 Book 3, Chapter 17, of With Fire and Sword, A Tale of the Past. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, recording by Piotr Natter. With Fire and Sword, by Henryk Sienkiewicz, translated by Samuel A. Binion. Book 3, Chapter 17. The following morning, the commissioners, accompanied by Skretuski, left Nowosiuek. It was a melancholy journey, for at every halting place, in every little town, they were threatened with death, and everywhere met with insults that were worse than death. More particularly, as the commissioners, in their personant office, represented the majesty of the Commonwealth. Pankyszel became ill, and they had to carry him in his sleigh, into all the ins, where they stopped for the night, and into the houses and bakeries. The underchamberlain of Lemberg shed tears at the insults to himself and at the Commonwealth. Captain Bryzhovsky also fell ill from annoyance at the abuse they received, and from their fatigues. So Skretuski took his place, and led the unfortunate cavalcade further into the crowds of rebels, amid insults, threats, rough treatment, and fighting. In Białogrut, it seemed as though the last hour had come for the commissioners. The mob beat Bryzhovsky, who was sick, killed Pan Gniazdovsky, and nothing but the arrival of the Metropolitan, to hold an interview with the Wojewoda, prevented the intended slaughter. In Kiev, they would not allow the commissioners to enter the town. On the eleventh of February, Prince Cetwiartynski returned without an answer from Chmielnicki. The commissioners did not know what to do, or in what direction to turn. If they returned, they would leave behind them the enormous banks of peasantry who were waiting only for the breaking-off of negotiations to murder the embassy. The mob became bolder. They seized the brittles of the dragoons' horses, blocked their way, threw stones, pieces of ice, and frozen snowballs into the Wojewoda's sleigh. In Gwozdowa Skretuski and Donets were obliged to fight a bloody battle, in which they routed several hundred of the blacks. The soldiers of Novogorod and Chmielnicki rode again to Chmielnicki to represent to him that he should come to Kiev for further negotiations. But the Wojewoda had little hope that they would reach him alive. In Chvastowa the commissioners were obliged to remain inactive and look on, while the people killed prisoners of both sexes. They drowned them in holes in the ice, poured water over them in the icy air, thrust them with hay forks, and flayed them alive with their knives. Eighteen such days had passed before an answer finally came from Chmielnicki, saying that he would not go to Kiev, but would wait in Pereyeswaf for the Wojewoda and the commissioners. The unfortunate envoys breathed freely once more, in the hope that their tortures were now at an end, and after they had crossed the Dnieper at Tripol they went for the night to Voronkov, which was only six miles from Pereyeswaf. Chmielnicki came half a mile on the road to meet them, apparently out of respect for the royal embassy, how he had changed from the time when he had exalted himself in order to avenge the supposed insult, Quantum mutatus ap illo, as the Wojewoda of Kisheljastli wrote. He came with a number of horses, with officers, surgeons, and military music, with the bunchuk and red uniform as though he were a ruling prince. The commissioners' suit at once stopped, but Chmielnicki sprang forward for the foremost sleigh in which said the Wojewoda, looked for a time into his reverent countenance, raised his fur cup slightly, and said, I greet you, pun commissioners, and you, Wojewoda, you should have undertaken to negotiate with me earlier, when I was less important and did not know my own strength, but as the king sends you to me I will receive you joyfully into my country. We greet you, Hetman, answered Kishelj, his majesty the king sends us to inform you of his forgiveness and to grant you the justice you seek. For the forgiveness I thank him and the justice I have already obtained myself by holding this. Here he tapped his sword at your necks, and I will continue to procure it if you do not give me satisfaction. You do not receive us very graciously, Hetman of the Zaporozhians, as ambassadors of the king. I will not negotiate with the snow on the ground, but at a more convenient time, answered Chmielnicki roughly. Let me get into your sleigh, Kishelj, and then I will do you the honor of driving with you. As he said this he dismounted and approached the sleigh. Kishelj, however, moved over to the right side, leaving the left free for Chmielnicki. When he saw this he frowned and said, let me sit at the right side. I am a senator of the Commonwealth. What do I care for that? Panpototsky is the first senator and crowned Hetman, and I hold him a prisoner and will let him go when I see fit, perhaps tomorrow with some others to be impaled. Kishelj's pale cheeks flushed. I represent the king and my person. Chmielnicki's face lowered, but he restrained himself and sat down at the left of Kishelj murmuring, He may be king and Warsaw, but I am king and Russia. I have not yet humbled you enough, I see. Kishelj did not reply, but raised his eyes to heaven. He had a foretaste of what awaited him, and he thought rightly that if the way to Chmielnicki was a Golgotha, a sojourn with him was martyrdom itself. The horses hastened to the town, twenty shots were fired from the cannon, and all the bells rang. Chmielnicki, as though he wanted to prevent the commissioners from considering the salute as an exceptional honor granted to him, said to the Vojvoda, I have received not only you, but other ambassadors sent to me in the same manner. And Chmielnicki spoke the truth, ambassadors had been sent to him as though he were a reigning prince. Upon his return from Zamoszcz, while he was yet impressed by the election and by the defeats he had suffered from the Lithuanian army, the Hetman did not possess half his present pride. But since Kiev had received him with torches and flags, since the academy had greeted him in the following words, tan kvam moizem, servatorem, salvatorem, liberatorem populi deservitude lehitika et bono omine bogdan by the grace of God, and when they finally called him ilustrisimus princeps, there was aroused the beast in him, according to the word of one of his contemporaries. He actually felt his own power on a firm footing, which he had hitherto lacked. The embassy was a tacit recognition not only of his power, but also of his sovereignty. The faithful friendship of the Tartars, which he had bought by an abundance of booty and many unfortunate prisoners, which this leader of the people had allowed them to pick from among the people, was an assurance of assistance against every enemy. Consequently, Chmielnitsky, who had Zamoshch had bought the royal majesty and to the will of the monarch, was now blinded with pride, and convinced of his own strength, of the disorder of the Commonwealth, and of the inefficiency of her leaders, was now ready to lift his hand even against the king. His ambitious soul was already dreaming not of the independence of the Cossacks, not of the restoration of the former privileges of the Zaporosians, not of justice to himself, but of a sovereign estate in which he would wear the prince's cap and bear the scepter. And he felt himself master in the Ukraine. Zaporosh stood by him, for under no commander had it been so swamped with blood and booty. The naturally savage people thronged to him, for while the Mazovians and the Vielkopolska bore without murmuring that burden of authority and oppression, which all over Europe rests on hum descendants, the Ukraine peasant breathed in with the air of the steppes such an intense, passionate love of freedom as could flourish nowhere else but in the wide steppes. How could he follow his master's plow, when his glance was bounded by gods and not by men's desert? When from beyond the rapids siege called to him, leave your masters, come to freedom, when the cruel Tartar had taught him to fight, and his eyes had become accustomed to the smoke of the cannon, and to the slaughter, and his hands to handling firearms. Why not rather raid with Chmielnitsky and snap his fingers at his masters, than bend his proud back before a sub-governor? And another reason why the people flocked to Chmielnitsky was that whoever did not do so was made prisoner. In Stumble they gave ten cartridges for one slave, and three slaves for one bow, seasoned in the fire. So plentiful were they. The rubble had no choice. A curious song descended from the memory of those times, and was long sung by subsequent generations around their fires. A curious song about that leader was called the Moses of the Zaporosians. Oh, that the first best bullet might not miss this Chmieln. The towns, the villages, and the Hamlets disappeared. The land was changed into a desert and a ruin, a wound which centuries could not heal. But that leader and Hetman did not or would not see it, for he never looked behind him. He grew more important, and fertilized the land with blood and fire, and destroyed his own people, his own country, in his frightful selfishness. And even now he was conducting the commissioners to Pereswaf amid the thunder of salutes and the ringing of bells, as if he were a sovereign lord, a hospital, and a prince. The commissioners moved forward into the lion's den with bowed heads, as the last spark of hope was extinguished in their hearts. Skretuski, who was riding behind the second sleigh, looked eagerly at the faces of the officers who had come with Chmielnitski to see if Bohun was among them. After his fruitless search along the Dniester, as far as beyond the Horlik, he had come to one decision, as his last and only hope of solving the difficulty. He determined to seek Bohun and challenge him to a duel for life or death. The unhappy knight knew indeed that in this game of chance Bohun might take him without any fight or give him over to the Tartars. But he thought better of him than that. He knew his bravery, his rushness, and was almost sure that without any hesitation Bohun would decide on an honorable duel for the sake of the princess. He therefore arranged his plans in the midst of his sorrow and decided to bind Bohun by an oath, in case he should fall to give Helena her liberty. Skretuski did not think of himself, and on the consideration that Bohun might say, if I die she is neither for you nor for me, he was ready to agree to that and to swear to it, if he could only get her out of his hands. She could seek refuge in a cloister for the reminder of her life. He hoped to find peace in war, and if he should not fall, he would become a monk as soon as peace was declared, as all suffering souls did in those days. Pan Skretuski saw his way plainly and clearly, and as the idea of a duel with Bohun had been suggested to him in Zamošć, and as his search among the ravines of the Dnister had been unavailing, this seemed to be the only resource left him. For this purpose he had hastened without resting from the Dnister till he reached the commissioners, hoping that he would inevitably find Bohun among Chmielnitski's attendance, or in Kiev. He hoped it all the more earnestly as, according to what Zagloba had said in Jermolins, the Cossack was going to Kiev to his wedding with three hundred candles. Skretuski now sought him in vain among the colonels, but in return he found many acquaintances whom he had known in former times of peace, such as Dziadžał, whom he had often seen in Čachryň, Jashevski, who had come as an envoy from Siege to the Prince, and Jarosha, a former officer of the Prince Nokoopalca, and Hrusha, and many others. He determined to ask them. We are all acquaintances, he said, approaching Jashevski. I knew you in Lubni. You are Prince Jeremie's favorite, answered the officer. We drank and caroused together in Lubni. And what is your Prince doing? He is well. He will not feel quite so well in the spring. He and Chmielnitski have not yet met, but they will meet, and then one of them will have to die. As God ordains. Come, God is gracious to our little father Chmielnitski, your Prince will never return across the Dniper to his starter coast. Chmielnitski has many warriors, and whom has the Prince? He is a true soldier, and are you not serving at a longer under his banner? I am traveling with the commissioners. Well, I am glad to have met an old acquaintance. If you are glad, you can do me a service, and I will ever be grateful to you. What kind of service? Tell me where Bohun is, the famous Ataman, formerly of the Pereyeswaf battalion, who must be in high standing among you today. Silence, answered the Oshevski threateningly. It is fortunate for you that we are all acquaintances, and that we have drunk together, otherwise I would have laid you out in the snow with this club. Skrituski looked at him in astonishment, but as he had a good deal of self-restraint, he simply closed his hand on his club. Are you mad? I am not mad, and I do not wish to threaten you, but Chmielnicki has given orders once for all, that if any of you, or even the commissioners, should ask any questions we were to kill you on the spot. If I do not do it, someone else will, so I warn you out of kindness. But I am asking as a private matter. Well, that makes no difference. Chmielnicki gave the order to his colonels, and told them to repeat it to the rest. Should anyone ask for a bundle of wood for the stove, or for potash kill him dead, tell that to your people. I thank you for the advice, said Skrituski. I warned you, but any other pole I would have killed. A pause followed. The cavalcade had arrived at the gate of the town. Along both sides of the road and in the streets were swarms of blacks and of armed Cossacks, who out of respect for Chmielnicki did not curse or throw snow, but looked gloomily at the commissioners, and grasped the hills of their swords. Skrituski formed his dragoons into a square, raised his head, and rode quietly and proudly through the wide street, paying not the slightest attention to the threatening glances of the crowd. In silence, however, he thought how much presence of mind, sang foie, and Christian patience would be required to do what he had undertaken, so as not to fall a victim at the first step in the sea of hatred. End of Chapter 17 Book 3, Chapter 18 of With Fire and Sword, A Tale of the Past This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, recording by Piotr Matter. With Fire and Sword, by Henrik Sienkevich, translated by Samuel A. Binion, Book 3, Chapter 18 On the following day, the commissioners held long consultations as to whether they should at once present Chmielnitsky with the King's gifts or whether they should wait until he had become more humble and showed some regret. It was decided to endeavour to win him over by kindness and the King's favour by handing him the gifts at once. It was announced that the presentation would take place and the ceremony was appointed for the following day. From early morning bells rang and shots were fired. Chmielnitsky waited outside his residence in the midst of his colonels and all the officials and the immense crowd of the Cossacks and the blacks. He wanted to show the whole nation what honour the King was bestowing upon him. He sat therefore in the midst of his regiment, with the bunchuk on an elevation, clad in a white cloak lined with sable and, beside him, the envoys from neighbouring countries. With his hands placed on his sides, standing on a velvet cushion with gold fringe, he awaited the commissioners. There came from the blacks at every moment a murmur of joy and gratification at sight of the leader in whom, prizing power as they did above everything else, they saw the embodiment of this power. He was just such a figure as the popular fancy pictured, this unconquered hero, the victor of the Hetmans, of the nobility and especially of the Poles who, before his time, had enjoyed the fame of being invincible. Khmelnitsky had grown somewhat older during this war, but he still held himself erect, his giant shoulders still betrayed the old ability to overthrow kingdoms or erect new ones. His strong face bore the impress of the unyielding will and uncurbed pride and the consciousness of security gained by victories. But it was red from excessive drinking, anger and fear were slumbering in the furrows of his face. It was easy to guess that if they should be aroused, the people would give way beneath their terrible power, as a forest before a storm. His eyes, whose lids were inflamed, were already flashing with impatience that the commissioners had not come earlier with their gifts. The frost froze his breath, which looked like two clouds of steam coming from his nostrils, like the two columns of the smoke that come from Lucifer's nostrils, and in this mist that came from his lungs, he looked proud and gloomy in his festal array, with the envoys at his side, in the midst of his kernels, with a sea of blacks around him. Presently the commissioners drove up, before them came the drummers beating their drums and behind them the trumpeters with their trumpets to their mouths, and their cheeks blown out, giving forth a melancholy, long drawn-out sound, as though it were the funeral of the glory and dignity of the Commonwealth. Before the band, the master of the hounds, Kratowsky, bore upon a cushion of velvet the bottom. Kulchinsky, the treasurer of Kiev, bearing a red flag with the eagle and the inscription on it, came next. Then came Kishel, walking alone, tall and thin, his wide beard flowing down to his waist, with suffering depicted on his aristocratic face, and his soul filled with boundless despair. A few steps behind the Vojevoda came the rest of the commissioners, and the procession closed with the dragoons of Breshovsky, Anders Kratowsky. Kishel walked slowly, for this moment showed him plainly that beneath the tattered veil of negotiations, beneath the appearance of welcoming the king's favor and his pardon, something else, the humiliating truth peeped out, and even a blind man could see it, and even deaf ears could hear it, because it cried aloud to all. Thou, Kishel, dost not go now as a bearer of favors, but thou goest on foot in order to beg for favor, in return for the button and the standard to this leader of peasants, in the name of the whole commonwealth, thou, her senator and Vojevoda. The soul of the lord of Breshovsky was crushed, he felt as powerless as a worm, as lowly as dust, and in his ears sounded the words of Yeremi, it is better not to live than to be the slave of peasants and heathen. What was he, Kishel, in comparison with this prince of Lubny, who had opposed this rebellion with a frowning brow, amid the sulfurous fumes of war, wrapped in the smoke of gunpowder like Jupiter? What was he, under the burden of these thoughts, the heart of the Vojevoda was broken, smiles forsook his face forever, joy had fled from his heart? He felt only that he would a hundred times rather die than take one more step forward on this road. But he went on nevertheless, for his whole past life, all his efforts and endeavours, and the whole pitiless logic of his earlier attempt at negotiations drove him forward. Mielnitsky awaited him with his hands placed on his side, with pouting clips and frowning brow. The train advanced, and Kishel stepped forward until he reached the elevation. The trumpeters ceased their music, the drums stopped beating, a deep silence fell on the crowd, only the frosty air moved the flag that Pankulchinsky carried. Suddenly the stillness was broken by a voice, curt but commanding, in which was expressed the unspeakable might of despair, which takes no count of anything or anybody. Dragoons to the rare, follow me! It was Kretusky's voice. All heads turned in that direction, even Mielnitsky raised himself in his chair to see what was happening. The commissioners paled. Kretusky was standing in his stirrups, erect, pale, with flashing eyes, his unshift sword in his hand, and partly turned towards the Dragoons, he repeated in thundering tones the command, follow me! Through the silence was heard the clutter of the horse's hooves on the frosty streets. The practised Dragoons faced about on the instant. The lieutenant placed himself at their head, gave a signal with his sword, and the whole procession returned slowly towards the dwelling of the commissioners. Estonishment and bewilderment were depicted on all faces, not accepting Mielnitsky's for, in Kretusky's voice, there was something unusual. But no one knew exactly whether this sudden return of the escort did not belong to the ceremonies of the day. Kishel alone understood it all. He understood that the negotiations, as well as the lives of the commissioners and their escort, hung at the moment on a hair. But before Mielnitsky had time to recover himself, he mounted on the elevation and began his speech. He began with the assurance of royal clemency for Mielnitsky and for all the Zaporosians. But his speech was presently interrupted by another incident which had one advantage, that it had completely turned all attention from what had previously occurred. Jejau, an old colonel who stood beside Mielnitsky, threatened the Voyevoda with his staff and cried angrily, What are you saying there, Kishel? The king? What king? But you, kinglets, princes and nobles, have roused much trouble and you, Kishel, bone of our bone, has deserted us and stand by the poles. We have had enough of thy speech, for we can obtain with the sort all that we need. The Voyevoda looked into Mielnitsky's eyes with a grieved expression. Do you keep your comels under such discipline, Hetman? Silence, Jejau, cried the Hetman. Silence, silence! He got drunk this morning, repeated the other colonels. Take yourself off, or we will take you by the neck. Jejau wished to make his voice heard still further, but he was literally taken by the color and removed from the circle. The Voyevoda spoke on in well-arranged and well-chosen words. He said before him the great testimonials he would receive and that they would be the tokens of the justification of a dignity which he had hitherto usurped by his own might. The king might have punished him, but he forgave him as Mielnitsky had showed himself obedient at Zamosht and as his late acts had not occurred during the rule of the present king. It would therefore be advisable that Mielnitsky, after committing so many crimes, should show himself grateful for such mercy and distinction, should stop the shedding of blood, restore peace among the peasantry, and begin negotiations with the commissioners. Mielnitsky received in silence the baton and the flag, which he at once ordered to be unfurled above his head. At this site the blacks broke out into a howl of joy, that for a time drowned out every other sound. A certain satisfaction beamed upon the face of the headman who sat after a pause. I thank his majesty the king most humbly for the great favor that he has shown me through you, as also for the symbol of authority over the army and for his pardon of my late transgressions. I always said that the king was on my side and against you false knights and princes. The best proof of it is that he has expressed his satisfaction that I cut your throats. And I will continue to cut, if you do not obey me and the king in everything. Mielnitsky had spoken the last words in a loud voice, frowning and scolding as though his anger were rising. The commissioners were astonished at this unexpected ending to his answer. Kishel, however, said, The king commands you headman to seize the bloodshed and to commence the negotiations with us. I do not shed blood. The Lithuanian army does that, for I have received news that Rajivu has destroyed my possessions of Mozer and Turov. If this is confirmed, I have enough distinguished prisoners from among you, whose throats I will order to be cut at once. I shall not hurry about the negotiations. It would be difficult to conclude negotiations now, as the army is separated. I have only a handful of colonels with me. The rest are in winter quarters. I can do nothing without them. Besides, why should we stand here talking in the cold? What were you commissioned to give me? You have given me. And all see that I am now headman appointed by the king. And now come and take some dinner and gozauka with me, for I am hungry. Saying this, Khmelnitsky strode towards his residence, followed by the commissioners and colonels. In the large middle room stood a table which bent beneath the weight of blundered silverware, among which the Palatine Kishel might have found some that had been robbed from him the previous summer in Hushch. On the table stood mounds of pork, beef, tartar pilaf, and the whole room smelled of millet vodka, which stood in silver flagons. Khmelnitsky sat down and placed the Wojewoda of Kiev at his right, and the Castelan Drozdowski at his left, and, putting his hand on the flagon of gozauka, said, They say in Warsaw that I drink Polish blood, but I prefer gozauka, and leave the other to the dogs. The colonels broke into a loud laugh. This was the insult that the headman aimed at the commissioners before the meal, who gulfed in silence, in order, as the sub-treasurer of Lemberg Road, not to irritate the beast. Heavy perspiration stood on Kishel's pale forehead. The entertainment began. The officers took up great pieces of meat from the plates in their hands. Khmelnitsky himself waited on Kishel and Drozdowski. The dinner began in silence, for everyone was satisfying his hunger. The silence was only broken by the crunching of bones between the teeth of the fisters, or by the sound of gulping drink. From time to time one or the other would venture a word which remained unnoticed, until, at length, Khmelnitsky, who had partially satisfied his hunger, and tossed down several goblets of millet gozauka, turned suddenly to the Wojewoda and said, Who commends your escort? Kishel became uneasy. Skretuski, a noble knight, he said. I know him, said Bogdan, and why would he not stay when you handed me the presents? Because he was only sent with us as a protection and not to assist us, and he had his orders. And who gave him the orders? I, answered the Wojewoda, because I thought it was not fitting that the dragoons should be at our elbow when I was handing you over the presents. But I think it was something else, for I know that this soldier is stiff-necked. Jashevsky here interrupted the conversation. We do not fear the dragoons in the least, he said. They had some mighty Poles among them at one time, but at Piławiec we learned that they are no longer the same Poles who formerly beat the Turks, the Tartars and the Germans. No longer the Zamoyskys, the Żukiewskys, the Hodkiewiczes, the Khmelnitskys, and the Koniecpolskys, interrupted Khmelnitsky, but Truzowskys and Zionsowskys, men, children, clothed in iron armor. They nearly died of fright when they cut side of us, although, on that Wednesday, we had only three thousand Tartars there. Note, Truzowsky and Zionsowsky are fictitious names. The former means coward, and the latter, hair, intended as a direct insult to the Polish commissioners. End of note. The commissioners were silent, but their meat and drink became even more bitter to them. I beg you most humbly to eat and drink, said Khmelnitsky, for if you do not, I shall believe that our simple Kozak fare is not agreeable to your noble palates. If your throats are too narrow, we can cut them, cried Zezio. The colonels, who were already quite drunk, laughed loudly once more, but Khmelnitsky looked at them threateningly, and they were silent. Kysiel, who had been ill for several days, was as white as a sheet. Zzozowsky's face was so red, that it looked as though the blood would start through the skin. He could not contain himself any longer and shout it, have we come here to dinner or to listen to insults? Khmelnitsky answered, you came here to enter into negotiations, and in the meanwhile the Lithuanian army is burning and slaughtering. They have destroyed Mozer and Turofi here, and if it is true, I will have the heads chopped off four hundred prisoners before your eyes. Zzozowsky, who was foaming with rage a minute before, now controlled himself, it was indeed, as Khmelnitsky said, the life of the prisoners depended on the headman's mood, a wink of his eye. One must bear all and endeavor to soothe his anger, and to bring him back to a milder and healthier mood of mind. With this intention, the naturally timid and gentle Carmelite Lentowsky began in a soft voice. The good God grand that the news from Lithuania about Mozer and Turof may not be confirmed. But hardly had he spoken when Fedor Viesniak, a Cherkaz colonel, leaned over and swung his staff in order to strike the Carmelite on the neck. Fortunately he did not reach him, for four other diners were sitting between them, so he cried out, Silence, priest, it is none of your business to show us our faults, come outside and I will teach you to honor the Zaporozhian officers. The rest endeavored to quiet him, and as they could not succeed, they threw him out of the room. When do you wish to open the negotiations, headman? Asked Kieszel with the intention of giving a different direction to the conversation. Unfortunately Khmelnitsky was no longer sober, and he returned a quick and decisive answer. Tomorrow we will take counsel and pass sentence. I am drunk now, why do you bother me now about the commission, instead of letting me eat and drink in peace? I am tired of all that, we must now have war, bringing his closed fist down on the table, so that the glasses and plates rattled. In the next four weeks I will sweep out everyone, from the lowest to the highest, I will trample on you all and finally sell you to the Turkish Sultan. The king will be king to exterminate the nobles, dukes, princes. If it is a prince he cuts his throat, if it is a Cossack he does the same. You threatened me with the Swedes, but even they will not compel me. Tuhaibay, my brother, my heart, the only falcon in the world, is near me and ready to do all that I wish. Here Khmelnitsky, with the peculiarity of drunkenness, suddenly changed from anger to the deepest emotion, his voice trembled with suppressed tears at the remembrance of Tuhaibay. You wish me to draw my sword against the dukes and the tartars, but nothing will come of it. I will march against you with my good friends. I have already sent out regiments to command that the soldiers shall feed their horses and hold themselves in readiness to march, without wagons, without cannon, for I can find all that among the Poles. Whoever takes a wagon from a Cossack shall have his throat cut. I am not taking any myself, or at most only saddles and provision sacks. Thus I will go to the Vistula and shout, sit still and keep silence, Poles, and if you shout from behind the Vistula I will find you there. I have had enough of your nobles, your dragoons. You cursed insects who live only on lies. He sprang to his feet, kicked away the stool on which he was sitting, tore his hair, stamped on the floor and shouted, We must have war, for I have received the absolution and the blessing for it. What do I care for commissioners and commissions? I do not want a truce. Presently he became aware of the terror of the commissioners. It suddenly occurred to him that, if they should at once go away, the war would have to begin in winter. Therefore at the time when the Cossacks could not throw up earthen works and would not be able to offer resistance to the enemy on the open field. So he quieted himself somewhat and sat down again on the stool. His head sank on his breast. He placed both hands on his knees and breathed heavily. Then he once more seized the goblet of Gorauka. Here's to the health of his majesty the king. He shouted. To his health and glory, repeated the colonels. Come, Kishel, do not worry, said the Hetman, and do not take what I said to heart. I am drunk. The fortune-tellers told me that we must have war, but I will wait until the new grass grows, and then I will enter into negotiations, and then I will set the prisoners free. They tell me you are ill. We will drink to your health. I thank you, Hetman of the Zaporosians, said Kishel. You are my guest. I do not forget that. As he said this, Khmelnitsky was again overcome by his emotions, and placing his arm around the Vojevoda's neck, he laid his great red face beside the other's pale emaciated cheeks. The other officers followed his lead, and approaching the commissioners, sugar their hands warmly, clapped them on the shoulders, and repeated after the Hetman, when the new grass grows. The commissioners suffered tortures. The peasant's breath, reeking of brandy, covered the faces of these highborn noblemen, who endured the handshakes of their perspiring hands with as much aversion as they did the insults. There was, however, no lack of threats in between these expressions of goodwill. Some called out to the Vojevoda, we will enjoy cutting down the poles, but you are our men. Others said, and what do you think, gentlemen, formerly you beat us, now you beg us for mercy, death and destruction to the wide-handed gentlemen. The Ataman-Yovg, a former miller from Nestevar, cried, I have cut up my master Prince Cetviotinsky. Give us Yeremi, cried Yashevsky, staggering, and we will give you your health. It had become unbearably warm and close in the room. The table covered with the remains of the meat and bread, and soaking with vodka and mead was a disgusting sight. Presently some fortune-tellers came into the room, with Khmelnytsky generally sat and drank until midnight while listening to their foretelling. They were strange figures, old and band, yellow with age or still young, and read the fortune in wax, grains of wheat, fire, the foam of water, the bottom of bottles, and in human fat. Jokes and laughter were heard among the younger of these and the kernels. His shell was redded faint. We thank you for your dinner, Hetman. He sat in a weak voice. I will come to you to dinner tomorrow, Kysiel, Anset Khmelnytsky, and now go. Donets will conduct you with his soldiers into your house, that the blacks may not do you any harm. The commissioners bowed and went out. Donets was awaiting them on the outside with his soldiers. Oh, God, God, God! whispered Kysiel to himself, covering his face with his hands. They proceeded slowly to the commissioners' houses. It turned out, however, that these were no longer beside each other. Khmelnytsky had intentionally placed each one in a different quarter of the town, that they might not meet and consult so easily. The Vojevoda Kysiel, wary, exhausted, hardly able to stand on his feet, at once retired, and would see no one until the next day. Only towards evening he sent for Skratusky. What have you done? He said to him, what have you done, sir? Your life and ours are at stake. Ilastry's Vojevoda mea culpa, answered the night, but I was beside myself, and I would rather have died a hundred times than have witnessed such things. Khmelnytsky guessed your motive, and I had difficulty in quieting the animal in him and accounting for your act, but he will come to see me today, and will certainly ask for you, so tell him that I had commanded you to lead the soldiers away. From today Bryshotsky will take the command again. He feels better. So much the better. You have too proud an egg for the present times. We have no fault to find with your behavior, except that you are not cautious enough. But we know that you are young, and have a sorrow, that you can hardly bear. I am accustomed to sorrow, Ilastry's Vojevoda, but I cannot endure this grace. Kysiel shuddered slightly, as though someone had touched an open wound. Then he smiled sadly and resignedly, and said, Such words have become my daily bread. At first, when I heard them, I wept bitter tears, but now I can no longer weep. Skratusky's heart was filled with pity at the sight of this venerable man with the face of a martyr, who was passing his latter days in a double pain, that of the body as well as of the soul. Ilastry's Vojevoda, he said, God is my witness that I was thinking only of the present dreadful days, when the crown officials and senators must bend their heads before these vagabonds, for whom the stake should be the only reward. God bless you, for you are young, upright, and I know had no evil intentions. But what you are saying is what the Prince says, and what the army, the nobles, the diet, and half the Commonwealth says, and the whole burden of contempt and hatred falls upon me. Each serves his country as he thinks best, may God judge the good intentions, but as regards Prince Jeremy, he serves his country with his life and his property. And he is covered with fame and sons himself in it, replied the Vojevoda, but what has happened to me? Oh, you said rightly, may God judge a good intention, and grant rest in the grave at least to those who suffer so unspeakably in this life. Skratusky was silent, and Kishel turned his eyes to heaven in silent prayer, and in a few moments spoke again. I am a thorough Russian, bone and blood. The remains of the princes Vyatoldych rest in this land, therefore I love her, and the favoured people who have been nourished at her breast. I saw the injustice on both sides, saw the wild lawlessness of the Zaporosians, but also the unbearable pride of those who sought to crush this wild, warlike people and enslave them. What remained for me to do, for me, a Russian, and at the same time a faithful son and senator of the Commonwealth, I united with those who set Pax Vobiskum, as both my nature and my heart bade me. For among these was the Blessed King, our Father, the Chancellor, the Primate and many others. And I saw that civil war was destruction for both parties. I desired to devote my whole life till the latest breath to securing peace, and even after some blood had been shed, I thought I will be an angel of union. And I went thither and worked, and still work, although in pain, amid tortures, disgrace and desperation, which are more dreadful than anything else. And now, by the love of God, I do not know if your prince took up his sword too soon, or if I came too late with the olive branch, but one thing I know, that my work is in vain, that my strength is leaving me, that I have too late run my gray head against the wall, that I am going to degrade, seeing before me only darkness and destruction. Great God, general destruction! God will send help. Oh, that he might send me a ray of hope before my death, that I may not die with despair in my heart, I would thank him for all my sorrows, for the cross that I have borne my life long, for the fact that the mob desired my death, that I was called a traitor at the diet, for my lost fortune, for the disgrace in which I am living, for all the bitter reward they received from both parties. As he said this, the voyevoda raised his emaciated arms to heaven, and two big tears, possibly the last in life, flowed down his cheeks. Skretuski could stand it no longer, he sank on his knees before the voyevoda, seized his hand and said in a voice trembling with emotion, I am a soldier, and I am going a different road from you, but I honor your service and your sorrow. With these words this nobleman and knight of Vyshnovetsky's army pressed to his lips the hand of this Russian, whom a few months before he had called a traitor as did others, and Kishel laid both hands on his head, and said gently, My son, may God comfort thee, guide and bless thee, as I bless thee. The complicated business of the negotiations began this very day. Mielnitsky came very late, and in a very bad humor to dine with the voyevoda. He announced at once that all that he had said yesterday about the commission at which some tied, and about the setting free of the prisoners at the time of the negotiations, had been said while he was drunk, and that he saw now that people must have been trying to make a fool of him. Kishel again hubered and quieted him, allowing him to be in the right, but according to the words of the Chamberlain of Lemberg, Surtyranno fabula dicta. Khmielnitsky threatened the commissioners so rudely that they preferred even the Khmielnitsky of the day before. He struck Panpozowski with his baton, simply because he had not introduced himself to him soon enough, although Pozowski was dangerously ill, and then almost dying. Neither kindness nor the persuasions of the voyevoda were of any use, and it was not until he had drunk some gorzauka and some excellent hushed mead that his humour improved. But now he would on no account permit any allusion to the matter in hand, only saying, let us drink, drink, the day after tomorrow we will attend to business. If you do not agree to this, I will go. At three o'clock in the morning he insisted on going into the voyevoda's sleeping-room. The latter opposed this, under all sorts of pretexts, as he had shot Panpozowski in there, for fear that if this unyielding soldier should meet Khmielnitsky, something might happen that would be ruinous to the officer. Khmielnitsky, however, insisted and went into the room, kishel following. How great then was the astonishment of the voyevoda, when the headman, spying the night, nodded to him and cried, Skretowski, why don't you drink with us? He stretched his hands invitingly towards him. Because I am ill, answered the lieutenant, bowing. Why did you ride away yesterday? That spoiled my whole enjoyment. He had orders to do it, said kishel. Do not say a word, voyevoda, I know him, and I know that he did not wish to look on when you were honouring me. Oh, he is a case, but what would not go unpunished in another? I will forgive him, for I love him, he is my dear friend. Kishel's eyes opened wide in astonishment, but the headman turned again to Skretowski. And do you know why I love you? Skretowski shook his head. You think it was because you rescued me from the noose that time at Omelnik, when I was only a poor fellow, and was being hunted like a wild animal, but it is not for that reason. I then gave you a ring, containing some dust from the grave of Christ, but you, horned soul, did not show me the ring when you fell into my hands. Well, I let you go, we were quits. You have done me another service, which has made you, my warm friend, and for which I am indebted to you. Skretowski looked up in astonishment at Chmielnicki. See how astonished they look, said the headman, as if he were talking to a third person. I will tell you what I heard in Chagrin, when I came there from Bazavluk, with Tuhai Bay. I inquired everywhere for my enemy Chablinski, whom I could not find, but they told me what you did to him after our first meeting, that you had taken him by the neck and the seat of his trousers, and had banked him up against the door, and had thrashed him like a dog until he bled. This is true, I did so, said Skretowski. Oh, that was good, that was good, you did well, but I will find him yet. What are the negotiations and commissions for otherwise? I will find him and will settle with him in my own way, but you gave him pepper. Then he turned to Kiechel and told the story again. He took him by the coat collar and by the seat of his trousers, and lifted him up, as if he were a little fox, pushed the door open with him, and threw him into the street. Here Chmielnicki began to laugh, so that the echo resounded in the parlor, and was heard in the dining room. Sir Voyevoda sent for some meat, I must drink to the health of this night, my friend. Kiechel opened the door and called to a servant, who immediately brought three goblets filled with hushed meat. Chmielnicki clinked glasses with the Voyevoda, and with Skretowski, and drank until his head steamed, and his face brightened with a smile. He became very jovial, and, turning to the lieutenant, said, demand what you will. Skretowski's pale face flushed a bright red, but no one spoke. Fear nothing, said Chmielnicki, my words are not smoke, demand what you will, not about anything about Kiechel's business. Although he was drunk, Chmielnicki always knew what he was doing. If I may be allowed to benefit by the interest which you, headman, have taken in me, I demand justice from you, one of your colonels has done me a wrong. I will cut his throat, interrupted Chmielnicki angrily. I do not care for that, let him only fight a duel with me. I will cut his throat, repeated the headman, who is he? Bohun. Chmielnicki's eyes flushed, and he struck his hand to his forehead. Bohun, said he, Bohun is dead, the king wrote me that he fell in a duel. Skretowski was astonished, the guava then had spoken the truth. And what has he done to you? asked Chmielnicki. Skretowski's face flashed a deeper red. He dreaded to mention the princess before this half-drunken headman, lest he should hear some unpardonable insult. Kiechel helped him out. It is a serious matter, about which the Kastel and Drosovsky told me. Bohun has stolen this night's betrothed headman, and has hidden her no one knows where. Are you looking for her? asked Chmielnicki. I looked for her along the Dniester, because he has hidden her there, but I could not find her. I heard, however, that he was going to take her to Kiev for the wedding. Give me the commission, headman, to go to Kiev and look for her there. I ask nothing further. You are my friend. You have beaten Chmielnicki. I give you not only the right to go and seek her there, wherever it pleases you, but I command that whosoever is detaining her shall deliver her into your hands, and I will give you a safe conduct and a letter to the Metropolitan that he may search for her in the Nanneries. My word is not a smoke. And he opened the door and called Vihovsky to come and write the order and the letter. Czarnota, although it was four o'clock in the morning, was obliged to go and fetch the C.U. Dzhedział brought the safe conduct, and Donetsz received orders to accompany Skretuski to Kiev, with two hundred horsemen, and as far as the first Polish settlement. The following day Skretuski left Pereslaw. End of Book 3, Chapter 18. Book 3, Chapter 19 of With Fire and Sword This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Piotr Natar. With Fire and Sword by Henrik Sienkiewicz, translated by Samuel A. Binion. Book 3, Chapter 19. If Zagłoba found time hang heavy on his hands in Zbarasz, it was still more tedious for Woliowski who longed for war and adventure. It happened, indeed, that from time to time certain regiments left Zbarasz to drive away the swarms of free-booters who were setting fire along the banks of this brooch. But this was not regular war, only little expeditions which the cold weather and the severe winter made it difficult, and which caused great labour but brought in little honour. Consequently Pan Michael daily urged Zagłoba to hasten to the assistance of Skretuski, of whom they had heard nothing for some time. He has certainly been exposed to dangers yonder, and has perhaps already lost his life, said Woliowski. We must set out at once, even though we should lose our lives with him. Zagłoba resisted no longer, for he felt as though he should die of ennui in Zbarasz and was astonished that mushrooms had not already begun to sprout all over him, but he delayed the journey in the hope that at any moment they might receive news of Skretuski. He is brave but very cautious, he replied to Woliowski's entreaties, let us wait a couple of days longer, perhaps a letter may come and prove that our expedition is quite unnecessary. Woliowski recognised the justice of this argument and tried to possess his sole impatience, but the time seemed to creep along. Towards the end of December the cult prevented even skirmishes and the neighbourhood became peaceful. The only interest they had was the news which penetrated the grey walls of Zbarasz from the outside. They discussed the coronation and the diet, and whether Prince Jeremy would be made commander-in-chief, as he certainly deserved to be, in preference to any other warrior. Many were annoyed with those who maintained that the present direction of things, in favour of negotiations with Chmielnicki, Kisiel alone could be promoted. Woliowski had to fight several duels on this account, Zagłowa, to undertake several drinking bouts, and there was even danger of his becoming a confirmed drunkard, as not satisfied with drinking among the officers and noblemen, he was not ashamed to drink even in the citizens' drinking shops and to go to baptisms and weddings in their houses, where the mead, for which Zbarasz was noted, pleased him exceedingly well. Woliowski took him to task and said it was particularly unbecoming for a noblemen to put himself on a familiar footing with persons in such low position, and that the whole nobility suffered through his want of self-respect. Zagłowa answered that the laws were at fault in allowing the lower classes to thrive and to attain to comforts that were properly fit only for the nobility. He prophesied that no good could come of such prerogatives, but he continued to act as here to fore, and, really, one could hardly blame him in those dreary winter days, full of expectation, uncertainty, and unwee. The regiments of the Prince came gradually in greater numbers to Zbarasz, which led people to expect war in the spring. Meanwhile, everyone's courage seemed to rise. Among others, Pan Longing arrived to Skretuski-Skusar Regiment. He brought word that the Prince had fallen into disfavor at court, and also told that Pan Janusz Tyszkiewicz, the Wojewodówki, was dead, the man who, according to general opinion, was to be Kisiel's successful in office, and, last of all, he told of the severe illness which had overtaken Panłasz, the field commander in Kraków. As for the war, Pan Podbipięta had heard from the Prince himself that it could only be continued through the force of inevitable necessity, as the commissioners, provided with instructions to make all possible concessions to the Cossacks, had already set out to Sichmielnicki. Podbipięta's report was received with regular fury by Wyszniowiecki's officers, and Zagłoba proposed that they should enter a protest at court, and should form a confederation, for, as he said, he did not wish to see his services at Konstantinów made of no account. Amid these stories and uncertainty, the whole of February passed, and almost the half of March, and yet no news came of Skretuski. Wodowski insisted more and more that they should set out. We are bound to seek not only the Princess, but also Skretuski, said he. And yet Zagłoba was right in deferring their journey from day to day, for, towards the end of March, the Cossack Zakar arrived, and brought a letter from Kiev addressed to Panłodowski. Panłajkel at once called Zagłoba, and, after they had shut themselves up with the messenger in a room apart, he broke the seal and read as follows. All along the Dniester, as far as Yahorlik, I found no trace. Thinking that she might be hidden in Kiev, I joined the commissioners and went with them to Peresow. Having, quite unexpectedly, received a safe conduct from Chmielnicki, I went to Kiev and looked everywhere, assisted by the Metropolitan himself. There are a number of our men here, among the residents, and hidden in the cloisters, but for fear of the blacks they do not let themselves be seen, and consequently it makes it more difficult to look for anyone. God has not only guided and protected me, but he has given me favor in Chmielnicki's eyes, and therefore I trust that he will continue to help me and have mercy on me. I have requested Father Muchowiecki to perform a solemn votive mass, at which I hope you will pray for my success. Skrzetuski. Praised be God everlasting, cried Wołodowski. There is a post-script, said Zagwaba, who was looking over the knight's shoulder. So there is, said Pan Michael, continuing to read. The bearer of this letter, the sergeant of the Mirogrodkamp, served me faithfully when I was imprisoned in Siege, and has helped me also in Kiev, and he undertakes to deliver this letter to you at the peril of his life. Take him under your protection, Pan Michael, and see that he wants for nothing. Come, that is a brave Cossack, perhaps the only one. said Zagwaba, reaching his hand out to Zakhar. The old man shook it without servility. You can count surely upon a reward, said little knight. He is a falcon, answered the Cossack, how I love him. I did not do it for money. Many a nobleman would be proud of your sense of chivalry, said Zagwaba, so you are not all beasts over there, not all of you, but never mind that, so Pan Skrzetuski is in Kiev. Yes, sir, and in safety, for I hear the blacks are carousing there. He is staying with Donets the Cornel. Nothing can harm him, for Chmielnitsky, our little father, had commanded Donets to watch over him at peril of his life, as the eye in his head. Wonders will never cease. How did Chmielnitsky develop this affection for Skrzetuski? He has loved him for a long time. And did Skrzetuski tell you what he was looking for in Kiev? Why should he not tell me when he knew that I was his friend? I helped him to search, or I searched alone, and of course he had to tell me what I was to look for. And have you found no trace yet? None. The Poles that are concealed there know nothing of each other. So it is not easy to find her. You heard that the blacks were committing murder, but I saw it for myself. They murder not only Poles, but those who conceal the Poles, even monks and nuns. In the convent of St. Nicholas there were twelve Polish women among the nuns. They smoked them out, together with the nuns, and when the poor things ran into the street, they hunted them, and threw them into the Dnieper. Ah, how many of them have been drowned there! Then perhaps she is dead. Perhaps. But no, interrupted Woldiowsky, if Bohun took her there, he certainly put her somewhere in safety. Where would she be safer than in a convent? That is the only place where one would be sure of finding her. Ah, said Zagłoba, do you believe Zakhar that she is dead? I do not know. This is evident that Skrzetuski is in good spirits. Said Zagłoba, God proved him, but he has also comforted him. And you, Zakhar, is it long since you left Kiev? Some time ago, sir, I left Kiev at the time that the commissioners passed through there on their homework journey. A crowd of Poles wanted to escape with them and fled across the snow fields, the steppes, and through the forests to Białogrut, but the Cossacks followed them and slew them. Some were left behind, some were killed, and many were ransomed by Pankisiel, as long as he had a coin left. Ah, the dark souls, so you traveled with the commissioners. I traveled with them as far as Huszcz and from there to Ostruk, and then I came on alone. You are an old acquaintance of Skrzetuski's? I made his acquaintance in Siege, and took care of him when he was wounded, and there I learned to love him as though he were my own child. I am old and have no one to love. Zagłoba called a boy and ordered some mead and meat to be brought, and they set down to supper. Zakhar ate with enjoyment as he was tired and hungry, and he eagerly dipped his gray mustache into the dark liquid. He tasted it, smacked his lips, and said, Excellent mead. It is better than the blood that you drink, said Zagłoba, but I think that as you are a good fellow and love Pankisiel, you will not return to join the insurrection, but will remain with us. You will not suffer. Zakhar raised his head. I have brought the letter, I shall return. I am a Cossack. I will remain with the Cossacks, not fraternize with the Poles. And will you fight against us? That will I. I am a Cossack of Siege. We have chosen Chmielnicki, our little father, as Hetman, and now the king has sent him the button and the standard. There you have it, Pan Michael, said Zagłoba. Did I not tell you that we must protest? From what camp are you? From the Mirogorod camp, but it is not in existence any longer. What happened to it? Panczaniecki schussars destroyed it at Ruta Woda, and I and all who survived are now with Donetsk. Panczaniecki is a brave soldier. He is our prisoner. The commissioners asked for him. And we have also prisoners belonging to you. So it is. In Kiev they say that our best warrior is in captivity with the Poles, although others say that he's dead. Who was it? Oh, the celebrated Ataman Bohun. Bohun received his death warrant in a duel. And who fought him? This night here, Zagłoba answered pointing to Wojdowski. Zakar's eyes almost started out of his head and his face became crimson. He was about to put the second quart of meat to his mouth, but it splattered through his nose as he broke into a loud laugh. This night killed Bohun? He asked, choking with laughter. What the devil? cried Wojdowski, frowning. This messenger takes too much upon himself. Do not be angry, Pan Michael, interrupted Zagłoba. It is a good man, it is evident. He does not know how to flatter, but then he is a cossack. And on the other hand it does you all the more honor that, in spite of your small stature, you have already carried off so many victories. You have a puny body, but a mighty soul. Do you know that I myself looked at you after the duel, although I had seen you fight with my own eyes, for it seemed impossible that such a light fellow? Enough of that, Groll Wojdowski. I am not your father. You need not bear me any malice, but I tell you one thing, that I wish I had such a son, and that if you wish it, I will adopt you, will leave you my whole fortune, for it is no disgrace to have a great soul in little body. The prince himself is no much taller than you, yet Alexander of Macedon is not worthy to be his squire. But what makes me angry is that one see no results in Skraduski's letter, said Wojdowski already pacified. Thank God that he did not lose his own life on the banks of the Dniester. But up to this he has not yet found the princess, and who can vouch that he will find her? That is true, but as God through our hands has freed him from Bohun, and has led him safely through so many dangers and accidents, has filled Kmyonitsky's stony heart with an extraordinary love for him, it cannot be that he should be finally consumed by torture and sorrow. If you do not see the hand of Providence in all this, pan Michael, your intelligence is blunter than your sword, but it is a fact that a man cannot possess all the virtues at the same time. I see only one thing, said Wojdowski tugging at his moustache, that there is nothing for us to do over there, and that we must continue to remain here until we are completely dried up. I shall dry up sooner than you, for I am older than you, and it is well known that a turnip shrinks, and bacon becomes rusty from old age. Let us thank God that all our cares seem to be coming to a happy termination. I have worried not a little about the princess, more than you at any rate, and not less than Skretusky, for she is my little daughter, and I could not love my own child as well as I do her. They even say that we are as alike as two goblets, but I love her in any case, and you would not see me as happy or peaceful as I am, if I were not confident that her misery will shortly come to an end. Tomorrow I will begin to compose an epitalamium, for I write beautiful poetry, and have only lately slighted a poll for Mars. What have we to do with Mars? answered Wojdowski. May the devil take the traitor Kieszel with all the commissioners and their negotiations. There will be peace in the spring, as sure as two and two are four. Pan Podbipienta, who has spoken to the prince, says the same thing. Pan Longin understands as much about public affairs as a goat does about pepper. He dangled at the court after that crested lark, more than he did anything else, and stood sentry over her like a setter before a cove of partridges. God grant that someone else may snatch her away from him, but that is of no consequence. I do not deny that Kieszel is a traitor, the whole Commonwealth knows that well enough, but as regards the negotiations, I think that old witch prophesies equivocally. Here Zakoba turns to the Cossack. And what do your people say, Zakhar? Is it war or peace? There will be peace until the new grass grows, and in spring it will be death and destruction, either to us or to the pose. Be comforted, Pan Michael, I heard that the blacks were arming everywhere. That will be such a war as has never yet been seen, said Zakhar. They say with us that the Turkish sultan is coming, and the Khan with all his hordes, and that our friend Tuchai Bey is near the border, and has never been home. Take comfort, Pan Michael, repeated Zakoba. There is a prophecy of a new king, whose whole reign will be filled with bloodshed, so it is probable that it will be a long time before we can sheath our swords. We shall be worn out from constant war, as a broom is by constant sweeping, but that is the lot of a soldier. When we begin to fight again, keep near me, Pan Michael, and he will see glorious deeds, and learn how we thought in former, better times. My God, people are no longer what they used to be. You yourself are not, Pan Michael, although you are a fierce soldier, and killed Bahun. You are right, sir, since, Zakhar, there are no such men as there used to be. And he looked at Vodyovsky searchingly, and shook his head. But that this knight should have killed Bahun? No, no, I cannot believe it. End of Book 3, Chapter 19 Book 3, Chapter 20 of With Fire and Sword, A Tale of the Past This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, recording by Piotr Natter. With Fire and Sword, by Henrik Shenkevich, translated by Samuel A. Binion, Book 3, Chapter 20 Old Zakhar returned to Kiev after resting for a few days, and, during this time, news was received that the commissioners had returned home without any great hope of peace. Indeed, they almost despaired of it. They had only succeeded in arranging a truce to last till the Russian with Suntide, and then a new commission would undertake to conclude negotiations with the whole army at their back. Chmielnitsky's conditions and demands were so mountain-like that no one believed that the Commonwealth would accept them. Consequently, both sides made preparations for arming themselves completely. Chmielnitsky sent one envoy after another to the Khan, requesting him to come to him with all his forces. He sent also to Stamble, where Pan Bielczynski had been staying for some time as an envoy from the King. In the Commonwealth, a call for a general arming was expected at any moment. News was received of the appointment of the new leaders, Ostroruk, Lanskoroński and Firle, and of the absolute retirement of Prince Jeremiy Wysniowiecki from all military affairs. He could henceforth only protect the mother country with the assistance of his own troops. Not the prince's soldiers alone, not only the nobility of Russia, but even the supporters of the former commanders were indignant at this selection and slight. For they decided, justly, that if Wysniowiecki's sacrifice had received recognition, as long as there was a hope of negotiating, his retirement in the event of war would have been an unpardonable mistake, as he alone was competent to measure his strength with Chmielnitsky and to conquer the celebrated rebel leader. Finally, the prince himself came to Zbarasz in order to collect as many troops as possible and to stand prepared for war. A truce had been concluded, but appeared futile from moment to moment. Chmielnitsky, indeed, beheaded several officers here and there when, in spite of the truce, they attacked castles and troops, but he was powerless against the countless crowds of wandering blacks and marauders, who either knew nothing of the truce, or did not wish to know, or were perhaps ignorant of the very meaning of the word. These flocked unceasingly into the territory that was protected by the truce, and thus set at naught all Chmielnitsky's promises. On the other hand, private regiments and border soldierry in pursuit of the robbers frequently crossed the Pripec and Horin into the Kiev territory, and in their zeal hunted them into the territory of the province of Bratswaf, and there, while resisting Cossak attacks, fought regular battles which were carried on frequently with great energy and loss of life. Consequently, incessant disputes arose between the Poles and Cossaks on account of breach of faith, which no one in fact had the power to prevent. The truce existed therefore only in so far as Chmielnitsky himself on the one side, and the king and the hetmans on the other, did not take the field. But war had actually begun before the authorities had engaged, and the first warm beams of the spring sun lighted up as formerly, burning villages, towns and castles, and shone on slaughter and human misery. Whole bands of rebels came from Bar, Chmielnik and Makufka, burning, plundering and killing, close under the walls of Zbarash. These were cut down by Chmielnitsky's officers by his orders, though he himself took no part in the petty battles, but was ready to move with his whole force into the field, as soon as the Hetmans should do so. He therefore sent out companies with orders to avenge blood with blood, and robbery and murder with the stake. Among others, Longin started out and fought at Charne Ostruf, but he was only a night terrible in battle. With the prisoners he was so gentle that they did not send him out any more. Volodyovsky especially distinguished himself in these expeditions as a fighter, and perhaps had his equal only in Vierschul. No one understood how to surprise the enemy with such lightning speed. No one could creep up so unperceived behind them, and scatter them to the forewinds in a total rout, make prisoners, kill or hang them up. In short he struck terror all around, and won the favor of the prince. From the end of March to the middle of April, Volodyovsky destroyed seven bands of free-butters. Each of them was three times as powerful as his own force. He never ceased fighting, and became more greedy for war, as though the sight of bloodshed gave him new energy. The little knight, or rather the little devil, never ceased urging Zagwaba to accompany him on these expeditions, for he enjoyed his society above all things. But the more sedate noblemen withstood all his inducements, and excused his inaction in the following manner. I have too big a belly for these shocks and violent exertions, but Michael, and, besides, one man cannot do everything. To hue my way with the hussars among the close ranks of the enemy in the broad daylight, to destroy camps, to conquer flags, this is my line, this is what God created and fitted me for. But nightly hunts among the bushes for ragamuffins I leave to you, for you are as slippery as an eel, and can get through anywhere. I am a knight of the old days, and would rather tear my prey like the lion, than to look for it behind the bushes like a pointer. And besides, I have to go to sleep immediately after supper, this is my time to retire. Pambodiyovsky rode off alone, and conquered alone, until one day, after setting out towards the end of April, he returned about the middle of May, sad and troubled, as though he suffered a defeat and lost his men. So it appeared to all, but this was a mistaken surmise. On the contrary, Pambodiyovsky had penetrated during this long and difficult expedition, as far as Khavovni, beyond Ostruk, and had found there not an ordinary band of blacks, but several hundred Zaporozhians, about half of whom he cut down, and took the others prisoners. Consequently, this deep sadness which covered his naturally joyous face like a cloud, was the more remarkable. Many wished to know the cause of it at once, but Pambodiyovsky said not a word, but went the instant he dismounted to a long interview with the prince, accompanied by two unknown knights. And after that betook himself to Zagoba with the utmost haste, although several inquisitive friends tried to hold him back by the sleeve. Zagoba looked with a certain astonishment at the two gigantic men whom he had never seen before. The gold stripe on whose shoulders showed that they belonged to the Lithuanian army. Volodiyovsky said, however, fastened the door, sir, and let no one in, for we have way too many matters to talk over. Zagoba gave his servant the order, then looked uneasily at the new arrivals, judging from their manner that they had nothing good to tell. These, said Volodiyovsky, pointing to the youths, are the princes Buhov Kurcevich, Yur and Andrei. Helena's cousins, cried Zagoba. The princes bowed and answered at the same moment. The cousins of the deceased Helena. Zagoba's red face turned as pale as the sky. He threw up his hands as though a bullet had struck him. And, with gasping breath and glaring eyes, said, or rather moaned, what do they say? We have news that the princess was killed in the convent of St. Nicholas, said Volodiyovsky sadly. The blacks smoked out twelve young ladies and several nuns in one cell, and their cousin was among these, added Yur. Zagoba answered nothing this time, but his face, just now so pale, became so flushed that his friends feared a stroke of apoplexy. Then his eyelids gradually drooped, and he covered his eyes with both hands, while from his lips came a groan once more. Oh, what a world! What a world! Then he was silent. And the princes and Volodiyovsky began to mourn. We have gathered relations and friends together to rescue thee, sweetest maid, said the little knight, over and over again, amid his size. But we came too late with our assistance. Our good intentions, our courage, our sword are in vain, for thou dwellest now in another, better world than this, in the train of the Queen of Heaven. Sister, cried the gigantic Yur, who sorrow ceased him afresh, forgive us our fault, and we will, for every drop of thy blood, shed a pale of the enemy's blood. And may God help us, added Andrey. Both men raised their arms to heaven. Zagoba rose from the stool on which he was sitting, went out a few steps towards the bed, staggered as though he were drunk and fell on his knees before the crucifix. Presently the castle bells chimed midday. They sounded as mournful as though they were tolling for a funeral. She is no more, said Volodiyovsky again. The angels have taken her to heaven, and left us only sighs and tears. Zagoba's stout body was shaken with sobs, while the others kept on mourning. The bells continued ringing. After a while Zagoba became calmer, and they thought he had even fallen asleep on his knees. It was not very long before he raised himself from the ground and sat on the edge of his bed. He was like another man, with his bloodshot eyes and sunken head. His underlip hung down on his chin, and on his pellet face was an expression of bewilderment and decrepitude unusual to him, so that it really appeared as though the jovial, lively and effervescent Zagoba had died, and left in his place an old man, bowed with age and weakness. Presently Panlongin stepped into the room, in spite of the protests of the servant who was watching the door, and the mones and the sorrow began afresh. Viltwenian recollected Roswoga and his first meeting with the princess, her sweetness, her youth and beauty. But presently it occurred to him that there was someone who was far more unhappy than any of them, and that was her betrothed, Panskretusky, and he began at once to ask the little knight about him. Panskretusky remained with Prince Kolecky in Korets, whether he came from Kiev, and he is lying ill and unconscious, said Vovolyovsky. And must we not go to him? asked Dlitwenian. We should do no good there, answered Vovolyovsky. The prince's physician promised that he will get well, and Panskretusky, one of Prince Dominic's officers, and a great friend of Panskretusky's is there, and also our old Zadsfilkovsky, and they are both nursing him. He lacks nothing, and it is all the better for him that he is delirious. Oh, almighty God, said Dlitwenian, did you see Panskretusky with your own eyes? I saw him, but if they had not told me who it was, I should have never recognized him. Pain and sickness have so changed him. And did he recognize you? Yes, indeed, he recognized me, although he said nothing, but he smiled and nodded his head, and it made me so sad that I could not stay any longer. Prince Koretsky is coming here with his regiment to Zbarash, and Zadsfilkovsky is coming with him, and Panskretusky swears that he will also go with them, even though he should receive contrary orders from Prince Dominic. They want to bring Skretusky here also, if he can survive the journey. Whence did they get the news of the princess's death? Asked Panlonging. Have these knights brought it perhaps? He added pointing to the princess. No, these knights learned it accidentally in Korets, whether they had gone from Vilna with messages from the Vojevoda, and now they have come here with me, because they have letters from the Vojevoda to our prince. War is certain. The commission of inquiry will have no results. We knew that also. But tell me, sir, who told you about the death of the princess? Zadsfilkovsky told me, and he heard it from Skretusky. Chvielnitsky had given Skretusky permission to search for her in Kiev with the assistance of the Metropolitan. They sought her chiefly in the nunneries. For all of our people who remained in Kiev concealed themselves there. They thought also that Bohun had placed the princess in a convent. They searched and searched, and were quite cheerful, although they knew that the blacks had burned out 12 young girls in the convent of the Good St. Nicholas. The Metropolitan himself was confident that no one would dare touch Bohun's beloved until events proved otherwise. Then she was in the convent of the Good St. Nicholas. Yes, Skretusky found in one convent Panayaki-Mayelicha concealed, and as he asked everyone about the princess, he also asked her. She told him that all the maidens had been carried away by the Cossacks, and 12 only had remained in the convent of St. Nicholas, which was afterwards burned. Princess Kurcevich must have been among these. Skretusky did not believe her at first, as she was a refugee and was half crazy from terror, so he went once more into the convent of the Good Nicholas to seek her. Unfortunately the nuns, three of whom had been suffocated, did not know her name. But when they heard the description of Skretusky's princess, they said that such a one had been there. Skretusky at once left Kiev and fell ill. I am astonished that he is still alive. He certainly would have died had it not been for that old Cossack, who took care of him during his imprisonment in Siege, and who brought us the letter from him, and on his return again helped him to search. This man had him taken to Korrets and delivered him to Panzatzfilikovsky. May God preserve him for he will never become forted, said Longin. Volodyovsky was silent, and no one uttered a word. The princess said with their elbows on the table, with throwning foreheads, and perfectly motionless. Longin raised his eyes heavenward. Zagvoba fixed his glassy eye upon the opposite wall, as though he were sunk in deep thought. Wake up, sir, said Volodyovsky presently, shaking him by the shoulder. What are you thinking of? You cannot think up anything more, and all your inventions lead to nothing. I know that, answered Zagvoba in a broken voice. I am only thinking that I am old and no longer of any use in this world. End of Chapter 21 Book 3, Chapter 21 of With Fire and Sword This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Piotr Natar With Fire and Sword by Hendrik Sienkevich Translated by Samuel A. Binion Book 3, Chapter 21 Only things, sir, said Volodyovsky to Longin a few days later, that this man changed so in one hour, that he seemed to be twenty years older. He was so joyous, so chatty and full of life, that Ulysses himself could hardly compare with him. Today he hardly opens his mouth, but broods all day long, complaining about his age and talking as if he were in a dream. I knew that he loved her, but I did not dream that he was so fond of her. It is not to be wondered at, answered Lituanian, heaving a sigh. He loves her all the way more because he rescued her from Bahun's hands and experienced so many dangers and adventures during his flight with her. Therefore, so long as there was hope, he kept up and exerted his ingenuity to save her. Now that there is actually nothing more for him to do in this world, he feels lonely. His heart has no object to which it can cling. I have already tried to get him to drink with me, in the hope that drink might restore his former vigor, but that is no good. He drinks indeed, but does not think as he did formerly, never tells of his deeds but becomes maudlin. His head sinks on his breast, and he falls asleep. I do not know if Pankratuski is any more desperate than he is. As they conversed thus, they went to Zagloba's quarter, where they saw him sitting at the open window with his head leaning on his hand. It was late, everything was still in the castle. The sad threes alone called one another in drawing tones, and in the bushes which separated the castle from the town, the nightingales filling the night with melodies singing, sighing, and thrilling, in such quick succession that it was almost like a spring shower. Through the open window the warm breath of May entered the room, and the bright moonlight shown on Zagloba's troubled face and bowed head. Good evening, sir, said the two knights. Good evening, answered Zagloba. What are you thinking of here at the window instead of going to sleep? Ask Volodyovsky. Zagloba sighed. I am not sleepy, he said slowly. It is just a year since I fled from Bohun with her to the Kahamlik, and these same little birds were thrilling then just as they are now, and where is she now? God had ordained it so. Said Volodyovsky. Only tears and sorrow, Pan Michael, there is no longer any consolation for me. They were silent, only the song of the nightingales, which filled the beautiful night came ever more clearly through the open window. Oh, God! God! sighed Zagloba, just as it was at Kahamlik. Pan Longin shook a tear off his fair moustache, and the little knight said after a pause, Hey, do you know what, sir? Leave sorrow to its sorrow. Drink with us a cup of mead, for there is nothing better as a remedy for care. We will think of better times over our glasses. Let us drink, said Zagloba resignedly. Volodyovsky ordered the servant to bring a candle and a flask of mead, and as he knew that the sight of the latter was enough to enliven Zagloba, he asked. Then it is a year now, since you fled with the poor little one from Bohun in Roswoga. It was in May. In May, answered Zagloba, we passed through Kahamlik to fly to Zvotonosha. Oh, how sad life is! And she was disguised? As a cossack, I had to cut off the poor girl's hair with my sword to complete the disguise. I know the very spot where I hid her tresses under a tree along with my sword. She was a sweet lady, said Longin sighing. I tell you that I loved her from the first day as though I had brought her up, and she only folded her little hands and thanked me for rescuing and protecting her. I wish they had cut me to pieces rather than I had lived to see this day. I wish I were dead. Again there was a silence. The three nights drank their mead mingled with tears, and then Zagloba continued. I thought to pass a peaceful old age near her, and now he let his hands fall helplessly. Where is their comfort but in the grave? But before Zagloba had finished the last words, they heard a noise in the hall. Someone was trying to get in, and the servant held him back. A loud argument arose, and it seemed to Wojdowski as though he recognized a well-known voice, and he called to the servant not to deny entrance. The door was opened, and in the doorway appeared the puffy, cheek-red face of Rzhenzian, who let his eyes wander over these presents, bowed himself and said, Praised be Jesus Christ! Forever and ever, answered Wojdowski, you are Rzhenzian? That is my name, said the boy, and I fall at your feet, sir. Where is my master? Your master is lying very ill in correts. Oh, for God's sake, what are you saying, gracious sir? And is he very sick? My God preserve him. He was very sick, but now is better. The doctor says he will get well. For I have come with news to my master about the young lady. The little knight shook his head sadly. You hear it here for nothing, for Skrzetuski knows about her death already, and we have been shedding burning tears on her account. Rzhenzian's eyes nearly started from his head. Help, help, what do I hear? The young lady is dead. She did not die, but was murdered in Kiev. In what Kiev? What are you saying, good sir? In what Kiev? As if you didn't know Kiev. In God's name, gracious sir, you are joking. What should she be doing in Kiev when she was in a ravine near the Valdinka, not far from Raskov? The witch had orders not to let her move one step from the ravine until the Bohoms return, as true as God lives. This is enough to drive one crazy. What kind of witch what are you talking about? Well, Hortyna, I know the Virago. Zagvoba suddenly sprang to his feet and beat the earth frantically with his hands, like one who is trying to save himself from drowning. By the living God be silent, he said to Vodiovsky, by God's wounds let me question him. Those present were frightened, for Zagvoba was deathly pale. His forehead was covered with sweat. He jumped over the bench towards Rengian, and, seizing the boy by the shoulders, asked in a hoarse voice, who told you that she was concealed near Raskov? None other than Bohun. Boy, you are crazy! Pilaut Zagvoba shaking him like a pear tree. What Bohun? For God's sake, why are you shaking me so gracious, sir? Cried Rengian, let me alone, let me collect myself, otherwise you will turn my head. What Bohun? Does the gracious man not know him then? Speak or I will stab you, cried Zagvoba again. Where did you see Bohun? In Vodava, what do you gentlemen want of me? Cried the terrified boy. Am I then a murderer? Zagvoba was almost beside himself. He gasped for breath and sank, panting on the bench. But Michael ran to his assistance. When did you see Bohun? He asked the boy, three weeks ago. Then he's alive? Why should he not be alive? He told me himself how the gracious man had wounded him, but he managed to get over it. And he told you that the young lady was near Raskov? Who else would have told me? Listen, Rengian, it's a question here of the life of your master and of the young lady. Did Bohun tell you himself that she was not in Kiev? No, gracious sir. No, gracious sir. How could she be in Kiev when he had concealed her near Raskov and forbidden her pina on pain of death to let her escape, and given me his ring and a safe conduct that I might write to where she is, for his wounds had opened afresh, and he is obliged to lie still, for I do not how long. Rengian's further speech was interrupted by Zagvoba, who sprang up again and, seizing with both hands the few remaining hairs on his head, began to scream like a madman. My little daughter is alive. By God's wounds she lives. It was not she who was killed in Kiev. She lives. She lives, my beloved. And the old man stamped his feet, laughed, sobbed, and finally seized Rengian's head and pressed it to his breast, and kissed him so hard that the boy almost lost his head. Let me be good, sir. I am almost choked. Of course she lives. If God is willing, we can go together to fetch her. Please, sir. Oh, that hurts good, sir. Let him go, sir. Let him explain. We cannot understand everything, said Volodyovsky. Speak, speak, cried Zagvoba. Tell us all from the beginning, little brother, said Longin, on whose moustache was a heavy dew. Allow me, sirs, to get my breath first and to shut the window, for those nightingales are singing so in the bushes that one cannot understand a single word. Mead, cried Volodyovsky to the servant. Rengian, with the deliberation peculiar to himself, shut the window, then turning to those present. He said, Will the gentleman allow me to sit down for I'm tired? Sit down, said Volodyovsky, pouring him out a glass of mead from the bottle which the servant had just brought in. Drink with us, for you have deserved it for your news, but tell us quickly. This is good mead, said the boy holding the glass to the light. May you be cut to pieces, will you talk? Scalded Zagvoba. Ah, the gracious pun gets angry so quickly, I will talk if the gentleman desire it for my business is to obey. That is why I serve, but I see already that I must begin from the beginning and tell everything exactly. Begin at the beginning. You remember, gentlemen, that when the news came of the taking of bar, we thought it was all up with the young lady. At that time I returned to Renzhany to my parents and to my grandfather, who is already, let's see, ninety, no, ninety-one years old. Nine hundred as far as I'm concerned, grumbled Zagvoba. God grant that he may live as long as possible. I thank the kind gentleman for his good word, answered Renzhanyan. Well, I went home to take my parents when I had, by God's help, collected among the Banditi. For the gentleman must know that the Cossack had kept me in Shigrein the year before, for they took me for one of themselves, and I nursed the wounded bohun while there, and became very confidential with him, and from those robbers I got some silver and a few jewels. We know, we know, said Volodyovsky. Well, I came to my parents, who were very glad to see me, and could not believe their eyes when I showed them all I had collected. I had to swear to my grandfather that I had gained it all honestly. At first they were particularly delighted, for the gentleman must know they have a lawsuit with Diavorsky on account of a pear tree, half of whose branches stretch over on Diavorsky land, and half on ours. So, when Diavorsky shake the tree, our pears also fall off, and some fall on the boundary line. They say that those on the boundary line belong to them, and we do not make me angry, fellow, said Zagloba, and talk of nothing but what concerns this affair. First, with your permission, good sir, I am no fellow but a nobleman with a coat of arms, although I am poor, to which Volodyovsky and Panlongin as friends of Pamskretusky can testify, and secondly the lawsuit has been going on for fifty years. Zagloba closed his teeth tightly and undertook not to speak another word. Well, my little fish, said Longin sweetly, but you must tell us about Bohum, not about pears. About Bohum? said Rzhanjian. Well then, about Bohum, well Bohum thinks, sir, that he has no more faithful friend and servant than myself, although he almost cut me through the body in Czechryny. But I really watched and nursed him after the Princess Kurcevich had wounded him so badly. I lied to him then, and said that I was sick of serving nobleman, and would rather be with the Cossacks, because there was more to be gained with them. And he believed me. Why should he not believe me when I cured him? He grew very fond of me, and to tell the truth he rewarded me generously, but without knowing, of course, that I had made a vow to avenge myself for the insult I had received in Czechryny. The only reason I did not kill him for that was, that it did not seem fitting for a nobleman to stab a sick enemy in his bed as though he were a pig. Well, well, said Lodiavsky, we know all about that, but how did you come across him this time? Well, see here, sir, it was like this. When we had put the thumbscrews on the Jaworsky, they would have to go back, there was no help for it. I thought to myself, well now it is time for me to look for Bohum, and settle with him for what he did to me. I told my parents my secret, and also my grandfather, who, with his sense of chivalry, said to me, if you have sworn to do it, you must go, or you would be a fool. I set out therefore, for I also thought that if I had found Bohum, I might perhaps hear something about the young lady, whether she was alive, and I also thought that if I were to shoot him dead and bring my master the news, I should not go unrewarded. Certainly not, and we will reward you also, said Lodiavsky. And from me, little brother, you will get a horse and a bridle. Add it long in. I thank you humbly, gracious sirs, said the delighted boy. It is true that one generally gives a reward in return for good news, and I never drink up what is given to me. The devil, granted Zagvoba. Well then you rode away from home, added Lodiavsky. Well, I rode away from home, continued Drenjan, and I thought to myself, whether now, why not to zbarash, for Bohum is not far from there, and I could find out about my master. So I rode, good sir. I rode past Biawa and Vodava. When I reached Vodava, the horses were rather tired, and I stopped to feed them. It was fair time there, and all the inns were full of noblemen. I went to the citizens' houses. They were also full of noblemen. Then a Jew told me I could have a room with him, but a wounded noblemen had just taken it. That's just the thing, I said, for I understand bandaging, and your barber surgeon is probably so busy during fair time that he has not time to turn round. The Jew told me that the noblemen attended to himself and would not allow anyone into his room, but he went to ask him. The fellow inside must have been feeling pretty sick, for he let me enter. I stepped into the room and who should I see there lying in bed but Bohum? I crossed myself in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost. I was so dreadfully frightened, and he recognized me at once. And was perfectly delighted to see me, for he thought I was his friend, and he said, God has sent thee to me, now I shall not die. And I said, What brought you here, gracious sir? But he put his finger on his lips, and it was not till later that he told me of his adventure how Chmielnitsky had sent him to his majesty the king in Zamosch, and how Lytan and Wodiowsky had done for him in Lipki. Did he think of me with affection? asked the little knight. I must say, gracious sir, that he spoke very kindly. I thought, said he, that he was scrappings, a mongrel, but he is a fighter of the first class and almost cut me in two. But he speaks worse than ever of Panzagloba. He grinds his teeth with rage to think that Panzagloba dragged him into that fight. The hangman take him, I'm not afraid of him now, said Zagloba. We soon got back to our old confidential footing, continued Rengian, or even more confidential. He told me everything, how near he had come to dying, how they had taken him for a nobleman, and consequently had taken him in at the country house at Lipki, and that he had given his name as Panchulevich from Podolia, how they had cured him, and had treated him with the greatest kindness, and that he had made a vow of gratitude to them till his dying day. And what was he doing in Vodava? He was on his way to Vovinia, but in Patsleva his wounds opened again, for his carriage had overturned. He had to remain behind therefore, although he was very much afraid to do so, as he might be discovered and killed. He told me this himself. I was sent out with letters, he said, but now I have no credentials, only the safe conduct, and if they should discover who I am, not only the nobles would hack me to pieces, but the charming Connell would have me strung up without asking permission. I remember that when he said that to me, I answered, I am glad to know that any arbitrary Connell may string one up, and he asked, why is that? I said, so that I may be careful and not tell anything I know, and I am telling you this for yourself, sir. Then he began to thank me and to assure me of his gratitude, and also that he would not fail to reward me. I have no money just now, he said, but whatever jewels I have shall be yours, and later on I will shower you with gold, but do me one favor. Ah, now we are getting to the princess, said Volodyovsky. You are right, sir, I must tell everything in order. When he told me, then, that he had no money, I lost all compassion for him and thought to myself, wait a while, I will serve you. And he said, I am sick, I have no strength to travel, and a long and dangerous road is ahead of me. If I could only get to Vovinia, and that is not far, I should be with my own people. But yonder along the Dniester I cannot travel, for I am not strong enough, and besides one has to go through the enemy's country, castles, and troops. You go in my place. I asked him, and with her. He answered to the vicinity of Raskov, for she is hidden there with Donets sister, Horpina, the witch. I said, the princess? Yes, he answered, she is concealed, so that no human eye can discover her, but she fares well, and sleeps on gold brocade, like the Princess Vistivetsky. Speak faster, for God's sake, cried Zagloba. What is sudden is of the devil? answered Rzhenzian. Well, when I heard that gracious sirs, I rejoiced greatly, but I did not show it, and said, and is she really there? It must be a long time since you took her there. He began to assure me that Horpina was his faithful wench, and would keep her there, if necessary, ten years, until he should return, and that the Princess was truly there, as true as that God is in heaven, and that neither Poles nor Tartars nor Cossacks could come near her, and that Horpina would obey his commands. As Rzhenzian was telling this, Pan Zagloba shook as with a chill, the little knight nodded his head in satisfaction, and Podbipienta looked up to heaven. It is quite certain that she is there, continued the boy, and the best proof of it is that he sent me to her, but I restrained myself at first, that he might notice nothing, and said, but why should I go there? He answered, because I cannot go. If, he said, I escape with my life from Vodava and reach Voinia, I will have myself carried to Kiev, for our Cossacks are all over that country, and you, he said, ride and command Horpina to drive the Princess dither, and place her in the convent of the Holy Virgin. What, then, she did not go to the convent of St. Nicholas? Broken Zagloba, I said at once that Yerlicia was crazy or was telling a lie. To the convent of the Holy Virgin, repeated Rzhenzian, I will give you this ring, he said, and a safe conduct and the knife, and Horpina will know what that means, for we arranged it, and another proof that you are sent me by God, he said, is that she knows you, and knows that you are my best friend. Go advance to her, and do not fear the Cossacks, but beware of the Tartars. Wherever you hear of any, avoid them, for they do not respect the safe conduct. In a certain spot in the ravine there is money buried, do cuts, take it with you in any case, on the way you can say it is Bohun's wife, and you will want for nothing. Besides, he said, the witch will know what to do as soon as you come from me. For whom I can send unhappy man that I am, whom can I trust in a strange land among enemies? Well, sirs, he begged me amidst the torrent of tears, and finally I allowed the beast to make me swear that I would go. I swore right enough, but added in my mind with my lord. He was quite happy then, and gave me the safe conduct, the ring, and the knife, and all the jewels he had with him. I took them, for I thought they would be safer with me than with a marauder. At parting he told me which ravine it was near the Valadyanka, how I must ride, and in what direction I must turn, all so exactly that I could have found my way there blindfolded, and the gentleman will see that I am speaking the truth, if they, as I think, will set out at once. Directly tomorrow, said Volodyovsky, what, tomorrow? Today by daybreak the horses will be saddled. Joy took possession of all hearts, and was expressed in words of gratitude to heaven, in joyful rubbing of hands, and in ever-fresh questionings of Rędzian, to which Rędzian answered with his accustomed self-possession. May the balls strike you, cried Zagloba, what a servant Skratusky has in you. How so? asked Rędzian. He will cover you with gold. I think that I have deserved something, although I served my master faithfully without any reward. And what did you do with Bohun? asked Volodyovsky. That was just what bothered me gracious sirs, that he was ill again, and I could not stop him, for my master would have scolded me. That is fate. What could I do? See here, when he had already told me everything that I was to say, and had given me what I had to give, I reflected, why, said I to myself, should such a knave who has kept the princess prisoner, and who cut me down in chagrin, be permitted to go free in the world? The hangman take him. It would be better if he were not in the world. And then I thought that he might get well, and ride after me with the Cossacks. But I set out, without reflecting any longer, to find Colonel Rogovsky, who is stationed with the regiment in Vodava, and informed him that this man was Bohun, the worst rebel of all. By this time they must have hanged him. As he said this, Rędzian laughed foolishly, and looked round him as though he expected the others to follow his example, but was much astonished at receiving no response. Not for some minutes, did Zagwaba growl, that is of no consequence. Volodyovsky, however, said quite still, and longing clacked his tongue, shook his head and said finally, that was not a nice thing to do, little brother, as one says, not nice. How so gracious, sir, asked Rędzian in astonishment, would it have been better for me to stop him? That would not have been nice either, not at all, but I do not know if it is not better to be a murderer than a Judas. What are you saying, sir, did Judas betray a rebel? This man is the worst enemy of the king and of the whole Commonwealth. That may be, but all the same it was not nice, and what was the name of the Colonel speak? Rogovsky, they said his first name was Jakob. It is the same, murmured the Lithuanian, Panwashtys relative, Skritusky's enemy. But no one heard this remark for Zagwaba began to speak. Gentlemen, he said, this matter will bear no delay. God, through this boy, has ordained and arranged everything, so that we may seek the princess now, under better conditions than ever. God be praised. Tomorrow we must set out. The prince indeed is not here, but we will undertake the journey without leave, for we have no time to waste. Panwo Wodiovsky will go, and Rędzian and I will accompany him. And you, Panpodbipienta, had better stay here, for your size and your simplicity might betray us. No, brother, I will go, too, said the Lithuanian. For the sake of her safety you must remain here. Whoever has once seen you, never forgets you during his lifetime. We have a safe conduct, it is true, but even with the safe conduct they would not trust you. You killed Pulian before the eyes of the whole rebel mob, and if such a beanpole should appear among them, they would recognize it again. It must not be, you cannot go with us. You will not find your three heads there, and your own head is of no much use. It were better to remain here, than to imperil the undertaking. I am sorry, said the Lithuanian. Sorry or not sorry, you must remain here. If we ever go birdsnesting, we will take you with us, but not now. That does not sound nice. Give me your snout, for my heart is very joyful, but remain here. Only one thing more, sirs, a matter of the greatest importance. Keep the secret, that it may not reach the soldiers, and through them the people. Say not a word to anyone. Bah, and the prince? The prince is not here. And Panskretusky, if he returns? Not a word to him above all. He would immediately follow us. He will have plenty of time for happiness, and God preserve him from a fresh disappointment. He would lose his reason. On your word of honor, gentlemen, not a syllable about this matter. On the word of a knight, said Balvivienta, on our word, on our word. And now let us thank God. Zagwaba first knelt down, the others followed his example, and they prayed long and earnestly. End of chapter 21