 Book III Chapter VII of With Fire and Sword by Henrik Sinkhevich, translated by Samuel A. Benyon. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Zagloba lay bound, his hands and feet trust with his own sword, in the very room in which the wedding had taken place, and the terrible chieftain sat beside him on a stool and looked with evident enjoyment at his prisoner's terror. Good evening, sir," he said, when he noticed his victim's eyes were opened. Zagloba did not answer, but in a moment he was as sober as though no drop of mead ever passed his lips. Only a sensation, as if ants were creeping down to his heels and came back to his head, and the marrow in his bones seemed turning to ice. It is said that a drowning man at the last moment sees clearly his whole past, that he remembers everything, and is conscious of all that is happening to him. This bright vision and memory was Zagloba's experience at this moment, but the only evidence of this clairvoyance was the silent, unspoken cry, "'Now he will flay me!' and the chieftain repeated in quiet tones, "'Good evening, sir.' "'Ugh!' thought Zagloba. I wish he would fly into a rage. Do you not recognize me, noble sir? I bow, I greet you. How is your health? Not bad, and you yours, I myself will take care of. I did not ask God for such a physician, and I doubt if I could digest your medicine, what God's will be done. Well, you cured me, now I will repay you. We are old friends. Do you remember how you tied up my head in Rosloga? Eh?' Bohan's eyes gleamed like two car-buncles, and a horrible laugh came from his lips. "'I remember,' said Zagloba, that I could have stabbed you, and I did not do it. And I did I stab you, or do I think of doing it? No, you are my friend, my beloved. I will guard you as the eye.' "'I always said that you were a noble knight,' said Zagloba, pretending that he took in Bohan's words in earnest, but at the same time the thought came into his mind, "'I see that he is preparing something quite special for me. I shall not die any ordinary death.' "'You have well said,' sneered Bohan, "'you are also a noble knight. We have sought and found each other.' "'To tell the truth I did not seek you, but I thank you for your kind words. You will thank me more later, and I will thank you for taking the girl from Rosloga and bringing her to Bar where I found her. And now I should like to ask you to the wedding, but it is not to-day nor to-morrow. Now it is war, and you are an old man. Perhaps you will not survive it.' In spite of the terrible position in which he found himself, Zagloba pricked up his ears. "'To the wedding?' he growled. "'And what do you suppose?' said Bohan. "'Am I a peasant that I should take possession of her without a priest? Or perhaps it might occur to me to be married in Kiev. You did not bring her to Bar for a peasant but for an ataman and a hetman.' "'Good,' thought Zagloba. Then turning his head towards Bohan, "'Take these fetters off me,' he said. "'Lice still, lice still. You are going to take a journey, and you are old and must rest beforehand.' "'Where are you going to take me?' "'You are my friend. I will take you to my other friend, Tushivonos. We will both see that you are well taken care of over there.' "'It will be warm.' Railed the nobleman, and again the ants began to crawl through his frame. Finally he said, "'I know that you hate me, but unjustly, unjustly, God knows. We lived together and in Shigren we drank many a bottle of wine together, for I took a fatherly interest in you on account of your nightly exploits, and you could not have found a better friend in the whole of Ukraine. "'And now did I get in your way? If I had not ridden with you to Rosloka, we should be the best friends in the world today. And why would I have gone with you if I had not liked you? And if you had not been enraged, you would not have killed those unfortunate people, and, God is my witness, I would not have opposed you. What do I care about other people's affairs? I would rather you had the girl than any other, but, amid your tartar wooing, my conscience reproached me, for that was a noble house. You yourself would not have acted differently. I could have put you out of the world to my own advantage, and yet I did not do it because I am a nobleman and was ashamed of such an act. So be ashamed of yourself, for I know that you will avenge yourself on me. The girl is in your hands. What more do you want from me? Did I not guard her, your greatest treasure as the apple of my eye? That you have not wronged her is a proof that you also possess nightly honour and conscience. But how can you give her your hand that you have stained with my guiltless blood? How say to her I have given over to torture that man who led you safely among the tartars and through the peasant mob. You are yet young and do not know what may happen to you, and for my death God will punish you in what is dearest to you. Bohan sprang from his stool, pale with rage, and stepping up to Zagloba said in a voice choking with fury, you unclean bore. I will have straps torn from you. I will roast you on a slow fire. We'll drive nails in your body and tear you in shreds. And in a paroxysm of fury he seized the knife that hung at his belt, held it convulsively in his grasp for a moment, and it was already flashing before Zagloba's eyes when the chieftain grew calm again. Put the dagger back in its sheath and cried, Cossacks! Six zapperosians sprang into the room. Take this carcass, throw it into the pigsty and guard it as the eye in your head. The Cossacks carried panzagloba, two at his head and two at his feet and one by the back hair of his head, and carried him out of the room across the yard and threw him upon a dung-heap in a pigsty that stood at a distance. Then they shut the door and the prisoner was left in the midst of total darkness, except for the cracks between the beams and the holes in the thatched roof, a feeble light penetrated here and there. Zagloba's eyes soon became accustomed to the twilight. He looked about him and noticed that in the pigsty there were neither pigs nor Cossacks, but he heard distinctly the talking of the latter through all the four walls. Evidently the whole building was surrounded closely. In spite of these guards, Zagloba breathed freely. In the first place he was alive. When Bohun flourished the knife over him, he was sure that his last hour had come. He had commended his ghost to God, for he was really in the greatest terror. But Bohun had the intention of reserving him for a death of unheard of barbarity. He did not only wish to avenge himself, but wished to gloat over the tortures of the men who had snatched the beautiful girl from him, who had diminished his renown as a soldier, and had covered him with ridicule by tying him as if he were a child. A sad outlook was before Zagloba, but for the moment he was comforted in the thought that he still lived, that he would be led to Chavonos for examination, so that he would have a few or perhaps several days before him, and meantime he lay lonely here in the pigsty, and had plenty of time in the stillness of the night to think about devices. That was the one and only redeeming point in the case, but when he thought of the other side, the creeping sensation came over him like a thousand ants creeping over his body. Devices! If a hog or a sow layered this pin it would have better prospects than I have, murmured Panzagloba, for it would not be tied, would not be fastened with its own sword. If Solomon had only been tied like this he would not have been any wiser than his trousers or stockings. O God! O God! Why dost thou punish me? Of all men in the world, this thief was the soul one I wished most to avoid, and now it is my fate to run right into his hands. My skin will be combed like Sv'oboda cloth, if anyone else had caught me I should declare that I had joined the rebellion and then run away. Possibly another might not believe me, and how much less this man, the devil led him here. O God! O God! I can move neither hand nor foot. O God! God! Presently, however, Panzagloba reflected that if his hands and feet were free he might more easily find a way of escape. Suppose he should try to free himself. If he only could succeed in getting his sword away from under his knees he could manage the rest. But how could he draw it out? He turned on one side, no use. He reflected again. Then he began to roll about on his back faster and faster, and each moment brought him half an inch forward. He became very warm, and his brow perspired more than at the dance. Occasionally he interrupted his labour, because it seemed to him that one of the soldiers was approaching the door, but on being reassured he began with new zest until he had rolled himself over to the wall. Now he began to wriggle in a different manner, not from his head to feet, but from side to side, so that at each turn the end of the sword gently struck the wall. It glided each time a little more from beneath his knees, and the handle came a little more to one side. His heart beat like a hammer, for he saw that his efforts would be rewarded. He kept on wriggling, endeavouring to strike the wall as gently as possible, and only when the Cossacks were making such a noise outside that they would not hear him. At length came the moment when the point of the sword was on a line with one knee and elbow, so that he could not push it against the wall any longer. At the opposite end it extended considerably, and this was the heaviest portion taking the handle into consideration. On the hilt of the sword was a cross as is usual in those weapons, and the globe accounted on this cross. For the third time he began to squirm but the object of his endeavour's now was to turn his feet towards the wall. When he had succeeded in doing this he began to push himself lengthwise. His sword was still between his knee caps and hands, but the hilt at each jerk caught against the uneven ground. The hilt had now stuck fast and Zaglova twisted more violently again for the last time, and for a moment he was unable to move for joy. He had disengaged the sword completely. Now the nobleman drew his hands from his knees and although they were still tied together he was able to seize the sword. He held the sheath fast between his feet and drew the sword. It was the work of an instant to cut the thongs that held his feet. It was difficult to free his hands. He was obliged to put the sword on the dung-heap, lying with its edge upturned, and to work away at his bonds until he cut them through. When he finished that he was not only unbound but also armed. He took a deep breath and crossing himself thanked God. But from cutting his fetters to escaping from Bohun's hands was a long stretch. What's to be done next? said Zaglova to himself. But he found no answer. The pig-sty was surrounded with Cossacks. There must have been at least a hundred men, and a mouse could not have crept by them unperceived much less a big man like Zaglova. I see that I must take to my heels. My wit is worth as much as shoe-blacking, although one can get very good blacking at the market in Hungary. If God does not give me any good ideas, I shall be a roast for the crows. But if an idea comes to me I will make a vow to observe Chastity like Panlongin. The loud conversation of the soldiers interrupted his thoughts. He jumped up and put his ear to a crack between the beams. The dried pine-boards gave back the sound as the sounding-board does the tones of a lute. He heard quite clearly. And where are we going from here? asked the voice. I do not know, probably to Comanets, answered another. Ah, the horses cannot do it. They can hardly drag one foot after the other. That is why we are waiting here. They can rest till to-morrow. A pause followed, then the first voice said more quietly. And it seems to me, Father, that the Ataman will go to Yampo from Comanets. Zaglova held his breath. Silence, if it suits your young head, was the answer. Another silence followed, but from the opposite wall came whispering tones. They are everywhere. They are watching everywhere, grunted Zaglova. And he went to the opposite wall. Now he heard the horses crunching their oats and snorting as they stood outside the wall. He judged that the soldiers were lying down and conversing, for the second seemed to come from beneath him. Hey, said one, we have ridden here without sleeping, without eating, without giving the horses a rest, and all only that we may be impaled in Yaremi's camp. Is it certain that he is here? The people who fled from Gamalint saw him just as plainly as I see you. What they relate is dreadful. He is as tall as a fir tree, has two torches in his head, and his horse is a dragon. O Lord, have mercy on us. We ought to take this pole and his soldiers and make our escape. How would you fly? The horses are dying already. It looks bad, brother. If I were the Ataman, I would stick this pole through the throat and would go, even if it were on foot, to Kamenets. We are going to take him with us to Kamenets. The Ataman wants to have some fun with him. The devil will have some fun with you first, routs Zaglova. It is strange. In spite of his great dread of bohan and, perhaps for that very reason, he swore that he would not give himself up alive. He was now free from his bonds and with his sword in his hand he would defend himself. If they killed him, well, that could not be helped, but alive they should never catch him. The snorting and groaning of the horses, who were more than ordinarily exhausted, drowned the rest of the conversation, but brought a better idea to Zaglova. If I could only get through this wall and unexpectedly jump on a horse's back, he said, it is night and before they knew what had happened I should be out of sight. It is hard to carry on a pursuit in these hollows and valleys by daylight, how much more in the darkness of night God helped me to do it. But the means were not easy. He would be obliged to break through the wall and to do that one would need to be a podbipienta, or to burrow like a fox, and even then he would be seen and heard, and before his foot was in the stirrup he would be caught. A thousand such thoughts passed through his mind, but just because there were so many no single one gave him any clear solution of the difficulty. There is nothing for it but to lose my head, he thought, and went to the third wall. Suddenly his head struck something hard. He felt it and found it was a ladder. It was not a pigsty then, but an ox stable, and half of it was a space which served to store hay and straw. Without reflecting Zaglova climbed the ladder, arrived at the top he puffed for breath for a while and then slowly drew the ladder up after him. Now I am in a fortress, he grunted. If they cannot find a second ladder they will not get up here so easily. If I do not cleave the first head in, two that shows itself, I will let myself be made into smoked meat. Oh, the devil, he said suddenly. That is a fact, they might not only smoke me but roast me and melt me into tallow, but let be, let be. If they wish to burn the pigsty it is well. They will then not be able to catch me alive, and it is all the same whether the ravens eat me raw or cooked. If I can only escape from the hands of these assassins the rest does not trouble me, and I hope that something may yet occur. As we see Zaglova turned easily from despair to hope. Unexpectedly he had become filled with as much confidence as though he were already in Prince Yarmé's camp, and yet his position had changed very slightly. He was sitting in the loft with his sword in his hands and could in fact defend himself for a long time, but that was all. From the loft to freedom the road was still worse now, for below him the swords and pikes of the Cossacks who were guarding him awaited him outside. How will it end? mumbled Zaglova, and as he neared the roof he began to tear away the thatch carefully in order to open for himself an outlook upon the world. This was easy for him, as the soldiers, to lighten the tediousness of their watch, were carrying on a lively conversation. Besides this a strong wind had risen, and the noise of the leaves in the neighbouring trees drowned the rustle made by the removal of the thatch. Before long he had made a hole in the thatch, he stuck his head through and look round him. It was near dawn, and in the east could already be seen the first gleams of morning light. Zaglova saw by the pale light that the courtyard before the house was completely filled with horses. Immediately before the house lay long rows of sleeping Cossacks. Beyond was the crane of the well, and the trough in which the water gleamed, and close by another row of sleeping men and several soldiers with unsheathed swords in their hands, keeping guard over them. Those are my men whom they have tied, said Zaglova. Bah! he added in a moment, if they only were mine, but they are the princes. If I was a good leader, truly, I led them into the jaws of the dog. If God gives me my freedom, I shall be ashamed to show my eyes. And what was the cause of all this love and drink? What did the marriage of that mob matter to me? I had as much business with that wedding as with a dog's wedding. I renounced that traitor mead, which paralyzes my feet instead of mounting to my head. All the evil in the world comes from drink, for if they had attacked us when we were sober, as true as I live I should have conquered them and shoved Bohun in the pig's die. Here is Zaglova's eyes fell upon the cabin in which the chieftain was sleeping, and remained fixed on the door. Sleep, rascal! he growled. Sleep! may you dream that the devil is flaying you, for you will not escape him in the end. You wanted to make a sieve of my skin, but we will see if I cannot prepare your skin in such a manner that it will not even be good for dogs' boots. Only just dare to come up here to me, if I could only get away from here, if I only could, but how? Indeed, this wish seemed incapable of fulfilment. The whole courtyard was so packed with men and horses that, even if Zaglova had succeeded in getting out of the stables, if he really could have slid down from the roof and sprung on the back of one of the horses that were standing before the stable, he could not, in any case, have forced his way through to the gate, and how could he get beyond the gate? And yet it seemed to him as though he had already completed half of the task. He was free, armed, and sat in the loft as in a fortress. What the devil, he thought, is getting out of the snare if you are to be hung afterwards! And again plans began to rush through his head, but they were so many that he was unable to choose one of them. Meanwhile day was dawning, the surrounding of the cabins stood out from the darkness and the roof seemed to be overlaid with silver. Zaglova could already distinguish the different groups in the yard, could recognize the red color of the uniform of his men, who were lying near the well, and the sheepskins of the Cossack who were lying beside the cabin. Suddenly a form arose from the ranks of the sleepers and walked slowly across the yard, pausing a moment beside the men and horses and speaking for a while with the Cossacks who were watching the prisoners. Then he approached the stable. In the first moment Zaglova thought it was Bohun, for he had noticed that the centuries had spoken to him as subordinates. Ah, he grunted if I only had a gun in my hand, I would show you how to cover yourself with your feet. At this moment the figure raised its head and the gray light of dawn fell upon its face. It was not Bohun, it was the Sotnik Huladi whom Zaglova recognized at once, for he remembered him very well from that time when he and Bohun were companions in Chigrin. Boys, said Huladi, have you not slept yet? No, little father, if we had been sleeping it would be time to change, guards. I will change soon, and the rascal has not escaped. No, little father, only his soul could have escaped for he has not budged. He is a regular fox. Just see what he is doing, for he is quite equal to sinking through the earth. Immediately, answered some of the Cossacks and approached the door of the stable. Throw down some hay from the loft, rub down the horses, we shall set out at sunrise. Right, little father, Panzaglova hastily left his position near the hole in the roof and crept to the entrance to the loft. Presently he heard the grating of the door hinges and the rustling of straw beneath the step of the Cossacks. His heart was beating like with a hammer. His hand grasped more firmly the hilt of his sword, while he renewed his vow in his mind that he would rather be burned alive with the pig-sty or allow himself to be chopped like straw for fodder and give himself up alive. He expected also at any moment that the soldiers would raise a terrible alarm, but he was mistaken. He only heard them running about more quickly in the stable and finally one said, What a devil is there! I cannot feel him! We certainly threw him down here. Is he not a magician or what? Strike a light! It is as dark as in the forest! There was silence for a moment. Vazel was probably looking for Flint and Tender. The others began to call him softly. Answer pan, nobleman! Kiss the dogs here, murmured Zagloba. Then he heard them strike the Flint and a shower of sparks lighted up the dark interior of the stable and the heads of the soldiers that were covered with caps, and then it became darker than ever. He is not here! He is not here! cried several voices, then one of them sprang to the door. For the holiday! For the holiday! What's the matter? cried the Sotnik, stepping into the door. The pole is gone! How is he on? He must have sunk into the ground! He is nowhere to be seen! Oh, God pity on us! We struck fire! He is gone! That is impossible! Or the Ataman will pay you off for that! Has he escaped or what? Did you go to sleep? No, little father! We did not sleep! He did not come out of the pigsty on our side! Quiet! Do not wake the Ataman! If he did not get out, he must be somewhere about. Did you look everywhere? Everywhere! Also in the loft. How could he get into the hay loft if he was tied? Fool! If he had not untied his fastenings, he would be here! Look in the hay loft! Strike fire! Once more the sparks flew. The news was quickly spread among all the sentries. They all hastened, with the speed that is usual in sudden emergencies, and went into the stable. Quick steps were heard. Hasty questions and still more hasty answers crossed each other like swords in battle. To the loft! To the loft! And keep watch outside! Do not wake the Ataman or it will be the worst for you! There is no ladder here. Bring another! There is none anywhere! Rush into the cabin and see if there is not one there. Oh! the car said, Paul! Climb up on the roof and come through the roof into the loft! We cannot do that, for it is overhanging and has boards nailed across the underside. Bring pikes! We will climb up on those. This dog has taken the ladder up with him. Bring pikes! commanded Holiday. The Cossacks hurried away for pikes. Others looked up towards the loft. The morning light poured through the open door into the stable, and by its gray gleam one saw the black square opening that led to the hayloft. From below cried some voices. Come, pan-noble man, let the ladder down and come down yourself. You will not get away like this, so why do you give people trouble? Come down! Come down! There was a silence. You are a wise man, if that could help you stay there, but this will not help you, so better come down willingly, good man. Silence. Come down! If not, we will scalp you and throw you down on the dung-hape. Pensagloba remained quiet, deaf to the threats as to the flatteries. He sat in the dark like a badger in its hole, prepared for the most obstinate resistance. He only grasped his sword more tightly, panted a little, and prayed in silence. Meanwhile they brought pikes. Three of these were tied together and placed with their points upwards beneath the opening to the loft. Zagloba was thinking whether he could not snatch them away and pull them up, but he reflected that they were too far beneath him, and he might not be able to pull them up entirely. Besides, they would have brought others immediately. The whole stable was now full of cossacks. Some lighted pieces of pitch pine, others dragged various poles and racks with them, which of course proved too short, so they tied them together with straps, for it was really very hard to climb up on the pikes, but there were some who wanted to climb. I will go, cried several voices. Wait for the ladder, said Holiday. What harm would it do to try climbing the pikes? Vassel can get up, he climbs like a cat. We'll try it. Others began to joke. Carefully there he has a sword and will cut off your head, you will see. He will seize you by the head and drag you up, and then he will finish you as if you were a bear. Vassel could not be frightened. He knows, said he, that if he were to touch me only with his finger the Ottoman would give him to the devil to swallow, and you too, brothers, that was meant for a warning for Zagloba, who sat still and did not budge. But the cossacks were soon in a good humour, as is the case among soldiers, for the whole proceeding appeared to them as good humour, so they continued joking. There will be one fool the less in this white world, they said, he will not care if we pay him for your neck, he is a bold fellow. Aha! He's a magician. The devil knows what he has changed himself into, the wizard. You, Vassel, you do not know what you may find under the roof. Vassel, who had just spat on his hands and was about to climb the pikes, suddenly took his hands off them. I will look for the pole, he said, but not for the devil. Meanwhile they had fastened the racks together and stood them up. It was difficult, however, to mount them, for they gave where they were tied together, and the thin steps cracked beneath their feet when they attempted to step on them. Holody himself stepped on them and said, as he climbed, You see, pan-nobleman, we are not joking. You have taken it into your head to sit in a loft, and you may sit there, but do not defend yourself. We will take you any way if the whole stable has to be torn down. Listen to reason. Presently his head reached the opening and disappeared slowly. Then one heard a swish and a terrible scream, and the Cossack staggered and fell among the crowd, with his head cloven in two. Cut! Cut! screamed the Cossacks. A frightful confusion ensued. Screams and cries were raised, which were drowned by Zagloba's voice of thunder. Ha! You thieves! You cannibals! You vipers! I will kill every last one of you, you mangy rascals! You shall feel a knight's hand. To think of attacking honorable men by night, to fasten a nobleman in a pig's thigh. Ha! You mob! Come and fight with me, single-handed or two at a time, for all I care. But come on! You will leave your heads behind in the Dung Heap, for I will cut them off as sure as I live. Cut! Cut! screamed the soldier. We will burn down the stable. I will burn it down myself, you fools, but with you in it. Several go up at once, cried an old Cossack. Hold the steps. Support them with pikes. Put bundles of straw round your heads and go ahead. We must have him. As he said this, he mounted the steps and with him two companions. The steps began to break. The latter was more and more shaky. But more than twenty strong arms grasped them below, and higher up they were supported by pikes. Others poked their pikes through the hole in the loft, in order to keep off the sword thrusts. A few minutes later three fresh heads fell down on the heads of those standing below. Zagloba, excited by his success, was bellowing like a buffalo, and such frightful oaths came from his mouth that the world never heard before, and they would have terrified the hearts of the Cossacks if these had not been filled with wild madness and rage. Several struck their pikes at hazard through the opening to the loft. Others forced their way up the steps, although certain death awaited them. Suddenly a cry was heard at the door, and Bohan himself sprang into the stable. He was bareheaded in his stockings and shirt sleeves. He held his drawn sword in his hand, and his eyes darted flames of fire. Through the roof, dogs, he cried, tear away the thatch and take him alive. When Zagloba saw him, he bellowed, you peasant only come here. I will cut off your nose and your ears, but not your neck, for that is the hangman's property. What, are you afraid? Coward, are you terrified you mean servant? Bind this rascal and I will have mercy on the rest of you. Come here, you gallows bird. Come here, you Jew-pudding. Stick your head through. Come, come, I shall be glad. I will receive you in such a manner that your father, the devil, and your mother, the winch, will stand before your eyes. During this time the beams of the roof were beginning to crack. The Cossacks were probably above there, and beginning to take off the thatch. Zagloba heard it, but fear no longer robbed him of his strength. He was as if drunk from fighting and blood. I will jump into a corner and end my life there, he thought. But at this moment firing was heard outside, all over the courtyard, and at the same time several Cossacks broke into the stable. Little father, little father, they cried, come quickly. Zagloba could not understand at first what had happened, and stood bewildered. He looked down through the opening, but no one was there. The rafters had ceased to creak. What does it mean? What has happened? he cried aloud. I know they want to set the stable on fire, and are firing their pistols at the thatch. The noise outside grew louder, and was increased by tramping of horses, shouts, firing, mingled with yells, and clashing of iron. Good! That sounds like a fight! thought Zagloba. He ran to his peephole in the roof. He looked out, and his legs bent under him for joy. A fight was raging in the courtyard, and Zagloba could see that Bohun's men had been frightfully routed, suddenly attacked and frightened by pistols that had been placed at their heads and breasts. They crowded against the fences, in the cabin and in the sheds, hewn down with swords, crushed and trampled by those who had come swarming in on horseback and had overcome them, almost without resistance. The ranks of soldiers in red uniforms crowded and fired on the fugitives, so that it was impossible for them to form in any order, to draw their swords or to mount their horses and ride away. Only a few groups defended themselves. Others who tried, amid the noise and confusion, to saddle their horses, were cut down before their feet reached the stirrup. Others again threw away their pikes and swords and fled behind the fence. Some got caught between the posts, others ran away, uttering unearthly cries and howls. The unfortunates believed that Prince Jeremy himself had attacked them, unexpectedly like an eagle, and was destroying them with his whole army. They had no time to come to their senses or to look round them. The war cry of the assailants, the swishing of the swords, and the reports of the shots drove them along like a windstorm. The hot breath of the horses fell on their necks. "'Men, fly!' was heard on all sides. "'Fight, kill!' answered the attackers. And finally, from his hiding-place, Zagloba saw little Pan Volojovsky, who was standing near the gate at the head of several soldiers, giving verbal instructions and with his baton, and occasionally dashing with his bay horse into the crowd. And every time he turned, a man fell, without a sound coming from his lips. Oh, little Pan Volojovsky was a master of masters and a soldier, blood and bone. He never lost sight of the battle, advised here and there, then turned again and looked round him, then again took part himself, just like a leader of an orchestra who, in the midst of directing, sometimes himself joins in, sometimes stops and listens attentively to see that each one is playing his part. When Zagloba saw that, he stamped his feet on the floor of the loft so that the clouds of dust arose and clapped his hands and bellowed, "'Kill the dogs, strike, slay, flay them, hew them, slash, cut, stab, thrust!' he cried thus running hither and thither, his eyes bloodshot with straining them, so that for a moment he could see nothing. But when his sight returned, there was a more beautiful spectacle, for behold, surrounded by several dozen of his soldiers, was Bohun, flying without his cap on, just as Zagloba saw him last in his shirt and behind him, at the head of his soldiers, little Pan Volojovsky, "'Kill!' cried Zagloba, that is Bohun!' But his voice did not reach the soldiers. Meanwhile Bohun had crossed the fence with Pan Volojovsky after him. Some of them remained, the horses of others fell while jumping. Zagloba saw Bohun on the plane as well as Volojovsky. Presently they were all running, some to escape, others pursuing, each one after his man. Zagloba held his breath, his eyes almost started from their sockets, for what did he see? Volojovsky overtakes Bohun, he springs towards him like a boar hound on the boar. The chieftain turns his head, raises his sword. "'They are fighting!' cried Zagloba. In another moment Bohun's horse falls with him and Pan Volojovsky tramples him down and pursues the others. But Bohun lives. He rises from the ground and runs over to the rocks that are overgrown with bushes. "'Stop him! Stop him!' cries Zagloba, that is Bohun!' Now a fresh band of Cossacks comes on the scene who had formerly been creeping round the other side of the rocks, but being discovered are seeking a new outlet of escape. In the background, at a distance of a few rods, soldiers are approaching. They overtake Bohun, surround him, and lead him away with them. Finally they disappear behind the bend of the narrow path the other soldiers following them. In the farmyard all was still and deserted, for Zagloba's soldiers, who had been freed by Volojovsky, had mounted their horses and joined the other soldiers in pursuit of the enemy. Zagloba now let down the ladder, climbed down from the loft, and said, as he stepped from the stye into the yard, "'I am free!' He looked about him. The farmyard was covered with the dead bodies of the Zaporosians and a few other soldiers. The noblemen walked slowly among them, observed each one carefully, and finally knelt down beside one of them. Presently he rose again with a tin flask in his hand. "'It is full,' he murmured, and placing it to his lips he bent his head back. Not bad! Again he looked round him and repeated, but in a much louder voice, "'I am free!' Then he went into the cabin, and on the threshold stumbled against the body of the old cooper whom Bohun's men had killed, and disappeared inside. When he came out again, he wore over his dirty coat that was all covered with manure, Bohun's gorgeous gold-embroidered girdle, in which was a dagger with a large ruby in its hilt. "'God has rewarded bravery,' he murmured, for the pocket of the belt is full also. Ah, this horrid murderer! I hope he will not escape, but this little pygmy I will put a bullet in him. He is a spiteful little fellow, just like a wasp. I knew that he was a brave soldier, but I did not expect him to ride upon Bohun like a gray mare. It is strange that such a soul and so much courage should hide in such a little body. Bohun could easily carry him on a string at his belt as if he were a little kid. May the bullets strike him, or better still God give him luck! He certainly could not have known Bohun, or else he would have killed him. Ah, it smells a powder here. It fairly chokes one. Well, I have managed to wriggle out of such dangers as I have never before experienced. God be praised. Well, well, but to think they have not killed Bohun, I must look closer at this Volodzhovsky for the devil must be in him.' Thus talking to himself, Zagloba sat in the threshold of the stable and waited. Presently in the distance appeared the soldiers returning from the pursuit with Volodzhovsky at their head. When he saw Zagloba, he quickened his horse's pace and dismounting came to meet him. What, I see you still alive, he asked from a distance. Myself and no one else, said Zagloba, God reward you for coming to help me. Let us praise God that it happened at the right time, answered the little knight, shaking Zagloba's hand heartily. But how did you know of the danger in which I was placed? The peasants from the farm sent me word. Oh, and I thought they had betrayed me. What made you think that they are good people? The boy and his wife hardly escaped with their lives, as for the rest of the wedding-party I do not know what became of them. If they were not traitors they have been killed by the Cossacks. The proprietor of the farm is lying over there beside the cabin. But never mind that. Tell me, Pan, is Bohun alive? Did he escape? Was that Bohun? The one without a cap in his shirt whom you knocked over together with his horse. I cut his hand through. It is too bad I did not recognize him. But you, but you, Pan Zagloba, what have you done? What have I done? repeated Zagloba. Come, Pan Michael, and see. Then Zagloba took Volodzhovsky by the hand and led him into the stable. Look! he repeated. Pan Volodzhovsky at first saw nothing, for he came from outside into the darkness. But as his eyes became accustomed to it he noticed the dead bodies lying on the dung heap. Who killed these men? he asked in astonishment. I said, Zagloba, you asked what I did. Look there. Hmm! said the young officer shaking his head. And how did you do it? Up there, Zagloba said, pointing to the loft, I defended myself while they attacked me from below and through the roof. I do not know how long it lasted, for in the heat of battle one does not reckon time. It was Bohun. Bohun with his cruel strength and his picked men. He will remember you, but he will also remember me. Another time I will tell you how I happened to become a prisoner, all that I suffered, and how I settled Bohun, for I had a war of words with him. Today I am so exhausted that I can hardly stand on my feet. Well, repeated Pan Volodzhovsky, I cannot deny that you defended yourself bravely, but one thing I must tell you, that you are better as a fighter than as a leader. Pan Michael, said the nobleman, now is not the time to argue, let us rather thank God that he has given us both such a great victory, the remembrance of which will long remain in the memory of men. Volodzhovsky continued to observe Zagloba. Until this moment he had imagined that he had gained the victory that Zagloba now sought to share with him. But he merely made his own mental comment, and shaking his head said, well, so let it be. An hour later the two friends at the head of their united divisions were marching to Yarmolites. Hardly one of Zagloba's soldiers was missing, for they had been sound asleep and offered no resistance, and Bohun, who was commissioned principally to look for people who would give him information, had them all taken prisoners instead of killing them. Bohun, although a valiant and careful leader, had no luck with this expedition that he had undertaken against Prince Yarmé's divisions. He was firmly convinced that the prince was marching with his whole army against Givonos, for the prisoners he had taken from Zagloba told him that the prince was following them, and they believed it themselves, so there remained nothing for the unfortunate Ottoman to do but to retreat as quickly as he could to Givonos, and the undertaking was not easy. Scarcely did he succeed in three days in collecting a troop of little over two hundred men. The rest had either fallen in fight, or remained upon the field of battle, or were wandering among the ravines or in the rushes, not knowing what to do, or whether they should turn their steps. And this troop was not of much use to Bohun, for, beaten, terrified, and demoralized, they were ready to fly at the least alarm, and yet they were the best-picked soldiers. It would be difficult to find better ones in the whole love-seach. But the Cossacks did not know how small the force was which Volodzhovsky had against them, or that thanks to his agility and his surprising them, that he was able to attack and defeat the sleeping and unprepared men. They thought that they were dealing, if not with the prince himself, yet with a strong and considerable division of the army. Bohun was burning like fire, his hand was cut, he had been trampled by his horse ill and beaten, his accursed enemy had slipped out of his hands, his glory was tarnished, and the very warriors who on the eve of defeat would have blindly followed him not only to the Crimea, but even to hell against the very dreaded Yeremi. They had lost faith, they had lost spirit, and were only thinking how they could save their throats and escape total defeat. And yet Bohun had done all that a leader could do. He had omitted nothing, had stationed sentries around the farmyard, and was only taking a rest because the horse, that had travelled hither from Kamenets, had hardly stopped for breath and were utterly incapable of travelling any farther. But Volodzhovsky, who during his young life had experience in sorties and hunts upon the Tartars, went like a wolf in the night on the watch, taken them prisoners before they could scream or even fire, and attacked the rest so quickly that even he, Bohun, was obliged to fly, just as he was in his trousers and his shirt sleeves. As the chieftain thought of these things, a mist came before his eyes, his head grew dizzy and despair gnawed at his heart, and he was enraged like a mad dog. He who had snatched the Turkish galleys in the Black Sea, he who had penetrated to Perikop and rode across the necks of the Tartars and had held burning torches beneath the eyes of the Khan, he who had hewn down at the side of the prince a regiment in Valsalut's close to Lubny, had been obliged to fly in his shirt sleeves without his cap or sword, for he had lost the latter in his fight with the little knight. And when they stopped to feed the horses and no one saw him, the chieftain seized his head with both hands and cried, Where is my Cossack fame? Where my beloved sword? And as he thus cried a wild madness seemed to seize him and he took to drinking like an inhuman being. He wanted to march against the prince, attack his whole army, die and perish and be lost forever. He wished to do this, but the Cossacks did not. If you should kill us, little father, we would not go, they answered gloomily to his outbreak of fury, and it was useless in such outbreaks of fury to slash them with the sword or blacken their faces with gunpowder from his pistol, they would not go, and they did not. It seemed as if the ground were giving way beneath the feet of the Ottoman, for his misfortunes were not yet at an end. Fearing that he would be pursued and believing that Chivonos had already given up the siege, he did not go immediately towards the south, but turned in the direction of the east and met Longin's division. Watchful as a crane, Longin did not let himself be surprised by stealth but attacked the Ottoman first and routed his forces. The more easily, as the soldiers themselves were not anxious to fight, and drove them towards Schetowski, who defeated them so thoroughly that Bohan, after wandering for some time in the steppes, finally arrived at Chivonos' camp without glory, without officers or soldiers, without prisoners, and with only a few horses. But the savage Chivonos, who was usually so cruel to those under him whom fortune had not favoured, was not angry this time. He knew from his own experience what it meant to fight with Yerami's army. He was kind to Bohan, comforted him, and calmed him, and when the Cossack leader became a prey to a violent fever, he had him watched, tended, healed, and kept as the pupil in his eye. Meanwhile the four officers of the Prince, after filling the country with terror and horror, returned joyfully to Yarmolints, where they remained several days in order to rest the men and horses. After they had taken up their quarters together houses, each of them gave an account of all that had happened to Pansk Schetowski and all that he had endured, and they took to drinking wine in order to ease their hearts by cheerful conversation, and to satisfy their common curiosity. But Zagloba would hardly give any of them a chance to speak. He did not wish to listen, but expected everyone to listen to him, and it proved that he had the most to relate. Gentlemen, he said, I was taken prisoner, that is true, but the wheel of fortune turned. Bohan has been fighting all his life, and today we have conquered him. That is the luck of war. Today you tan them, tomorrow they tan you. But God punished Bohan for having attacked us when we were sleeping the sleep of the just, and waking us in such a shameless manner. Ha-ha! He thought he would frighten me with his dirty tongue, but I tell you, sirs, as soon as I answered him back, he at once lost courage, became confused and blabbed out just what he did not intend. I could tell you volumes. If I had not been taken prisoner, Pan Michael, and I would not have beaten him. I say he and I, for on this occasion, I have done most of it. I shall never cease to affirm this till that day of my death. So may God grant me health. Listen further to my story, that if Pan Michael and I had not beaten him, neither Podbe Pientinorsk or Shatelsky would have overtaken him, and if we had not defeated him, he would have defeated us. And what would not have happened? Who prevented it? Ah, you're like a little fox, said Longin. Here you wag your tail, there you slip away, and in every case you manage to get out of the trap. Only a foolish Bohound runs close behind the game, for he catches nothing and does not get even good scent and finally loses the trail altogether. How many men have you lost? About twelve altogether, and a couple wounded. They did not attack us fiercely. And you, Pan Michael, about thirty, for I attacked them unexpectedly. And you, Lieutenant? As many as Pan Longin. And I lost too. Now tell me, who was the best leader? Let's see how matters stand. With what object did we come here? We were sent by the Prince in order to collect news about Sivonos. Well, I will tell you that I was the first to get news about him, and that from the best source from Bohound himself, I knew that he is encamped at Cominitz, but that he is afraid and will raise the siege. I know that from the people, but I know something else that will make you all very happy, gentlemen, and I did not mention it as yet, because I wished to consult you all about it. Besides, I did not feel well because my labors were too much for me and my stomach rebelled at those murderous thongs. I thought my blood would have been poured out. Speak for God's sake, cried Volodrovsky, did you hear anything of our poor girl? You have guessed it, may God bless her! said Zagloba. Panskoshettovsky stood up to his full height, but immediately sat down again. There was such a complete silence that one could hear the humming of the mosquitoes at the little window. Then Zagloba continued, She lives, I know it for certain, and is in Bohound's hands. Gentlemen, they are dreadful hands, but God has not allowed any wrong or evil to come near her. Bohound himself confessed that to me that he might deal wrongly with anyone else, but not with her. How can that be? how can that be? asked Zkoshettovsky feverishly. If I lie, may I be struck by lightning, answered Zagloba earnestly. The matter is too sacred with me. Listen to what Bohound told me when he was mocking me, before I roused him fully. Where did you imagine, he said, that you were bringing her to Bar for a peasant? Am I a peasant that I should wish to take advantage of her? I would rather take her to Kiev and be married to her in the church, and have the people sing songs for us, and let three hundred candles be lighted to me, the Ottoman and Hetman. He stumped his foot and threatened me with his knife, for he thought he would frighten me, but I said to him he could not frighten a dog. Zkoshettovsky had recovered himself. His monk's face had brightened, and fear, hope, joy, and uncertainty were once more depicted in his countenance. Where is she then? Where? he asked hastily. If you found that out, you are a messenger from heaven. He did not tell me that, but a wise man needs only a couple of words. Consider, gentlemen, that he was insulting me without ceasing until I roused him to a pit of fury. But he said this, first I will lead you to Chivonos, and then I would like to invite you to the wedding, but now we have a war, and so it cannot take place so soon. Consider that, gentlemen, not so soon, so we still have time. Also mark his words. I will lead you to Chivonos, then I would like to invite you to the wedding. So, in any case, she cannot be with Chivonos, but in some other place where the war cannot penetrate. You're a man as good as gold, cried Volodzhovsky. I at first thought, said Zakloba, delighted, that he had perhaps taken her to Kiev, but no, for he said that he would take her to Kiev to get married, so if he is going to take her there, that proves that she is not yet there. He is too clever to take her there, for if Bogdan Milnitsky goes to Chivonoros, Red Russia, Kiev would easily fall into the hands of the Lithuanian army. That is true, that is true, cried Longin, that is true as God lives. Many would like to have your intelligence, but I would not like to exchange with theirs, for fear I might get beat soup instead of understanding, which might easily happen to me among the Lithuanians. He is beginning to ridicule me again, said Longin. Allow me to finish. Well, she is not with Chivonoros, not in Kiev, where then can she be? Here is the difficulty. If you can guess, tell me quickly, for I am burning to know, cried Skyshatovsky. Beyond Yampol, said Zakloba, looking triumphantly round with his sound eye. How do you know that, said Volodzhovsky? How do I know it? Look here. I was sitting in the pigsty, for that rascal had shut me up in the pigsty. May a hog eat him, and the Cossacks were conversing all around, outside. So I put my ear close to the wall, and what did I hear? One said, the Ottoman will now ride to Yampol, the other entered, keep still, if you value your young head. I would wager my neck that she is in Yampol. Oh, as true as God is in heaven, said Volodzhovsky. He cannot have taken her into the wild land, so he must have taken and hidden her somewhere between Yampol and Yahorlik. I was in that region once when the king's judges met those of the Khan to settle questions arising from the seizure of cattle on the frontier. As you gentlemen know, it was in Yahorlik that the frequent border questions about driven off cattle were settled. There are enough ravines and hiding places there, all along the Nipur, and a number of woods in which people have farms and live in a state of lawlessness, dwell in deserted places, and do not even see any neighbors. He may have hidden her with some of those wild hermets because she would be perfectly safe there. Sure, how can one get there, as Kivonos has possession of the road? said Longin. I hear that Yampol is also a nest of Banditi. And if I should wage ten heads, said Skyshettersky, I will save her. I will disguise myself and look for her, and God will help me. I will find her. I will go with you, Yahn, said Volodzhovsky, and I will go as a beggar with my Tiorben. Believe me, sirs, I have more experience than any of you, and as I am really sick of the Tiorben, I will take the bagpipes. Then can I be of any assistance to you, little brother? said Longin. Certainly, answered Zagloba, if it is necessary to cross the Nipur, you can carry us over like St. Christopher. I thank you with all my heart, gentlemen, said Skyshettersky, and I accept your offer with a joyful heart. There is nothing like true friends in adversity, and Providence has not denied me these as I see. The great God grant me that I may be enabled to recompense you with my health and means. We shall all be like one man, cried Zagloba. God approves of concord, and you will see that our labor will not be in vain. Well, there's nothing left to me, said Skyshettersky after a silence, but to lead the men back to the Prince and to start out with you at once, we will go along the nister until we pass Yompol and get to Yeholik, and search everywhere, and if, as I hope, Mianitsky is already beaten, or will be before we reach the Prince, we shall not be delayed by public duty. The regiments will surely go to the Ukraine to subdue the rebellion there, but they will get on without us. Wait a minute, gentlemen, said Volodzovsky, after Mianitsky, Sivonos will probably come to the front. Perhaps we may all march with the cavalry to Yompol. No, we must get there first, answered Zagloba. First we will take the men back in order to be unencumbered. I hope that the Prince will be contented with us. Especially with you? It is so. I shall bring the best news. Believe me, I expect a reward. Well, shall we set out? We must wait till tomorrow, said Volodzovsky. However Skyshettersky must give orders, for he is our leader. But if we start today, I warn you that my horses may not carry us. I know that it is impracticable, said Skyshettersky. But I think that after the horses have been well fed we can venture it tomorrow. The following morning they set out. According to the Prince's orders they were to return to Zabaraj and there await further orders. They rode, therefore, by way of Kuzmin, passing to one side of Felshtyn to Voloshysk, where the old highway led past Klebenovka to Zabaraj. The journey was unpleasant, for it was raining, but they travelled without disturbance, and Panlongin alone, who had ridden ahead with a hundred horse, defeated a few bold bands who had collected in the rear of the army of the commander-in-chief. It was not till they reached Voloshysk that they halted for a night's rest, but hardly had they fallen asleep after their long journey, when the alarm of the watch announced that a division of horse was approaching. Soon after came the news that it was Vyarshul with his Tartar squadrons, consequently their own people. Zagloba, Longin, and Little Voloshysk gathered at once in Skyshettsky's room, and following immediately behind them, an officer of the light cavalry dashed into the room like a whirlwind, out of breath and completely covered with mud. When Skyshettsky saw him he cried, Vyarshul, it is I, said the newcomer, gasping for breath. From the Prince? Yes, oh, give me some air for breath. What kind of news is Mielnitsky defeated already? All over with the Commonwealth. By Christ's wounds, what are you saying there? Defeat? A defeat, disgrace, and ignominy, without a battle, a panic. I cannot believe my own ears. Speak, speak, by the living God, and the commander. They have fled. Where is our Prince? He is retreating without an army. I have come from him. The command is to go at once to Limburg. They are following us. Who? Vyarshul. Vyarshul, think what you're saying, man, who? Mielnitsky, the Tartars. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, cried Zagloba. The world is out of joint. But Skyshettsky understood what was at stake. We will ask questions later. He said, now let us mount. To horse, to horse! The hoofs of Vyarshul's tartars' horses were heard clattering outside the windows. The inhabitants of the place, awakened by the entrance of the soldiery, came with lanterns and torches out of the houses. The news spread like lightning over the town. Alarm bells were presently sounded. The little town only a moment before was so peaceful, was now filled with screams, tramping of horses, cries of command, and the wails of the Jews. The inhabitants wanted to leave the town in the company of the soldiery. Wagons were got ready, and children, women, and bedding were placed in them. The burgomaster, at the head of some of the residents, came to entreat Skyshettsky not to leave them behind, but to allow them to accompany him, at least as far as Tarnopol. But Skyshettsky would not listen to it, as he had direct orders from the Prince to hasten to Lemberg. They set out therefore, and not till they started, did Vyarshul, after having recovered himself to some extent, relate to them what had happened. No such misfortune, said he, has ever befallen the common wealth since she came into existence, that Sara, Zoltovoda, and Corsun are comparatively nothing. And Skyshettsky, Volodkovsky, and Lungen bent towards the horse's necks, now taking hold of their own heads, now lifting up their hands. The thing passes human understanding, he said, where is the Prince? Forsaken, intentionally put into the background by all, he has not power even over his own division. Who has the command? No one and every one. I have served a long time and have already cut my teeth in the war, but such soldiers and such leaders I never saw. The Globa, who had no special liking for Vyarshul, and did not know him well, shook his head and smacked with his lips. At last he said, my good sir, either you did not see clearly, or perhaps you regard a partial as a total defeat, for what you have told us entirely passes in imagination. I grant it, but I tell you, sir, that I would willingly let my head be chopped off if by some miraculous chance I should be shown that I am mistaken. Then, continued Zagloba, how is it that you are the first to come to Volshysk after the defeat? I will not presume that you were the first that took to your heels. Where is the army? Where is it fleeing? What happened to it? Why, if it ran away, did it not get here before you? I am waiting in vain for an answer. Vyarshul at any other time would not have let these questions pass without remark, but now he could think of nothing but of the calamity. Therefore he only said, I came here first because the others have retreated by way of Ojigolts, as the prince sent me here on purpose because he judged that you were here, gentlemen, and he wished to warn you about the enemy that you might not be overtaken, and secondly because the five hundred horses that you have are no small comfort at this time, as the other divisions are almost all killed or separated. These are wonderful things, murmured Zagloba. It is frightful to think of it, despair seizes one. One's heart breaks tears flow, said Volojovsky, wringing his hands. The country is lost, death has becoming glorious, such splendid armies scattered, destroyed. It cannot be otherwise that the end of the world is here, the last day of judgment approaches. Do not interrupt him, said Skyshetsky, let him tell it all. Vyarshul was silent a while, as though he would gather strength. Nothing was to be heard but the splashing of hoofs in the mud, for it was raining. It was late at night and very dark as the heaven was covered with thick clouds. And in the midst of this darkness, this cloud, Vyarshul's words, sounded weird and gruesome as he continued, If I did not hope to fall in battle I should lose my reason. You, gentlemen, speak of the day of judgment and say it will soon dawn. I believe it is now here. Everything is falling to the ground. Wickedness is getting the upper hand of virtue. Anti-Christ is abroad in the world. You did not see all that happened, but if you cannot even stand the description of it, how shall I describe to you the wholeness fortune, the whole ignominy, which I witnessed with my own eyes? God gave us a favourable beginning to this war. Our prince, after he had passed sentence on Lash at Sholansky Kamyin, forgot everything else, and made friends with Prince Dominic. We were all delighted at this reconciliation, and God's blessings seemed to rest upon it. The prince was victorious at Konstantinov and even took the town, for the enemy foresook it after the first attack. Then we went to Pilavits, although the prince was opposed to it. But on the way we became aware of intrigues against him, envy and disaffection and open agitation. In the councils his advice was not listened to, no attention was paid to it, and a special pains were taken to divide our forces, so that the prince should not have them all under his control. If he had then opposed them, he would have received all the blame for the defeat, so he was silent and patiently endured everything. Thus the light cavalry by order of the commander-in-chief, which Vercil and his cannon with Captain Magnitsky, remained in Konstantinov. They separated the Lithuanian field commander Ossinsky and Koritsky's squadron, so that all that remained with the prince were the Hussars under Zatsvilikovsky, two regiments of Dragoons and a portion of my regiment under my command. In all there were hardly two thousand men. From that time they seemed to despise him. I even heard some of Prince Dominic's favourites say, if we can gain a victory now, they will not be able to say any longer that it was Vishnoletsky's work alone. And they talked and said that if the prince gained so much glory, his candidate Prince Charles would probably be elected when a king was chosen, and they did not wish him but Prince Kazimir. The whole army was affected by the contagion of their example, and groups of disputants were formed just as if delegates were sent to the diet. One thought of everything but the battle just as if the enemy had already been defeated. If I were to tell you, gentlemen, about the dinners and vivats and the luxury there, you would hardly believe me. The armies of Pyrus gleaming with gold, jewels, and ostrich plumes were nothing in comparison with this army. With two hundred thousand followers and a multitude of carriages followed us. The horses swayed beneath the weight of the goldstuffs and silk tents and the carriages beneath the weight of crockery, etc. It would appear that we were setting out to conquer the whole world. The noblemen belonging to the militia cracked their whips day and night. How can we keep the peasants in order without drawing our swords, said they, and we old soldiers foresaw evil at the sight of this unparalleled pride, and now began the trouble about Kizyalov. Some maintained that he was a traitor, others that he was an honourable senator. He did with drink men fought with swords. There were no sentries, no one maintained order, no one carried on any supervision. Each did as he wished, went where it seemed to him best, stood where it pleased him best. The servants created a disturbance, oh merciful God, that was a pleasure trip, no military expedition. A carnival upon which the honour of the Commonwealth was danced away, drunk away, ridden away, and finally traded away. We are yet alive, said Panvolodrovsky, and God is in heaven, added Skyshettovsky. Another pause, and then virtual continued. We are totally ruined, unless God works a miracle, ceases to punish us for our sins and shows us undeserved mercy. There are moments when what I have seen appears incredible to me, and I feel as if it was all a nightmare. Go on, sir, said the glober, you came to Pilavits, and after that, and stopped there, what the commanders decided there, I do not know, at the day of judgment they will give an account for it, for if they had then attacked Melnitsky, suddenly he would have been beaten and completely routed, as true as God is in heaven, in spite of the disorder, the want of discipline, the tumult and the lack of a leader. The blacks there were already filled with fear, they were consulting how they should deliver up Melnitsky and the captains, and he himself was thinking of taking to flight. Our prince rode from tent to tent, praying in treating, threatening, let us make an assault, otherwise the Tartars will come, let us attack them, and he tore his hair, and the other leaders looked at one another, and nothing, nothing, they were drinking and holding a council. There was a rumor that the Tartars were coming, that the Khan was approaching with two hundred thousand horsemen, they continued their council. The prince shut himself up alone in his tent, for they had rebuffed him completely. It was already common talk among the soldiers that the Chancellor had forbidden Prince Dominic to begin a battle, that negotiations were being carried on. The disorder increased, finally the Tartars came, but God was yet with us on the first day. The prince attacked them, Ozynsky and Pan Lash held out bravely, obliged the horde to vacate the field, killed a considerable number, and then, hear Pan Virshul's voice became inaudible. And then, asked Zagloba, then came a terrible indescribable night. I remember that I was keeping watch with my men beside the river, when suddenly I heard the thunder of canon and a screaming in the Cossack camp as if they were firing a salute. Then I remembered that they had told me yesterday that the whole Tartar force had not arrived, but only to Hebei with a portion of them. I thought therefore, when I heard them firing salutes, that the Khan must have come himself, until all at once a tumult arose in our camp. I sprang forward with some of my men. What has happened? They answered the commanders have fled. I hastened to Prince Dominic. He was gone. To the cup-bearer, he was gone. To the crown-insen, he was gone. Jesus of Nazareth, the soldiers were running about on the square. Screams, shouts, crying, noise, tumult, the flash of torches in every direction. Where are the commanders? Where are the commanders? Others cried to horse to horse. Others again, save yourself, brothers, treason, treason. Holding their hands in the air, with wild looks, their eyes starting out of their heads, crowding each other, trampling, crushing each other, they mounted their horses and hurried off, blindly without their weapons. Others cast away helmets, armor, weapons, tents. Finally the Prince, in his silver armor, appeared at the head of his Hussars. Six torches were carried beside him. He stood up in his stirrups and cried, Gentlemen, I am still here. Come to me. His call remained unanswered. They heard nothing. They crowded upon the Hussars, threw them into confusion, trampled men and horses to the ground, and we hardly succeeded in saving the Prince. Then the whole army, plunging over, trampled fires in the darkness like a rushing stream, like a swollen cataract. The whole army fled in wild terror out of the camp. Scattered, disappeared, fled. There is no longer any army, no leaders, no commonwealth, only ignominy, and the Cossack's foot is on the neck. Panvioshul groaned and pulled on the reins, for madness and despair had possession of him, and this despair was shared by the rest, who rode through the night and rain like men bereft of reason. They had ridden for some time, Zaglova interrupted, without fighting a battle. O ye knaves, o ye dogs, do you remember how boastful they were in Zabaraj, how they were going to eat milnitsky without pepper and salt, o ye knaves. Why, cried Vyoshul, they fled after the first battle they won against the Tartars and the Blacks, after a battle in which even the militia fought like lions. This is the finger of God, said Skyshettsky, but there is some mystery here which must be cleared up. It is not unusual for soldiers to run away, said Volodrovsky, but in this case the leaders were the first to leave the camp, as though they would intentionally make the victory easier for their enemies and give over their army to slaughter. That's just it, that's just it, said Vyoshul. It is said that it was done on purpose. Done on purpose, by God's wounds that cannot be. So it is said, but why? What is behind that? Who can guess? Oh, may the earths follow them up! May their race die out and their memory be covered with everlasting ignominy! said Zaglova. Amen, said Skyshettsky. Amen, said Volodrovsky. Amen, repeated Panlongin. There is only one man who can yet save the country, if they will give him the baton and the remaining powers of the Commonwealth. There is only one, for neither the nobility nor the army will hear of any other. The Prince, said Skyshettsky. It is he. We will stand and fall with him. Long live, young army Vychnovetsky! cried Zaglova. Long may he live! answered about a score of unsteady voices. But the cry died away, for it was no time for cheers when the ground seemed to be opening under their feet, and the heavens seemed threatening to fall down on them. There was no time for shouts and vivats. Meanwhile day was breaking, and in the distance the walls of Tarnopol became visible in the dim morning light. End of Book 3, Chapter 8 Book 3, Chapter 9 of With Fire and Sword by Henrik Sinkiewicz, translated by Samuel A. Benyon. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The first fugitives from Pilavets reached Lemberg at daybreak on the 26th of September, at the moment that the gates of the town were opened. The dreadful news spread with the rapidity of lightning through the whole town, awakening in some doubt and terror, in others, and these the greater number, the desire for a desperate battle. Skyshettsky had arrived with his division two days later, when the town was already full of fugitive soldiery, nobility, and armed citizens. They were already thinking of preparing for defence, as the Tartars were expected to arrive at any moment, but they did not yet know who would place himself at their head and what steps would be taken. Consequently panic and disorder reigned. Many fled from the town to seek safety for their families and their possessions, but the dwellers in the vicinity, on the contrary, sought shelter in the town. The departing and entering crowds blocked the streets and caused tumults for the right of way. Everywhere might be seen carriages, packages, bundles, and horses, also soldiers of the most varied uniforms. On all faces might be seen uneasiness and feverish expectation, despair, or resignation. At every moment, like a sudden blast of wind, came fresh terror. Loud cries were heard. They come, they come! And the crowd rolled forward blindly like a wave driven by mad fear, until they saw that a new company of fugitives was approaching, and these companies increased in number. But what a sad sight was presented by these soldiers, who, a short time before, had marched out from here in gold and plumes, with songs on their lips and pride in their eyes to march against the peasant mob. Today they came back, tattered, famished, haggard, and covered with mud on weary horses, the signs of disgrace in their faces, more like beggars than knights. They might have aroused pity if there had been time for any such feeling in this town, against whose walls the entire force of the enemy might soon be raging. And each one of these disgraced knights comforted himself with the knowledge that he had so many thousands of companions in shame. All hid themselves in the first hour in order to recover themselves, to make complaints, to utter curses and threats, to prowl about the streets, to drink in the wine shops, and to increase, if possible, the disorder and the panic. For each one repeated the same thing. The Tartars are on our heels! Some said they had seen smoke behind them, others swore by all the saints that they had already been obliged to defend themselves against their pursuers. The crowds who surrounded the soldiers listened attentively to these tidings. The roofs and church towers were packed with thousands of anxious citizens, the alarm bells were rung, and a crowd of women and children choked the churches, in which, amid the glow of wax candles, gleamed the sacred host. Skoshetowski forced his way gradually with his company from the Hulitsky Gate through crowds of horses, wagons, soldiers, and through groups of citizens who were standing beneath their banners and through the people who looked in astonishment at this squadron which moved in perfect battle-order through the town. They began to shout to one another that help was coming. At once a most baseless joy took possession of the populace, who crowded round Skoshetowski in order to seize his stirrup. Other soldiers approached with the cry, those were Vishkovetsky's men. Long live Prince Yarmoumi! Such a crowd collected that the regiment could only move forward a step at a time. Suddenly a division of dragoons, with an officer at their head, came towards them. The soldiers separated the crowd, the officer crying, out of the way! Make room! And striking with the flat of his sword, those who did not immediately move out of his way. Skoshetowski recognized Kuchel. The young officer heartily greeted his friend. What times! What times! he said! Where is the Prince? asked Skoshetowski. He would have died of sorrow if you had remained away much longer. He was already very anxious about you and your men. He is now in the convent of St. Bernard. I am sent out to keep order in the town, but Grozvia has already taken hold of the thing. I will ride with you to the church. They are going to hold a council there. In the church? Yes, they want to offer the Prince the baton of field-martial, for the soldiers declare that they will not defend the town under any other leader. Let us go then. I also am in a hurry to see the Prince. The two companies united and rode off together. On the way Skoshetowski inquired about everything that had happened in Limburg, and if they had decided to defend it. They are just considering the matter, said Kuchel. The citizens want to defend it. What times these are! The men of lower ranks show more heart than the nobles and the soldiers. And the commanders, what has happened to them? Are they in the town, and will they not make difficulties for the Prince? If he only does not make any himself. There have been more favourable opportunities of giving him the field-martial's baton. Now it is too late. The commanders dare not let themselves be seen. Prince Dominic rested for a short time in the Archbishop's palace, and then went on his way. It was well he did so, for you cannot believe how bitter the soldiers are against him. Although he has gone they will keep crying, give him to us, we will cut him down. He would not have escaped an attack. The cup-bearer arrived here first, and he actually began to complain of the Prince. But now he is quiet, very quiet, for he has been threatened too. They accuse him to his face. And he only swallows his tears. Everything is dreadful. What times these are! I tell you I thank God that you were not at Pilavius, that you did not need to fly, for it is a wonder that all who were there did not go crazy. End our division. No longer exists. Hardly one man remains. Virgil is lost. Magnitsky and Zatzfilikovsky are also lost. Virgil and Magnitsky were not at Pilavius, for they remained at Konstantinov. That Beelzebub, Prince Dominic, left them behind there in order to weaken our Prince's power. No one knows if they escaped or were taken by the enemy. Old Zatzfilikovsky has disappeared like a stone in the water. God grant he may not be killed. Are many soldiers gathered here? Enough, but what good does that do? The Prince alone can restore order if he takes the command, for they will obey no one else. The Prince was terribly anxious about you and the soldiers. Yours is the only entire regiment that is left. We were already mourning for you. Anyone who is mourned at this time may count himself happy. They rode for a time in silence, looking at the crowd and listening to the noise and the cry, the Tartars, the Tartars! They came across the horrible spectacle of a man torn in pieces, whom the crowd suspected of being a spy. The bells rang unceasingly. Will the Horde be here soon? asked Zagloba. The devil knows. Perhaps they may be here today. This town cannot defend itself long. Magnitsky is coming with two hundred thousand Cossacks beside the Tartars. The town is lost, answered the nobleman. It would have been better for us to have ridden away at breakneck speed. To what end have we won so many victories? Over whom? Over Shivonos Bohan God knows over whom besides? But, said Kuchel, and turning to Skyshettsky he asked in a low voice, and you, dear Yan, has not God comforted you? Have you not found what you sought? Have you at least heard any news? Now is no time to think about that, cried Skyshettsky, of what consequence am I and my affairs in comparison to what has happened? All is vanity, vanity, until at length death comes. That is true, said Kuchel. The whole world must be coming to an end very soon. They had reached St. Bernard's Church, which was brightly lighted. An enormous crowd of men stood before the Church, but no one could enter through a cordon of halberdeers defended the entrance and allowed only the more important officers to enter. Skyshettsky formed his men in two ranks. Let us go in, said Kuchel. Half the commonwealth is in the Church! They entered. Kuchel had not exaggerated much. All who were prominent in the army and in the town had assembled to the Council. There were in the Church voyavodas, castelans, kernels, cavalry captains, foreign officers, spiritual dignitaries, a crowd of nobility, a number of officers of lower rank, and some civil officers under Grozweier, who was in command of the citizens. There were present also the prince, cup-bearer, one of the commanders, the voyavoda of Kiev, the starosta of Stobnitsky, and Vessel and Arteshevsky, and the Lithuanian field-martial Panosinsky. These sat before the high altars so that the public could see them. They took council in feverish haste, as is usual in such cases. The speakers rose on benches and conjured the chief officers not to give the town into the hands of the enemy without resistance. And though we should ourselves be destroyed in the attempt the town will hold out, the Commonwealth will recover. What do we need for defense? The walls are there, the soldiers are there, and the determination is there, only the leader is lacking. And as this was said, a murmur arose in the crowd, which soon resolved itself into a loud shout. The people were seized with enthusiasm. We will die, we will willingly die, they cried, to wipe out the disgrace of Polavets to save the country. And now was heard a clashing of swords and the bare blades gleamed in the candle-light while some called out, calm yourselves, let us take council quietly. Shall we defend ourselves, or shall we not? We will defend ourselves, we will defend ourselves, cried the crowd, so that the walls rang. We will defend ourselves, who will lead us? Who is our leader? Prince Jeremy, he is our leader, he is a hero. We will defend the town and the Commonwealth will give him the command. Long live Jeremy! Now from a thousand throats arose a shout that made the walls tremble and the panes in the church windows rattle. Jeremy, Jeremy, long live the Prince! Long live the Prince! Victory to him! A thousand sword blades glittered, all eyes were turned towards the Prince and he rose quietly with a furrowed brow. Instantly there was a deep silence. Gentlemen, said the Prince in a sonorous voice, which amid the silence reached every ear. When the Symbria and the Teutons attacked the Roman Commonwealth, no one cared to undertake the consulate until Marius took it. But Marius had the right to seize it, for no leader had been chosen by the Senate, and I would not seek flight amid this danger, but would dedicate my life to my beloved Fatherland. But I dare not accept the baton, as by so doing, I might offend my country, the Senate, and the higher authorities. I will not be a self-appointed leader. Among us is the man to whom the Commonwealth would give the baton, that is the crown cup-bearer. The Prince was forced to stop speaking, for he had no sooner mentioned the name of the cup-bearer than a frightful noise and clashing of swords ensued. The crowd became restless, gave vent to their feelings, and flamed up like powder to which a spark has been applied. Away with him! Killed him! Perriot! Echoed through the crowd. Perriot! Perriot! Sounded in louder tones. The cup-bearer sprang from his seat pale, with large beads of cold perspiration on his forehead. Threatening forms approached nearer the altar, and already were heard the ominous words, Give him to us! The Prince, who saw what turn things were taking, stood up and stretched forth his right hand. The crowd stopped short. They thought the Prince was going to speak, in a moment all was quiet, but the Prince only wished to quiet the storm, to quell the tumult, to allow no shedding of blood in the church, and he sat down again when he saw that the danger was over. Separated from him only by the voyavoda of Kiev sat the unfortunate cup-bearer. His grey head had sunk on his breast, his hands hung listlessly at his side, and from his mouth came these words broken with sobs, Lord, for my sins I am willing to bear my cross! The old man might have awakened pity in the hardest heart, but the mob is usually unmerciful, and the noise began afresh. Suddenly the voyavoda of Kiev stood up, and motioned with his hand that he was about to speak, he was a companion in arms of Prince Jeremy, so that the people listened to him willingly. He, however, turned to the Prince, and conjured him in the most touching manner not to refuse the offer of the baton, and not to fail to save his country. When the Commonwealth is in danger, let all private discord cease. She will not be saved by him who has been appointed, but by him who is most competent to save her. Take the baton, thou unconquered hero! Take it! Save her! Not the town alone! The whole Commonwealth! In her name I the old man entreat thee, and with me all ranks, all men, all women, and children entreat thee! Save us! Save us! Something now occurred which moved all hearts. A woman in deep mourning approached the altar, and casting some jewels and gold ornaments at the feet of the Prince. She kneeled before him and cried, sobbing loudly, Bring thee our possessions! We give our lives into thy hands! Save us! Save us! All we are lost! At this site the senators, the soldiery, and with them the whole crowd broke into loud weeping, and with one voice the cry resounded through the church, Save us! The Prince covered his eyes with his hands, and when he raised his face his lashes were wet with tears, but still he hesitated. What would be the effect on the Commonwealth if he should accept the dignity of Commander? Now the cup-bearer arose. I am old, he said, unhappy and bowed with care. I ought to lay down the burden which is beyond my strength. In the sight of the crucified one, and of the assembled knights, I deliver up my baton. Take it! And he handed the symbol of his office to Prince Vishnovetsky. There was a moment of such deep silence that one might have heard the winging of a fly. Then Prince Yermy's voice was heard, saying in solemn tones, For my sins I will accept it. Now ensued a wild scene in the crowd. They pressed forward, fell at the feet of the Prince, and cast their treasures and gold before him. The news flew like lightning through the whole town. The soldiers were almost crazy with joy, and cried that they would march against Mionitsky, the Tartars, and the Sultan. The citizens no longer thought of giving themselves up, but only of defending themselves to the last drop of blood. The Armenians brought voluntary gifts of money to the town hall some time before there was any talk of an assessment. The Jews, in their synagogues, raised a cry of gratitude. The cannon on the ramparts announced the joyful news. In the streets, muskets, guns, and pistols were fired. The cry, Long live Yermy! continued the whole night. Whoever did not understand the situation might have thought that the town was celebrating a great triumph, or was keeping a feast. And yet, at any moment, three hundred thousand of the enemy, a larger army than the Emperor of Germany or the French King, could call into the field, and more savage than Tamerlane's forces, might besiege the walls of this town. A week afterwards, on the morning of the 6th of October, the terrible and unexpected news was spread in Limburg that Prince Yermy, taking with him the greater part of the army, had left the town, and no one knew wither he had gone. Groups of people collected before the Archbishop's palace. At first they would not believe the news. The soldiers surmised that if the Prince had really gone it must have been at the head of a large division of the army to explore the neighbourhood. It was said that deserters had spread false reports, for they affirmed that at any moment Mielnicki and the Tartars might appear. And since the 26th day of September, ten days had already passed without any sign of the enemy. The Prince wished to convince himself with his own eyes whether there was any danger and would probably return when he had verified the reports. Besides, he had left several regiments and everything in readiness for defence. This was what really happened. All kinds of orders were given, posts assigned, and the cannon brought on the ramparts. In the evening Captain Sikotsky arrived with fifty dragoons. They were surrounded at once by an eager crowd, but he would not talk with them, but went straight to General Arzyshevsky. They both sent for Grozweier, and after a consultation went to the town hall. Sikotsky there told the terrified audience that the Prince had gone never to return. At the first moment, all were thunderstruck and bold voices cried, Traitor! But Arzyshevsky at once arose. He was an old man, celebrated as a leader for his great services in the Holland army, and he spoke as fellows to the soldiers and the counsellors. I have heard insulting words that had better never been spoken, for despair could not justify them. The Prince has gone away and will never return, that is true. But what right have you to demand that a leader, upon whose shoulders rest the salvation of the whole country, should defend your little town alone? What would happen if the rest of the army of the Commonwealth were surrounded by the enemy? We have here neither provisions nor arms nor food for such a large army. Moreover I tell you, and you may believe my words, that the more soldiers you have shut up here, the shorter the time of defence will last, for hunger would besiege us sooner than the enemy. Mielnicki cares more for the person of the Prince than he does for your town. When he finds out therefore that he is no longer here, that he has collected a new army, and may come here to garrison it, he will be the more likely to give in to you and listen to negotiations. Today you grumble, but I tell you that the Prince in leaving this town and threatening Mielnicki from outside is protecting you and your children. Contain yourselves, defend yourselves, keep off the enemy for a time, and you will not only save the town, but render the Commonwealth an everlasting service, for the Prince can meanwhile gather new forces and garrison other fortresses. The torpid Commonwealth will rouse itself from slumber and hasten to your assistance. He has opened the only way of salvation, for if he had fallen a sacrifice to hunger with his forces, no one would have remained to repulse the enemy, who might then go without resistance to Krakow and Warsaw and swarm over the whole country, therefore instead of grumbling, run to the walls to defend yourselves, your children, the town, and the whole Commonwealth. To the walls! To the walls! repeated several bold voices. Groesvier, an energetic and courageous man remarked, Your silence, gentlemen, pleases me, and let me tell you that your Prince has not gone away without arranging everything for the defence. Everybody knows what to do, what has happened, had to happen. I have charge of the defence, and I will protect you till death. Hope kindled anew in the anxious hearts, and Sikotsky then took up the word. His Excellency's sins were that the enemy is at hand. Lieutenant Skasiatowski, with one of his wings, came across a tartar chumble of two thousand men, and defeated them. The prisoners say that an enormous force is following them. This news made a great impression. There were a few moments of silence, and all hearts beat joyfully. To the ramparts! said Groesvier. To the ramparts! To the ramparts! repeated the assembled officers and citizens. At this moment a noise was heard outside the windows. Thousands of voices arose from a roaring crowd that resembled the waves of the sea. Suddenly the door was opened with violence, several citizens dashed through it, and before the council had time to ask what had happened a shout arose. Flames in the sky! Flames in the sky! And the word has become flesh, said Groesvier. To the ramparts! To the ramparts! The hall was deserted. A moment later the thunder of cannon shook the walls of the town and made the inhabitants tremble, announcing to the suburbs and the outlying villages that the enemy was at hand. The eastern sky was blood red as far as the eye could reach. It looked as though a sea of fire was approaching the town. The prince, meanwhile, had marched to Zamosd, and after he had destroyed the little tartar camp of which Sikotsky had spoken, he set to work to repair and garrison it, as it was already a natural fortress, and in a short time had rendered it impregnable. Sikotsky, with Panlongin and a portion of the squadron in the citadel, had remained with Panva Yurtz, the staroza of Valetsk. The prince proceeded to Warsaw in order to demand from the diet means to provide a fresh force, and also to take part in the election of the king, which was to be held at that time. Vyshnyovetsky's fate and that of the whole Commonwealth hung on this election, for if Prince Charles were elected, the war-party would maintain the upper hand, the prince would receive the chief command over the United Armies of the Commonwealth, and it would lead up to a decisive battle for death or life with Mianitsky. Prince Kazimir, although well known for his personal courage and for his warlike character, was justly considered a partisan of Chancellor Ozolinsky, whose politics tended to negotiations with the Cossacks and the granting to them of great concessions. Both brothers made no end of promises and strove to increase the number of their followers. Consequently, as they each had an equal chance, no one could foresee the result of the election. The Chancellor's party feared that Vyshnyovetsky, thanks to his ever-increasing fame and the love which the nobility and the knights bore him, would obtain a majority for Prince Charles, and the prince, on account of these apprehensions, desired to support his candidate in person. Therefore he hastened to Warsaw with the certainty that Zamos was in a condition to stand a long siege against the whole strength of Mianitsky and the Crimea. Lemberg might, to all appearances, be regarded as secure, for Mianitsky would certainly not waste time in storming this town when he had the far more important Zamos before him, which blocked his way into the heart of the Commonwealth. These thoughts cheered the prince and filled his heart with renewed confidence, which he needed in his present anxious condition regarding the fate of his country. He hoped surely that, even if Casimir were chosen, he would see that the war had become an unavoidable necessity, and that this terrible rebellion could only be drowned in a sea of blood. He expected also that the Commonwealth would fit out another army, for even negotiations could not be carried on without the assistance of a mighty military force. Lulled by such thoughts, the prince, under the protection of several regiments, rode alongside Zagloba and Volodzovsky. The former swore by all he held dear that he would bring about the election of Prince Charles, as he knew how to talk to his noble brethren and how to take them. The latter commanded the prince's escort. In Shenits, not far from Minsk, the prince was surprised by an agreeable and quite unexpected meeting. He found Princess Griselda there. She was hastening from Yechelitevsk to Warsaw so as to be in greater safety, and also with the hope that she might find the prince there. Their meeting was a very happy one, and all the more so, as it was so unexpected. The princess, although a woman of iron courage, threw herself with sobs and tears into the arms of her husband, and could not be quieted for some hours. For how often had she given up all hope of ever seeing him again? And now God had permitted him to return more famous than ever, with more veneration accorded him than any of his race had yet received. The greatest leader, the one hope of the Commonwealth, the princess, raising her head from his shoulder, looked through her tears at his tanned, emaciated face, at his noble forehead, upon which care and fatigue had traced deep furrows, at his eyes red and weary from sleepless nights, and her tears flowed afresh, and all her ladies of honour wept with her from the depths of their hearts. Gradually she became calmer, and accompanied by the prince went into the spacious house of the provost, and then began questions and inquiries about friends, about courteous and knights who had been considered as part of their own family, and who were associated in her memory with Lumni. The prince quieted her anxiety about Panskoshetusky, and explained to her that he had only remained in Zamosd, because, amidst all the sorrow that God had laid on him, he could not endure the noise of the capital, but preferred rough military service in order to deaden the wounds of his heart. The prince then introduced Pansugloba and praised his exploits. This is an incomparable man, he said, who not only snatched the young Pana Kudsevich out of Bohun's hands, but also led her in safety through Mjolnitsky's camp, and through the midst of the Tatas, and also conducted himself in the most praiseworthy manner at Konstantinov. When the princess heard this, she was profuse in her compliments to Pansugloba, repeatedly held out her hand for him to kiss, and promised him at some future time a better reward. The incomparable man bowed low, maintaining the modesty of a hero, and then he became puffed up and winked over at the court ladies, for although he was old and did not make any further conquests among the fair sex, he was yet flattered that so many had heard of his bravery and his exploits. But this meeting was not one of unmixed joy, for apart from the thought of the sad times that oppressed the Commonwealth, the princess was painfully affected when, in answer to her frequent inquiries for this or the other well-known knight, she received the answer, he is dead, he is dead, he is fallen. The young ladies were also cast down, for among these names were more than one that they loved. Thus joy was blended with sadness, and tears with smiles. But the one who grieved the most was Panvolajovsky, for in vain he looked around him on all sides and cast his eyes in every direction. Princess Barbara was not to be seen. Indeed, during the fatigues of war, the continual battles, encounters, and marches, this cavalier, who was by nature as susceptible in love as he was in constant, had partially forgotten his fair lady. But now when he saw the court ladies of the princess and the life in Lubny came vividly to his mind, he thought to himself that, now the hour of rest had arrived, it would be agreeable to sigh and to awaken afresh the flame of his heart. But as he could not do this, and his old inclination, as if out of obstinacy awoke once more, Panvolajovsky grieved greatly and looked as if drenched by rain. He hung his head and his slender mustachios, which were usually twisted upwards till the ends almost reached his nostrils like the feelers of a cockchaffer, now hung down too. His pugnose seemed to grow longer, his face had lost its ordinary cheerful expression, and he stood still and did not move, even when the prince in turn praised his courage and his remarkable endowments. What did he care for words of praise if she could not hear them? Anousia Bozobohata took pity on him, and although they continually had spats, she resolved to comfort him, with this intention, after casting a side glance at the princess, she moved gradually nearer to the night until she was close beside him. Good morning, Pan, she said, we have not seen one another for a long time. Alas, Pana Anna, answered Pan Michael in a melancholy voice, a flood of water has poured over us since then, and we meet in sad times, and not all of us. It is true that not all of us are here, for many nights have been killed. Here Anna sighed and presently continued. Our number is smaller than it was, for Pana Shinyutovna is married, and Princess Barbara remained with the Voya Vodovna of Vilna. And she will be married, too? No, she is not thinking about that yet, but why do you ask, sir? As she said this, she dropped her dark little eyes so that only the eyelids were visible and looked a scant beneath her lashes at the night. On account of my well wishes for the family, answered Pan Michael, that is right, Pan Michael, answered Anousia, for Princess Barbara is a very good friend of yours. She often asked, where is my young knight who at the turnee in Lubny has thrown down so many Turkish heads, for which I rewarded him. What is he doing? I wonder if he is alive and still remembers us. Pan Michael raised his eyes gratefully to Anousia and was happy, and then observed that Anna had improved remarkably. Did Princess Barbara really say that? He asked. As true as I live, and she remembered how you jumped across the moat for her that time you fell into the water. And where is Pan Voya Vodovna of Vilnaov? She was with Asin Bresletovsky a week ago, she went to Belsk, and from there we'll go to Warsaw. Volodrovsky looked at Anousia the second time and could not contain himself any longer. And you, Pan Anna, Anna, he said, have grown so beautiful that it fairly blinds one to look at you. The girl smiled, thankfully. Pan Michael, you are only saying this to capture me. I might have done it once, he said, shrugging his shoulders. God knows I tried and could not, and now I wish Pan Podbepienta happiness. And where is Pan Podbepienta? Asked Anousia in a low tone, with her eyes cast down. In Zamos, with Skyshetowski, he has been promoted to the Lutenancy and is in active service, but if he had known whom he would see here, as true as God is in heaven, he would have taken leave and ridden here with giant strides. He is a great cavalier who deserves every favour. And did he meet with reverses in the war? It seems to me that you don't want to ask that, but whether he has got the three heads that he was determined to cut off. I do not believe that he meant that in earnest. And yet you must believe it, Pan Anna, without those heads he can do nothing. He is seeking every opportunity to find them. At Magnovka we even rode into the middle of the battle in which he was fighting his way into the crowd in order to look at him. The Prince himself was with us, for I must tell you that I have been in many battles, but I never saw such slaughter as I saw there, and I will never forget it. When he fastens your scarf round him he can fight terribly. He will find his three heads. Do not be anxious. May each one find what they seek, said Anousia, sighing. Volodkovsky also sighed and turned his eyes to the ceiling. He was suddenly surprised at something he saw in one corner of the room. In this corner an angry, fiery face entirely unknown to him was staring at him. This face possessed a gigantic nose and mustaches that looked like wisps and twitched nervously as if in suppressed passion. Anyone might have been frightened for that nose, those eyes and mustaches, but little Pan Volodkovsky was not at all backward. Therefore, as said above, he only wondered and turning to Anousia asked, What kind of man is that in the corner who is looking at me as if he would like to swallow me, which moved quickly like an old tomcat at prayers? That, said Anna, showing her little white teeth, that is Pan Karlampp. What kind of a heathen is that? He is no heathen at all but the captain in the light horse of the Voyavoda of Vilna, who is taking us to Warsaw and is to wait there for the Voyavoda. Do not offend him, Pan Michael, for he is a great man-eater. I see that, I see that, but if he is a man-eater there are fatter muscles than I, wherefore should he sharpen his teeth on me and not on someone else? Because, said Anousia, giggling gently. Because what? Because he is in love with me and told me himself that he would tear anyone to pieces who came near me, and now, believe me, it is only the presence of the Prince and Princess that prevents him from seeking a quarrel with you immediately. Now you have it, said Pan Volodrovsky gladly. Is that so, Panna Anna? Oh, I see now that it was not in vain that we sang like unto a tartle horde hast thou taken captive the heart. Do you remember, Panna? You cannot move from one place to another without someone falling in love with you. That is my misfortune, said Anna, with her eyes cast down. What a Pharisee you are! What would Pan Longan say? Is it my fault that this Pankar lamp follows me? I cannot bear him. I do not want to see him. Well, well, see to it, Panna, that he does not shed any blood on your account. You can dress a wound with podbipienta, but when it comes to a question of love it is dangerous to trifle with him. I wish he would cut off his ears. I would be glad of it. As she said this, she whirled round like a top, and in a moment was on the other side of the room beside Pan Carboni, the Prince's medical attendant, to whom she whispered much and entered into a lively conversation. The Italian fixed his gaze on the ceiling as if he were in perfect ecstasy. Meanwhile Zagloba had approached Bolojovsky and winked at him roguishly with his sound eye. Pan Michael, he said, who is that crested lark? Panna Anna Bozobohata Krasyenska, the lady in waiting to the Princess. And a fine creature, eyes like saucers, little mouth in a picture and a neck. Ah! Nothing, nothing. I congratulate you. Give us peace, sir, that is Pan Longin's fiancée, or as good as his betrothed. Pan Longin? But by God's wounds he has made of our chastity, and besides, even if there is this understanding between them, he could hide her behind his coat-collar. She could perch upon his mustache like a fly. What now? Yes, she will manage him. Hercules was stronger, and yet a woman outwitted him. If only she does not play him false, but I, as true as I am Zagloba, will do my best to bring that about. There are many others in your position, although she is a good girl and comes from a good family. It is a pity because she is young and pretty. You praise her because you are a true cavalier, but she is a great flirt. I am certain of it. Beauty attracts people. As, for example, do you see that Captain Yonder? They say he is dreadfully in love with her. Ah! And just look at that crow she is talking to now. Who the devil is he? That is the Italian carbony, the Prince's physician. Watch, Pan Michael, how his gig lamps sparkle and look as though they were in delirium. Ah, it is bad for Pan Longin. I know something about it, for when I was young I had many experiences. At a suitable time I will tell you about all that I went through, but if you care I will tell you at once. Zagloba began to whisper into the little knight's ear and to blink more furiously than ever, but just then came the command to proceed on the journey. The Prince got into the carriage with the Princess in order to converse freely after their long separation. The young court ladies were in the other carriages, the knights mounted their horses, and all set out. In the van were the court suite, the soldiers a little behind them, for the country was quiet in this region and the escort was only for form and not for safety. They went therefore from Shenits to Minsk and from there to Warsaw, making frequent stops as was the custom at that time. The highway was so packed that they advanced very slowly. Everyone from far and near was hastening to the elections, from far and near even from far Lithuania. Here and there whole noblemen's suites met each other, old trains of guilt coaches surrounded by haydooks dressed in Turkish manner, behind whom came the court companies, Hungarian and German. Now divisions of janissaries, now Cossacks, and finally the important squadrons of the incongruable Polish cavalry. Each of the more distinguished Poles endeavored to appear with as much gorgeousness, display and number of followers as possible. Beside the numerous cavalcades of the magnates moved the smaller and less important district and provincial dignitaries. Every now and then, from out the clouds of dust, appeared a single noblemen's carriage, and in each carriage sat a noblemen, or a priest with a crucifix or an image of the Holy Virgin on his breast attached to a silk ribbon. All were armed with a musket on one side and a sword on the other, and among the active or retired officers, lances protruded nearly two yards at the back of the saddle. Pointers and greyhounds ran in and out among the carriages, not for hunting, since it was not on a hunting expedition, but for the amusement of their owners. In the rear pages led horses with costly saddles that were covered completely so as to protect the costly equipments from dust and rain. Then came creaking wagons with wheels made of woven reeds carrying the tents and provisions for the masters and servants. When the wind suddenly blew the dust from the highway, the procession was wrapped in a cloud and looked like a hundred coloured serpent or a ribbon embroidered in mystical figures of golden silk. Here and there the joyous strains of Italian bands or of the Janissaries might be heard, especially in the ranks of the royal and Lithuanian regular soldiers, of which there were numbers in that throng. These accompanied the procession as escort of the royal dignitaries. Everywhere were heard cries, noise, shouts, questions, and wranglings, because one would not get out of another's way. From time to time soldiers and officers rode up to the prince's train with the request that they would make room for one or the other dignitary, or else to inquire who was travelling here, but as soon as they heard the answer, the Voyavoda of Russia, they at once announced it to their masters, who then left the road clear, or if they were ahead, turned aside to look at the prince's train. The nobles and the soldiers crowded together at the halting places, looking with eager eyes at the greatest warrior of the Commonwealth. There was no lack of cheers for which the prince gracefully expressed his thanks, partly from his natural kindliness and partly in order to win adherence for Prince Charles, which were often captivated at the mere sight of him. The prince's regiments, those soldiers that were called Rusinov, were also regarded with the same curiosity. They were no longer ragged and worn, as after the Battle of Konstantinov, for the prince had bought them new uniforms in Zamos. Nevertheless the crowd gazed at them as though they were monsters from beyond the sea, for the inhabitants of some of the surrounding towns of the capital thought that they came from the end of the world. They told one another wonderful stories about those mysterious steps and forests in which such knights were born, admired their faces that were browned by the wind from the Black Sea, their proud look, and a certain savagery of appearance that distinguished them from their wild neighbors. But most of the glances turned after the prince on Panzagloba, who as soon as he noticed the surrounding people who were admiring him, looked sturdily and boldly and rolled his eye so frightfully that the crowd began to whisper to one another, he must be the most distinguished of all the knights. Others said, this fierce dragon must have driven many souls from their bodies. When such words reached Zagloba's ears, he endeavored to conceal his inward satisfaction by a still more fierce demeanor. Now he spoke to the crowd, now he ridiculed them, and especially the companies of the Lithuanian horsemen, whose heavy cavalry wore a golden loop across their shoulders, while the light cavalry wore a silver one. What is it you have on, panroup? cried Zagloba, at sight of them, and more than one ground their teeth and grasped their swords, but when they remembered that he belonged to a regiment of the Voyavoda of Russia they let it pass, spat on the ground, and avoided any quarrel. Near Warsaw the crowd became so dense that one could hardly advance at all. The election of the king appeared to assemble more people than usual, for the nobility thronged hither from the farthest Russian and Lithuanian regions, not only on account of the election, but also to seek safety in Warsaw. And yet the election would not be for several days, as the first assembly of the diet had hardly begun. But everyone went there one or two months in advance in order to find quarters in the city, to bring themselves to the remembrance of this one or the other one, to look for promotion and invitations to dinner at the different lords' houses, and, in fact, after the harvest to enjoy the luxury of the capital. The prince looked through the windows of his carriage at this crowd of knights, soldiers, and nobles, at this wealth, at these gorgeous clothes, and thought how many soldiers he could have armed with that money, what an army he could have sent into the field. How did it happen that a common wealth that was so thickly populated and so rich and full of valiant knights should be so powerless that she could not protect herself against a Mielnitsky and the wild Tartars? Why was it? He could not understand. Mielnitsky's thousands could be answered by more thousands. If this nobility, these soldiers, these riches and abundance, these regiments and squadrons would have served the public interests as readily as they did their own private interests. There is no more virtue in the common wealth, thought the prince. The great body is beginning to decay. The old valour has become innovated in the delights of comfort. The nobles and the soldiery no longer love the fatigues of war. The prince was partially right, but he considered the situation of the common wealth from the standpoint of a warrior and a leader who would willingly have turned every man into a soldier and would have led him against the enemy. Valour was still to be found and came to the front when, a little later, much more serious wars threatened the common wealth. She lacked another thing that the martial prince did not foresee at that moment, but that his enemy the crown chancellor, who was a more experienced statesman than Prince Yeremi, well understood. The pointed towers of Warsaw gleamed in the gray distance. The prince's reflections were interrupted, and he gave orders which the officers on duty imparted to Volodzowski, the leader of the escort. Consequently, Pan Michael left his place at the side of Anusia's carriage, where he had been riding, in order to join his company, which was some way behind, and bring them up with the rest. He had not gone many steps when he heard somebody coming up behind him. He looked round. It was Pan Carlamp, captain of the voyavoda of Vilna's light cavalry, Anusia's adorer. Volodzowski reigned in his horse, for he understood at once that he would have to meet this man, and Pan Michael loved such things with his whole soul. Pan Carlamp rode up beside him, and at first said nothing, but panted and tugged fiercely at his mustache, evidently seeking for words. Finally he said, I greet you, Pan Dragoon. I greet you, Pan of the line. How dare you call me that? asked Carlamp, grinding his teeth. Me, a captain, and a companion in arms, eh? Pan Volodzowski began to throw into the air the little axe which he had in his hand, his whole attention apparently being only directed to endeavoring to catch it by the handle at every turn, and he answered indifferently, because I do not recognize your rank by your loop. You insult officers with whom you are not equal. And why? innocently asked the rascal Volodzowski, because you are serving in a foreign regiment. Calm yourself, said Pan Michael, even if I am in the Dragoons I am an officer, and not one of the least, but in the highest rank of the Royal Voda's service. You can therefore speak to me as your equal, or as your superior. Pan Carlamp began to understand that he was not dealing with a person of no importance, as he imagined, but he continued to grind his teeth, for Volodzowski's indifference made him still more angry. He said therefore, How did you dare to get in my way? Oh, I see you are anxious for a quarrel. Perhaps, and I will tell you one thing, your Pan Carlamp leaned over to Volodzowski and said in a low tone, I will cut your ears off if you get in my way where Panna Anna is concerned. Volodzowski again twirled his little axe, as if his right hand were accustomed to such play, and said mockingly to Pan Carlamp, oh gracious, sir, permit me to live a little longer. Permit me, permit me. No, that will not do. You cannot escape me so easily, said Pan Carlamp, seizing the little knight by the arm. I will not try to escape you, said Volodzowski gently, but at present I am on duty and I'm hurrying to execute my master's orders. Let go of my sleeve, sir, let it go, I beg you, for otherwise there will be nothing left for me to do but to cut you over the head with this axe and to knock you from your horse. The voice which had commenced so gently, now hissed so dangerously that Pan Carlamp involuntarily looked at the little knight in astonishment and let go his sleeve. Oh, that makes no difference, he said. You will have to meet me in Warsaw. I will not let you out of my sight. I will not hide myself, but how can we settle this affair in Warsaw? Have the goodness to tell me. I, a simple soldier, have never yet been there, but I have heard of court-martials that punishes the unsheathing of a sword in the presence of the king or his representative with death. One can see that you have never been in Warsaw and are a bore as you feel the court, and do not know that during the interregnum the chapter dispenses justice, and in this case an explanation will be easy, and for the sake of your ears they would not be likely to cut off my head, believe me. I thank you for your information and beg for further instructions, for I see you are not a bad instructor and are also a well informed man, and I, as a man who has only studied the minor sciences and hardly know how to make an adjective agree with a noun, should I venture which may God forbid to call you a fool, only wish to know if I should say stultus and not stulta or stultem? Here Panvolodzowski again tossed his axe. Pancarlemf became embarrassed, and his face flushed and drew his sword. At the same moment the little knight raised forth his axe and it gleamed in the air. They looked at one another for a moment like two aurochs, with distended nostrils and eyes flashing fire, but Pancarlemf was the first to remember that he would have to answer to the voyavoda himself if he should attack any officer in his service, so he was the first to sheath his sword. Oh, you will find me, you son, he said. You will find me, you will find me, you beat broth, said the little knight, and they separated, one rode to join his cavalcade, the other to his regiment which had advanced during this time, and clouds of dust filled the air from the hoofs of the approaching horses. Pan Michael did not take long to place his regiment in order and to ride at their head. Presently Zagloba trotted up to him. What did that sea-scarer want with you? he asked Volodzowski. Pancarlemf, oh, nothing, he was only calling me out. Now you have it, said Zagloba. He will bore you through his nose. Look out, Pan Michael, if you fight with him that you do not cut off the largest nose in the commonwealth, for it would require an unusually large grave mound. How happy is the voyavoda of Vilna! Others are obliged to send out military expeditions against the enemy, but this nobleman of his consents the enemy from afar. But why does he call you out? Because I rode beside Panna Anna Bozobohata's carriage. Draw! He should have told him to go to Panlongin at Zarmost. He would have received him with pepper and ginger. This beat-broth swillow's fortune is not so great as his nose. I said nothing to him about Panpodbipienta, said Volodzowski. For how could I, as long as he left me in peace? Just out of obstinacy I will make desperate love to Anousia. I shall get some enjoyment out of it, and what can we find better to do in Warsaw? We shall find something to do, Pan Michael, do not fear, said Zagloba winking. In my young days when I was the regiment tribute collector we marched over the whole country, but nowhere did I find such gay life as in Warsaw. Do you think it is different from our life beyond the Nipa? There is no comparison. I am quite curious, said Pan Michael, and added after a pause, and I will nip this beat-broth swillow's mustache, for he wears it too long.