The Deluge. Vol. 1

And such a burning desire drew him on to that bloody work that he wished to rush out of the room and order the Kyemliches, their attendants, and his own men to mount and move on. But before he reached the door he felt as if some one had suddenly punched him in the breast and pushed him back from the threshold. He stood in the middle of the room, and looked forward in amazement.

"How is this? Shall I not efface my offences in this way?"

And at once he began to reckon with his own conscience.

"Where is atonement for guilt?" asked his conscience. "Here something else is required!"

"What?" asked Kmita.

"With what can thy guilt be effaced, if not with service of some kind, difficult and immense, honorable and pure as a tear? Is it service to collect a band of ruffians and rage like a whirlwind with them through the fields and the wilderness? Dost thou not desire this because fighting has for thee a sweet odor, as has roast meat for a dog? That is amusement, not service; a carnival, not war; robbery, not defence of the country! And didst thou not do the same against Hovanski, but what didst thou gain? Ruffians infesting the forests are ready also to attack the Swedish commands, and whence canst thou get other men? Thou wilt attack the Swedes, but also the inhabitants; thou wilt bring vengeance on these inhabitants, and what wilt thou effect? Thou art trying to escape, thou fool, from toil and atonement."

So conscience spoke in Kmita; and Kmita saw that it was right, and vexation seized him, and a species of grief over his own conscience because it spoke such bitter truth.

"What shall I begin?" asked he, at last; "who will help me, who will save me?"

Here somehow his knees began to bend till at last he knelt down at the plank bed and began to pray aloud, and implore from his whole soul and heart, -

"O Jesus Christ, dear Lord," said he, "as on the cross thou hadst pity for the thief, so now have pity for me. Behold I desire to cleanse myself from sins, to begin a new life, and to serve my country honestly; but I know not how, for I am foolish. I served those traitors, O Lord, also not so much from malice, but especially as it were through folly; enlighten me, inspire me, comfort me in my despair, and rescue me in thy mercy, or I perish."

Here Pan Andrei's voice quivered; he beat his broad breast till it thundered in the room, and repeated, "Be merciful to me, a sinner! be merciful to me, a sinner! Be merciful to me, a sinner!" Then placing his hands together and stretching them upward, he said, "And thou, Most Holy Lady, insulted by heretics in this land, take my part with thy Son, intercede for my rescue, desert me not in my suffering and misery, so that I may be able to serve thee, to avenge the insults against thee, and at the hour of my death have thee as a patroness for my unhappy soul."

When Pan Andrei was imploring thus, tears began to fall from his eyes; at last he dropped his head on the plank bed and sank into silence, as if waiting for the effect of his ardent prayer. Silence followed in the room, and only the deep sound of the neighboring pine-trees entered from outside. Then chips crackled under heavy steps beyond the window, and two men began to speak, -

"What do you think, Sergeant? Where shall we go from here?"

"Do I know?" answered Soroka. "We shall go somewhere, maybe far off, to the king who is groaning under the Swedish hand."

"Is it true that all have left him?"

"But the Lord God has not left him."

Kmita rose suddenly from the bed, but his face was clear and calm; he went straight to the door, and opening it said to the soldier, -

"Have the horses ready! it is time for the road!"

CHAPTER XXX

A movement rose quickly among the soldiers, who were glad to go out of the forest to the distant world, all the more since they feared pursuit on the part of Boguslav Radzivill; and old Kyemlich went to the cabin, understanding that Kmita would need him.

"Does your grace wish to go?" asked he.

"I do. Will you guide me out of the forest? Do you know all the roads?"

"I know all the roads in these parts. But whither does your grace wish to go?"

"To our gracious king."

The old man started back in astonishment. "O Wise Lady!" cried he. "To what king."

"Not to the Swedish, you may be sure."

Kyemlich not only failed to recover, but began to make the sign of the cross.

"Then surely your grace does not know that people say our lord the king has taken refuge in Silesia, for all have deserted him. Cracow is besieged."

"We will go to Silesia."

"Well, but how are we to pass through the Swedes?"

"Whether we pass through as nobles or peasants, on horseback or on foot, is all one to me, if only we pass."

"Then too a tremendous lot of time is needed."

"We have time enough, but I should be glad to go as quickly as possible."

Kyemlich ceased to wonder. The old man was too cunning not to surmise that there was some particular and secret cause for this undertaking of Pan Kmita's, and that moment a thousand suppositions began to crowd into his head. But as the soldiers, on whom Pan Andrei had enjoined silence, said nothing to the old man or his sons about the seizure of Prince Boguslav, the supposition seemed to him most likely that the prince voevoda of Vilna had sent the young colonel on some mission to the king. He was confirmed in this opinion specially because he counted Kmita a zealous adherent of Prince Yanush, and knew of his services to the hetman; for the confederate squadrons had spread tidings of him throughout the whole province of Podlyasye, creating the opinion that Kmita was a tyrant and a traitor.

"The hetman is sending a confidant to the king," thought the old man; "that means that surely he wishes to agree with him and leave the Swedes. Their rule must be bitter to him already, else why send?"

Old Kyemlich did not struggle long over this question, for his interest in the matter was altogether different; and namely, what profit could he draw from such circumstances? If he served Kmita he would serve at the same time the hetman and the king, which would not be without a notable reward. The favor of such lords would be of service, too, should he be summoned to account for old sins. Besides, there will surely be war, the country will flame up, and then plunder will crawl of itself into his hands. All this smiled at the old man, who besides was accustomed to obey Kmita, and had not ceased to fear him like fire, cherishing toward him also a certain kind of love, which Kmita knew how to rouse in all his subordinates.

"Your grace," said he, "must go through the whole Commonwealth to reach the king. Swedish troops are nothing, for we may avoid the towns and go through the woods; but the worst is that the woods, as is usual in unquiet times, are full of parties of freebooters, who fall upon travellers; and your grace has few men."

"You will go with me, Pan Kyemlich, and your sons and the men whom you have; there will be more of us."

"If your grace commands I will go, but I am a poor man. Only misery with us; nothing more. How can I leave even this poverty and the roof over my head?"

"Whatever you do will be paid for; and for you it is better to take your head out of this place while it is yet on your shoulders."

"All the Saints of the Lord! What does your grace say? How is that? What threatens me, innocent man, in this place? Whom do we hinder?"

"I know you robbers!" answered Pan Andrei. "You had partnership with Kopystynski, and killed him; then you ran away from the courts, you served with me, you took away my captured horses.

"As true as life! O Mighty Lady!" cried the old man.

"Wait and be silent! Then you returned to your old lair, and began to ravage in the neighborhood like robbers, taking horses and booty everywhere. Do not deny it, for I am not your judge, and you know best whether I tell the truth. If you take the horses of Zolotarenko, that is well; if the horses of the Swedes, that is well. If they catch you they will flay you; but that is their affair."

"True, true; but we take only from the enemy," said the old man.

"Untrue; for you attack your own people, as your sons have confessed to me, and that is simple robbery, and a stain on the name of a noble. Shame on you, robbers! you should be peasants, not nobles."

"Your grace wrongs us," said old fox, growing red, "for we, remembering our station, do no peasant deed. We do not take horses at night from any man's stable. It is something different to drive a herd from the fields, or to capture horses. This is permitted, and there is no prejudice to a noble therefrom in time of war. But a horse in a stable is sacred; and only a gypsy, a Jew, or a peasant would steal from a stable, – not a noble. We, your grace, do not do that. But war is war!"

"Though there were ten wars, only in battle can plunder be taken; if you seek it on the road, you are robbers."

"God is witness to our innocence."

"But you have brewed beer here. In few words, it is better for you to leave this place, for sooner or later the halter will take you. Come with me; you will wash away your sins with faithful service and win honor. I will receive you to my service, in which there will be more profit than in those horses."