CHAPTER XXV.
Kmita was very busily occupied in preparations for the road, and inchoosing the men of his escort; for he determined not to go without acertain-sized party, first for his own safety, and second for thedignity of his person as an envoy. He was in a hurry, since he wishedto 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 hadlong served under him in those better days when before his journey toLyubich he had stormed around Hovanski,--old fighters of Orsha, readyto follow him even to the end of the earth. They were themselves noblesand attendant boyars, the last remnant of that once powerful band cutdown by the Butryms. At the head of them was the sergeant Soroka, atrusty servant of the Kmitas,--an old soldier and very reliable, thoughnumerous sentences were hanging over him for still more numerous deedsof violence.
After dinner the prince gave Pan Andrei the letters and a pass to theSwedish commanders whom the young envoy might meet in the moreconsiderable places; he took farewell of him and sent him away withmuch feeling, really like a father, recommending wariness anddeliberation.
Meanwhile the sky began to grow clear; toward evening the weak sun ofautumn shone over Kyedani and went down behind red clouds, stretchedout in long lines on the west.
There was nothing to hinder the journey. Kmita was just drinking astirrup cup with Ganhoff, Kharlamp, and some other officers when aboutdusk 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 stillmore; but Kmita rather pretended to drink than to drink in reality. Thewine had no taste for him, did not go to his head, did not cheer hisspirit, while the others were already merry.
"Worthy Colonel," said Ganhoff, "commend me to the favor of PrinceBoguslav. That is a great cavalier; such another there is not in theCommonwealth. With him you will be as in France. A different speech,other customs, every politeness may be learned there more easily thaneven in the palace of the king."
"I remember Prince Boguslav at Berestechko," said Kharlamp; "he had oneregiment of dragoons drilled in French fashion completely,--theyrendered 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 adrug-shop. In battle they thrust fiercely with rapiers, and it was saidthat when one of them thrust a man through he said, 'Pardonnez-moi!'(pardon me); so they mingled politeness with uproarious life. ButPrince Boguslav rode among them with a handkerchief on his sword,always smiling, even in the greatest din of battle, for it is theFrench fashion to smile amid bloodshed. He had his face touched withpaint, and his eyebrows blackened with coal, at which the old soldierswere angry and called him a bawd. Immediately after battle he had newruffs brought him, so as to be always dressed as if for a banquet, andthey curled his hair with irons, making marvellous ringlets out of it.But he is a manful fellow, and goes first into the thickest fire. Hechallenged Pan Kalinovski because he said something to him, and theking had to make peace."
"There is no use in denying," said Ganhoff. "You will see curiousthings, and you will see the King of Sweden himself, who next to ourprince is the best warrior in the world."
"And Pan Charnyetski," said Kharlamp; "they are speaking more and moreof him."
"Pan Charnyetski is on the side of Yan Kazimir, and therefore is ourenemy," 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 comehither, we should all have thought, 'We shall be fighting with theSwedes;' but see now."
"We are not alone; the whole Commonwealth has received them with openarms," 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, comeback 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, whenwas that? Ah, the last time during the election of the presentmercifully 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 andGrand Duke of Lithuania, I fell terribly in love with one lady, anattendant of the Princess Vishnyevetski. Oh, she was an attractivelittle beast! But when I wanted to look more nearly into her eyes, PanVolodyovski thrust up his sabre. I was to fight with him; then Boguncame between us,--Bogun, whom Volodyovski cut up like a hare. If it hadnot been for that, you would not see me alive. But at that time I wasready to fight, even with the devil. Volodyovski stood up for her onlythrough friendship, for she was betrothed to another, a still greaterswordsman. Oh, I tell you, gentlemen, that I thought I should witheraway--I could not think of eating or drinking. When our prince sent mefrom 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 Iwas easier, before I had reached Vilna my head was clear, and to thisday I remain single. That is the whole story. There is nothing forunhappy love like a journey."
"Is that your opinion?" asked Kmita.
"As I live, it is! Let the black ones take all the pretty girls inLithuania 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 oldwoman, 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 servicecalls us. May God lead you forth and bring you home."
"Farewell!"
"Throw the red ribbon behind," said Kharlamp, "or at the firstresting-place put out the fire yourself with a bucket of water; thatis, if you wish to forget."
"Be with God!"
"We shall not soon see one another."
"Perhaps somewhere on the battlefield," added Ganhoff. "God grant sideby side, not opposed."
"Of course not opposed," said Kmita.
And the officers went out.
The clock on the tower struck seven. In the yard the horses were pawingthe stone pavement with their hoofs, and through the window were to beseen the men waiting. A wonderful disquiet seized Pan Andrei. He wasrepeating to himself, "I go, I go!" Imagination placed before his eyesunknown regions, and a throng of strange faces which he was to see, andat the same time wonder seized him at the thought of the journey, as ifhitherto it had never been in his mind.
He must mount and move on. "What happens, will happen. What will be,will be!" thought he to himself.
When, however, the horses were snorting right there at the window, andthe hour of starting had struck, he felt that the new life would bestrange, and all with which he had lived, to which he had grownaccustomed, to which he had become attached heart and soul, would stayin that region, in that neighborhood, in that place. The former Kmitawould stay there as well. Another man as it were would go hence,--astranger to all outside, as all outside were strangers to him. He wouldhave to begin there an entirely new life. God alone knew whether therewould be a desire for it.
Pan Andrei was mortally wearied in soul, and therefore at that momenthe felt powerless in view of those new scenes and new people. Hethought that it was bad for him here, that it would be bad for himthere, at least it would be burdensome.
But it is tim
e, time. He must put his cap on his head and ride off.
But will he go without a last word? Is it possible to be so near andlater to be so far, to say not one word and go forth? See to what ithas come! But what can he say to her? Shall he go and say, "Everythingis ruined; my lady, go thy way, I will go mine"? Why, why say eventhat, when without saying it is so? He is not her betrothed, as she isnot and will not be his wife. What has been is lost, is rent, and willnot return, will not be bound up afresh. Loss of time, loss of words,and new torture.
"I will not go!" thought Pan Kmita.
But, on the other hand, the will of a dead man binds them yet. It isneedful to speak clearly and without anger of final separation, and tosay to her, "My lady, you wish me not; I return you your word.Therefore we shall both act as though there had been no will, and leteach seek happiness where each can find it?"
But she may answer: "I have said that long since; why tell it to menow?"
"I will not go, happen what may!" repeated Kmita to himself.
And pressing the cap on his head, he went out of the room into thecorridor. He wished to mount straightway and be outside the gatequickly.
All at once, in the corridor, something caught him as it were by thehair. Such a desire to see her, to speak to her, possessed him, that heceased to think whether to go or not to go, he ceased to reason, andrather pushed on with closed eyes, as if wishing to spring into water.
Before the very door whence the guard had just been removed, he cameupon a youth, a servant of the sword-bearer.
"Is Pan Billevich in the room?" asked he.
"The sword-bearer is among the officers in the barracks."
"And the lady?"
"The lady is at home."
"Tell her that Pan Kmita is going on a long journey and wishes to seethe lady."
The youth obeyed the command; but before he returned with an answerKmita raised the latch and went in without question.
"I have come to take farewell," said he, "for I do not know whether weshall meet again in life."
Suddenly he turned to the youth: "Why stand here yet?"
"My gracious lady," continued Kmita, when the door had closed after theservant, "I intended to go without parting, but had not the power. Godknows when I shall return, or whether I shall return, for misfortunescome lightly. Better that we part without anger and offence in ourhearts, so that the punishment of God fall not on either of us. Thereis much to say, much to say, and now the tongue cannot say it all.Well, there was no happiness, clearly by the will of God there was not;and now, O man, even if thou batter thy head against the wall, there isno cure! Blame me not, and I will not blame you. We need not regardthat testament now, for as I have said, the will of man is nothingagainst the will of God. God grant you happiness and peace. The mainthing is that we forgive each other. I know not what will meet meoutside, whither I am going. But I cannot sit longer in torture, introuble, in sorrow. A man breaks himself on the four walls of a roomwithout result, gracious lady, without result! One has no laborhere,--only to take grief on the shoulders, only think for whole daysof unhappy events till the head aches, and in the end think outnothing. This journey is as needful to me, as water to a fish, as airto a bird, for without it I should go wild."
"God grant you happiness," said Panna Aleksandra.
She stood before him as if stunned by the departure, the appearance,and the words of Pan Kmita. On her face were confusion andastonishment, and it was clear that she was struggling to recoverherself; meanwhile she gazed on the young man with eyes widely open.
"I do not cherish ill will against you," said she after a time.
"Would that all this had not been!" said Kmita. "Some evil spirit camebetween us and separated us as if with a sea, and that water is neitherto be swum across nor waded through. The man did not do what he wanted,he went not where he wished, but something as it were pushed him tillwe both entered pathless regions. But since we are to vanish the onefrom the eyes of the other, it is better to cry out even fromremoteness, 'God guide!' It is needful also for you to know thatoffence and anger are one thing, and sorrow another. From anger I havefreed myself, but sorrow sits in me--maybe not for you. Do I knowmyself for whom and for what? Thinking, I have thought out nothing; butstill it seems to me that it will be easier both to you and to me if wetalk. You hold me a traitor, and that pricks me most bitterly of all,for as I wish my soul's salvation, I have not been and shall not be atraitor."
"I hold you that no longer," said Olenka.
"Oi, how could you have held me that even one hour? You know of me,that once I was ready for violence, ready to slay, burn, shoot; that isone thing, but to betray for gain, for advancement, never! God guardme, God judge me! You are a woman, and cannot see in what lies thecountry's salvation; hence it beseems you not to condemn, to givesentence. And why did you utter the sentence? God be with you! Knowthis, that salvation is in Prince Radzivill and the Swedes; and whothinks otherwise, and especially acts, is just ruining the country. Butit is no time to discuss, it is time to go. Know that I am not atraitor, not one who sells. May I perish if I ever be that! Know thatunjustly you scorned me, unjustly consigned me to death--I tell youthis under oath and at parting, and I say it that I may say with it, Iforgive you from my heart; but do you forgive me as well."
Panna Aleksandra had recovered completely. "You say that I have judgedyou unjustly; that is true. It is my fault; I confess it and beg yourforgiveness."
Here her voice trembled, her blue eyes filled with tears, and he criedwith transport,--
"I forgive! I forgive! I would forgive you even my death!"
"May God guide you and bring you to the right road. May you leave thaton which you are erring."
"But give peace, give peace!" cried Kmita, excitedly; "let nomisunderstanding rise between us again. Whether I err or err not, besilent on that point. Let each man follow the way of his conscience;God will judge every intention. Better that I have come hither, than togo without farewell. Give me your hand for the road. Only that much ismine; for to-morrow I shall not see you, nor after tomorrow, nor in amonth, perhaps never--Oi, Olenka! and in my head it is dim--Olenka! Andshall we never meet again?"
Abundant tears like pearls were falling from Panna Aleksandra's lashesto her cheeks.
"Pan Andrei, leave traitors, and all may be."
"Quiet, oh, quiet!" said Kmita, with a broken voice. "It may not be--Icannot--better say nothing-- Would I were slain! less should Isuffer-- For God's sake, why does this meet us? Farewell for the lasttime. And then let death close my eyes somewhere outside-- Why are youweeping? Weep not, or I shall go wild!"
And in supreme excitement he seized her half by constraint, and thoughshe resisted, he kissed her eyes and her mouth, then fell at her feet.At last he sprang up, and grasping his hair like a madman, rushed forthfrom the chamber.
"The devil could do nothing here, much less a red ribbon."
Olenka saw him through the window as he was mounting in haste; theseven horsemen then moved forward. The Scots on guard at the gate madea clatter with their weapons, presenting arms; then the gate closedafter the horsemen, and they were not to be seen on the dark road amongthe trees.
Night too had fallen completely.