outburst in Kyedani and a rupture very dangerous for both. The departure put danger aside.

"Go, incarnate devil, and serve!" muttered the prince, looking at the door through which the banneret of Orsha had passed. Then he called a page and summoned Ganhoff.

"You will take Kmita's squadron," said the prince to him, "and command over all the cavalry. Kmita is going on a journey."

Over the cold face of Ganhoff there passed as it were a ray of joy. The mission had missed him, but a higher military office had come. He bowed in silence, and said, -

"I will pay for the favor of your highness with faithful service." Then he stood erect and waited.

"And what will you say further?" asked the prince.

"Your highness, a noble from Vilkomir came this morning with news that Pan Sapyeha is marching with troops against your highness."

Radzivill quivered, but in the twinkle of an eye he mastered his expression.

"You may go," said he to Ganhoff.

Then he fell into deep thought.

CHAPTER XXV

Kmita was very busily occupied in preparations for the road, and in choosing the men of his escort; for he determined not to go without a certain-sized party, first for his own safety, and second for the dignity of his person as an envoy. He was in a hurry, since he wished to start during the evening of that day, or if the rain did not cease, early next morning. He found men at last, – six trusty fellows who had long served under him in those better days when before his journey to Lyubich he had stormed around Hovanski, – old fighters of Orsha, ready to follow him even to the end of the earth. They were themselves nobles and attendant boyars, the last remnant of that once powerful band cut down by the Butryms. At the head of them was the sergeant Soroka, a trusty servant of the Kmitas, – an old soldier and very reliable, though numerous sentences were hanging over him for still more numerous deeds of violence.

After dinner the prince gave Pan Andrei the letters and a pass to the Swedish commanders whom the young envoy might meet in the more considerable places; he took farewell of him and sent him away with much feeling, really like a father, recommending wariness and deliberation.

Meanwhile the sky began to grow clear; toward evening the weak sun of autumn shone over Kyedani and went down behind red clouds, stretched out in long lines on the west.

There was nothing to hinder the journey. Kmita was just drinking a stirrup cup with Ganhoff, Kharlamp, and some other officers when about dusk Soroka came in and asked, -

"Are you going, Commander?"

"In an hour," answered Kmita.

"The horses and men are ready now in the yard."

The sergeant went out, and the officers began to strike glasses still more; but Kmita rather pretended to drink than to drink in reality. The wine had no taste for him, did not go to his head, did not cheer his spirit, while the others were already merry.

"Worthy Colonel," said Ganhoff, "commend me to the favor of Prince Boguslav. That is a great cavalier; such another there is not in the Commonwealth. With him you will be as in France. A different speech, other customs, every politeness may be learned there more easily than even in the palace of the king."

"I remember Prince Boguslav at Berestechko," said Kharlamp; "he had one regiment of dragoons drilled in French fashion completely, – they rendered both infantry and cavalry service. The officers were French, except a few Hollanders; of the soldiers the greater part were French, all dandies. There was an odor of various perfumes from them as from a drug-shop. In battle they thrust fiercely with rapiers, and it was said that when one of them thrust a man through he said, 'Pardonnez-moi!' (pardon me); so they mingled politeness with uproarious life. But Prince Boguslav rode among them with a handkerchief on his sword, always smiling, even in the greatest din of battle, for it is the French fashion to smile amid bloodshed. He had his face touched with paint, and his eyebrows blackened with coal, at which the old soldiers were angry and called him a bawd. Immediately after battle he had new ruffs brought him, so as to be always dressed as if for a banquet, and they curled his hair with irons, making marvellous ringlets out of it. But he is a manful fellow, and goes first into the thickest fire. He challenged Pan Kalinovski because he said something to him, and the king had to make peace."

"There is no use in denying," said Ganhoff. "You will see curious things, and you will see the King of Sweden himself, who next to our prince is the best warrior in the world."

"And Pan Charnyetski," said Kharlamp; "they are speaking more and more of him."

"Pan Charnyetski is on the side of Yan Kazimir, and therefore is our enemy," remarked Ganhoff, severely.

"Wonderful things are passing in this world," said Kharlamp, musingly. "If any man had said a year or two ago that the Swedes would come hither, we should all have thought, 'We shall be fighting with the Swedes;' but see now."

"We are not alone; the whole Commonwealth has received them with open arms," said Ganhoff.

"True as life," put in Kmita, also musingly.

"Except Sapyeha, Gosyevski, Charnyetski, and the hetmans of the crown," answered Kharlamp.

"Better not speak of that," said Ganhoff. "But, worthy Colonel, come back to us in good health; promotion awaits you."

"And Panna Billevich?" added Kharlamp.

"Panna Billevich is nothing to you," answered Kmita, brusquely.

"Of course nothing, I am too old. The last time- Wait, gentlemen, when was that? Ah, the last time during the election of the present mercifully reigning Yan Kazimir."

"Cease the use of that name from your tongue," interrupted Ganhoff. "To-day rules over us graciously Karl Gustav."

"True! Consuetudo altera natura (custom is a second nature). Well, the last time, during the election of Yan Kazimir, our ex-king and Grand Duke of Lithuania, I fell terribly in love with one lady, an attendant of the Princess Vishnyevetski. Oh, she was an attractive little beast! But when I wanted to look more nearly into her eyes, Pan Volodyovski thrust up his sabre. I was to fight with him; then Bogun came between us, – Bogun, whom Volodyovski cut up like a hare. If it had not been for that, you would not see me alive. But at that time I was ready to fight, even with the devil. Volodyovski stood up for her only through friendship, for she was betrothed to another, a still greater swordsman. Oh, I tell you, gentlemen, that I thought I should wither away-I could not think of eating or drinking. When our prince sent me from Warsaw to Smolensk, only then did I shake off my love on the road. There is nothing like a journey for such griefs. At the first mile I was easier, before I had reached Vilna my head was clear, and to this day I remain single. That is the whole story. There is nothing for unhappy love like a journey."

"Is that your opinion?" asked Kmita.

"As I live, it is! Let the black ones take all the pretty girls in Lithuania and the kingdom, I do not need them."

"But did you go away without farewell?"

"Without farewell; but I threw a red ribbon behind me, which one old woman, very deeply versed in love matters, advised me to do."

"Good health!" interrupted Ganhoff, turning again to Pan Andrei.

"Good health!" answered Kmita, "I give thanks from my heart."

"To the bottom, to the bottom! It is time for you to mount, and service calls us. May God lead you forth and bring you home."

"Farewell!"

"Throw the red ribbon behind," said Kharlamp, "or at the first resting-place put out the fire yourself with a bucket of water; that is, if you wish to forget."

"Be with God!"