 Book 2, Chapter 15 of With Fire and Sword by Henrik Sinkiewicz, translated by Samuel A. Binyon. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. But when the fighters had come closer to one another, they reigned in their horses and began to attack each other with words, "'Come on! Come on! We shall soon feed the dogs on your carry-on,' cried the Prince's soldiers. "'Yours is not good enough for the dogs! You will rot in this fish-pond, contemptible knaves! Whoever is ordained to rot here will do so. The fish will immediately eat you. To the dung-heap with your pitch-forks, peasant fools, they suit you better than the sword does. If we are common peasants, our sons will be nobles, for they will be brought into the world by your daughters.'" Akasik evidently from the Nipur country stepped forward and held his hands to his mouth and cried in a powerful voice. "'The Prince has two nieces! Tell him to send them to Sivonos!' Volodzovsky became almost blind with rage when he heard this insult and he dashed towards the Zaporosians on his horse. Skashtosky recognized him in the distance, from where he stood at the right wing of the Hussars, and cried to Zagloba, "'Look! Look! Volodzovsky is running! Volodzovsky is running! There! There!' "'I see!' cried Zagloba. He has already reached them. Now they are struggling. One! Two! It is all over with them! I see distinctly, oh-ho! That is a fighter! May the devil catch me!' At the second blow the insulting fellow had been struck to the ground like lightning. His head was turned to his own companions as if for an evil omen. A second sprang forward, dressed in a red kontush that he had stolen from a nobleman. He attacked Volodzovsky from the side, but his horse stumbled just at the moment when he was going to strike a blow. Volodzovsky turned towards him and now could be recognized the master. He moved his hand with an easy, hardly perceptible motion, and the sword of the Zaporosian flew into the air. Volodzovsky grabbed him by the neck and dragged him and his horse over alongside his own horse. "'Brother, save me!' cried the prisoner, but the man did not offer any resistance, for he knew that, should he attempt it, he would be pierced by the sword. He put spurs to his horse in order to escape, and so Volodzovsky dragged him off as a wolf might drag a kid. At this site some tens of warriors began the attack on either side. There was hardly room for more men beside the wide moat. They attacked each other in single combat, man struggled with man, horse with horse, sword with sword, and it was a wonderful sight, this row of men in single combat, upon which both armies gazed with eager eyes and prophesied through their success the further consequences of the war. The morning sun lighted up the combatants, and the air was so clear that one could almost distinguish the faces on both sides. In the distance one might have thought it was a tournament or a pastime, but from time to time a corpse fell into the gleaming surface of the water that splashed in golden sparks, and then formed little waves which moved farther and farther away. The courage and eagerness for war increased in both armies when they saw the bravery of their knights. They each sent wishes and good luck to their own side. Suddenly Skyshettovsky clapped his hands so that his gauntlet rang and cried, "'Vyashul is lost! And his horse has fallen! Look! He has fallen to the ground! He was sitting on that white one!' But Vyashul was not lost, although he had fallen, together with his horse, for the giant Pullyan, a former Cossack in Prince Yeremi's army, and today second in command to Chivonos, had overthrown him. He was a renowned skirmisher and always took part in a fight. He was so strong that he could break two horseshoes at once with the greatest ease, and was considered invincible in single combat. After he had overthrown Vyashul, he sprang through the crowd, towards the brave officer Koro Slakisets, and cut him fearfully close to the saddle. The rest drew back frightened. When Longan saw this, he turned his Lithuanian mare towards Pullyan. "'You will find your fate!' cried Pullyan, looking at the venturesome man. "'What is to be done?' said Longan, and raised his sword for the stroke. He, however, had not his cowl-trencher with him, for he had reserved it for a higher purpose than single combat. He had left it in the care of a servant who had remained behind with the rearguard. He had only a slender sword with a bluish blade ornamented with gold tracery. Pullyan stood the first blow, although he saw that he had to deal with a remarkable opponent, and his sword trembled in his hand, but he stood the second and the third stroke. Then, however, whether it was that he recognized the greater ability of his opponent, or that he wished to show off his enormous strength before his friends and his enemies, or whether, being forced to the edge of the ditch, he feared to be pushed into the water by Longan's enormous steed, whatever was the motive after he had received the last blow he closed with his assailant and put his powerful arm around him, and they hugged each other like two bears who are contending for a female. They intertwined like two fir trees growing from a single trunk whose branches blend and form a single tree. Everyone held his breath and looked in silence at the combat of these two warriors, each of whom was considered by his own men to be the more powerful wrestler. They appeared to have been transformed into one man, for they remained for a long time immovable, but their faces grew red, and it was only by the veins which swelled out on their foreheads, and by the bowed backs like bows that one could recognize the enormous superhuman strength of the arms that were holding each other in this iron embrace. Finally, both began to gasp, but gradually Longan's face became redder, and the face of the Cossack leader assumed a blue tint. Only a little while longer, the impatience of the onlookers increased. Finally, a dull, muffled tone broke the silence. Let go! No, little brother! answered the other voice. A moment longer, then there was a horrible rattling, a sigh rose in the air as though it came from beneath the earth. A stream of blood flowed from Pullyan's mouth, and his head fell on his shoulder. Longan lifted him out of the saddle, and before the onlookers had time to reflect on what had happened, he threw him across his own horse and galloped back to his men. Viva! shouted Vishnuovetsky's soldiers. Death to him! answered the Zaporosians. The death of their leader did not throw the Zaporosians into confusion. They attacked their opponents only the more fiercely. Now began the fight between the masses, a fight that was all the more furious on account of the space in which they had to fight, and in spite of their courage the Cossacks would have been at the mercy of the better military training of their opponents if a trumpet blast from Shivonos' camp had not recalled them. They at once returned to their camp. Their opponents remained a moment on the spot in order to show that they were the victors and then returned to their own quarters. The ditch was deserted. There only remained behind dead bodies of men and horses as a prophecy of that which was to happen. This path of death laid dark and gloomy between the two armies. A light wind ruffled the smooth surface of the lake and moaned complainingly through the foliage of the willows which stood here and there along the banks of the lake. Meanwhile Shivonos' regiments advanced like innumerable flocks of crows and ravens. In the first rank were the blacks, then the discipline's Zaporosian infantry, the cavalry, the Tartar volunteers, the Cossack artillery, and all without any special order. One regiment crowded another, they advanced head over heels, for they wished by force of numbers to storm the moat, and then to turn the water into it and drown the prince's army. The wild Shivonos believed in fists and swords, not in the art of war. Therefore he pushed forward with all his might to the attack, and commanded the hindmost regiments to press forward on the others, so that they might be forced to advance, even against their will. The cannon balls hissed and plashed in the water like strange waterfowl, without however doing any harm to the prince's forces, who were stationed at some distance on the other side of the lake in the form of a chessboard. The flood of men streamed across the ditch and went steadily forward. A portion of them had reached the river and sought to find means of crossing it, but as they could not do so, they returned to the dike and were packed so closely that, as Ozinski expressed it later, one could have ridden over their heads, and they covered the whole dike so that not an inch of room was to be seen. Jeremy was looking on from the high bank. He knitted his brows and shot fiery glances at the crowd. When he saw the disorder and the wild crowding of Shivonos's regiments, he said to Colonel Maknitsky, how the peasants go for the enemy, leaving all military art out of consideration. They look as if they were going hunting, but will not catch us. Meanwhile, however, as if to challenge his words, they had reached halfway to the ditch and they halted, astonished and uneasy, at the inaction of the Prince's army. But just at this moment there was a movement in the army, and they drew back and left a broad, empty semi-circle, which was to be the field of battle. Then Koritsky's infantry separated in two divisions and exposed Wurzel's cannon, which was directed towards the ditch, and in the angle formed by the river and the ditch gleamed among the reeds on the bank the muskets of the Germans under Ozynsky. It was at once evident to a soldier upon which side the victory must incline, and only a mad leader of the bands, like Shivonos, would undertake a battle under such circumstances. With all the strength he possessed he could not have forced a passage if Vishnovetsky had desired to hinder him. But the Prince had intentionally resolved to let a portion of his forces cross the ditch in order to surround them and destroy them. The great leader made use of the blindness of his opponent, who seemed to pay no attention to the fact that if his own men wished to fight on the other bank, he would not be able to hasten to their assistance, except across a very narrow path, on which it would be impossible to lead any considerable number of troops. Therefore men experienced in war beheld with astonishment this move of Shivonos, whom nothing obliged to take this mad step. Nothing but ambition and thirst for blood obliged him. The Cossack leader had learned that Mianitsky was anxious about the result of the battle with Yeremi, in spite of the superiority of the forces that Shivonos commanded, and that he was coming with his forces to their assistance. Shivonos had received orders not to undertake a battle, but, just for that reason, he resolved to fight one and made all the more haste to do so. After he had taken Polon, he had acquired a taste for bloodshed and wished to carry on his work alone. This was why he was in such a hurry. Even if he did sacrifice half his men, what did that matter? With what remained, he could overpower the small forces of the Prince, and cut them down to the last man. He would take Yeremi's head as a present to Mianitsky. Meanwhile, the mass of the blacks had reached the end of the dyke which they passed, and flooded the semi-circle which Yeremi's army had cleared. But at this moment, Ozinski's concealed infantry fired on their flank. A long stream of smoke came from Vertzold's cannon. The earth shook with thunder, and the fight began along the whole line. Smoke hid the bank of the slouch, the pond, dyke, and the battlefield itself, so that one could see nothing, only at times the red uniforms of the dragoons gleamed through the mist, or the crests of the helmets amid the surging terrible crowd. All the bells in the town were ringing, and their tones mingled with the heavy roar of the cannon. Fresh regiments poured from the camp towards the ditch. Those however who had crossed it and reached the other side of the lake stretched out in a moment, and formed a long line which attacked the prince's forces in a fury of rage. The battle was raging from one end of the lake to the bend of the river, and to the marshy meadowlands which were under water this wet summer. The blacks and the niche must conquer or die, for they had at their backs the water, towards which the attack of the infantry and of the prince's cavalry crowded them. As the Hussars drove forward Zagloba, in spite of his short breath and his dislike for crowds, rode with the rest, for he could not do otherwise unless he wished to expose himself to the danger of being trampled underfoot. He dashed forward, therefore, with his eyes closed, and thoughts flew through his head lightening like, the thought, Artifice is of no use, it is of no use! The fool wins, the wise man loses! Then he was seized with a rage against war, against the Cossacks, against the Hussars, against everything in the world. He began to curse and pray. The wind whistled in his ears, stopped his breath. Suddenly his horse stumbled against something. He noticed the resistance, opened his eyes, and what did he see? Sides, swords, flails, a mass of flushed faces, eyes, mustaches, all was indistinct. He did not know to whom they belonged. They were all trembling, twitching, raging. He was seized with a terrible hatred for the enemy, because they had not all gone to the devil. They just appeared under his eyes and obliged him to fight. Whether you wish it or not, you shall have it! And he began to hack round him on all sides. Now he cut the air with his sword. Now he felt that it cut through something soft. At the same time he was aware that he yet lived. That gave him unusual courage. Fight! Kill! He bellowed like a bison. Presently the angry faces disappeared from his sight, and he saw a crowd of backs, caps, and the noise nearly deafened him. They are retreating! Suddenly came to his mind, yes, so it is! Then he grew perfectly furious. Thieves! He cried, do you dare oppose the nobles? And he dashed among the fugitives, passed many of them, mingled among the dense crowd, and began, with great presence of mind, to set to work. Meanwhile, his companions had forced the niche people towards the bank of the slouch, which had thickly grown with trees, and had driven them along the bank to the ditch without taking one of them prisoner. They had no time for that. Suddenly Zagloba remarked that his horse was quaking under him, and at the same moment some heavy object fell on him and covered his entire head, so that it grew perfectly dark around him. Help! cried he, digging his heels into his horse, but the horse only grunted beneath the weight of his rider and remained perfectly still. Zagloba heard a noise, the cries of the cavalry dashing past him, then the storm seemed to be lulled and all was silent. Zagloba thought started through his mind with the speed of a tartar arrow. What is it? What has happened? Jesus! Maria! I have been made prisoner! Great drops of sweat started out on his forehead. Evidently, his head had been wrapped up, just as he had once wrapped up Bohun's. The weight that he felt on his arm was the hand of a Cossack, but why did they not take him away? Why did they not kill him? Why did he remain standing in one spot? Let go, villain! he cried in a choked voice. All was silent. Let go, villain! I will give you your life!" There was no answer. Once more Zagloba dug his spurs into his horse, but again without any result the frightened animal spread his legs apart and stood more firmly on the same spot. Then the unhappy horseman became furiously angry. He pulled his knife from the sheath which hung at his belt and made several thrusts in the air around him, but the dagger cut only the air. Then Zagloba dragged with both hands at the cloth that was over his head and tore it away in a moment. What does it mean? The Cossacks are not there. The place around him is deserted. Only in the distance could be seen through the smoke the red uniform of Volodovsky's dragoons as they dash along, and a hundred paces beyond them the armor of the Hussars who were following those that remained and were forcing them from the field into the water. But at Zagloba's feet lay the regimental colors of the Zaporosians. Only the fleeing Cossacks had thrown them away so that the staff struck Zagloba's shoulder and the bunting coiled about his head. When he saw this and understood it clearly Zagloba came to himself again. Aha! he said. Have I not captured the flag? I really did take it. If justice is not defeated in this battle, I am sure of a reward in any case. O you peasant fools, it was fortunate for you that my horse stumbled. I did not know myself when I believed that I could accomplish more with cunning than with courage. I can be of some better use in the army than in eating biscuits. Oh my God! There comes a band of Cossacks! Not this way, you dogs! Not this way! May the wolves devour the horses! Fight! Kill! A fresh band of Cossacks were indeed coming toward Zagloba, and bellowing with unearthly voices, and close at their heels were Poniatovsky's heavy cavalry. Zagloba would certainly have met his death beneath the hoofs of their horses, if Skyshettsky's hussars, having forced the fugitives into the water and drowned them, had not just then returned in order to attack the approaching divisions on both flanks. When the Zaporosians saw them, they plunged into the water to escape the sword, and found their death in the marshes and deep lagoons. Others who had sunk to their knees and were in treating for mercy died from sword thrusts, a horrible slaughter ensued, most horrible in the dyke. All the divisions which had succeeded in reaching the other side had been destroyed in the semi-circle which the Prince's army had formed. Those who had not yet crossed fell beneath the continuous fire of Vercil's cannon and the volleys of the German infantry. They could neither advance nor retreat, for Chivonos was continually sending forward fresh regiments, who crowded those before them and thus blocked the only way for flight. One might have thought that Chivonos had made a vow to drive his own people to destruction. They crowded each other, stifled each other, fell over one another, sprang on all sides into the water, and were drowned. On one end was a black crowd of fugitives, on the other an advancing crowd. In the midst of mounds and piles of corpses, groans, cries, unearthly sounds, terror, madness, chaos. The whole lake was filled with bodies of men and horses. The water overflowed the banks. From time to time the cannon were silent. Then from the embankment, as from the mouth of a cannon, crowds of zapperosians and of peasants poured forth and ran in all directions and right on the swords of the cavalry who were charging towards them. Vercil began his game afresh, and covered the embankment with a hail of iron and lead, thus repulsing the troops that were hastening to the rescue. Whole hours passed in this bloody struggle. Chivonos raged and foamed, but did not count the battle lost as yet, and drove thousands of his men into the jaws of death. On the other bank stood Yeremi in his silver armor, erect on his horse on the high hill which in those days was called Krusha Mogila, and looked down. His face was peaceful, his eyes took in the whole dyke, the lake, the banks, the smoky distance, the banks of the slouch, and wandered in the direction where, wrapped in blue mist, stood the huge camp-train of Chivonos. The eyes of the prince did not move from the crowd of wagons. Presently he turned to the fat voyavoda of Kiev and said, We will not take the table today. What? Your highness wishes to— Time passes rapidly, it is too late, the evening is almost here. The battle from the time that the skirmishers had begun it, through Chivonos's obstinacy, had lasted so long that the sun had had time to travel through the whole arch of heaven and was now about to set. Light summer clouds that betoken to clear day were scattered like white fleeces over the sky and began to be tinged with red and to disappear in masses from the horizon. The stream of Cossacks towards the embankment gradually ceased and the regiments who had already reached it fled in fright and disorder. The battle had come to an end because the angry crowds had finally attacked Chivonos, howling in despair and rage, You are destroying us, bloodhound, we ourselves will bind and give you over to Yeremi for having sold our lives thus, death to you, not to us. Tomorrow I will give you the prince and his whole army or I will die myself," answered Chivonos. But this expected morrow had yet to come and the present day was a day of defeat, of calamity. Many thousands of the bravest niche Cossacks, not counting the peasantry, lay stretched on the field of battle or were drowned in the pond or in the river. Nearly two thousand were taken prisoners. Fourteen colonels had fallen, a hundred captains, Esols and other leaders. The second in command to Chivonos, Puglian, had fallen into the hands of the enemy alive but with his ribs broken. Tomorrow we will kill them all," repeated Chivonos. I will take neither gozolka nor food in my mouth till that time comes. Meanwhile in the opposite camp the captured flags were being laid at the feet of the terrible prince. Each soldier who had taken one threw it down so that there was a whole heap of them, as many as forty, and as it came to Zagloba's turn he threw his down with such force and such a noise that the pole broke. When the prince saw this he detained him and asked, Did you capture this standard with your own hands? At your service, Your Excellency! I see, then, that you are not only Ulysses but also Achilles. I am a common warrior, but I serve under Alexander of Macedon. As you receive no pay the treasurer shall give you two hundred gold pieces for your praiseworthy act. Zagloba clasped the prince's knees and said, Your Highness, this favour is greater than my courage, which prefers to hide itself behind its own modesty. A hardly perceptible smile played over Skyshetoski's dark face, but the night was silent and never told any one, either the prince or any of the rest, about Zagloba's uneasiness before the battle. But Zagloba strode away with such a determined air that the soldiers of the other regiments, as they saw him, pointed him out to their comrades and said, He is the one who did the best service today. Night had come. On both sides of the river and of the lake a thousand watchfires flamed and clouds of smoke rose like columns in the sky. The weary soldiers refreshed themselves with food and Kozolka, or through the recital of the day's deeds, inspired themselves with courage for the battle on the following day. The most talkative of all was Zagloba, who was glorifying himself for what he had done and on account of what he might have done if his horse had not stumbled. I tell you, sirs, he said, turning to the prince's officers and to the noblemen of Tyshevich's company, Great battles are nothing to me. I have witnessed many of them in Moldavia and in Turkey. If I sometimes held back, it was because I feared not the enemy, who would fear the peasants, but my own ardor, which was up to lead me too far. So it led you too far? How did it? Ask Pan Skishtosky. As soon as I saw Pan Vyashul fall from his horse, I wanted immediately to rush to his assistance. My comrades held me back with difficulty. That is true, said Skishtosky. We had to hold you by the arm. What? Interrupted Karvich, where is Vyashul? He has already gone forward with the scouts. He doesn't know what rest is. Observe, gentlemen! said Zagloba, annoyed at having his story interrupted. How I captured this flag! Then Vyashul is not wounded, asked Karvich again. It is not the first that I have taken in my life, but no other cost me so much trouble. He is not wounded but bruised, answered Azulevich, a tartar, drank water, for he fell head foremost into the pond. I am only surprised that the fish did not die, said Zagloba angrily, for such a fiery head must have made the water boil. But he is a great knight. Not such a great warrior, a Pulyan, half a John, was enough for him. One cannot talk in peace to these men! You might have learned from me how to capture an enemy's flag. Young Pan Aksak, who at this moment approached the campfire, interrupted his speech. I bring news, he said, with his ringing boyish voice. The nurse has not washed his swaddling clothes. The cat has drunk his milk and broken the saucer, grunted Zagloba. But Pan Aksak did not trouble himself about these reflections on his youth, and said, they are roasting Pulyan at the fire. Then the dogs will have roast meat, interrupted Zagloba. And he is making confessions. The negotiations are broken off. The Lord of Brotslav is beside himself. Mianitsky is coming to the help of Shimonos with his whole army. Miel! What Miel! Who cares anything from Miel here? We laugh at Miel! Gabbled Zagloba, letting his eyes wander threateningly and proudly over the company. So Miel is coming. But Shimonos did not wait for him, and therefore lost the battle. The fool has played and played till he has lost. Six thousand Cossacks are in Makhnovka already. Bohun is at their head. Who? Who? Bohun, with a complete change of tone. Bohun! Impossible! So Pulyan confesses. There you will have the confirmation, cried Zagloba plaintively. Will they be here soon? In three days, as they are coming to begin a battle, however, they will not hurry too much, so as not to exhaust the horses. But I will hurry, grunted Zagloba. O angel of God save me from this rascal! I would willingly give back my captured flag if this villain would only break his neck before he reached here. I hope that we shall not have to wait here long. We have shown Shimonos what we can do, and now we ought to take a little rest. I hate this Bohun so intensely that I cannot hear his devilish name without horror. I did a fine thing. Why could I not have remained in bar? The devil brought me here. Do not be afraid, whispered Skishevsky to him. It is a shame. There is no danger with us. No danger? You do not know him. Perhaps he is already creeping between the watchfires to attack us. Here Zagloba looked around him uneasily, and he is just as eager to catch you as to catch me. God grant that I may meet him, said Skishevsky. If that is a favour, I would rather not experience it. As a Christian, I will willingly forgive him all his injuries, but only on one condition, that he shall be hanged two days beforehand. I am not afraid of him, but you cannot imagine what an extreme disgust takes possession of me. I like to know with whom I have to deal, with a nobleman as with a nobleman, with a peasant as with a peasant. But he is the very devil himself, with whom one does not know how to act. I dare to do a great many things to him, but what eyes he made at me when I tied up his head. I cannot begin to describe it to you. I shall think of him even at the hour of my death. I do not want to wake the devil when he is asleep. Once is enough for me. I will only tell you one thing, that you are ungrateful and do not trouble yourself about a poor fellow like me. Why, how's that? Because, said Zaglova, pulling the night away from the watchfire, you give yourself up to your warlike moods and your imaginations and fight and fight, while she is wasting away in tears day by day and is waiting in vain for your answer. No other man would act like that. He would have sent me to her long ago if he really had true love in his heart and compassion for her anxiety. Then do you think of going back to Bar? I would like to go to day, for I am sorry for her. Pagnan raised his eyes full of longing to the stars and said to Zaglova, Do not blame me for inconstancy. God is my witness that I never put a morsel of bread in my mouth, never allow my tired body any rest without thinking of her, and no one can be more constantly in my thoughts than she is. I did not send you with an answer for the simple reason that I expected to go there myself, to give myself up to my love and to unite myself to her forever without delay. There is not in the whole world a pair of wings such as I would desire to have in order to fly to my little one. Why do you not fly? Because it would not be honorable to go before the battle takes place. I am a soldier and a nobleman and must consider my honor. But today is after the battle. Ergo! We can go away, even at this very moment. Pagnan sighed. Tomorrow we will attack Sivonos. See here, I do not understand this. You have beaten young Sivonos, when along comes old Sivonos. Now you will beat old Sivonos, and then comes young, young. I will not open my mouth to speak the word. Bohun! Then you will beat him, and then comes Miannitsky. What the devil! If it goes on like this much longer, you would better unite with Panpodby Pienta. There would be a fool with his chastity, plus Panskoshetosky, in some two fools with chastity. Give us peace, sir, by God. I will be the first to tamper with the princess, and when Panondry Pototsky spies her, he distends his nostrils and nays like a horse. Shroud of devil! If a young boy who had never fought a battle and wished to earn his first fame said that to me, I might understand it, but not you who have drunk your blood like a wolf, and as it related, killed a devilish dragon or man-eater at Makhnovka, I swear by this heavenly moon you are not sincere, or you have got so thirsty for blood that you prefer it to your bride. Shkoshetosky looked up involuntarily at the moon, which was sailing like a silver boat in the high-storey heavens above the camp. You are mistaken, he said, after a pause. I have no pleasure in blood, and I am not anxious for glory, but it does not become me to leave my comrades in a dire strait in which the regiment, without exception, must do battle. Knight Leonor demands it. It is a sacred matter. As regards the war, however, it will certainly continue, for the rebel blacks have increased enormously. Meanwhile, if Milnitsky comes to Zhivonos' assistance, there will be an interruption. We shall either conquer Zhivonos tomorrow, or we shall not. If we conquer him, he will with God's help be disciplined, and then we shall have to move into a more peaceful country in order to get a little breath. Two moons have passed, and we have not slept or eaten, but fight, fight! No roof over our heads, day or night, and exposed to all the inclinancies of the weather. The prince is a great commander, but he is also cautious. He will not attack Milnitsky with a few thousand men against hundreds of thousands. I know also that he is going to march to Zabaraj. There he will gather new forces, collect fresh soldiers, and the nobility will come to him from all over the commonwealth, and only then shall we fight a decisive battle. Tomorrow then will be the last day of work, and the day after tomorrow I can go with you to bar with a clean conscience, and I will tell you this for your comfort, that Bohan cannot be here tomorrow to take part in the battle, but should he do so, I hope that his peasant star will pale, not only beside that of the prince, but also beside mine. She is Beelzebub himself. I told you I did not like crowds, but he is worse than a crowd. Although I repeat, I do not feel fear for him so much as an aversion, which I cannot overcome. But well, no more of that. Tomorrow we will tan the peasant's hides and in hurrah to bar. Oh, how those pretty eyes will laugh at sight of you! Oh, how those little cheeks will glow! I must tell you, sir, that I am longing to see her, too, for I love her as a father, and is it any wonder? She may not, O'sh, I have none. My property is far away. In Turkey, where the heathen agents have stolen everything from me, I live like an orphan in the world, and in my old age I shall be obliged to go to Panpodbipyanta to his home at Meshikishek. That shall not be. Do not let your head ache on that account, for what you have done for us I can never show enough gratitude. The conversation was here interrupted by an officer who asked as he rode by. Who stands there? Vyashul! cried Skisheitosky, recognizing his voice. Do you come from the scouting party? Yes, and now have just come from the prince. What news is there? Tomorrow there is to be a battle. The enemy is working on the embankment, building bridges across the slouch, and insists on coming over to us. And what does the prince say to that? The prince says good. Nothing more? Nothing. He gave orders that they should not be hindered, and the axes are working over there. They will work until tomorrow. Did you get any news? I took seven prisoners. They all said that they had heard that Mielnitsky was advancing, that he was not far away. What a night! Bright as day! How do you feel after your fall? My bones ache! I will just go and thank our Hurtjelis, and then I will go to sleep for I am tired, if one could only sleep two hours. Good night! Good night! You go too, said Panskisheitosky. It is getting late, and tomorrow we shall have to work. And the day after tomorrow we shall ride away! Sugglova reminded him. They moved away, said the paternoster, and lay down beside the watchfire. Presently the fires one by one went out. The camp was wrapped in darkness. Only the silver beams of the moon shone down and showed fresh groups of sleepers. The silence was broken only by loud snoring, and by the calls of the sentries who guarded the camp. But sleep did not long hold the heavy lids of the soldiers. The first ray of mourning had hardly chased the shadows of the night when, on all sides of the camp, the trumpets sounded the revelry. An hour later the prince, to the great astonishment of his knights, retreated with all his forces. Book II. CHAPTER XVI. OF WITH FIRE AND SORD. By Henrik Sinkiewicz, translated by Samuel A. Binyon. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. But the retreat was that of a lion who wants room for a king. The prince intentionally allowed Chivonos to advance in order to prepare for him a more complete defeat. In the beginning of the battle he whipped his horse and pretended he was taking to flight, and when the Niche and the Blacks saw that, they broke their ranks in order to follow him and surround him. But the prince suddenly turned round and attacked him with his whole cavalry in such an overwhelming manner that they were unable to offer a moment's resistance. They were chased for a mile beyond to the crossing, then beyond the bridge, dyke, and to within half a mile of the rear train. They were hewn down without mercy, and the hero of this day was the sixteen-year-old Pan Aksak, who made the first attack and inspired the first panic. Only with such experienced soldiers, old and experienced, could the prince have dared to employ such craft and to feign flight. In any other army it might really have changed into a flight, but this second day ended with a still more heavy defeat for Sivonos. All the field artillery were taken, many standards, among them many royal flags, which the Zaporosians had plundered at Korsun. If Koritski's infantry, Ozynski's cavalry, and Wirtzel's cannon had been able to keep up with the cavalry, they would have taken the camp with one stroke. But before they arrived there, it was night, and the enemy had already moved to a considerable distance. So it was impossible to overtake them. Zatsfilikovsky, meanwhile, captured half the camp and an enormous supply of weapons and rations. The blacks seized Sivonos twice in order to take him to the prince, and he barely succeeded in escaping from their hands by a promise to return without delay to Mielnitsky. He fled, therefore, with the remaining half of his camp train, decimated, beaten, reduced to despair, and did not halt until he reached Makhanovka. When he arrived here, Mielnitsky, in his first moment of anger, commanded that Sivonos should be chained to a cannon. It was not until his first anger had passed that the Zaporosian Hetman remembered that the unfortunate Sivonos had flooded the whole of Volinia with blood that he had taken Polona, had sent a thousand noble souls into the other world, had left their bodies without burial, and had everywhere been victorious until he met with Yeremi. In consideration of these services, the Zaporosian Hetman took pity on him and commanded that he should not only be released from the cannon, but he placed him again in command and sent him to Podol to commit new slaughter and booty. During this time the prince gave his men notice that they might take the long wished-for rest. During the last battle they had experienced considerable losses, especially in the attack of the cavalry on the baggage camp, behind which the Cossacks defended themselves obstinately and adroitly. Five hundred men had fallen in this attack. Colonel Mokersky was very severely wounded, and shortly after gave up the ghost. Pan Kuchel also had a shot wound, but it was not dangerous. Polanovsky and young Aksak were also wounded, and Zagloba, who had become accustomed to the crowd, and had valiantly held his ground with the rest, had been hit three times with a flail, and was suffering from backache so that he could hardly move, and lay as if he were dead in a small wagon of Skyshettskys. Thus had fate thwarted their plan of travelling to Bar, for they could not get away, and more particularly, as the prince had sent Skyshettsky at the head of several companies to Laslov, to suppress the swarms of blacks that were gathered there. The night went off without saying a word about Bar to the prince, and for five days he burned and slaughtered and killed until the whole region was cleaned out. At last his men were exhausted from uninterrupted fighting, from the long marches, assaults, and watching, and he resolved to return to the prince, whom he had heard was going to Tarnopol. The night before his return Skyshettsky halted in Sukhojins on the banks of the Como, stationed his companies in the village, and took up his own quarters for the night in a peasant's cabin, and as it was very late and he was exhausted from his labours, he soon fell asleep, and slept like a stone the whole night through. Next morning, before he was fully awake, he began to dream and to see visions. Strange pictures passed before the eyes of his soul. First it seemed to him as though he were in Lubny, as though he had never left it, as though he were sleeping in his room in the armory, and as though Zhenzhan, as usual in the morning, was setting out his clothes and making preparations for his master when he should awake. Maybe however Daylight began to dissipate his dreams. He came to the consciousness that he was in Sukhojins, not in Lubny. The form of the boy alone did not vanish, and Skyshettsky saw him still sitting at the window in a wooden chair, busied in oiling the straps of the armour which had become dry and stiff from the heat. He still thought that a vision of sleep haunted him, and therefore he shut his eyes again. Presently he opened them, but Zhenzhan still sat at the window. "'Zhenzhan,' cried Skyshettsky, "'is it you or your ghost?' The boy, startled by the sudden cry, let the armour fall with a clatter upon the ground, raised his hands and said, "'For God's sake, sir, why do you speak so? What are you thinking of, a ghost? It is I, myself, safe and sound. And have you come back? Did you not drive me away?' "'Come here to me that I may embrace you.'" The young boy hastened to his master and clasped his knees. Skyshettsky kissed him on the forehead, full of joy, and repeated, "'You're alive! You're alive! Oh, my master, I cannot speak for joy that I now see you in perfect health. For God's sake, but you cried so, sir, that I let the breast plate fall. The straps got stiff. They say you had no easy task. Praise be thou, O God! Praise be thou, O my beloved master! When did you come? This very night. And why did you not wake me? Why should I wake you? I came here in the morning in order to fetch the things. Where did you come from? From Hushk. What did you hear there? How did you get along? Speak! Tell me!' "'Well, sir, the Cossacks came to Hushk to plunder the Vojavoda of Bratslav and to set his house on fire. And I had got there before them, for I had gone there with Father Patronius Lasko, who took me to Miannitsky at Hushk, for the Vojavoda had sent him with a letter to Miannitsky, so I went back with him, and this time the Cossacks had burned down Hushk and killed Father Patronius because he loved us. And the same thing would have happened to the Vojavoda if he had been there, although he is their great blessed benefactor. Speak plainly and do not mix up things, though. I cannot understand you. You were then with the Cossacks, with Miannitsky? How is that?' "'Certainly I was with the Cossacks, for when they caught me in Chikrin they took me for one of their own, and would not let me go. But dress yourself, sir. Dear God, and the things are so destroyed that one can hardly hold them in his hand! May God! Do not get angry any more, Master, because I did not deliver the letter in Rosloga that you wrote in Kudak. That thief Bohun took it away from me. If the fat nobleman had not been there it would have been all up with me.' "'I know all about it. I know. It is not thy fault. This fat nobleman is in the camp. He has told me everything, just as it happened. He also took the princess away from Bohun, and she is being well taken care of in Bar.' "'Oh! Thank God! I knew that Bohun had not got her. Then the wedding will soon take place.' "'Certainly, certainly. From here we are commanded to ride at once to Tarnopole, and from thence to Bar. "'Thanks be to God the just. Bohun will hang himself yet, a witch prophesied to him that he would never get the one of whom he thinks, and that a pole would get her. And this pole is you, sir.' "'How did you find out all that?' "'I heard it. I must tell you all the truth. But dress yourself, meanwhile, sir, for they are already preparing breakfast for us. "'Listen, when I was leaving Kudak in the boat, we rode a frightfully long time against the stream, and besides this, the boat went to pieces and we had to mend it. We rode, therefore, my master. We rode. You rode, rode,' interrupted Skajetowski impatiently, and arrived in Chagrin. What happened there, you already know. I know all about it. I was lying in the stable, then, and could not see God's beautiful world. Along came Janitsky, immediately after Bohun's departure, with an immense force of zapperosians, and, as the chief hetman had punished the people of Chagrin before for their fealty to the zapperosians, and many in the town were killed and wounded, they thought that I must belong to them, too, and so they did not kill me, but gave me instead all comfort and care, and would not allow the Tartars to take me with them, although they allowed them everything else. When I came to myself, I thought, what should I do? And this villain had, meanwhile, gone to Corsun, and had beaten the hetmans there. Oh, master, what my eyes saw there cannot be described in words. They concealed nothing and knew no shame, as they took me for one of their own. And I thought, shall I fly or shall I not fly? And I thought it was safer to wait for a better opportunity. When they began to bring in from Corsun's silver chests, jewels, ah, me, master, my heart came near breaking, and my eyes protruded from the sockets. And those rascally thieves, they sold six silver spoons for one ruble, yes, even for a quart of vodka. And one could, with a golden button or a buckle, or a strap of a cap, get a pint. I thought to myself, why should I sit here doing nothing? I will take advantage of my opportunities. With God's help, I will some time go back to Jinjani in Podlasia, where my parents live. I will go to them, for they have a lawsuit there with the Jaworski, which has already lasted fifty years, and they have no means with which to carry it on. And master, I bought all sorts of treasures, enough to load two horses, and that was my only comfort in my sadness, for I was dreadfully homesick to see you, sir. You are the same old Jinjani, always seeking to turn everything to your own advantage. May God bless me, there is no harm in that. I do not steal, and if you gave me a purse to take on my way to Rosloga, here it is. I think it is right to give it back, for I did not get to Rosloga. Then he loosened his belt, drew forth a purse, and laid it down before the night. Skocetowski, however, smiled and said, If you have had such good luck, you are undoubtedly richer than I am, but keep this little purse. I thank you most humbly, sir. I have already collected some property, thank God. My parents will be glad of it, and also my grandfather, who is ninety years old, and the Jaworskis will spin their last penny in the lawsuit, and will wander about at last with a beggar's sack. You, sir, will also reap some advantage, for I will not ask again for the colored belt that you promised me in Kudak, although I did take a great fancy to it. Because you have already asked for it. Oh, what a rogue you are! You are truly an insatiable wolf. I do not know where the belt is, but whatever I promised you, you shall have, if it is not that one than another. I thank you most humbly, said the boy, clasping his master's knees. Well, enough of that. You are telling me what happened to you. Well God helped me to get my share among the robbers. The only thing that troubled me was that I did not know what it happened to you, and I feared that Bohan had got the young lady. I heard that he was in Cherkas, and that he could hardly breathe, because the princes had wounded him severely, so I went to Cherkas. As you know, sir, I understand putting on plasters and binding up wounds. Everyone had found that out, so the Colonel Donets sent me to him, and he came with me himself, so that I might bind up the rascal. Now for the first time a load fell from my heart, for I learned that our young lady had escaped with that nobleman, so I went to Bohan. I thought to myself, will he recognize me? Will he not recognize me? But he lay in a fever, and at first he did not recognize me at all. Later on, however, he knew me and said to me, did you not ride with the letter to Rosloga? I said yes, and he said, and I hit you with an ax in Chagrin? You did, sir. You are in the service of Tsakhishtosky, he said, and I, who would not dare to tell you a lie, said, I am in no one's service, sir, I have got more evil than good in that service, that is why I preferred to live in freedom with the Cossacks, and I have been attending you, sir, for ten days, and I will make you well. He now began to believe what I said and became very confidential. I heard from him that Rosloga was burned down, that he had killed the two princes and that the others, when they heard it, wanted at first to go to our prince, but as they could not do that, they fled to the Lithuanian army, but the worst was when I mentioned the fat nobleman, then he would gnash his teeth just as if he was cracking nuts. Was he ill long? A very long time, for the wounds healed up and then broke open again because he would not take care of himself at first. I sat by him a good many nights, the devil take him, as I would by a good man, but you must know, sir, that I have sworn by my soul's salvation that I will pay him back for the injuries he has done me, and I will keep it, sir, if it should take me my whole life to find him. For he treated me, an innocent fellow, as if I were a dog and disgraced me, and I am no vagabond. He will fall by my hand if somebody does not kill him before then. I tell you, sir, I have had the opportunity a hundred times, for I was often enough alone with him, but I thought to myself, shall I stab him or not, and I was ashamed to kill him as he lay in bed? That is praiseworthy of you that you did not kill him upon his sick bed. That would have been a peasant's trick, not worthy of a nobleman. That is what I thought, sir, it also occurred to me that when my parents sent me away from home, my grandfather said to me at parting, Remember, my boy, that you are a nobleman and have honour to preserve, serve faithfully but never take a bribe. He also said that when a nobleman acts like a peasant, the Lord Jesus weeps, and I have remembered the lesson and follow it. So I had to let that opportunity go by, and we became more and more confidential. Once he asked me, how shall I reward you? And I answered, as you please, and I cannot complain. He provided handsomely for me, and I took it, for I thought, why should it remain in the hands of a bandit? And the others gave me presence on his account, for I tell you, sir, no one is so beloved as he by the peasantry and the people of Niche, although in the whole commonwealth there is not a nobleman who has had such contempt for the blacks as he has. Hirshen-jen shook his head as though he were trying to remember something or was in pain, and after a pause he continued speaking. He is a strange man, and it must be owned that he has the courage of a nobleman in everything. And the young lady, how he loves her, how he loves her, mighty God. When he began to recover, a girl came to him from Donsel to tell his fortune, and she prophesied nothing good. A contemptible giantess, she is in communication with the devil, but a jolly girl, when she laughed you could have sworn that a mare was winning in the meadow. She showed her white teeth and they were so strong that they could have torn a coat of armor, and when she walked the floor trembled beneath her steps, and through God's providence it was obvious that she liked me. She never passed me without seizing me by the head or by the hand, or knocking up against me. Sometimes she said to me, Come along! But I was afraid that the black beauty might twist my neck somewhere in the solitude, and then I should have lost all that I had gathered together. I answered her therefore, Are there not enough of others? And she said, You please me, although you are only a boy, You please me, come along! Be off with you, girl! But she answered, You please me, you please me! Did you see her when she was fortune-telling, performing witchcraft? I saw her and heard her, clouds of smoke hissing, whistling shadows, so that I should for fear. But she stood in the midst, knitting her black eye-brows, and repeated, The pole is with her! The pole is with her! Kailu! Huku! Kailu! The pole is with her! Then she gathered wheat into a sieve and looked at it, and the grains crept hither and thither like worms, and she cried, Kailu! Huku! Kailu! The pole is with her! Ah, sir, if he had not been such a robber, one's heart would have bled at the sight of his despair after each prophecy. He grew pale as a sheet, fell upon his back, rung his hands despairingly above his head, and cried and whimpered and implored the young lady's forgiveness, for having come to Rosloga with force, for having killed her cousins. Where art thou, little Kuku? Where art thou? Only one? I will carry thee in my arms. I cannot live without thee. I will not touch thee, he said, with my hands. I will be thy slave, if only my eyes might behold thee. Then he would remember Zagloba, and gnash his teeth and bite his bed, until sleep overcame him, but even in his sleep he sighed and groaned. But did she never tell him anything good? What happened after that, I do not know, for he recovered his health, and I got away from him. Father Lascoe came, and he persuaded Bohun to let me go with him to Hushk. The thievish mob there knew that I had all sorts of property with me. I also made no secret of it that I was going home to help my parents. And they did not plunder you? Perhaps they would have done so, but fortunately there were no tartars there, and the Cossacks would not dare for fear of Bohun. Besides, they took me for one of their own people. Mianitsky told me to listen and tell what went on at the house of the voyavoda of Brotslov, when the leaders should come together. May the devil light him home! So I came to Hushk, and one day the advance guard of Shivonoe survived and killed Father Lascoe, so I buried half of my goods I had gained by bargaining, while I fled hither with the other half, and I heard that my master was fighting the enemy near Zaslov. Thanks be to Almighty God on High that I found you, my master, in good health and good spirits, and that you will soon have a wedding! Perhaps all bad things will come to an end. I said to the rascals who were marching against our prince that they would never return. Now they've got it. Perhaps the war will come to an end. What do you say? The prince is only beginning and is about to attack Mianitsky himself. And after your wedding you will go back to fight? Do you think that my wedding would transform me into a coward? No, I did not believe that. I know very well. If anyone was a coward it would not be you. I was only asking, for when I have taken home what I have collected to my parents I would like to go with you. Perhaps God would help me to pay back Bohun for what he did to me as I cannot do it by treachery. Where should I find him but in the field? He will not be able to hide himself. How determined a fellow you are! Let each one carry out what he has undertaken. As I have undertaken to do so, I will follow him even to Turkey. It cannot be otherwise. Now I will go with you to Tarnipole, then to the wedding. But why do you go to Bar by way of Tarnipole? That does not lie in your way. I must lead my regiments. I understand, my master. And now bring me something to eat, said Skishtosky. I was thinking already that the stomach was the chief thing. We will set out immediately after breakfast. Well, thank God, although my nag is frightfully worn out. I will give you a pack horse upon which you may ride from now on. I thank you most humbly, said Zhenzhan, and smiled contentedly at the thought that counting the purse and the girdle he had already received a third present. End of Book Two, Chapter Sixteen. Book Two, Chapter Seventeen of With Fire and Sword by Henrik Sinkhevich, translated by Samuel A. Benyon. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Skishtosky rode at the head of the prince's regiments to Zabaraj, not to Tarnipole, for a new command had been given to go thither, and on the road he related to his faithful servant an account of his own adventures, how he had been taken prisoner in siege, how he had remained there some time, what he had suffered before Mianitsky set him free. They moved forward slowly, although they had neither wagons nor baggage with them, but the road led through such a devastated country that it was with the greatest difficulty that they could get any provisions for men and horses. Here and there they came across crowds of famishing people, especially women with children who prayed God for death, yes, and for captivity among the Tartars, so that, although in chains, they might have something to eat. And this was the time of harvest in this fruitful land, flowing with milk and honey. But Chivonos advance guards had destroyed everything that could be destroyed, and the remaining inhabitants lived on the bark of trees. It was not until they reached the vicinity of Yampole that the soldiers came to a country that had not been so completely destroyed by war, and, as they now had better resting places and more provisions, they went by forced marches to Zabaraj, and arrived there five days after leaving Sukhojins. An enormous crowd of people had collected in Zabaraj. Prince Yeremi halted here with his entire force, and, besides these, a number of soldiers and noblemen had come to the place. The air was full of rumors of war, nothing else was talked about. The town and the neighborhood were alive with armed men. The peace-party in Warsaw, whose hopes were continually being raised by Pankeziel, the Vojevoda of Brotslav, had, in fact, not yet given up the negotiations, and still believed that the storm could be laid peacefully. But they understood one thing, that the negotiations could have no result unless a mighty army stood ready at their call. The diet convened amid those threatenings of war which usually precede an outbreak. The general militia was summoned, the regular troops were gathered together, and, although the chancellor and the commanders still believed in peace, the nobility were dominated by a desire for war. The victories which Vyshniowiecki had gained excited their imagination. Their minds were filled with a thirst for revenge on the peasantry, and with a desire to atone for the Zoltovoda, for Kursun, for the blood of so many thousands who had died the death of martyrs and endured disgrace and humiliation. The name of the terrible prince shown in the sunlight of glory, it was in all mouths, in all hearts, and coupled with this name, in the same breath, rang from the shores of the Black Sea to the wild lands, the calamitous cry, War, war, war, the signs in the heavens foretold it, and the glowing faces of the soldiers, the glitter of the swords, the nightly howl of dogs before the cabins, the gnaing of horses who scented blood, war. All titled people who bore arms in all lands, districts, and settlements hunted up their old armor and swords from the storehouses. The youth sang songs about Yeremi, and the women prayed at the altars. Armed men surged hither and thither in Prussia as in Livonia, in great Poland as in the swarming Mazovia, even to the divine summits of the Tatcha and the Black Forest of Bashkia. War lay in the force of circumstances. The plundering attitude of the Zaporizans and the insurrection of the Ukraine blacks required higher watchwords than robbery and murder, than war against serfdom and the greed of the magnates. Nelnitsky well understood this, and profiting by the pent-up irritation caused by reciprocal ill treatment and oppression, of which there was no lack in those sad times, and he made use of this knowledge and transformed his social struggle into a religious one, fanned the fanaticism of the people, and from the very beginning had formed an abyss between the two camps, an abyss that neither parchment nor negotiations, but only blood, could fill. And if he sincerely wished negotiations, it was only in order to secure himself and his own power, and then let come what may the hetman of the Zaporizans cared not. He did not look into the future, it troubled him little. He did not know, however, that the abyss that he had created had become so great that no negotiations could fill it, not even in the time that Nelnitsky would give it. The keen politician did not understand that he would not be able to enjoy in peace the bloody fruits of his life. And it was easy to see that yonder, where armed hundreds of thousands stood opposed to each other the parchment on which treaties would be written would be the field of battle, and the pens would be the swords and lances. Thus events through the force of circumstances compelled the war, and even commonplace people who only followed their instincts discerned that it could not be otherwise, and over the whole commonwealth all eyes were ever more turned to Yeremi, who had from the beginning proclaimed a war of life and death. In the shadow of this gigantic form gradually disappeared the chancellor and foyavoda of Brotslav and the commanders, and among them the mighty Prince Dominic, who had been made commander-in-chief. Their authority, their importance vanished, and the respect for the offices they held diminished. The army and the nobility were commanded to assemble near Lemberg and then near Glinyani and fresh troops continually joined them. The regular troops arrived, followed by the country people from the neighbouring Vyavodstas. Provinces, new events began to threaten the authority of the commonwealth. Not only the less disciplined regiments of the militia, not only the private regiments, but even the regular troops, when they had gathered at the place of meeting, refused obedience to the commander and in defiance of orders, marched to Zabaraj in order to place themselves under the command of Prince Yeremi. The foyavoda of Kiev and Brotslav, whose nobles had already served in large numbers under Yeremi, followed their example. Then came those at Rus and Lubavsk, and these were followed by the royal army, and it was no longer difficult to prophesy that all others would follow their example. Yeremi, who had been intentionally overlooked and forgotten, had through the power of circumstances become the hetman and commander-in-chief of all the fighting strength of the commonwealth. The nobility and the soldiers were devoted to him body and soul, and only waited for his nod. All power, war, peace, the future of the commonwealth lay in his hands. Yeremi's authority increased from day to day. For every day new regiments joined him, and he grew to such gigantic stature that his shadow began to fall, not only on the chancellor and the commander of the army, but also upon the senate, upon Warsaw, and upon the whole commonwealth. In the circles of the chancellor at Warsaw, which was unfavorable to him, in the camp of the commanders among those that surrounded Prince Dominic and the Vojavoda of Brotslav, the conversation turned on his boldness and his ambition. They recalled the old affair of Hadsjak, when the bold prince, with four thousand men, had come to Warsaw and stepped into the senate chamber, as if he was ready to cut them all down, the king himself not accepted. What can one expect from such a man? And what must he be now? They said, after the bold xenophon-like march from the other side of the Nipper, after all his marches and victories that have brought him such unbounded glory. What tremendous pride must he not feel in the love of the soldiery and the nobles? Who would dare withstand him today? What would happen to the commonwealth if a citizen should gather such power that he could trample the will of the senate under his feet? Who could rest the power from the leaders appointed by the commonwealth? Does he really intend to put Prince Charles on the throne? He is a Marius, it is true, but God grant that he may not develop into a Marcus Coriolanus or a Catilene, for he resembles them both in pride and ambition. This was the talk in Warsaw and among the officers, and especially at the court of Prince Dominic, whose rivalry with the army had already caused no slight harm to the commonwealth. Yonder Marius, however, remained meanwhile in Zabaraj, gloomy impenetrable. His newly gained victory did not light up his countenance. If any new regiment from the regulars or any district militia from the general army came to Zabaraj, he rode to meet them, took in their strength at a glance, and returned again to his brooding. The soldiers crowded round his quarters with cheers, fell on their knees before him, and cried, We greet thee, thou invincible commander, Slavonic Hercules! We will give our lives for thee! He, however, answered, I thank you, we are all under Christ's command, and my rank is too low for me to be the disposer of your life. And then he retired into his own quarters, fled from everyone, and wrestled with his thoughts in solitude. Thus days passed. In the meantime the town was surging with fresh swarms of soldiers. The commonwealth soldiers drank from morning till night, roamed about the streets, made disturbances, and quarreled with the strange officers. The regular troops who also felt that the reins of discipline were a little slackened gave themselves to drinking, to enjoyment and to throwing dice. Strangers arrived daily, and there were daily new festivities and amusements with the citizens' daughters. The soldiers lined all the streets and slept in the neighboring villages. And what a variety of horses, armor, costumes, plumes, comparisons, hangings, and colors of various provinces! One might have believed it was a general carnival to which half the commonwealth had gathered together. Sometimes a nobleman's carriage came along, colored with gold and crimson, and drawn by six or eight horses with plumes of feathers on their heads. Pajooks, dressed in Hungarian or German fashion, Janissaries, Cossacks, Tartars. At another time officers would ride into the town dressed in silk and velvet without armor, pushing the crowd aside as they sat erect on their Anatolian or Persian horses. Their egrets and brooches gleamed in the firelight with diamonds and rubies, and all stepped out of the way out of respect. Yander, in the hall of the court, an officer of the country infantry appears, in a fresh glittering doublet, with his long staff in his hand, pride in his face and his citizens' heart and his breast. Yander gleamed the crested helmets of dragoons, the caps of German infantry, the wooden lances of the militia in linkskin caps. Servants rush hither and thither in the most diverse colors, fulfilling their duties. Here and there the street was blocked by carriages. Yander, some carriages, came along, creaking unmercifully. Every where one heard servants calling, Get out of the way! cursing, wrangling, fighting, and the naing of horses. The little side streets are filled with hay and straw so as to be almost impassable. And in the midst of these gaudy costumes which shone in all the colors of the rainbow, in the midst of the velvet and silk, the laces and buckles, amidst the glitter of diamonds, how strange Vishnovetsky's men looked, worn out in ragged clothes, in rusty armor, faded and torn uniforms. The soldiers of the crack regiment looked like beggars, worse than the servants of other regiments. And yet all bowed before these rags, before these tatters and faded colors, for they were the tokens of heroes. War is a cruel mother, she devours her own children like Saturn, and those she does not devour, she gnaws as a dog does a bone. These faded colors were evidence of heavy rainfalls at night, of marches in storm or burning sun. This rust on their armor, a token of their own bloodstains or of the enemies or both together. They talked in the wine-shops and soldiers' quarters. The rest listened to them, and often a convulsion seemed to seize one of the listeners, and he would clap his hands on his thighs and cry, May the ball strike you, you are devils, not men! And Vishnovetsky's men answered, The merit is not ours, but our leader, whose equal the world has never yet produced. And then all concluded with a cry, Vyvat Yeremi, Vyvat the Vyavoda, the commander of commanders, the hetman of hetmans. And the noblemen drank and dashed out into the streets and shot off guns and muskets, and when Vishnovetsky's men reminded them that this freedom would only last a short while, for the time would come when the prince would take them into his hands and discipline them as they had never yet been disciplined. They enjoyed themselves with all the more zest. Let us enjoy ourselves while we are free, they cried, When the time comes to obey, we will obey, for we would willingly be obedient to one who is not a jesheena, nor lassina, nor perjina, play upon the rhyme's baby Latin feather quilt. And the unfortunate Prince Dominic came off second best, for the tongues of the soldiers made mincemeat of him. They related to one another how he prayed all day long, and that in the evening he would hang on to the jug and dribble on his breast, and merely open his eyes and ask, What is that? They also said that he took Jalap at night and that all the battles he saw were those worked in his Dutch carpet. No one stood up for him, no one pitied him, and those who were in open discord with the military discipline were the ones who condemned him the most, but Zagloba exceeded these in ridicule and sarcasm. He had recovered from his backache and was now quite in his element. What he ate and drank is beyond description and would hardly be believed. He was constantly surrounded by large groups of soldiers and noblemen, and he talked and told stories and ridiculed the very ones who treated him. As an old soldier he also looked down with contempt on those who were just taking service and was accustomed to say, with the whole weight of experience, You know as much about the fatigues of war as the nuns of a man. You have new clothes that smell of lavender, and although that is a pleasant odor, I will endeavor in the first battle to keep to windward of you. Whoever has not smelt the leak of war does not know what tears it can squeeze out. Then you will not get your hot beer in the morning or your wine punch. Your bellies will fall in. You will become dried up like curds in the sun. You may believe me, experience is the main thing. I have been in so many dangers. Yes, I've taken so many flags, but I must tell you this, gentlemen, none came so hard to me as the one I took at Constantinov. May the devil take these Zaporosians. The sweat was streaming down me before I could grasp the flagstaff. As Pansky Chertusky, he who killed Berdebut, he saw it with his own eyes and was astonished. But I tell you now, you have only to scream into a Cossack ear, Zagloba, and you will see what he will answer. But why do I tell you this? You who have only killed the flies on the wall with a flipper and nobody else. How is that? What? asked the younger men. What? Oh, you want my tongue to take fire from constant friction like the hub of a wagon. You must lubricate it with wine! cried the nobleman. That's different! answered Zagloba. And, gratified to have found appreciative listeners, he began to tell them all over again from the beginning about the journey to Galatz and about the flight from Rosloga to the taking of the flag at Constantinov, and they listened with open mouths, and though they demurred sometimes when, in praising his own courage, he ridiculed their inexperience, they nevertheless invited him every day to drink with them in a different quarter. Thus they lived joyously and happily in Zabaraj, until old Zatz Vilikovsky and other earnest men began to wonder that the Prince could tolerate these carousels so long. He, however, remained continually in his quarters, evidently allowing the soldiers to give themselves up to enjoyment, that they might thoroughly enjoy life before undertaking fresh battles. In the meantime Skyshettsky had returned and came into the midst of all this as into a whirlpool. He would have enjoyed resting in the company of his comrades, but he would rather have ridden to Bar, to his beloved, where he could forget all former sorrow, all fear and anxiety in her sweet embrace. He went, therefore, without delay to the Prince, to give him an account of his expedition to Zaslov, and to request permission to undertake another journey. He found the Prince so changed that he was hardly recognizable and, outside of him, Skyshettsky started and asked himself, Is this the leader whom I saw at Makhanovka and Konstantinov? For before him there stood a man, bowed with the weight of care, with hollow eyes and dry lips, as though wasting with an internal complaint. To the inquiries after his health he answered curtly and dryly that he was in good health, and the night dared not ask any more. He merely gave an account of his expedition and begged permission to be allowed to leave the regiment for two months, in order to get married and take his bride to Skyshettsky's sheva. The Prince seemed suddenly to wake from a dream. His habitual kindness lighted up his clouded face. He drew Skyshettsky to him and said, Then your torture is at an end. Go, go, and may heaven bless you. I wish I could attend your wedding, for I owe it to young Pana Kotsyvich as the daughter of Vasul and to you as my friend. But at this time it is not possible. When will you go? Your highness, today if I may. Go to-morrow. You cannot travel alone. I will give you three hundred of Vasul's tartars that you may take a home in safety. You will get there sooner with these men than with any others, and you need them, for it is swarming with the mob over there. I will also give you a letter to Pan Andrei Pototsky, but before I can write it, before the tartars come, before you have finished all your preparations, it will be to-morrow evening. As your highness commands, but I venture to request permission that Volodrovsky and Podbypienta also go with me. Well, come again to-morrow morning that I may take leave of you and give you my blessing. I should also like to send your young princess some remembrance. You are a good fellow. Be happy, for you deserve each other. Skyshettsky had sunk to the ground and clasped the knees of his beloved commander, who repeated several times, God give you his blessing, God give you his blessing, come again to-morrow. But the night did not rise and did not go away, as though he yet wished to beg for something else. Finally he said, Your Highness, what have you to say to me now? asked the prince kindly. Your Highness, pardon my boldness, but my heart is breaking, my great sorrow gives me courage. What troubles your Highness? Does any care or sickness oppress you? The prince laid his hand upon the night's head. You must not know, said he in the tenderest voice, come again to-morrow. Skyshettsky rose from the floor and went out with a pain at his heart. Towards evening old Zetsfilikovsky came into his quarters, and with him little Volodrovsky, Panlongin and Zagloba, they sat down at the table and Jinzhan brought goblets and a keg. In the name of the father and the son, cried Zagloba, I see your boy has risen from the dead. Jinzhan stepped up to him and clasped his knees. I did not rise from the dead. I did not die for you saved me. And Skyshettsky added, and then he went into Bohan's service. Then he will be promoted in hell, said Zagloba. Then turning to Jinzhan, you could not have had much enjoyment in that service. There, take a dollar to comfort you. I thank you humbly, said Jinzhan. But Skyshettsky called out, he is a rascal, a great sharper. He brought so much booty from the Cossacks that both of us together could not buy it. Even should you turn all your possessions in Turkey into money. Is that so? said Zagloba. Well, keep my dollar and flourish, dear sapling, until you are fit for not the cross of Christ but a gallows. The boy has a bright eye. Here Zagloba took Jinzhan by the ear, pulled it gently and continued, I love rascals and I prophesy that you will yet be a man if you do not remain a calf. And what does your master Bohan say about me? What? Jinzhan laughed. Zagloba's words and petting had flattered him, and he answered, Oh sir, when he speaks of you he strikes sparks by gnashing his teeth. Go to the devil! cried Zagloba in sudden anger. What are you chattering about? Jinzhan moved away. The others began to chat about the following day's journey and the unspeakable happiness that was awaiting Panyan. The mead put Zagloba into the happiest humor, and he began to tease Skyshettsky to talk about baptism and then of Andrei Pototsky's admiration for the young princess. Panlongin sighed. They drank and were glad at heart until the conversation turned on the situation of the war and the prince's condition. Skyshettsky, who had not been in the camp for some days' time, said, Tell me, gentlemen, what has happened to our prince? He is not the same man. I cannot understand it. God has given him victory on victory. What was the meaning of there passing him by in the choice of a commander? The consequence is that the whole army is crowding under his banner, so that he can become a hetman without anybody's permission and will destroy Mionitsky, and yet some trouble is preying on him. Perhaps he is plagued with a gout, said Zagloba. If it pinches my big toe, I am melancholy for three days. And I tell you, little brother, began Panlongin shaking his head. I did not hear this myself from Father Makavitsky, but I heard that he had told somebody why the prince was worried. I will not say anything, for he is a kind master, a great and good warrior. I do not judge him, but win the priest. But what do I know? Just look at this Lithuanian, cried Zagloba. We shall get the best of him if he does not speak a human language. What do you mean? You go round in a circle like a hare round her form and cannot hit the mark. What did you really hear? asked Tskyshetosky. Well, if I must tell, they say he has shed too much blood. He is a great commander, but he knows no moderation in punishment, and they say that he sees nothing but red, red by day, red at night, as though a red cloud enveloped him. Stop talking foolishness, broke in old Zatzfilikovsky angrily, that his old women's talk, the people have no better master in times of peace, and if he has no compassion on the rebels, why is that? That is his duty, no sin. What tortures, what punishment is too great for those who bathe their country in blood, who deliver up their own people into captivity to the Tatars, who will recognize no God, no country, no authority. Where could you find me such monsters, where such excruciating tortures as those they have inflicted on women and little children, where such monstrous crimes, and you think that the stake and the gallows are too severe a penalty? You have an iron hand but a woman's heart. I heard how you groaned when they were roasting Pulyan, and you said you would rather kill him outright, but the prince is no old woman, he knows how to reward and how to punish. Why are you mystifying us? I told you that I did not know. Panlongan excused himself by saying, but the old man puffed angrily for some time and ran his hand through his snow-white hair and growled, Red! Red! That is something new. Whoever discovered that has something green in his head, not red. A silence ensued. Through the window came the noise of the wrangling noblemen. Little Volodzhovsky broke the silence. Well, Father, what do you think is the matter with our Lord? Said the old man, I am not his confidant, so I do not know. He is considering something. He is fighting with himself. It is a soul struggle. It cannot be otherwise. And the greater the soul, the severer the torture. And the old knight was not mistaken, for at that moment the prince, the victor, lay in the dust in his quarters, in the dust before the crucifix, and fought one of the hardest battles of his life. The watch on the Castle of Zabaraz called out midnight, and Jeremy was still communing with God and with his own exalted soul. His mind, his conscience, his love of country, his pride, the consciousness of his own strength and of his great mission had become combatants in his soul and were carrying on an obstinate fight, which threatened to break his heart, to split his head, and made all his limbs tremble with pain. Contrary to the will of the primate, of the chancellors, of the senate, of the commanders, against the will of the government, the regular troops, the nobility, foreign companies flocked to this victor. In a word the whole Commonwealth gave itself into his hand, took refuge beneath his wings, entrusted its fate to his genius, and cried through its favorite sons, Save us, for thou alone canst save us. In one month more, in two, one hundred thousand warriors would gather before Zabaraz, prepared to fight for life or death with the dragon of civil war. Here visions of the future, bright with an overwhelming glory of fame and power, passed before the eyes of the prince. Those who would now pass him by and humiliate him would tremble before him, and he would take with him those iron armies of the knighthood, who would win such victories, such triumphs, in the steps of the Ukraine, as had never been heard of. And the prince felt he had strength to do this. On his shoulders wings were growing like the wings of the great Archangel Michael. At this moment he seemed to be transformed into a giant whom the whole castle, the whole Zabaraz, the whole of Russia could not contain. With God's help he would grind Mielnitsky, he would trample down the rebellion, he would bring peace to the mother country. He saw the endless planes, the myriad hosts. He heard the thunder of the cannon, carnage, carnage, an unheard of, unexampled defeat, hundreds of thousands of corpses, hundreds of thousands of flags cover the bloody steps, and he tramples over Mielnitsky's body, and the trumpets proclaim the victory and their sound rings from sea to sea. The prince sprang to his feet and stretched out his hands to the Christ, and around his head a red light was shining. Christ, Christ, he cried, Thou seest that I can do this, tell me that it is my duty. But the Christ's head was sunk on his breast, and he seemed to be in silent anguish, as though he had just been nailed to the cross. To thy glory, cried the prince, N'un mihi, n'un mihi, said n'umine tuo da glorium. Not unto me, not unto me, but unto thy name give the glory, to the glory of the faith and of the church, of the whole of Christendom, O Christ, Christ! And a new vision passed before the eyes of the hero. This war would not end with a victory over Mielnitsky. When the prince should have trodden down the rebellion, he would gain bodily vigor and with gigantic force would gather together legions of Cossacks, myriads of the nobility, and proceed farther, and attack the Crimea, seize the terrible dragon in his own den, and raise the standard of the cross there, where hitherto the church bell had ever called the faithful to prayer. Or he would ride into those lands which the princes Vishnuovetsky had once trampled with their horses' hoofs, and extend the boundaries of the commonwealth, and with them the power of the church to the farthest ends of the earth. What would be the end of these flights of fancy? What the end of this glory, this strength, this might? There would be no end. The light of the moon beamed into the hall of the castle, but the clock struck a late hour and the cocks were crowing. The day would soon break, and it would be a day on which, in addition to the sun in the heavens, a new sun would rise on the earth. Yes, the prince would be a child, not a man, if he should not do this, if for whatsoever reason he should retreat before the voice of these powers of fate, and now he already felt a certain peace. Christ had evidently poured his compassion on him. Praise to him for this favour. He already began to see things in a more cheerful light, and took in with tears in the eyes of his soul the situation of the mother country and all the circumstances attending it. The policy of the chancellor and of the leaders in Warsaw, as of the voyavoda of Brotslav, is bad, ruinous for the country. First he must crush the Zaporosians, shed a sea of blood, crush, conquer, and then consider everything as finished. Do away with all excesses and all oppressions, introduce order and peace, subdue the rebellion with might, restore civilized life, that is the only way worthy of this great glorious commonwealth. Formerly perhaps another way might have been selected, but now never. For to what purpose were negotiations when numberless thousands of armed men stood opposite each other? And if conditions were agreed to, what force could they have? No, no, they are dreams, visions. This will be a war for all time, a sea of tears and blood for the future. The one course which was great, noble, and powerful was the one they must take. He would not wish anything further, nor demand anything more. He would return again to his loop knee and wait quietly until the sound of the drums of Gradivas should call him afresh to action. Let them go their way, but who? The Senate, the stormy diet, the chancellor, the primate or the commanders? Who besides himself could comprehend this mighty thought and could carry it out? If they could find such a one well. But where is he? Who has the power? He alone, no one else. To him the nobility hastened. To him throngs the army, in his hand lies the sword of the commonwealth. The commonwealth governs, even if a king is on the throne. And all the more when that throne is empty. She is the supreme lord of this people, and this is expressed not only in the diets, not only through deputies, in the Senate and chancelors, not only in the written laws and manifestos, but more powerfully, more impressively, more clearly in action. Who rules here? The military, and this military flows to Zabaraj and says to him, Thou art our commander. The whole commonwealth with one voice gives him the authority, in virtue of the strength of his deeds, and repeats, Thou art our commander, and should he hesitate? What appointment is necessary now? From whom should he await it? From those perhaps who desire to destroy and humiliate the commonwealth? And why, why? Possibly because when panic had seized all hearts, when the Hetmans were taken prisoner, their army destroyed, the nobles obliged to take refuge in their castles, and the Cossack standing with his foot on the neck of the commonwealth, he alone pushed away this foot, and raised the mothers fainting from the dust. Everything, life, property, he sacrificed for her, to save her from ignominy and death, he, the victor. Whoever has rendered the greatest service, let him seize the rulership, to whom soever it justly belongs, let him hold it in his hand. He would willingly have renounced this burden, willingly have said to God and to the commonwealth, Let thy servant depart in peace, for behold, he is very weary and exhausted, and he knows surely that his memory and his grave will not perish. But as there is no one else, he would be doubly and trebly a child and not a man if he should refuse this rulership, this sunlit path, this glorious shining future on which depend the salvation of the commonwealth, her glory, her power, and her fame. And why should he? The prince raised his head proudly, and his gleaming eyes fell upon the Christ, but Christ's head was sunk on his breast in anguish and silence as though he had been newly crucified. And why should he? The bogadieve pressed his hands to his burning temples, perhaps he would find an answer. What mean these voices that call to his soul, that through the golden, brightly colored visions of glory, through the noise of future victories, through the forebodings of greatness and strength so pitilessly sound in his soul? Ah, be still, unhappy one! What means the unrest that fills his fearless breast with a shudder of terror? What does it mean that although he sees clearly and distinctly that he must seize the command, something whispers in the depths of his conscience, thou deceivest thyself, pride leads thee astray, Satan promises you kingdoms? And again a terrible struggle arose in the heart of the prince, and again he was whirled away by a storm of dread, uncertainty, and doubt. What is the nobility doing in joining him instead of the commanders, trampling on authority? What is the army doing? It is defying discipline, and he, the son of this state, the soldier, would place himself at the head of insubordination and disguise it with his authority. He would set the first example of want of discipline, of willfulness, of contempt of law, and all this in order to snatch the power for himself two months earlier. Should Prince Charles be raised to the throne, the highest authority would really still be his. Shall he set such a terrible example to future generations? For what would happen? What if Vishnuovetsky had dared today a Konyetspotsky, a Putotsky, a Furly, a Zamyysky, or a Lubomirsky would do tomorrow, and if each one should act according to his own ambition without consideration of the law and discipline, if the children should follow the example of their fathers and grandfathers, what a future would be in store for this country. The worm of willfulness, disorder, and deeds of violence was already gnawing at the root of the Commonwealth, and she was tottering beneath the acts of civil war. The dry branches were falling from the tree. What would happen if those who ought to guard and defend her as the apple of their eye should themselves set fire to her? What would happen, Jesus, Jesus Christ? Mianitsky also shields himself behind the public welfare, nothing else, but he takes his stand against right and authority. A shudder ran through the prince from head to foot, and he wrung his hands. Am I to be another Mianitsky, O Christ? But Christ's head remained bowed on his breast, and he was silent in his anguish, as if he had just been crucified. Pain gnawed afresh at the prince's heart. If he should seize the power, and the Chancellor, and the Senate, and the Commanders should attain him as a traitor and a rebel, what would happen, another civil war? And besides, is Mianitsky the greatest and most threatening enemy of the Commonwealth? Have not greater powers attacked her before? Did not two hundred thousand iron Germans under Grunwald march against Jagiello's regiments, when at Kotsim half of Asia stood ready to fight, was not the danger closer, more threatening, what became of those hostile forces? Nothing, the Commonwealth does not fear wars. It is not wars that will destroy her. But why, in view of such victories, such latent strength, such glory, why should she who had conquered the Crusaders and the Turks be so weak and powerless, as to sink in the dust before a Cossack, that her neighbors should invade her boundaries, that the nations should despise her, that no one should obey her voice, should fear her anger, and that all should foretell her destruction? Aha! It is the ambition and pride of the magnates, selfish negotiations and arbitrariness are the cause of it. Mianitsky is not the worst enemy, but the internal discord, the license of the nobility, the want of training and discipline of the forces, the stormy diets, the quarrels and the love of dispute, the confusion, the internal weakness, the selfishness and want of discipline, especially the want of discipline, the tree rots and dies from the heart, the first storm easily breaks it down, but the parasite who first lays his hand to it is a cursed, he and his children to the tenth generation. Then go forward, thou conqueror of Nimirov-Porebish, Makhanovka and Konstantinov, go forward, Prince Voivoda, go forward, take the authority from the commanders, trample law and authority under foot, give coming generations an example of how one can wallow in the entrails of the mother. Fear, despair, madness were depicted in the features of the Prince, he gave a horrible scream, placed his hand to his heart and fell in the dust before the crucifix. He turned as he lay on the ground and struck his illustrious head against the stone steps, and from his breast came a muffled cry, God be merciful to me a sinner, God be merciful to me a sinner, God be merciful to me a sinner. The sky shone in the morning glow, and the golden sun rose higher and lighted up the room. Beneath the eaves, the sparrows and swallows were twittering. The Prince rose to his feet and awakened his boy Zelinsky, who was asleep behind the door. Hasten, he said, to the orderlies and command them to send the kernels who are in the castle and in the town, of the regulars as well as of the militia, to me in this room. Two hours later the room began to fill with the forms of the bearded warriors, of the Prince's officers. There were present Old Satsvilikovsky, Polanovsky, Skyshettovsky with Zagloba, Burtzel, Captain Maknitsky, Volodzhovsky, Vyashul, Colonel Maknitsky, Kolodzhovsky, Vyazul, Ponyatovsky, almost all the officers down to the incense except Kushel, who had been sent to Podol to reconnoiter. Of the regular army there were present Ozynsky and Koritsky. Many of the more distinguished nobles of the country could not be dragged out of their beds, but a few of these were present, among them representatives from various provinces from Castellans to underchamberlands. Loud conversation was carried on and there was a humming in the room, as in a hive. All eyes were directed towards the door through which the Prince would appear. Suddenly silence fell, the Prince had entered the room. His countenance was peaceful, cheerful, and only the eyes read from want of sleep, and the furrowed features testified to the inward struggle, but through this cheerful and even mild appearance shown an earnest and unbending will. Gentlemen, he said, I took counsel this night with God and my own conscience to find out what I ought to do. I announce to you therefore, and you shall announce it to the whole knighthood, that for the good of the Fatherland and for the sake of unity, which is so essential in times of calamity, that I submit to the authorities. A deep silence reigned in the assembly. At noon of the same day there stood in the courtyard of the castle three hundred of Vyarshul's tartars in readiness to set out with Panskoshetosky, and in the castle the Prince was giving a dinner to the chief officers which was also a leave-taking for our night. He was given as the bridegroom the place of honour beside the Prince, and immediately next to him sat Zagloba, for it was known that his cleverness and his courage had saved the young lady when she was in the utmost extremity. The Prince was happy, for he had cast a burden from his breast, and he drank toasts to the health of the young couple. The walls and windows shook with joyous shouts of the officers. In the anti-rooms the servants were also reveling, and Zhenzhan was king among them. Gentlemen, said the Prince, I will empty this third goblet to the coming consulation. It is a mighty nest. God grants that the apples may not fall from the tree. May this parent hawk be get worthy fledglings. Long life! Long life! I thank you, said Zkoshetosky, as he emptied a mighty goblet of Malmoisier. Long life! Long life! Crescité et multi-commonie! You ought to provide half a company! said old Zatsvilikovsky, laughing. I know him already, cried Zagloba. He will, Zkoshetosky, rise the army! The nobles burst into loud laughter. The wine had mounted to their heads. One saw red faces and heard loud shouts. Everyone seemed to be getting into better humor. Well, said Zkoshetosky, full of happiness, I will confess to you that the cuckoo did promise me twelve boys. Good heavens! the Storks will die of hard work! said Zagloba. The others answered with a loud laughter. They all laughed and the hawl re-echoed with their voices. Suddenly there appeared on the threshold a gloomy apparition covered with dust, who, on seeing the table spread and the faces beaming with happiness, remained standing at the door as though he hesitated about entering. The prince was the first to remark his apparition. He frowned, put his hand up to his eyes, and said, Who is there? Ah, Kuchel of the Advance Guard! What is it? What news have you? Very bad news, my prince, said the young officer in hollow tones. As one man the assembled company were silent as though they had fallen under a spell. The goblets remained in their hands, halfway to their mouths. All eyes were directed to Kuchel and whose tired face sorrow was depicted. It would have been better if you had not announced it just as I am happy over my wine, said the prince, but as you have begun you had better finish. My prince, I wish that I were not the herald of misfortune, for I cannot bring myself to speak this news. What has happened? Speak. Bar is taken! It was a bright, clear night as a small troop of horsemen moved forward on the right bank of Baladinka in the direction of the Nester. They moved forward very slowly, almost step by step. At their head, a little in advance of the rest, rode two of them as an Advance Guard. But there was apparently no reason to be watchful, and instead of looking round them they conversed the whole time, and as they continually pulled up their horses they would look back at those who were following them and call out, slowly there, slowly, and the horsemen moved still more slowly. They hardly appeared to advance. At length, as they rounded a hill which had shaded them, they came out into an open space which was flooded with moonlight, and one could now understand better why they moved so slowly. In the middle of the caravan the horses carried between them a litter, fastened to their saddles in which lay a human form. The silver moonbeams lighted up the pale face and closed eyes. Ten men rode behind the litter. By their lances without penance one knew they were Cossacks. Some of them were leading pack horses, others rode untrammeled. But little as the foremost horsemen appeared to be watching the neighborhood so much the more uneasily and anxiously did the rest look round them on all sides, and yet the region appeared to be a perfect desert. The silence was broken only by the sound of horses who have send the cry of one or two of the foremost riders, who from time to time repeated the warning, slowly, carefully. Presently he turned to his companion. Is it far, Horpina? he asked. His companion whom he had called Horpina, a giant young woman dressed like a Cossack, looked up at the starry sky and answered, Not much farther we shall be there before midnight. We are now going along Woroshipas, then we come to the Tartar Plains, and then we shall get at once into the Chotovija, Devil's Hollow. Oh, it would be dangerous to ride through there after midnight before the cock crows. I might do it, but it would be hard with you, very hard. The foremost horsemen shrugged his shoulders. I know, he said, that you are allied with the devil, but there are remedies even against him. Devil or no devil, there is no remedy, answered Horpina. If you, Falcon, should look the whole world through for a hiding place for your young princess, you could not find a better one. Here no one comes through after midnight except with me, and no foot of man has ever trodden the Devil's Hollow. If anyone wishes his fortune told, they stand at the entrance to the Hollow and wait till I come out. Fear nothing. No one gets in there, neither Poles, Tartars, nor anyone else. The Devil's Hollow is gruesome. You will see it. Let it be as gruesome as it likes. I tell you, I will come, and come there as often as I have a mind to. Will you do it in the daytime? Whenever it pleases me, and if the Devil himself stood across the entrance, I would take him by the horns. Bohan, Bohan! Ah, don't sovna, don't sovna! Do not be worried about me. If the Devil gets me or not, it won't be your fault, but I will tell you one thing. Do what you like with your Devil, but if any harm happens to the Princess, there is no Devil or Vampire who will be able to save you from my hands. They tried to drown me once when I was living with my brother on the dawn, another time the Executioner in Yampol had already shorn my head, and still nothing happened to me, but that is another matter. I will watch over her for you, not a hair shall fall from her head on account of the ghosts, and in my cave she is safe from human beings. She will not vanish from you. Oh, you owl! If you say this, why did you prophesy to me that it would go hard with me? Why did you shout into my ear, a pole stands by her, a pole stands by her? I did not say that, it was the spirits. But perhaps things have changed now. Tomorrow I will tell your fortune above the water by the mill-wheel. You can see everything clearly in the water, but you have to look into it for a long time. You yourself shall see, but you are a mad dog, if one tells you the truth you fly into a rage and seize your axe. The conversation ceased. Again one heard only the sound of hoofs on the stones and other sounds which came from the river, like the chirping of crickets. Bohun paid no attention to these sounds which might have aroused attention at that time of night. He turned his face up towards the moon, and became plunged in deep thought. Orpina, he said after a pause. What do you want? You sorceress, you must know if it is true that there is an herb which, if brewed, will cause the one who drinks it to fall in love, love-water, or whatever it is called. Lubistka! But no Lubistka will help your misery. If the princess did not love anyone else, one might give it to her to drink. But if she loves another, do you know what will happen? What? Why, she will love the other all the more intensely. Go to destruction together with your Lubistka. You can only prophesy evil, but you cannot advise me. Listen, then, I know another herb which grows in the ground. Whoever drinks of this herb will lie two days and two nights like a log, and will not know what happens to him. I will give her some of this herb, and then the Cossack raised himself in his saddle and looked the witch through and through with his gleaming eyes. What are you croaking? he asked. Tehudi! cried the witch, and burst into a frightful laugh like the neighing of a mare. The laughter echoed ominously in the sides of the ravine. Bitch! said the Cossack leader. And the fire left his eyes, and he sank once more into deep thought. At length he said, as if talking to himself, No, no, when we took Bar, I was the first to penetrate it into the convent in order to shelter her from the drunken fellows, and to beat in the brains of anyone who dared to touch her. And she herself plunged a knife into her breast. Now she lies there unconscious. If I should touch her, only with my hand she would stab herself again or jump into the river. I, unhappy one, could not prevent it. You are at heart a pole and no Cossack, if you will not take possession of the maiden Cossack fashion. Oh, if I were a pole, if I were a pole, cried Bohun, if I were a pole. He seized his cap with both hands, for he was overcome with wild sorrow. She must have bewitched you, this young pole, murmured Horpina. She must indeed, he answered sadly. Oh, if the first bullet had only killed me, or that I had ended my dog's life on the stake, I desire only one being in the world, and this one will not have me. Fool! cried Horpina angrily. Why, you have her. Shut your jaw! answered the Cossack furiously. And if she kills herself, what then? Then I would tear you to pieces, tear myself to pieces, dash my head on the stones and bite everyone like a dog. I would give my soul for her, the honor of a Cossack, and would fly to your Horlick, and farther away to the end of the world. If I could fly with her, if I could live with her, could die with her. Nothing will happen to her, she will not die. If she should die, I would nail you to the door. You have no authority over her? I have none, none at all. I would that she might stab me with her knife, that she might kill me. It would be better. The foolish little pole, if she would only give herself to you of her own free will, could she find a better one than you? If you can manage that, I will send you a pot full of dockets and another full of pearls. We got good booty and bar, and before that, too. You are as rich as Prince Jeremy and loaded with fame. They say that even Chivonos fears you. The Cossack waved his hand. What good does that all do me when my heart aches? And again there was a silence. The riverbank became more wild, more desolate. The pale moonlight gave fantastic shapes to the trees and rocks. Presently, Horpina spoke, Here is the war oh she pass, we must ride together. Why, it is uncanny here. They reigned in their horses and in a few minutes were joined by those that were riding behind them. Bohan rose in his stirrups and looked into the litter. Is she asleep? he asked. She is sleeping as sweetly as a child, answered the old Cossack. I gave her a sleeping draught, said the fortune teller. Slowly carefully, said Bohan, almost devouring the sleeping form with his eyes, do not waken her. The moon is shining straight in her face, my darling. Quiet, do not wake her, whispered one of the Cossacks. And the cavalcade proceeded on its way. They soon reached the war oh she pass. This was a low barren hill that lay close by the river, like a round disk on the ground. The moon streamed down on it and lighted up the white stones that were spread over its whole surface. In places these formed heaps and looked like the remains of ruined churches and castles. In some places there were flat stones that stood on end and looked like gravestones in a churchyard. The whole hill looked like a great heap of ruins. Possibly at one time long ago, in the time of the Yagyelo, men had lived here. Now the hill and the whole region, as far as Raskov, was a desolate wilderness in which only wild animals dwelt, and where at night lost souls carried on their orgies. The cavalcade had hardly ascended the hill's half way, when the light wind which had been blowing changed to a regular storm, which blew around the hill with a peculiar melancholy and ominous whistling sound, and it seemed to the Cossacks as though, from among these ruins, heavy sighs and groans issued, as though forced from some human breast, and then changed into laughing and crying voices of children. The whole hill seemed alive and began to resound with various voices. Behind the stones tall dark forms seemed to look forth. Strange shadows glided forth among the pebbles. In the semi-darkness weird lights gleamed in the distance, like the glittering of wolves' eyes. Finally from the farther end of the hill, between the heaps of stones and ruins, there came a howling as from the depths of the earth, which was also accompanied by the former sounds. Are those ceramaks? whispered a young Cossack to the leader. No, those are vampires! answered another, softly. Oh, God have mercy on us, cried others, as they took off their caps and crossed themselves devoutly. The horses pricked up their ears and snorted. Horpina, who rode at the head of the cavalcade, growled, half to herself and half aloud, some unintelligible words like a satanic pater. When they arrived at the end of the pass she turned and said, It is all right now. I had to restrain them with a charm, for they were very hungry. Every breast uttered a sigh of relief. Bohan and Horpina again rode on in front, but the Cossacks, who shortly before had held their breath, began to whisper and talk to one another. Each one remembered some former adventures with spirits and ghosts. If Horpina were not here we should never get through, said one of the men. She is a great sorceress! And our Ataman is not afraid of did-cause. He saw nothing, he heard nothing, he was only looking round at the young lady. If what happened to me had happened to him he would not feel so safe, answered the sergeant. And what happened to you, Father Obsivoy? I was riding once from Remind to Rovky to Hulipole. It was at night and I was passing by a graveyard. Suddenly I saw something spring from one of the grave mounds to my saddle cloth. I looked round. It was a deathly, pale child. The Tartars had probably taken it from its mother to sell it as a slave and it died on the way unbaptized. The eyes shone like two candles. It moaned and moaned. It sprang from the saddle cloth to my neck and I felt that it was biting me behind the ear. Oh, God! A vampire! But I had served long in Velakia, and there, there are more vampires than people, but there is a protection against them. I sprang from my horse and struck the blade of my sword into the earth. Perish, I cried. The vampire moaned, seized the blade and glided down it under the ground. I traced across on the earth with my sword and rode away. Then there are great many vampires in Velakia, Father. Every other Valak changes into a vampire after his death, and the Valakian vampires are the worst of all. They call them their Brukolaks. And which is stronger, Father? A didger or a vampire? A didger is stronger, but a vampire is more tenacious. If you know how to manage a didger, it will serve you, but the vampire is good for nothing, it only scents blood. But a didger is its Ottoman. And Horpina rules the didger's. It must be so, as long as she lives, she will rule them. Why, if she had no power over them, the Ottoman would not give his darling up to her, for the vampires thirst for maiden's blood above all. I have heard that they cannot do anything to the souls of the innocent, not to the soul, but to the body. It would be too bad for the beauty. She is like milk and blood. Our little Father knew right well what to capture in bar. Ofsevi clacked his tongue. I cannot blame him, the golden, Polish girl. I am sorry for her, Father, said the young Cossack. When we laid her in the litter, she folded her little white hands and prayed, and prayed, Kill me, she entreated. Do not ruin me, wretched one. No evil will happen to her. Further conversation was interrupted by the approach of Horpina. Hey, Cossacks! said the Cirrus. This is the Tartar Plain, but do not be afraid. Only once a year do they have a bad night here, and the devil's glen and my abode are close at hand. Presently the sound of dogs barking was heard. The cavalcade stepped into the entrance of the glen, which led down almost perpendicularly from the banks of the river, and was so narrow that four riders of breast could hardly pass along it. At the bottom of the glen was a spring which gleamed in the moonlight as it hurried to meet the river. As the cavalcade advanced, they found that the walls of the cave widened out and enclosed a roomy, level space which was shut in on all sides by rocks. Here and there were trees. No breath of wind stirred their leaves. Long black shadows from the trees fell on the ground. In the spaces lighted by the moon gleamed white, round or longish objects, which the horrified Cossacks recognized as human ribs and skulls. They looked round mistrustfully, crossing themselves from time to time on breast and brow. A light suddenly flashed in the distance between the trees, and at the same moment two large, ugly black dogs approached, howling and barking at the sight of the men and horses. On hearing Horpina's shouts, they were soon pacified and walked round the horsemen growling. These are not dogs, whispered the Cossacks. These are not dogs, grunted old old Savai, in a tone which events his conviction. Behind the trees a shanty, and behind it a stable, and then a dark building appeared. The shanty looked outwardly neat and roomy, the windows were lighted. That is my dwelling, said Horpina to Bohun. Yonder is the mill which grinds no wheat but our own, but I am a prophet and prophesy from the water above the wheel. I will also prophesy for you. The young lady must go into the stranger's room, but if you wish to make it pretty, we must take her over to the other side first. Stop here and dismount. The cavalcade came to a stand still. Horpina began to call, Cherimus Hukul, Cherimus Hukul! A form holding a bundle of pitch-pine shavings in his hand, stepped before the house, and raising this flaming wood in his hand, silently observed those present. It was an old, ugly gray-haired man, almost a dwarf in stature, with a flat, square face and slanting eyes. What kind of devil are you? asked Bohun. You must not ask him, said the giantess. His tongue is cut out. Come nearer. Listen, said the woman, perhaps we can take the young girl into the mill. The Cossack will be trimming up the guest room and hammering nails into the walls, and that will wake her up. The Cossacks had dismounted and were carefully unfastening the litter. Bohun himself watched everything with the greatest anxiety, and himself bore the end of the litter towards the head, as they carried her into the mill. Carzell went on ahead holding the pitch-pine torch. The Princess, who was still sleeping from the effect of the draught which Horpina had prepared for her from so horrific herbs, did not awake, though her eyelids twitched from the glare of the torches which lighted up her face with a rosy glow. Perhaps she was being soothed by wonderful dreams, for she smiled sweetly whilst they carried the litter, though it resembled a funeral procession. Bohun gazed at her. He felt as though his heart would burst his ribs. My darling, my darling, he whispered softly, and the stern, though handsome face of the chief became gentle, and glowed in the reflection of the great love which had taken him captive, and which forged his fetters ever more firmly, as the wild steps are gradually overspread by flames from the embers which the traveller has forgotten to extinguish. Horpina, who was walking beside him, said, When she awakes from this sleep she will be well. God be praised, God be praised, answered the chieftain. Meanwhile the Cossacks had begun to take the packs off the six horses before the door of the cabin, and to unpack the pieces of furniture, rugs, and other treasures that they had plundered in bar. A good fire had been made in the guest room, and while some of the men continued to bring fresh rugs and draperies, the others fastened these on the wooden walls. Bohun had not only thought of a safe cage for his bird, but also determined to adorn it, so that the bird should not find captivity too unbearable. He soon came back from the mill, and himself superintended the work. The night was passing, the moon was withdrawing her pale light from the summits of the rocks, and the muffled sounds of the hammers was still to be heard. The simple peasant room was transformed more and more into a habitable chamber. At length, when the walls had been completely covered, and everything put in order, the sleeping princess was brought back and laid upon soft cushions. Then all was quiet. Only in the stables were heard, for a time, through the silence, loud bursts of laughter resembling the neighing of a horse. This was the young sorceress who was joking before the fire with the Cossacks, and distributing blows and kisses among them.