 Book 1, Chapter 16 of With Fire and Sword, by Henrik Sinkhevich, translated by Samuel A. Benyon. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Some days had passed. It seemed to the people as though the Arch of Heaven had suddenly fallen and crushed the Commonwealth. The Zoltovoda, Corsun, the destruction of the Royal Army which had hitherto ever been victorious in the wars with the Cossacks, the capture of the Hetmans, the terrific fires that were devastating the whole Ukraine, carnage, murders such as one had never yet heard of since the world began. All this had come upon them so suddenly that men could hardly believe that so much evil could happen to a country at one time. Many would not believe it. Others were stunned with horror. Others again lost their reason or prophesied the coming of Antichrist and the approach of the Last Judgment. All bonds of brotherhood, all human and family relations were dissolved, all authorities ceased. The differences in rank between men had disappeared. Hell had unchained all crimes and let them loose on the world that they might revel to their hearts' content, murder, robbery, breach of faith, brutal acts of violence, animal like rage took the place of labor, honor, faith and conscience. It seemed as if humanity from this time forward would exist no longer through goodness but through wickedness, as if the hearts and minds were transformed and held as holy what had formerly been considered dishonorable and what was once vile was now holy. The sun no longer illumined the earth for the smoke of burning towns hid its light and at night instead of the light of the stars and moon the gleam of flames alone lit up the darkness. Mountains, villages, churches, courts, forests went up in flames. Men ceased to speak, they sighed or howled now as dogs would. Life had lost its value, thousands perished without a sigh, without leaving a memory, and amid all these terrors this lust of murder, these groans, this fire and smoke, one man alone rose higher and higher, grew ever more terrible and giant like till he almost blinded the light of day and cast a shadow from sea to sea. This man was Bogdan Mianitsky. Two hundred thousand men, fully armed and intoxicated with conquest, stood ready to obey his nod. Everywhere the blacks, the Cossacks in the towns, united themselves with this army. The country of Pripyat to the very borders of the desert was in flames. The uprising extended through the voyovodas of Russia in Podolia, Volinia, Rotslav, Kiev and Chernikov. The power of the Hetman grew from day to day, never had the commonwealth opposed half the fighting strength to its most dreaded enemy that the Hetman now had under him. The German Emperor had not such an army at his command. The Tempest surpassed all expectation. The Hetman himself had at first not recognized nor understood how mighty he had become. He still shielded himself behind such terms as justice and loyalty to the commonwealth, for he did not know then that he might trample them underfoot like so many empty words. But with this power there developed in him that boundless mad egotism that has never been equaled in history. The conception of evil and good, of wrong and right, of injustice and outrage conveyed no meaning to Mianitsky's mind, except as they conduced to his own welfare or injury. Whosoever took his side appeared to him virtuous, whoever went against him was a criminal. He would have even complained of the sun and considered it an injustice if it had not shown when he needed it. He measured men, circumstances and the world with his own eye, but in spite of all the craft, in spite of all the hypocrisy of the Hetman he had an immense faith in himself. In this confidence arose all Mianitsky's crimes, but also all his good deeds. For if he was terrible in his vengeance and cruelty towards enemies, he could yet be grateful for all services that were freely rendered him. Only when he was drunk did he forget benefits. Then he bellowed madly and with foaming mouth gave bloody commands that later he repented, and the more his prosperity increased the more frequently was he drunk. For an ever-increasing restlessness took possession of him. It seemed as if his triumphs had led him to such a height as he himself did not desire. His power inspired others with terror, but also himself. The mighty current of rebellion had seized him, had carried him away with the swiftness of lightning, but wither. How was it all to end? As he had undertaken this insurrection in the name of his own wrongs, this Cossack Diplomat might count on it that after the first success or even after defeat negotiations would be opened that would ensure his pardon and give him satisfaction and recompense for the injustice and injury done him. He knew the Commonwealth thoroughly, knew her patience, that was boundless as the sea, her mercy that knew neither measure nor bounds, which did not arise merely from weakness for had she not offered forgiveness to Nalvaika when he was surrounded and overcome. But now, after the victory of Zoltovoda, after the defeat of the Hetmans, after the kindling of the insurrection in all the southern Vojavodas, matters had proceeded too far, results had gone beyond all expectations, the conflict must now be carried on for life or death, and on whose side would the victory remain? Mielnicki asked the soothsayers, read the stars, looked with intense earnest glance into the future, but he saw before him only darkness. Therefore a frightful unrest made his hair stand upright on his head and in his breast despair raged like a hurricane. How will it be? How will it be? For Mielnicki, who saw more clearly than others, understood better than others that the Commonwealth did not utilize her full strength, that she did not know her own might, but that she was nevertheless a giant force. If a man knew how to seize this power with a firm hand, who could withstand him, and who could tell if the fearful danger, the nearness of the abyss and of destruction, the feuds would not put an end to the internal discords, the private intrigues, the envy of the landholders, the wranglings, the disputes of the diets, the discord of the nobility, and the impotence of the king, then half a million of the nobility alone might take the field and crush Mielnicki, even if not only the Khan of the Crimea, but also the Turkish Sultan should come to his assistance. This latent strength of the Commonwealth was known not only to Mielnicki, but also to the late King Vladislav, and, therefore, he had striven his whole life long to enter into a war for life or death, with the most powerful ruler in the world, for only in this manner could that strength be called to life. In accordance with this conviction the king had not hesitated to throw a spark into the Cossack gunpowder. Was it indeed reserved for the Cossacks to open the gate to this flood, only that it might finally swallow them up? Mielnicki also understood how mighty the power of resistance of the Commonwealth was, in spite of its many weaknesses. Against this disordered, ill-united, insubordinate Commonwealth, the storm wave of Turkey, the most threatening of all the powers, had dashed, and had broken upon it as upon a rock. It had been the same at Kotsim, as he had seen almost with his own eyes, yet this Commonwealth, even in the hour of its weakness, had planted its banners on the ramparts of foreign capitals. What resistance would she then not offer? What would she not endure if, seized with despair, she should be given the choice of death or victory? With this prospect in view each triumph was fraught with danger to Mielnicki, for it brought the moment of the awakening of the sleeping lion ever nearer, and made negotiations more and more impossible. In each victory lay the shadow of a future calamity, in each intoxication of success a taste of bitterness. The storm of the Commonwealth would now march forward against the storm of the Cossacks. It seemed to Mielnicki as though he had already heard its muffled, distant roar. From Greater Poland, Wielkopolski, from Prussia, from the swarming Masov, from Little Poland, Malopolski, and Lithuania would come hosts of warriors. They needed only a leader. Mielnicki had taken the Hetman's prisoners, but in this stroke of luck was an ambush of fate. The Hetmans were experienced warriors, but not one of them was such a man as this moment of fear, of horror, and of threatening calamity demanded. But one man could not take the command. That man was Prince Jeremy Vysniowiecki, and as the Hetmans were in captivity the choice would undoubtedly fall on the Prince. Mielnicki was confident of this, as were all others. Meanwhile there came news to Korsun, where the Zaporosian Hetman had called a halt in order to rest after the last fight, news from beyond the neaper that the terrible Prince had already gone from Lubny, that on his march he was crushing the rebellion without mercy, that in his wake villages, settlements, plantations, and towns had disappeared, and in their place bloody stakes and gallows lifted their heads. Terror had doubled and trebled the amount of his fighting strength. It was said that he was at the head of fifteen thousand picked warriors who had not their superiors in the whole Commonwealth. They expected him hourly in the Kossak camp. Surely after the fight at Krutobolka the cry, Jeremy is coming, had become a watchword among the Kossaks and spread terror among the blacks who fled in the wildest confusion. This terror had caused Mielnicki to ponder deeply. He now had the choice of either moving forward to meet the Prince and seeking him beyond the neaper or leaving a portion of his forces behind to conquer the castles of the Ukraine while he pressed forward into the heart of the Commonwealth. The advance against the Prince was dangerous, and in spite of his overwhelming forces Mielnicki might suffer defeat in a decisive battle which so celebrated a warrior, and then everything would be lost forever. The blacks who formed the immense majority of his forces had given evidence that they would take to flight at the very mention of the name of Jeremy. Time was needed to transform them into soldiers who could offer a front to the Prince's regiment. On the other hand the Prince might not care to venture a decisive battle, but might remain satisfied with the defense of his fortified places and with petty engagements which might last whole months or even years, and during this time the Commonwealth would undoubtedly gather fresh forces and come to the assistance of the Prince. Mielnicki resolved to leave Vyshnogetsky beyond the neaper and first strengthen himself in the Ukraine and organize his forces and then march forth on the Commonwealth and force her to open negotiations. He counted upon this that the suppression of the rebellion beyond the neaper alone would last a long time and would take all the energies of the Prince and thus leave him a free field. He himself undertook to nourish the rebellion beyond the neaper by sending single regiments to aid the Blacks. Finally he thought that he might deceive the Prince through negotiations and retard him and wait until his strength gradually was dissipated. For this purpose he bethought himself of Skyshettsky. A few days after the victory of Krutobalka and the day after the general panic he had Skyshettsky brought before him. He received him in the House of the Starosta, in the sole presence of Shechovsky whom he had previously known. He greeted him kindly, though with a dignity that his present rank demanded, and said, Lieutenant Skyshettsky, in consideration of the service that you rendered me, I bought you from Tuhebe and promised you your freedom. Now the hour has arrived for me to give you a piernak to pass through unhindered if you should meet any of the forces, and also as a guard to protect you from the Blacks, you may return to your Prince. Skyshettsky was silent, no smile of joy was seen on his face. You may set out at once, for I see by your eyes that you do not feel well. Skyshettsky indeed looked like a shadow. His wounds and the occurrences of the last few weeks had broken the strength of this young giant youth who now looked as if he would not live to see the morrow. His face had grown yellow, and his black beard that had long been unshaven only increased his miserable appearance. This was the result of his inward torment. The knight worried himself almost to death. A prisoner in the camp of the Cossacks, he had been a witness of all that had happened from the time they had left Siege. He had seen the calamities of the Commonwealth. He had seen the Hetmans in slavery. He had witnessed the triumph of the Cossacks, the pyramid that they had built up of the heads of their fallen foes, the nobility whom they had hanged, the mutilation of women, the violation of young girls. He had seen the despair of the brave and also the abjectness of fear. He had seen all, suffered all, and suffered all the more keenly because, through breast and brain, the thought pierced like a sword that he himself had been the innocent cause of all this, because it was he and no other who had rescued Melnitzky from the noose. But how could the Christian knight foresee that the assistance that he had rendered his neighbor would bear such fruit? His sorrow was therefore unbounded. And when he asked himself what was happening to Helena, and when he thought what might happen to her, should an adverse fate detain her in Rosloga, he stretched his hands towards heaven and cried aloud with a voice in which the deepest despair, even a threat trembled, oh, God, take also my soul, for I have suffered more here than I deserve. Soon, however, he would repent that he had blasphemed, then he would fall on his face and pray for succor, for pardon, for mercy for his fatherland, and for that innocent dove who might, at this very moment, be calling in vain on God for assistance. In short, he suffered so much that even the gift of freedom could not bring him any great joy. And this Zaperozian Hetman, in his hour of triumph, who wished to be magnanimous towards him and show him mercy, awed him no longer. Mielnitsky's brow wrinkled, and he said, Make haste to take advantage of this favor lest I change my mind, for only my own virtue and my confidence in the good cause makes me so incautious as to prepare for myself an enemy, for I know well that you will take up arms against me. Thereupon Schetowski answered, If God gives me the strength. And he looked at Mielnitsky as if he would like to look into the very depths of his soul. The Hetman could not endure this glance, but cast his eyes to the ground, and after a few moments of silence said, Well, that does not matter. I am too powerful to pay any attention to such an invalid. You may tell the prince your master what you have seen here, and I warn him not to presume too rashly. For if my patience is exhausted I will hunt him up beyond the neaper country, and I do not know whether my visit would be agreeable to him. Schetowski was silent. I have said it, and repeated again, continued Mielnitsky, that it is not with the commonwealth but with the petty princes that I am carrying on war, and the prince takes the first rank among them. He is my enemy and the enemy of the people of Russia, a renegade from our church and a tyrant. I hear that he is going to put down the rebellion with blood. Let him see to it that he does not shed his own. Then he grew more and more excited, so that the blood rose to his face and his eyes flashed fire. It was evident that he was in such a paroxysm of rage that his consciousness and memory were nearly gone. I will have him led with a rope by Sivanos. He screamed, I will put my feet on his neck. I will bind him on his back upon a horse. Schetowski looked at the furious Mielnitsky from head to foot, and then he answered quietly, Conquer him first. Illustrious Hetman, said Schetowski, let this impudent noble go, for it is not worthy of your dignity that you should let yourself be carried away by anger against him, and as you have promised him freedom he thinks that you must either break your word or listen to his invectives. Mielnitsky recovered his calmness, panted for a moment, and said, Let him depart, but that he may know that Mielnitsky rewards kindness with kindness, give him a safe conduct, as I said, and forty Tartars who will take him to the camp. Then turning to Schetowski, he added, Know thou that we are now quits. I grew to like you in spite of your temerity. But if you ever fall into my hands again, you shall not escape. Schetowski went out with Schetowski. Since the Hetman lets you escape with a whole neck, said Schetowski, and you may travel in any direction you desire, I say to you, as we are old friends, take refuge in Warsaw, not beyond the neaper, for no man will escape thence with his life. Your day is past. If you were wise, you would come over to us. But I know that I am wasting my breath. You would attain a high position as I shall. The gallows, growled Schetowski. They would not give me the starosta ship of Lytin. Now I will not take one, but ten. We will drive away the princes Koniecpoltsky, Kalinovsky, Lutotsky, Lubomirsky, Bishnovetsky, Zaslavsky, and the whole nobility and divide their goods among us, and with God's help that will certainly come to pass, as he has already given us two glorious victories. Schetowski did not listen to the colonel's chatter. He was thinking of something else. The other, however, continued. After the battle and our victory, when I saw in two Hebei's quarters my master and benefactor, the illustrious royal Hetman, in chains, it pleased him to call me an ingrate and a Judas. I, however, answered him, Sir Voyavoda, I am not an ingrate, for when I shall have possession of your castles and your property, promise me only that you will not get drunk, and I will make you my vice-starost. Ah, two Hebei will get ransom for the birds he has caught. That is why he spares them. Otherwise Mionitsky and I would treat them differently. But see, the carriage is ready, and the Tartars are waiting. In which direction do you wish to travel? To Chigrin. As you make your bed, so you must lie. The Tartars will take you to Lumni itself, if you wish, so the command runs. Only take care that your prince does not have them impaled as he would undoubtedly do to the Cossacks. That is why they gave you Tartars. The Hetman has also given you a horse. Farewell, and think kindly of us, and greet the prince for our Hetman, and invite him, when he is ready, to come here and submit to Mionitsky. Perhaps he will find mercy. Farewell. Skushetosky got into the carriage which the Tartars at once surrounded, and they set out. The way across the square was not easy, for it was packed with Zaporosians and the blacks. They were one and all cooking barley, and singing songs about the victory of Zoltovoda and of Corsun, which blind minstrels had composed, who had come in crowds into the camp. Between the fires over which hung the kettles containing the porridge, lay corpses of murdered women over whom orgies had taken place in the night, or their rose pyramids of heads which had been cut from the bodies of dead and wounded soldiers after the battle. These corpses and heads were beginning to decay and emitted a foul odor which, however, did not seem to be offensive to the assembled crowd. The town bore traces of the ravages and savage license of the Zaporosians. Windows and doors were torn out, the broken fragments of thousands of articles mixed with straw and feathers were scattered about on the ground of the marketplace. The eaves of the houses were adorned with hanging forms, mostly Jews, and the crowd amused themselves here and there by holding on to the feet as they hung, and swinging backwards and forwards. One side of the market was black with the ruins of burned houses, among them a parish church in which were still seen red embers and smoke. A smell of burning filled the air. Just beyond the burned houses stood a tent which Skachetoski had to pass, and a crowd of prisoners who were guarded by a large number of tartars. All those who had not been able to save themselves in the vicinity of Chigrin, Cherkas, or Corsun, or had not fallen beneath the axes of the blacks were taken prisoners. There were, therefore, soldiers from both battles and inhabitants of the neighborhood who had, hitherto, not joined, or not wished to join, the rebellion, men of the higher nobility or of the petty nobility, vicestorosta officials, colonists, men, women, and children of the poor country squires. One saw no graybeards, for they were always murdered by the tartars, for they were of no value as objects of sale. The tartars captured entire villages and colonies of the people of Russia, and Mionitsky did not dare to prevent them. In many places it happened that the men went over to the camp of the Cossacks, and in return the tartars set their cabins on fire and stole their wives and children. But in the midst of the universal license and savagery of all hearts, no one asked about them, no one sought to redress their wrongs. The blacks who had taken up arms renounced their native places, their wives and their children. If their wives were taken from them, they took other women of the better class of Poles, and after they had satisfied their lust, they murdered them or sold them to the tartars. Among the prisoners there was no lack of Ukraine youths, who were tied together in three or fours with one rope, as were the daughters of the nobility. Slavery and misfortune had destroyed all barriers of caste. The sight of these beings pierced one's soul and awakened a thirst for vengeance. Dragged from their homes half-naked, the object of the shameless jokes of the pagans, who drove them about on the square, pushed about, beaten or kissed by those terrible mouths, they lost consciousness, lost will-power. Some sobbed or cried aloud, others with a fixed gaze and bewilderment in their features, with open mouths, resigned themselves to all that might happen. Here and there a prisoner, who was being remorselessly murdered for resistance which he despairingly offered, would scream aloud. In the midst of the crowd of men, one heard the cracking of oxide whips that mingled with the cries of pain, the sobbing of children, the bellowing of cattle, and the naing of horses. The booty had not yet been divided and placed in order, so the greatest confusion prevailed. Wagons, horses, cattle, camels, sheep, women, men, piles of plundered draperies, utensils, rugs, coffins, all were thrown together in a great heap and had to be put in order and separated. New swarms of men and cattle were continually being driven in. Flat-bottomed boats, laden to overflowing, rode across the roasts, and from the chief camp new people came out to feast their eyes on the sight of these gathered riches. Some of them, drunk from kumis or gozolka, clothed in the strangest garments, vestments, surpluses, or even in women's dresses, disputed and wrangled about what should fall to their share. Chaban-tartars, who sat on the ground between the herds, amused themselves with playing hideous melodies on pipes or with throwing dice or by beating each other with sticks, packs of dogs who had followed their masters barked and howled piteously. At length, Skyshetowski left behind him this inhuman gehenna, resounding with sighs, tears of misery and the noises of hell. He thought now he could breathe more freely, but immediately outside the camp another dreadful sight met his eyes. In the distance gleamed the camp from which was heard continually the neighing of horses, which was filled with thousands of tartars, but somewhat nearer on the plains, close to the highway which leads to Cercas, several young warriors were amusing themselves firing for practice upon the weaker or sick prisoners who could not endure the long journey to the Crimea. Several dozen human corpses had already been thrown on the highway. They were perforated by the arrows like sieves. Many of them still twitched convulsively. The targets for this amusement were suspended from trees which grew along the road, to which they were suspended by their hands. Among them were some old women. A laugh of satisfaction after each successful shot was accompanied by the cry, Well done, boys. The bow is in good hands. In the vicinity of the principal camp, thousands of cattle and horses were being prepared for the food of the warriors. The ground was soaked with blood. The oppressive odor of the raw flesh choked one, and between the heaps of raw meat blood smeared tartars with their knives in their hands wandered to and fro. The day was close, the sun a hell. It was more than an hour before Schetowski and his escort came into the open plain, but in the distance the noise and bellowing of the cattle in the camp was heard for a long time. All along the road were traces of devastation. Here and there the ruins of country houses, columns of smoke from burning hamlets, downtrodden winter wheat, broken trees, cherry orchards near the cottages cut down for fuel. Upon the highway lay the corpses of horses and men, frightfully mangled blue and swollen, and above them and over them flocks of ravens and crows, who flew away with a screaming noise at the approach of the horsemen. Mielnitsky's bloody deeds forced themselves on one's eyes in all directions, and it was hard to understand against whom this man was raising his hand, for it was his own land that suffered more than all from the burden of misery. In Leov they met fresh swarms of prisoners whom the Tartar divisions were driving before them. The fortress had been burned to the ground, but the fortified clock tower remained standing and the old oak in the middle of the marketplace was covered with dreadful fruit, for on it hung dozens of little Jewish children who had been hanged three days before. A number of noblemen from Konopland, Stavsiella, Vienzovka, Balaklea, and Vorocheva had also been murdered. The tower itself was deserted, for the men had joined Mielnitsky, and the women, children, and old men had fled into the forests, fearing the arrival of Prince Yermy's army. Skyshettsky proceeded from here to Smila, Zabotin, and Novoselta to Chigrin, stopping on the way only long enough to rest the horses. The following day at noon he drove into the town. War had spared it. A few houses only were destroyed. Among these that of Chaplinsky was levelled to the ground. In the fortress, Lieutenant Colonel Naucolo Palets, together with a thousand Cossacks, were living in the greatest terror, for here, as elsewhere on the road, it was generally believed that the Prince might come at any moment and take such vengeance as the world had never witnessed. It was not known whence these reports had come, or who had spread them, perhaps fear had inspired them. Enough that it was continually repeated that the Prince was already sailing down the Sula, that he was already at the Neeper, that he had set fire to fastutants, that he had slaughtered the inhabitants of Borisa, and the sight of approaching riders or foot soldiers caused boundless terror. Skyshettsky eagerly drank in these reports, for it was clear that even if they were not true, they might yet delay the rebellion in the Neeper country, over which the hand of the Prince pressed hard. Skyshettsky wanted to learn something from Naucolo Palets, but it proved that the Lieutenant Colonel, like all the rest knew nothing definite about the Prince, and would have liked to obtain news from Skyshettsky, and as all the bidax, canoes, and small boats had been drawn up on this side of the river, no fugitives from the other side came to Chagrin. Skyshettsky consequently did not remain long in Chagrin, but started without delay for Rosloga, the absolute certainty that he would soon be able to convince himself as to what had happened to Helena, and the hope that she had been saved, or had hidden herself with her aunt and the young princes in Lubny gave him new strength and health. He left the wagon behind, and mounted his horse and urged the Tartars mercilessly onward, who, looking upon him as an ambassador, and themselves as his bodyguard, and obedient to his command, dared offer no resistance. They fairly flew as if they were being pursued, and left behind them clouds of dust thrown up by the hoofs of their little horses. They passed by farms, hamlets, and villages. The land was desolate, the dwellings without inhabitants, so that for a long distance they met not a soul. Probably everyone hid as they approached. Here and there Skyshettsky gave orders that they should look for hives of bees in the gardens, and for pigs in the cabins, but they could find nothing. It was not until they got to Poreba that one of the Tartars noticed a human form crouching in the reeds on the banks of the Kahamlik. The Tartars sprang toward him and in a few moments led forward two perfectly naked men. One of them was an old man, the other a slender boy of sixteen or seventeen years of age. Their teeth chattered with fright, and they could not utter a word. Where do you come from? asked Skyshettsky. We come from nowhere, answered the old man. We go from door to door with a liar. This dumb boy leads me. Where did you come from last, from what village? Speak out boldly. Nothing will happen to you. We came to all the villages, sir, until a devil tore our clothes from our body just here. We had good boots. He took them from us. We had good caps. He took them from us. We had good clothes that had been given us through kind charity. He took them from us, and he did not even leave us our liar. I asked you, idiot, from what village you came. I do not know, sir. I am an old man. You see, we are naked. At night we freeze. By day we seek compassionate people begging for food and clothing. We are hungry. Listen, peasant, answer me what I ask you, or I will have you strung up. I know nothing, sir. If I know anything or anything happens, may I? It was clear that the old beggar could not make out who it was who asked these questions, and so had resolved to give no answer. Have you been in Rosloga, where the princess Kurtsevich live? I do not know, sir. Strangle him, cried Skashtosky. Yes, sir, answered the old man when he saw that they were not trifling. What did you see there? We were there five days ago, and then we heard in Brubaca that some knights had gone there. What kind of knights? I do not know, sir. Some said Poles. The other said Cossacks. To horse, cried Skashtosky to the Tartars. They flew over the ground. The sun went down just as it did that evening when the lieutenant, after his first meeting with Helena and the princess, had ridden alongside them as they drove in Rosvan's carriage. The Kahamlik gleamed in just such a purple glow. The day was closing more quietly, more warmly now, but on that other day Skashtosky pursued his way with a heart full of happiness and full of the feeling of awakened love, and now he rushed along like a lost soul, a prey to unrest and evil forebodings. Pre-sentiments and voices of despair cried in his soul, Bohan has taken her away by force, that we'll never see her again! But the voice of hope cried, the princess is there, she is saved! And these voices dragged him this way and that until his heart was nearly broken. The horses galloped along with what was left of strength and energy. Hour by hour passed, the moon appeared above the horizon and rose higher and higher and beamed ever with a paler light. The horses were covered with foam and panted heavily. They had come to the forest, they flew past it like arrows. They had come to the ravine and behind the ravine lay Rosloga. A moment more and the night's fate would be decided. The wind whistled in his ears from their rapid pace, his cap had fallen from his head, his horse groaned beneath him as if he would soon fall to the ground. Another moment, another leap and the ravine was before him. Already, already! Suddenly a terrific, unearthly cry came from Skachetowski's lips. The house, the barn, the stables, the granaries, the palisades, and the cherry orchard all had disappeared. The pale moon looked down upon an elevation upon which was a dark heap of ashes which had already ceased to smoke. No sound broke the silence. Skachetowski stood speechless by the moat. He only raised his hands towards heaven and looked and looked and shook his head. The tarters halted their horses. He got down and looked for the remains of the bridge. He crossed the moat upon a cross-piece and sat upon a stone that lay in the middle of the courtyard. He sat down and began to look around him like a man who visits a place for the first time and tries to find out where he is. He seemed unconscious. He did not utter a sigh. After a few moments he placed his hands on his knees and buried his head between them and remained in that position so long one might have thought he was asleep. Although he was not asleep he was stunned and dim pictures instead of thoughts passed through his brain. First he saw Helena as when he had taken leave of her before his last journey except that her face seemed to be veiled with mist so that he could not distinguish her features. He sought to take her out of this mist but could not and left her therefore with a heavy heart. Then there passed through his mind the marketplace at Chigrin, old Zatzfilikovsky, and Zagloba's impudent face. This face stood out with remarkable clearness before his vision until it was finally blotted out by Grozitzky's gloomy countenance. Then he seemed to see Kudak, the Porog, the battle at Kortitz, Siech, the whole journey, and all the occurrences to the last day, to the last hour. From that out all was darkness. What was now happening he understood but vaguely. He had only a dim impression that he was travelling to Helena, to Rosloga, that his strength had given out and he was resting upon the ashes. He wished to rise and continue his journey but an immeasurable weakness chained him to the spot as though a hundred pound cannon-ball were fastened to his feet. He sat and sat. Night passed. The Tartars prepared to rest, made up the fire and began to roast pieces of horse-flesh. When they were satisfied they lay on the ground. But an hour had not passed before they sprang up in haste. In the distance they heard a tramp as of a large body of horsemen riding at full speed. The Tartars hastily fastened a white rag to a stick and made the fire burn up brightly so that they might be recognized from a distance as messengers of peace. The tramping of horses, neighing and clashing of swords came nearer and at length a division of horsemen was seen on the road who immediately surrounded the Tartars. A short parley followed, the Tartars pointed to the figure who sat among the ruins who could be very easily recognized as the moonlight fell upon him and explained that he was an ambassador from whom they would leave it to himself to say. The leader of the division accompanied by a few of his companions walked over to the elevation where Skyshetto Ski sat, but hardly had he approached and looked into the face of the man who was sitting there, then he stretched out his hands and cried, Skyshetto Ski, by the living God Skyshetto Ski, the Lieutenant did not tremble. Lieutenant, do you not recognize me? I am Bikovets. What is the matter with you? The Lieutenant was silent. Wake up, for God's sake! Hey, comrades, come here! It was indeed Pan Bikovets who was riding in the vanguard of Prince Yeremi's entire forces. Meanwhile, other regiments had arrived. The news of the discovery of Skyshetto Ski had been carried with the swiftness of the wind from one regiment to another and all hastened to the spot to greet their favorite comrade. Little Volodzhovsky, both the Slezhenskys, Zik or Gyshevsky, Mikursky, Yakubovich, Lentz, Panlongin Podbepienta, and a number of other officers made a bet to see which would reach the top of the elevation first, but it was in vain that they questioned him, that they called him by his name, that they shook him by the shoulders, endeavored to make him sit up. Skyshetto Ski looked at them with large, wide-open eyes, but recognized no one. Or, rather, it seemed as if he knew no one, as if everything was indifferent to him. Then those who knew of his love for Helena, and almost all knew, remembered where he was, and as they looked at the black cenders and gray ashes they understood why he was silent. He has lost his mind through sorrow, one whispered. Despair has driven him crazy. Take him to the prince, perhaps he will come to himself when he sees him. Longin rung his hands, they all stood round Skyshetto Ski in a circle and looked at him passionately. Some wiped their tears away with their coat-sleeves, others sighed sadly. Presently a stately figure approached, went up slowly to the lieutenant and laid both hands on his head. It was the priest Mukovetski. All were silent and knelt down as if they expected a miracle, but the priest did not perform this miracle. He only continued to hold his hands on Skyshetto Ski's head, lifted his eyes to heaven, which was illuminated by the bright light of the moon, and began to say aloud, Here he broke off, and after a moment he repeated more loudly and solemnly, A profound silence reigned. Repeated the priest for the third time. Then from Skyshetto Ski's lips issued a voice of intense pain, but also of resignation. Sikutin koe lo etintara, and the night threw himself sobbing to the ground. End of Book 1, Chapter 16. Book 2, Chapter 1 of With Fire and Sword by Henrik Sinkhevich, translated by Samuel A. Binyon. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. In order to explain more clearly what had happened in Rosloga, we must go back to the night when Skyshetto Ski sent Xinjiang from Kudak with letters to the old princess. These letters contained the earnest entreaty that the princess would go to Lupini as soon as possible, and place Helena under the care of Prince Yeremi, as war might begin at any moment. Xinjiang embarked on the skiff which Grodzitsky was sending out from Kudak to bring back gunpowder and began his journey. They progressed slowly, for they were sailing against the stream. At Kriminchuk they came upon the detachment which was under the command of Shachovsky and Barabash, who had been sent by the Hetman to encounter Mianitsky. Xinjiang spoke with Barabash and told him at the same time of the dangers which threatened Skyshetto Ski on his journey to Siege. He therefore begged the old colonel when he should encounter Mianitsky not to forget to insist upon the return of the ambassador. He then continued his journey. They reached Chigrin at daybreak. Here they were soon surrounded by the Seminov's watch, who asked who they were. They answered that they had come from Kudak and had letters from Colonel Grodzitsky to the Hetmans. In spite of this they called Xinjiang and the others from the boat to give an account of themselves to the colonel. To what colonel? asked the captain of the boat. To Colonel Lopoda, answered the sergeant of the post, who had received orders from the chief Hetman to stop and search all persons who came from Siege to Chigrin. They landed. Xinjiang stepped forward boldly, as he feared no harm, for he saw that the power of the Hetman reached even as far as here. They were conducted by the bell-ringer Vengla to the house of Panjalinsky, where were the quarters of Colonel Lopoda. Here they were told that the colonel had ridden early in the morning to Cherkas and that the Lieutenant Colonel represented him. They waited some time until the door opened and the expected Lieutenant Colonel appeared in the room. At sight of him, Xinjiang's knees trembled. It was Bohan. The power of the Hetman extended in truth still over Chigrin, but because Lopoda and Bohan had not yet gone over to Miannitsky, but rather openly attached themselves to the commonwealth, the chief Hetman had stationed them in Chigrin and commanded them to be watchful. Bohan sat down at the table and began to question the new arrivals. The older man who carried with him Grudzitsky's letters spoke for himself and for Xinjiang. After the young Lieutenant Colonel had looked at the letter, he began to inquire particularly what was going on in Kudak. He had evidently a great desire to find out why Grudzitsky was sending men and a boat to the chief Hetman, but the captain could give him no answer and the letters were sealed with Grudzitsky's signet. Bohan had finished questioning them and was going to send them away and was looking in his pocket for something to give them when the door opened and Zagloba burst into the room. Listen Bohan, he cried, that traitor Dopila has hidden away the best maid. I went with him into the cellar and what did I see? Nothing but piles of hay in the corner. What is that? I asked Riley. Dry, he said. I looked closer and what did I see but the neck of the bottle sticking out like a tartar out of the grass. Oh, that's what you're up to, sonny, I said. Let us divide the labour. You eat the hay for you are an ox, and I will drink the mead for I am a man. And here's the big bottle I brought with me. Give it a fair trial. Give me a cup. Then Zagloba placed one hand on his side with the other. He raised the bottle above his head and began to sing, Hey, Gush, hey. Kundus, give me the bowl and give a kiss also and careful not else. Suddenly Zagloba stopped singing. He had caught sight of Zhenzhan and placing the bottle on the table. He said, Hey, my God, that is Pan Skrushatosky's boy. Who's? asked Bohan sharply. Skrushatosky's. The lieutenant who went to Kudak and before his journey treated me to such excellent mead that he brought from Lubny that all the rest may hide itself away so far as I am concerned. What's happening to your master? What's he doing? Is he well? Well, and greets you, said Zhenzhan in confusion. Oh, that is a splendid cavalier. And you, how did you get to Chagrin? Why did your master send you away from Kudak? My master had so much business in Lubny and it was on account of that he commanded me to return. I had nothing to do in Kudak. All this time Bohan was observing Zhenzhan keenly. Suddenly he said, I know your master also. I saw him in Rosloga. Zhenzhan turned his head and listened as though he had not heard distinctly and asked, Where? in Rosloga. That belongs to the Kutseviches, said Zagloba. To whom? asked Zhenzhan. I see your little heart of hearing, remarked Bohan dryly, because I have not had enough sleep. You can have your sleep out, so you say your master has sent you to Lubny. Yes. No doubt he has a sweetheart there, said Zagloba, to whom he is sending his love through you. What do I know, worthy sir, perhaps so and perhaps not? said Zhenzhan. He then bowed to Bohan and Zagloba. Praise be, he said, as he turned to leave the room. Forevermore, answered Bohan, wait a minute, my boy, do not hurry. Why did you conceal from me that you were Colonel Skyshettsky's servant? Because, worthy sir, you did not ask me and I thought to myself, why should I talk unnecessarily? Praise be! Wait, I say, you have letters from your master. It is my master's business to write them, and mine as his servant to deliver them, but only to the one to whom they are addressed. Therefore allow me, sir, to take my leave of you gentlemen. Bohan knitted his heavy eyebrows and clapped his hands, immediately two seminoves sprang into the room. Search him, he cried, pointing to Zhenzhan. As I live, murder! cried Zhenzhan. I am a nobleman, even if I am in service, and you will answer for this act before the tribunal. Bohan, let him alone, said Zagloba. But, meanwhile, one of the men had already found two letters in Zhenzhan's breast pocket and handed them to the Lieutenant Colonel. Bohan at once commanded the servants to retire, for he could not read, and did not want to acknowledge it before them. Then, turning to Zagloba, he said, Read this, I will watch the boy. Zagloba closed his left eye, which had a speck on it, and read the address. To my worthy lady and mistress, her Excellency the Princess Kurtsevich in Rosloga. So, little Falcon, you are traveling to Lugni, and do not know where Rosloga is, said Bohan, looking at Zhenzhan with a frightful glance. I am traveling where I am ordered to go, answered the boy. Shall I open it? A nobleman's seal is sacred, remarked Zagloba. The Chief Hetman has given me the right to inspect all letters here. Open and read. Zagloba opened the letter and read, Most gracious lady, etc. You will be pleased to know that I have already reached Kudak, whence, with God's help, I hope to leave safely tomorrow morning for Siege, and I am writing at night, as I cannot sleep for anxiety lest any harm should happen to you, through that villain Bohan or his colleagues. As Colonel Christopher Grodzitzky told me yesterday that a great war would soon break out, in which the entire blacks would take part, I conjure and didn't reach you, even if the steps are not dry, and you are obliged to travel on horseback, to set out at once with the young princess for Louvnie and not to delay on any account, as I cannot return as soon as I expected. Let me implore your grace to grant my request that I may be able to count on my promised bliss and be happy on my return. And why should your grace trifle with Bohan and throw dust in his eyes, after having promised the girl to me, it would be far better to place her under the protection of my lord the prince, who will not delay to send a garrison to Rosloga, by which means your property will be saved. Ah, sir Bohan, said Zagloba, the knight is trying to put horns on you, so you've been toasting the same girl. Why did you say nothing about it? But take comfort, the same thing has also happened to me. Zagloba brought his anecdote to an end. The words suddenly died on his lips. Bohan sat immovable at the table, but his face was pale, and looked as if drawn by convulsion. His eyes were closed, his forehead wrinkled, he was undergoing a frightful struggle. What hails you? asked Zagloba. The Cossack beat the air with his hand feverishly, and from his lips came in weak horse tones, read, read the second writing. The second writing is to Princess Helena. Read, read! Zagloba began. Sweetest dearest Hushka, my heart's mistress and queen, as I am obliged to remain here some time longer in the prince's service, I am writing to your aunt to say that you both ought to go to Lubny as soon as possible, where no danger from Bohan can threaten your innocence, and where nothing can stand in the way of our love. Enough! screamed Bohan. Suddenly he jumped like a madman from the table and sprang towards Xinjiang. The axe he held in his hand whirled through the air, and the unlucky boy whom the axe had hit in the breast groaned and fell to the ground. Bohan was perfectly mad with rage. He sprang towards Zagloba, and snatched the letter from him. Zagloba seized the bottle of mead, retreated behind the stove, and cried, In the name of the father of the son and of the holy ghost, man, are you mad? Are you raving? Be quiet, calm yourself, stick your head in a bucket of water. A thousand devils, do you hear me? Blood, blood! Held Bohan, have you lost your reason? Stick your head in a bucket of water, I say. You have already got blood. You have spilled it, spilled innocent blood. This unlucky boy breathes no longer. The devil has taken possession of you, or you are the devil himself. Come to yourself, if not then go to the devil, you son of a pagan! Then Zagloba glided from the other side of the table toward Xinjiang, bent over him, felt his breast and laid his hand on his mouth from which the blood was flowing freely. Bohan, meanwhile, had clutched his head with both hands, whining like a wounded wolf, then he fell on the bench and continued to whimper unceasingly, for his heart was breaking with rage and pain. Suddenly he sprang up, hastened to the door, kicked it open, and sprang into the hall. Go and break your neck, murmured Zagloba to himself. Go and dash your head against the stable or against the barn, if you can butt like the cattle with your head. I call that raging madness. I have never seen anything like it in my life. His teeth snap like a rabid dog, but the poor boy yet lives. Truly, if this mead does not help him, he must have told a lie when he said he belonged to the nobility. Zagloba rested Xinjiang's head against his knee and slowly poured a few drops of mead between his blue lips. We will see if you have noble blood in you, he continued to the fainting boy, for Jewish blood boils when you pour in mead or wine. Peasant's blood is lazy and heavy and sinks to the ground. Only noble blood becomes animated and forms an excellent liquid which gives the body courage and energy. The Lord gave each nation a different drink in order that each one might have its comfort. Xinjiang groaned feebly. Ah ha, ah ha, he wants some more. No little brother, let me have one draft. Ah, that's good. And now as you have shown some signs of life, I will take you out into the stable and lay you in a corner, that this Cossack Dragon may not tear you to pieces when he returns. He is a dangerous fiend. Devil take him. I see that his hand is more ready than his understanding. Zagloba lifted Xinjiang from the ground with an ease which his enormous strength made easy, and carried him into the halls and through the yard where several Semenovs were throwing dice on a cloth spread on the ground. When they saw him, they saluted him, but he said, Boys, take this fellow and lay him on the hay at one of you run and get me the barber surgeon. The command was at once carried out, for as Bohun's friend, Zagloba was treated with great respect by the Cossacks. And where is the Colonel? He asked. He called for his horse and rode into the camp. He told us to hold ourselves in readiness and to saddle the horses. Is mine ready then? Yes, sir. Bring it here, so I shall find the Colonel with the regiment. There he comes. In the dark arch doorway of the house Bohun appeared. He came riding over from the marketplace. Behind him in the distance were seen the lances of a hundred or more Cossacks who were evidently ready to march. To horse! cried Bohun across the yard to the men who had remained behind. Presently all were moving. Zagloba stepped out of the gate and scanned the young Cossack leader carefully with his eyes. You're going to set out? He asked. I am. And wither is the devil leading you to a wedding. Zagloba drew closer to him. Fear God, my son! The Hetman commanded you to guard the town, and you are going away yourself and also taking the Seminoves with you. You are breaking his command. The Black Mob are only waiting for a suitable opportunity to attack the nobility. You are abandoning the town to destruction and exposing yourself to the Hetman's anger. May they both go to destruction, the town and the Hetman. Your head is at stake. May my head also go to destruction. Zagloba saw that talking to him would do no good. He had set his mind upon this and whether he destroyed himself as well as others he would abide by his resolve. Zagloba also surmised wither he was going, but did not himself know what to do, whether he should ride with Bohun or remain here. It would be dangerous to accompany him. It meant adventures and risk of life in these warlike and rough times, but if he remained here, the people were in fact only waiting for news from Siege for the moment when the signal shall be given for slaughter. Indeed they might not even have awaited that signal if Bohun's thousand men and his powerful influence had not been in the Ukraine. Zagloba might indeed seek shelter in the camp of the Hetmans, but whether it was on account of some murder or some error in his accounts he himself only knew. Certain it was that he did not wish to be seen. He was sorry to leave Chigrin, for he felt at his ease here. One asked him no questions. He was on good terms with the nobility, with the landed proprietors, and with the Cossack chiefs. These latter were now indeed distributed in all directions, and the nobility sat quietly in their corners from dread of the storm. But Bohun was a most excellent companion, a drinker among drinkers. Zagloba and Bohun had made each other's acquaintance over their cups, and had at once struck up a friendship. From that time one never saw one without the other. The Cossack threw away enough gold pieces for two, the noblemen told lies, and both these restless spirits were very happy in each other's company. Now that he had to decide whether he would remain in Chigrin and give himself up to the knives of the blacks, or set out with Bohun, he decided on the latter course. If you are so determined, he said, I will go with you. Perhaps I may be of some assistance to you, or may be able to restrain you if necessary. We suit each other as well as the hook fits the eye, but I did not expect this. Bohun answered nothing. Half an hour later two hundred Semenovs stood in marching order. Bohun rode to their head, and beside him Zagloba. They moved forward. The peasants standing in groups, here and there, in the marketplace, looked at them with fear and whispered to one another. They asked one another whither they were going, and if they would soon return or not. Bohun rode silent, reticent, full of mystery, and gloomy as night. The Semenovs did not ask whither he was leading them. They were ready to follow him to the end of the world. After they had crossed the Neeper, they came to the highway of Lubny. The horses trotted along and threw up clouds of dust, although, as the day was dry and close, they were soon covered with foam. They slackened their pace and moved like a straggling band along the highway. Presently Zagloba endeavored to begin a conversation with Bohun. The face of the young knight was more calm, but a mortal sorrow was depicted in his features. It seemed as though the distance in which his glance lost itself towards the north, beyond the Kahamlik, the tramp of the horses and the air of the steppes had quieted the inward storm that had been aroused in him by Zhenzhan's letters. Fire is falling from heaven, said Zagloba. The straw in my boots is burning, and my linen smock is too warm, for there is no to breath of air. Listen Bohun, Bohun! The Cossack leader looked at him with his deep set black eyes as though he had just awakened from sleep. Look out for yourself, little son, said Zagloba. Lest melancholy devour you, for when it rises from the liver, which is its proper place to the head, it is capable of disturbing one's reason. I did not know that you were such an amorous gentleman. You must have been born in May, and that is the month of Venus, in which the air is so full of love that one splinter is in love with another. Men who are born in this month have in their bones a stronger desire for the opposite sex than other men, but those when who know how to control themselves, therefore I advise you to give in. You may be right in your rage against the Kurtseviches, but is there only one girl in the world? Bohun, not as if he were speaking to Zagloba, but as if in answer to his own sorrow, said in a voice that was more like crying than talking, only this one Zazula, Cuckoo, only this one in the world. But if that were so, and she now loves another, what good will it do you? It is well said that the heart is a volunteer that serves under what flag it chooses. Consider also, the girl is of great blood, for the Kurtseviches belong I hear to a princely stock that's a high threshold to step over. To the devil with your thresholds, your parchments, your families, and here the chief struck his sword hilt with all his might. This is my high birth and my parchment. This is my kin and my parchment. O ye traitors, cursed blood of the enemy. Was not the Cossack good enough for you? Was he not your friend and brother when he went into the Crimea? When you said bring back some Turkish spoils, divide the booty. Ah, they did that sure enough, called me little son, promised the girl, and now a nobleman comes along, a petted Polish boy, and on the spot they send away the Cossack, the friend, the brother. They have torn my heart and my body. They have martyred my soul. They give the girl to another, and thou bite the dust, Cossack, and bear it. His voice trembled. He clenched his teeth, beat his breast with his closed fists, so that an echo was heard. Then followed a silence. Bohun breathed heavily, pain and anger raged alternately in the savage breast of the Cossack, who knew no restraint. Zagloba waited until he should become exhausted and calm himself. What do you think of doing, unhappy bully? How will you act? Like a Cossack, in the manner of the Cossack. I see well what will happen, but let it happen. One thing only I will tell you is that we are in vision of Yatsky's dominions, and Lubny is not far from here. Skacchatlsky has written to the princess to seek shelter there. That means that they are under the protection of the prince, and the prince is a terrible lion. The Khan is also a lion, and yet I ran into his jaws and lighted up his eyes with torches. What madman, do you wish to declare war against the prince? Mela has dared to declare war against the Hetmans, why not against your prince? Zagloba became every moment more uneasy. Fie to the devil with you, that is rebellion, pure and simple, vis amata, raptapuellae, it's rebellion, that is to say hangman, gallows and the noose, a fine coach and six, you may get high with it, if not far. The Kurtseviches will defend themselves. Well, my death or theirs. Look here, I would have given my soul for these Kurtseviches. They were as my brothers, and the old princess was a mother to me, into whose eyes I looked with the fidelity of a dog, and when these tortors captured Vassal, who went into the Crimea, who set him free, I, I have loved them and served them as a slave, because I hope to win this girl, and as a reward they have betrayed me, betrayed me like a slave into sorrow and misery. They have driven me away. Well, I will go, but first I will take my love, for the bread and salt that I have eaten at their table, I will repay them in Cossack fashion, and then I will go, for I know my road. Where will you go when you begin to fight the prince, into Miel's camp? If they had given me this girl, I would have been your brother, your friend, your sword, your sworn soul, your dog, and I would have taken my men, would have recalled the others from the Ukraine, and then I would have marched against Miel and against my own brothers, the Zaporosians, and would I demand a reward for this? No. I would take the girl and would move to the other side of the Nipur, into God's free steps, into the wild caves and near the still waters, and I would have been satisfied, and now, and now you are raving mad. The chieftain did not answer, but gave his horse a crack with the whip and rode forward. Zagloba began to reflect into what a position he had got himself. There was no doubt that Bohun intended to attack the Kurtzavitches to avenge the injustice done him, and carry off the girl by force, and in this undertaking Zagloba would have rendered him assistance. Such happenings were not uncommon in the Ukraine and frequently passed unpunished. It is true, as the aggressor was not a nobleman, the matter became more involved and more dangerous, but on the other hand it was very hard to carry out a sentence on a Cossack, for where could one look for him or capture him? After the deed he usually fled into the wildest steps, where no human hand could reach him and disappeared, and if a war broke out, if the Tartars covered the land, then the criminal came to light, for then the laws were suspended. In this way Bohun could escape justice, and Zagloba did not need to help him and take half the blame on his own shoulders. He would not have done it in any case, for even if Bohun was his friend it would not become Zagloba as a nobleman to make common cause with a Cossack against another nobleman, especially as he knew Koshetosky and had drunk with him. Zagloba was a quarrelsome fellow, but his turbulence knew certain bounds. He was glad to lounge about in the wine-shops of Chigrin with Bohun and the other Cossack commanders, especially when they paid the way. That suited him very well. In view of the Cossack trouble it was even a good thing to have such men as friends. Zagloba took great care of his own skin, though he might get a scratch here and there, but now he began to see that his friendship had led him on slippery ice. It was clear that if Bohun kidnapped the girl who was the betrothed of the lieutenant, the favorite of the prince, he would have to settle with the prince, and then there would be nothing left for him to do but to go over to Mianitsky and join the rebellion. Against this course Zagloba placed a decided veto as far as his own person was concerned, for he did not fancy joining the rebellion on account of Bohun's love affair and, besides, he feared the prince as he feared fire. To toot! he mumbled to himself. I have twisted the devil's tail, and now he will twist my neck. The devil take this Cossack with the face of a woman and the hands of a tartar. I've gone to a fine wedding truly. May the lightning strike the curts of itches and all the women! What do I care about them? I do not need them any more. Whatever happens I shall get the worst of it, and for what? Do I wish to get married? The devil may get married. It is all the same to me. What have I to do with this undertaking? If I go with Bohun, Vishnuovetsky will flame me alive. If I leave Bohun, the peasants will kill me, or he will do it himself without hesitating. It is the worst thing in the world to be on friendly terms with a bore. It serves me right. I would rather be the horse on which I am mounted than Zagloba. I have become the fool of the Cossack. I have attached myself to this crazy head. It serves me right that I should be flayed on both sides. These reflections caused Zagloba to perspire freely and made him still more gloomy. The heat was intense. The horse travelled with difficulty, for he had not exercised for some time, and Zagloba was corpulent. Good heavens! What would he have given to be sitting now in the cool shade, in the inn, with a glass of cold beer before him, instead of being tormented by the heat and obliged to tear through the burning steps? Although Bohun urged speed, the pace grew slower, for the heat was frightful. The horses were fed lightly, and, during that time, Bohun conversed with the sergeants. He gave them commands as to what they were to do, for until now they did not even know what they were riding to. The last words of the command reached Zagloba's ear. Wait for the shot. Good little father! Bohun turned to him suddenly. You will ride ahead with me. I, said Zagloba, in very evident bad humour, I love you so much that I've already sweated half my soul out of my body. Why should I not give you the other half? We are like vest and lining. I hope that the devil will take us both together, and I do not care how soon, for I think that it cannot be any hotter in hell than it is here. Forward! At breakneck speed! They rode forward, the Cossacks following them, but as these rode more slowly, they soon were a considerable distance in the rear, and finally were lost to sight. Bohun and Zagloba rode in silence, side by side, both sunk in deep thought. Zagloba tugged at his moustache, and evidently was doing some deep thinking. Perhaps he was considering in what manner he could get himself out of the whole affair. From time to time he muttered to himself, then he looked at Bohun, in whose features unbridled rage and melancholy were alternately depicted. Remarkable, said Zagloba to himself, such a handsome fellow, and yet not able to win the girl. He is a Cossack, that is true, but a distinguished knight and lieutenant colonel who, sooner or later, if he does not join the rebellion, will be ennobled. It all depends on himself. Skishtelsky is a fine, well-built cavalry officer, but cannot compare in beauty with this graceful Cossack. They will tear each other's eyes out when they meet, for they are both of them good fighters. Bohun, do you know Skishtelsky well? asked Zagloba. No, answered the Cossack leader curtly. You will have a hard fight with him. I saw him when he pushed the door open with Chaplinsky. He is a goliath with the gobel, as well as the sword. The leader did not answer. They both relapsed into their own thoughts and cares. Zagloba repeated from time to time, So, so, there is nothing to be done! Several hours passed. The sun had passed over towards the direction of Chagrin. From the east there blew a cool breeze. Zagloba took off his cap of lynx skin, passed his hand over his perspiring head, and again repeated, So, so, there is nothing to be done! Bohun started as if he had been suddenly awakened from sleep. What did you say? he asked. I said it would soon be dark. Have we far to go yet? Not far. In an hour it became dark, but they rode into the ravine of the wood, and, as they reached the end on the other side, they saw the glimmer of a light. That is Rosloga, said Bohun suddenly. Indeed, purr, it is cold in this ravine! Bohun reigned in his horse. Wait! he said. Zagloba looked at him, the chief's eyes which had the peculiarity of shining in the darkness glowed now like two torches. They both stood motionless on the edge of the ravine, presently was heard the snorting of approaching horses. Bohun's men were slowly coming from the depths of the wood. The sergeant approached in order to receive his commands which Bohun whispered into his ear. The Cossacks halted. Let us ride on, said Bohun to Zagloba. Before long the dark outlines of the dwelling-house, the store-houses and the wells stood before their eyes. All was still in the house. The dogs did not bark. The great yellow moon stood above the courtyard. From the garden came the fragrance of cherry and apple blossoms. All was so peaceful. The night so glorious that all that seemed wanting was a thiorbo beneath the windows of the beautiful young princess. There was light in some of the windows. The two horsemen approached the gate. Who's there? cried the voice of the night watch. Do you not recognize me, Maxim? Is it your grace? Praise be God! Forever and ever, open, how are you all? Oh, well, it is a long time since your grace was in Rosloga. The door hinges creaked terribly, the bridge was let down, and both knights rode into the courtyard. Listen, Maxim, do not close the gate and do not draw up the bridge, for I shall soon go away. You'll come as if you only wanted fire. That's it, that's it. Tie the horses to the post. End of Book Two, Chapter One Book Two, Chapter Two of With Fire and Sword by Henrik Sinkiewicz, translated by Samuel A. Minyan. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Kurtsevichs were not yet asleep. They sat at the supper-table in the hall that was hung with weapons, which stretched the whole breadth of the house, from the courtyard to the other side of the garden. As they saw Bohun and Zagloba, they sprang from their places in fright. In the features of the Princess one might read not only astonishment, but annoyance and fear at the same time. Only two of the young princes were present, Simeon and Nicholas. Bohun, said the Princess, what are you doing here? I came in order to bring you my greeting, Mother. What, am I not welcome? Very welcome! I was only astonished that you had left your guard in Chagrin, and whom has the dear God sent with you? This is Pan Zagloba, a nobleman, my friend. Be welcome, said the Princess. Welcome, repeated Simeon and Nicholas. Gracious lady, said Zagloba, a guest at the wrong time is worse than a Tartar, says the old proverb, but they also say whoever will get to heaven must receive the wanderer into his house, must feed the hungry, must give drink to those who thirst. Well, sit down and eat and drink, said the old Princess. We thank you for having come. Well, now Bohun, I had not expected you. You must have something important to talk to us about. It may well be, said the Chief slowly. And what may it be, said the Princess uneasily. We will talk about that at a convenient moment. Let me rest. I have come at full speed, direct from Chagrin. You evidently were in a great hurry to see us. And whom should I be in a hurry to see, if not all of you? And is the young Princess well? She is well, said the Princess dryly. I should like to see the joy of my eyes. Elena is asleep. That is a pity, for I shall not remain here long. And where are you riding to? It is war, mother. Time presses. At any moment the Hetmans may take the field, and it would grieve me to fight the Zaporosians. How often we rode with them to get Turkish booty, did we not, Princess? How often did we go on the sea? How often did we eat bread and salt together, drink and joke together, and now we are their enemies? The Princess looked sharply at Bohun. The thought darted through her mind that Bohun, perhaps, intended to join the rebellion, and had come to Rosloga to sound her sons. And what do you think of doing? she asked. I, mother, well it is very hard to fight against one's own, but it must be. We will do the same, said Simeon. Mianitsky is a traitor, added the younger brother Nicholas. Death to traitors, said Bohun. The devil take them, added Zagloba. Bohun again spoke, so it is in the world. He who is your friend today will be a Judas to you tomorrow. You can trust no one in the world. Only good people, said the Princess. Certainly only good people one can trust. That is why I trust and love you. For you are good people, and no traitors. There was such a strange tone in the chieftain's voice that for a moment there was deep silence. Zagloba looked at the Princess and blinked with his sound eye. The Princess, however, fixed her eyes on Bohun, who continued, War does not give life, but death. That is why I wanted to see you once more before I moved. Who knows if I shall return, and you will mourn for me, for you are my true friends, are you not? As true as God lives, we have known you since you were a child. You are our brother. You are princes, noblemen, and you did not despise the Cossack. You received him into your house, promised him your relative, because you knew that, without her, there was no life, no existence for the Cossack, so you received the Cossack with kindness. Why do you talk about that? said the Princess hastily. No, mother, we must talk about it, for you are my benefactors, and I have prayed this noblemen, my friend, to adopt me as his son, and give me his coat of arms that I may be no disgrace to you to give your relative to a Cossack. Pans agloba has promised me, and we will both demand permission to do so in the diet, and after the war I will ask the Chief Hetman to forward my cause. He is favorably disposed toward me, and has arranged that Shakovsky shall be ennobled. God be with you, said the Princess. You are honorable people, and I thank you, but before the war I should like to hear once again from your mouth that you will keep your word. The word of a noblemen is no smoke, and you are noblemen, you are princes. The chieftain spoke in slow, impressive tones, but through his speech there sounded a threat, which warned all to grant what he demanded. The old Princess glanced at her sons, and they looked at their mother. A short silence ensued. Suddenly the Falcon, who was perched under a coat of arms on the wall, began to scream, although it was a long time before it would be daylight. The other birds also began to cry. The great hawk awoke, shook his wings, and began to scream. The wooden logs in the fireplace were smoldering. The room became dark and gloomy. Nicholas rake up the fire, said the Princess. The young Prince threw fresh wood into the fireplace. Well, you promised me, said Bohun. We must ask Helena. She will speak for herself, you for yourselves. Do you promise me? We do promise it, said the Princess. We promise it, repeated the young Princess. Bohun started to his feet, turned to Zagloba, and said in a loud voice, And Zagloba, do you also ask for the girl? Perhaps they will promise her to you. What is the matter with you, Cossack? Are you drunk? cried the Princess. Instead of answering, Bohun drew Schetowski's letter from his pocket, turned to Zagloba, and said, Read. Zagloba took the letter and began to read. A gloomy silence reigned. As he finished, Bohun crossed his hands on his breast. To whom will you then give the girl? he asked. Bohun! the voice of the Cossack leader sounded now like the hissing of a serpent. Traitors! Naves! Dog-faith followers! Judices! And little sons, draw your swords! cried the Princess. The Kurtseviches sprang like lightning towards the wall and seized some weapons. Quietly, gentlemen! cried Zagloba. But he had not finished speaking when Bohun drew a pistol from his belt and fired. Jesus! Grown Prince Simeon taking a step forward, and then throwing up his arms, he fell heavily to the ground. Help! servants! cried the Princess despairingly. But at this moment there came from the courtyard other shots. Doors and windows were forced open, and the Seminov sprang into the hall. Kill them! thundered wild voices. The alarm bell sounded in the courtyard. The birds in the hall began to scream. The noise of firing and wild cries filled the peaceful house, already half sunk in sleep. The old Princess, howling like a she-wolf, threw herself on Simeon's body, which quivered in the last death-throws. But presently two Seminov seized her and dragged her by the hair to the side of the room, while the young Nicholas, forced into a corner of the hall, was defending himself with the courage of a lion. Back! Back! cried Bohun suddenly to the Cossacks who surrounded them. Back! he repeated with a voice of thunder. The Cossacks drew back. They thought their leader wanted to save the boy's life, but Bohun himself, with his sword in his hand, threw himself on the young Prince. Then began a frightful duel, which the Princess, held back by the hair by four iron hands, watched with burning eyes and open mouth. The young Prince threw himself like a hurricane upon the Cossack, who drew back slowly and enticed him into the middle of the hall. Suddenly he crouched, parried his opponent's thrust, and from defending himself began to attack. The Cossacks held their breath, lowered their swords, and stood as if rooted to the spot, following the struggle with their eyes. In the silence one heard only the breathing and panting of the combatants, the grinding of their teeth, and the swish or the sharp clash of their swords. For a moment it seemed as if the obstinacy and immense strength of the lad would conquer the Cossack leader, for he began again to withdraw and to defend himself. His face appeared to contract from the exertion. Nicholas redoubled his blows, dust flew from the floor, and surrounded the fighters with a thick cloud. But in the midst of it, the soldiers saw how the blood was streaming from the face of their leader. Suddenly Bohun sprang aside. The Prince's sword struck the empty air. Nicholas wavered with the force of the stroke and bent forward, and, at that moment, the Cossack gave him such a dreadful blow in the neck that the Prince fell as if struck by lightning. The cries of joy of the Cossacks mingled with the unearthly screams of the Princess. It seemed as if the ceiling would break from the noise. The struggle was over. The Cossacks threw themselves upon the weapons that hung on the walls, and began to tear them down or to snatch the costly arms from each other's hands, stepping over the body of the Prince and of their own comrades, who had been killed by the hand of Nicholas. Bohun let them do as they pleased. He stood, breathing heavily from exhaustion, in the doorway which led to Helena's room, and blocked the entrance. His face was pale and bloody, for the Prince had twice cut his head. His wandering glance went from the body of Nicholas to that of Simeon, and fell occasionally on the pallid face of the Princess, whom the Cossacks were holding by the hair and pressing down on the floor with their knees, as she sought to escape from their hands and throw herself on the corpses of her children. The noise and confusion in the hall increased every moment. The Cossacks bound the servants of the Kirtseviches with ropes and killed them ruthlessly. The floor was bathed with blood and covered with corpses. The rooms were filled with smoke. The walls were plundered. Even the birds were killed. Suddenly the door in which Bohun was standing was slightly opened. The Cossack leader turned round and suddenly stepped backward. In the doorway appeared blind Vassel and with him Helena in a white night robe, herself as white as the robe, with terrified face and open mouth. Vassel held up a cross in both hands, amid the confusion that reigned in the hall, in the presence of the corpses, of their blood that lay in pools on the floor, amid the glitter of drawn swords and fiery glances, this tall emaciated form, with the gray hair and the dark hollows instead of eyes, looked wonderfully impressive, as though he were a spirit, a departed one arisen again, as though he had laid off his grave-clothes and returned to Chastai's crime. The shouts ceased. The Cossacks grew back in terror. In the silence sounded the calm but mournful lamenting voice of the Prince. In the name of the Father, of the Redeemer, and the Holy Immaculate, you men who come here from distant lands, do ye come in the name of God? For blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, and do you bring good news? Are you apostles? Dead silence followed Vassel's words. He, however, turned slowly with his cross, first to one side and then the other, and continued, Woe unto you who carry on war for gain or vengeance, ye shall be damned for ever. Let us pray that we may obtain mercy. Woe unto you, brothers. Woe unto me. A heavy sigh escaped his breast. God be merciful to us, said the Cossacks in muffled tones. They were under the influence of an indescribable terror, and began to cross themselves in fear. Suddenly a wild scream came from the Princess. There was something so heartbreaking in her voice that it might have been the last cry of a dying one. The Cossacks who were holding her down with their knees felt now that she would no longer have the strength to escape them. The Prince shuddered and sheltered himself with the cross on the side from which the voice came and answered, A cursed soul that call us from the depths, Woe unto thee. God be merciful to us, repeated the Cossacks. Come to me, my men, cried Bohun at this moment, as he tottered and would have fallen. The Cossacks sprang towards him and supported him. Are you wounded, little father? Yes, but it is nothing, loss of blood. Hear, my men, guard this girl as the apple of your eye. Surround the house, let no one go out. Princess. He could say no more. His lips became white and his eyes were clouded. Carry the Ottoman into a room, cried Zagloba, who now came creeping out of some corner and unexpectedly rose up close to Bohun. It is nothing, it is nothing, said he after he had felt the wounds with his fingers. Tomorrow he will be well again. I will devote myself to him. Knead up some bread with cobwebs. Go to the devil, you fellows. Go and have some fun with the girls for your of no use here. Two of you carry the Ottoman. Take him up carefully. That's it. Now move away to the devil. What are you standing here for? To watch the house? I will see to that. Two Semenovs took Bohun up and carried him into the adjoining room. The others left the hall. Zagloba stepped up to Helena, blinked at her with his eye, and said quickly and softly, I am a friend of Panskyshetulski, fear nothing. Only take your profit away, put him to sleep, and wait for me. Then he went into the room in which two Cossacks had laid Bohun upon a Turkish divan. He sent them for bread and cobwebs, and when they had brought them from the servants' hall, he attended the young Ottoman with the greatest skill, which at that time every nobleman possessed, and which he acquired in sewing up heads after duels or after diets. And say to the soldiers, he continued to the sergeants, that the Ottoman will be as well as a fish tomorrow, and they need not be worried about him. Yes, he had hard knocks, but he has shown what he can do, and tomorrow will be his wedding, even if we have no priest. If there is a cellar in the house, you may make yourselves merry. Now the wounds are already bound up. Go away so that the Ottoman may get some rest. The sergeants went out of the room. And do not drink the cellar quite dry, said Zagloba. Then he sat at the head of the Cossack chief, and looked him closely in the face. Well, the devil will not carry you away on account of these wounds, although you had some pretty hard knocks. You will not be able to move hand or foot for two days. He mumbled to himself as he looked at the pale face, and closed the eyes of the Cossack. The sword did not wish to rob the hangman, for you are allotted to him, and you will not escape him. When you are hanged, the devil will make a doll out of you for his children, for you are handsome. No, little brother, you are a good drinker, but you will not drink with me any more. Look for your company among the crabfishers, for I see you like to kill. But it is not to my fancy to attack the houses of the nobility at night with you, as my companion. Let the hangman light you home. Let him light you. Bow and faintly sighed. Oh, sigh! Grown away! Tomorrow you will groan louder. Wait a while, tartar soul. You would like to have the princess? Bah! I am not astonished. The girl is a marvel. But if you taste her, the dogs shall eat my wit. Hair shall grow in the palm of my hand first. A confusion of voices from the courtyard came to Zagloba's ear. Aha! They've already found their way to the cellar. He grunted, Oh, drink away until you are soaked through like sponges, then you will sleep well. I will keep watch instead of you, although I do not know if you will be pleased on that account to-morrow. He got up in order to see that the Cossacks had really made acquaintance with the princess's cellar, and went out into the hall. It was a frightful sight. In the middle of the hall lay the already stiffened corpses of Simeon and Nicholas and, in the corner, the body of the princess in a sitting and crouching posture into which the knees of the Cossacks had forced her. Her eyes were open, her teeth gleamed, the fire which burned on the hearth filled the whole hall with a flickering light which glistened in the pools of blood. All was dark. Zagloba approached the princess in order to see if she was still breathing. He laid his hands on her face, but it was already cold. He went hastily towards the courtyard, for fear drove him from the house. In the courtyard the Cossacks had already begun their revelry. The fire was burning, and by its light Zagloba perceived barrels of mead and wine and gorzolka, the tops of which had been knocked off. The Cossacks dipped into the barrels as if they were wells and drank unceasingly. Some to whose head the gorzolka had already mounted were chasing the servant girls who ran hither and thither in fear, or dashed blindly through the fire, others amid wild noise and laughter let themselves be dragged back to the barrels and bonfires where they were dancing, the Cossack. The Cossacks sprang back and forth into the air as if they were possessed. The girls courtesyed to them, then they tripped forward, bending over towards them. Sometimes the girls stepped back on seeing the wild movements of the dancers. The lookers on were beating ten cups or singing. The shouts of, OOHA! sounded louder and louder, accompanied by the barking of dogs, the naing of horses, or the bellowing of cattle which were being slaughtered for the evening meal. Around the fire, in the background, were seen peasants from Rosloga. They had all come running from the village on hearing the reports of firearms and the screams in order to see what was going on. They did not think of defending the princess, for the Kurtziewiczes were hated in the village. They only looked on at the wild revelry of the Cossacks, nudged each other with their elbows, whispered to one another, and dipped more frequently into the barrels of vodka and mead. The orgy grew ever more fierce, the drunkenness increased, the Cossacks no longer dipped into the barrels with their ten cups but stuck their heads in, as far as their necks, and covered the dancing girls with vodka and mead. Their faces glowed, their heads fairly steamed with heat, most of them could hardly keep their feet. Zagloba, who had gone out upon the porch, let his glance rest upon the drunken men, then he looked attentively up at the sky. The night is fine but dark, he murmured. When the moon goes down they will be so that you may hit them on the snout. With these words he went slowly towards the barrels and the drunken Cossacks. Keep it up, boys! Keep it up! He said, don't stint yourselves! Hida! Hida! Your teeth will not become blunt. He is a fool who does not drink today to the health of the Ottoman. Go for the barrels, go for the girls. Oh, ha! Oh, ha! held the Cossacks joyously. Zagloba looked around him on all sides. Oh, you jades, such rogues, and vagabonds, he cried suddenly, to drink yourselves like weary horses and to give nothing to the watch guarding the house. Nothing? Here, relieve the watch. The command was immediately obeyed and several drunken Cossacks started off to replace the watch, who had hitherto taken no share in the festivities. The guards came running up with a haste that can readily be understood. Hida! Hida! cried Zagloba, pointing to the barrels of liquor. We thank you, sir! they answered, dipping their cups in the barrels. In another hour, let the present watch be relieved. Yes, sir! answered the Esol. It seemed perfectly natural to the Semenovs that Zagloba should take the command in Bohan's place. It had happened before, and the Cossacks did not mind it, for the noble allowed them everything they wanted. The watch drank with the rest. Zagloba began a conversation with the peasants from Rosloga. Present? He asked an old settler, is it far from here to Lubny? Oh, very far, sir! answered the peasant. Could one get there by morning? Oh, no, sir! By noon! By noon, sir! And what road do you take? Just take the highway. Is that the highway? Prince Yermi commanded that this should be the road, and so it is. Zagloba spoke intentionally very loud, so that the Semenovs could hear him amid the noise and the shouts. Give them some gozoka, too, he said to the Cossacks, pointing to the peasants, but give me some mead first, for it is cold. One of the men dipped out some mead from the barrel in a tin pail, and, setting it upon his cap, handed it to Zagloba. The nobleman took it carefully in both hands, so that he might not spill any, put the pail to his lips, bent his head backward, and drank slowly, without drawing breath. He drank and drank till the Cossacks were astonished. Dost thou see? They said to one another, the thunder strike him. Meanwhile Zagloba's head bent slowly backwards, and when he took the pail away from his red face, he pursed his lips, raised his eyebrows, and said to himself, Oh, not bad! Excellent! One can see that it is good. It is a pity to waste such stuff on your miserable throats. Dregs would be good enough for you. A strong mead, very strong. It has done me good. I feel warmer. The mead had really done Zagloba good. His head became clearer, and it was evident that his blood, mixed with mead, made that excellent liquid, which, as he was accustomed to say, permeated the whole body with courage and determination. He gave a sign with his hand to the Cossacks that they might go on drinking, turned around, and went with leisurely steps through the whole yard, looked carefully into all corners, crossed the moat and turned round by the stockade in order to see if the sentries were watching the house properly. The first sentry was asleep, also the second, third, and fourth. They were weary from their journey, and were drunk when they had taken their posts, and consequently had fallen asleep. I might steal any one here to have a servant in my service! murmured Zagloba. He turned by the shortest way into the house, passed through the ill-olmened hall, looked at Bohun, and, as he saw that he gave no sign of life, drew back to Helena's door, opened it gently, and stepped into the room, from which came a murmur as of prayer. It was really Prince Vassel's room, but Helena was with the Prince, feeling safer in his presence. The blind Vassel knelt before the picture of the Holy Virgin, before which burned a small lamp. Helena knelt beside him, and both prayed aloud. As she perceived Zagloba, she turned her terrified eyes towards him. Zagloba placed his fingers on his lips. Gracious Princess! he said, I am a friend of Lieutenant Schetowski. Save me! answered Helena. That is why I have come here. You may trust me. What shall I do? Fly before that devil returns to consciousness. What shall I do? Put on man's clothing, and when I knock at the door, come out. Helena wavered. Distrust was evident in her countenance. Dare I trust you? And whom could you trust better? True, very true. But swear to me that you will not betray me. Young lady, you have lost your reason, but if you wish it, I will swear. So help me, God, and the Holy Cross. Here is Ruin. Salvation lies in flight. Yes, that is true. Put on mail attire as quickly as possible, and wait. And Vassel? What Vassel? My imbecile brother, said Helena. Ruin threatens you, not him. Answered Zagloba. If he is out of his mind, he is secret to the Cossacks. I noticed how they took him for a profit. Yes, that is true. He has done nothing to injure Bohun. We must leave him here. Otherwise we shall perish, and Panskoshetlsky with us. Make haste, young lady. Zagloba then left the room and went to Bohun. The Cossack leader was pale and weak, but his eyes were open. Do you feel better? said Zagloba. Bohun wished to speak, but could not. Can you not speak? Bohun moved his head to show that he could not, but at the same time anguish was visible in his features. His wounds evidently pained him from the movement. Can you not cry out? Bohun showed by his eyes that he could not. Can you not? Again Bohun made the same sign. So much the better. You will not be able to speak or cry out or move, while I will travel to Lubny with the young Princess. If I do not carry her away from under your nose, may some old woman grind me to powder in her mill. How, you villain, do you think I have not had enough of your society? I cannot be friends with asses of common people any longer. No, you rascal, you believed that for the sake of your wine and your peasant love affairs that I would lend myself to murder and rebellion? No, nothing can come of that, my handsome lad. The more vehemently Zagloba spoke, the wider did the eyes of the Cossack leader open. Was he dreaming? Was he awake? Was this a joke of Zagloba's? Zagloba, however, continued, Why do you fix your goggle eyes upon me like a tomcat in the dark? Do you think I will not do it? Perhaps you would like to send a message to someone in Lubny. Perhaps I had better send you a doctor from there. Perhaps even order the Prince's doctor to come to you. The Chief's pale face assumed a frightful expression. He understood that Zagloba was speaking the truth. From his eyes flashed looks of despair and rage, a fiery red overspread his countenance. With a superhuman effort he raised himself, and from his lips came a scream, Hey, Simon! He could not finish, for Zagloba had thrown his own coat over his head with the swiftness of lightning and completely wrapped him up in it. Then he pushed him back on the divan. Do not scream for that might injure you, he said softly and coaxingly. Tomorrow your head might ache, and as your friend I am anxious about you. So, so, now you will be warm, you will sleep finely and not cry too loud. In order, however, that you may not tear off your covering, I will tie your hands, and all through friendship, in order that you may remember me with gratitude. Then he tied the hands of the Cossack with his belt, made the knot fast, and with his own belt tied his feet. The Cossack leader was conscious of nothing he had fainted. A sick man must lie quiet, said Zagloba, that the blood may not go to his head and cause delirium. Now farewell, I could kill you with a dagger thrust, and that might be best for me, but I am ashamed to commit murder like a peasant, and besides, if you choke by tomorrow that has happened to many swine, now farewell and return my love. Perhaps we shall meet again some day, but if I should seek a meeting, let them flay me and make straps out of my skin. Then Zagloba went into the hall, put out the fire, and knocked at the door of Vazel's room. A slender figure stepped forward. Is it you, Princess? asked Zagloba. It is I. Well, come on, so that we can mount. They are all drunk over there, and the night is dark. Before they awake we shall be far away. Carefully here lie the princes. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, whispered Helena.