The Deluge. Vol. 1

"That is truth," answered Soroka; "for when I fired at him he was surrounded as it were by a fog, and I missed. Any man mounted may miss when the horse is moving, but on the ground that has not happened to me for ten years."

"What's the use in talking?" said Biloüs, "better count: Lyubyenyets, Vitkovski, Zavratynski, our colonel; and one man brought them all down, and he without arms, – such men that each of them has many a time stood against four. Without the help of the devil he could not have done this."

"Let us commend our souls to God; for if he is possessed, the devil will show him the road to this place."

"But without that he has long arms for such a lord."

"Quiet!" exclaimed Soroka, quickly; "something is making the leaves rustle."

The soldiers were quiet and bent their ears. Near by, indeed, were heard some kind of heavy steps, under which the fallen leaves rustled very clearly.

"I hear horses," whispered Soroka.

But the steps began to retreat from the cabin, and soon after was heard the threatening and hoarse bellowing of a stag.

"That is a stag! He is making himself known to a doe, or fighting off another horned fellow."

"Throughout the whole forest are entertainments as at the wedding of Satan."

They were silent again and began to doze. The sergeant raised his head at times and listened for a while, then dropped it toward his breast. Thus passed an hour, and a second; at last the nearest pine-trees from being black became gray, and the tops grew whiter each moment, as some one had burnished them with molten silver. The bellowing of stags ceased, and complete stillness reigned the forest depths. Dawn passed gradually into day; the white and pale light began to absorb rosy and gold gleams; at last perfect morning had come, and lighted the tired faces of the soldiers sleeping a firm sleep at the cabin.

Then the door opened, Kmita appeared on the threshold and called, -

"Soroka! come here!"

The soldiers sprang up.

"For God's sake, is your grace on foot?" asked Soroka.

"But you have slept like oxen; it would have been possible to cut off your heads and throw them out before any one would have been roused."

"We watched till morning, Colonel; we fell asleep or in the broad day."

Kmita looked around. "Where are we?"

"In the forest, Colonel."

"I see that myself. But what sort of a cabin is this?"

"We know not ourselves."

"Follow me," said Kmita. And he turned to the inside of the cabin. Soroka followed.

"Listen," said Kmita, sitting on the bed. "Did the prince fire at me?"

"He did."

"And what happened to him?"

"He escaped."

A moment of silence followed.

"That is bad," said Kmita, "very bad! Better to lay him down than to let him go alive."

"We wanted to do that, but-"

"But what?"

Soroka told briefly all that had happened. Kmita listened with wonderful calmness; but his eyes began to glitter, and at last he said, -

"Then he is victor; but we'll meet again. Why did you leave the highroad?"

"I was afraid of pursuit."

"That was right, for surely there was pursuit. There are too few of us now to fight against Boguslav's power, – too few. Besides, he has gone to Prussia; we cannot reach him there, we must wait-"

Soroka was relieved. Pan Kmita evidently did not fear Boguslav greatly, since he talked of overtaking him. This confidence was communicated at once to the old soldier accustomed to think with the head of his colonel and to feel with his heart.

Meanwhile Pan Andrei, who had fallen into deep thought, came to himself on a sudden, and began to seek something about his person with both his hands.

"Where are my letters?" asked he.

"What letters?"

"Letters that I had on my body. They were fastened to my belt; where is the belt?" asked Pan Andrei, in haste.

"I unbuckled the belt myself, that your grace might breathe more easily; there it is."

"Bring it."

Soroka gave him a belt lined with white leather, to which a bag was attached by cords. Kmita untied it and took out papers hastily.

"These are passes to the Swedish commandants; but where are the letters?" asked he, in a voice full of disquiet.

"What letters?" asked Soroka.

"Hundreds of thunders! the letters of the hetman to the Swedish King, to Pan Lyubomirski, and all those that I had."

"If they are not on the belt, they are nowhere. They must have been lost in the time of the riding."

"To horse and look for them!" cried Kmita, in a terrible voice.

But before the astonished Soroka could leave the room Pan Andrei sank to the bed as if strength had failed him, and seizing his head with his hands, began to repeat in a groaning voice, -

"Ai! my letters, my letters!"

Meanwhile the soldiers rode off, except one, whom Soroka commanded to guard the cabin. Kmita remained alone in the room, and began to meditate over his position, which was not deserving of envy. Boguslav had escaped. Over Pan Andrei was hanging the terrible and inevitable vengeance of the powerful Radzivills. And not only over him, but over all whom he loved, and speaking briefly, over Olenka. Kmita knew that Prince Yanush would not hesitate to strike where he could wound him most painfully, – that is, to pour out his vengeance on the person of Panna Billevich. And Olenka was still in Kyedani at the mercy of the terrible magnate, whose heart knew no pity. The more Kmita meditated over his position, the more clearly was he convinced that it was simply dreadful. After the seizure of Boguslav, the Radzivills will hold him a traitor; the adherents of Yan Kazimir, the partisans of Sapyeha, and the confederates who had risen up in Podlyasye look on him as a traitor now, and a damned soul of the Radzivills. Among the many camps, parties, and foreign troops occupying at that moment the fields of the Commonwealth, there is not a camp, a party, a body of troops which would not count him as the greatest and most malignant enemy. Indeed, the reward offered for his head by Hovanski is still in force, and now Radzivill and the Swedes will offer rewards, – and who knows if the adherents of the unfortunate Yan Kazimir have not already proclaimed one?