Book 3, Chapter 2 of With Fire and Sword, by Henrik Sinkiewicz, translated by Samuel A. Binyon. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The sun was already high in the heavens when the princess awoke and opened her eyes. Her glances fell first on the ceiling of the room and from thence wandered around the room. Her awakening consciousness struggled with the remains of her sleep and her dreams. The darkness and uneasiness were visible in her face. Where was she? How had she got here? In whose power was she? Was she dreaming or was she awake? What meant this luxury that surrounded her? What had happened to her up to this time? At this moment the dreadful scene of the taking of bar suddenly came vividly before her vision. She remembered everything—the slaughter of the thousands, people, nobles, citizens, priests, the religious people and children, the blood-stained heads of the blacks. The heads and necks round which were twined wreaking entrails, the noise of the drunken people, the day of judgment of the completely destroyed town, and then Bohun's appearance and her abduction. She remembered also that in a moment of despair she had stabbed herself with her own hand and a cold perspiration broke out on her forehead. Perhaps the knife had glided aside, for she felt only a slight pain, and at the same time she felt that she was alive, that health and strength were returning, and lastly she remembered that they had carried her a long, long distance in a litter. Where was she now? Was she in a castle? Rescued freed in safety? And here her looks wandered around the room. The windows were like those in a peasant's cabin, small and square. One could not see through them, for they were made of thin skin instead of glass. Was this truly a peasant's cabin? But that could not be, for the splendor of its furniture contradicted such a supposition. Instead of a ceiling the girl saw above her a canopy of crimson silk, embroidered with gold stars and moons. The walls that were not any too large were covered entirely with draperies. On the floor lay a rug, woven in various colors, as though it were strewn with fresh flowers. The mantelpiece was covered with Persian taffeta. Where was gold fringe, silk, velvet, from the ceiling and the walls to the very cushions on which her head rested? The bright daylight which penetrated the covering of skin in the little windows gave some light, but was lost in the crimson, the purple, and the sapphire of the velvet, and seemed to make a rainbow-like twilight. The princess was bewildered, she could not trust her eyes. Is this magic, or have the hosts of Prince Jeremy rescued her from the Cossacks, and placed her in a princely castle? The girl folded her hands. Holy Virgin, grant that the first face which appears at the door may be that of a protector and a friend! Just then, through the heavy gold embroidered portiere, there came to her ears, as from a distance, the sound of a lute, and to its accompaniment, a voice sang a song that she knew well. Love for thee is worse than sickness, sickness is a passing hill, and life may yield fresh joy and hope, but love's wound time near can heal. The princess raised herself on her couch, but the more she listened, the wider did her eyes open with terror. Finally she gave a frightful scream, and threw herself back into the cushions as if she were dead. She had recognized Bohun's voice. But her scream had, at any rate, pierced the walls of the great room, for presently the heavy curtain was moved aside, and the chieftain himself appeared on the threshold.  And yet the sight that terrified her so would have rejoiced the eyes of many a girl, for a radiance fairly streamed from the face and apparel of this young Cossack. The diamond buttons of his doublet glistened like the stars in the sky, his dagger and saber flashed with jewels. His coat made of silver lace and the red contouche, with the slashed sleeves, heightened the beauty of his tawny face. He stood thus before her, slender, black-eyed, magnificent, the handsomest of all the young men of the Ukraine. But his eyes were sad, like stars that are veiled by clouds, and he looked almost humbly at her, and, as he saw that the expression of fear did not leave her face, he began to speak in a low, sad voice. Fear nothing, Princess. Where am I? Where am I? she asked, looking at him through her fingers. In a safe place far from the war, fear nothing, thou, my beloved soul, I brought thee here from Bar that neither the people nor the war might do thee any injury. The Cossacks left no one alive. You alone came away alive. What am I doing here? Why do you pursue me? I pursue you, my God! And the chieftain folded his hands and shook his head, like a man who has suffered a great wrong. I am dreadfully afraid of you. Why do you fear me? If you command me, I will not move from the door. I am your slave. It is enough for me to remain here on the threshold and look into your eyes. I am not going to do you any harm. Why do you hate me? O gracious God! At sight of me you stabbed yourself with a dagger, although you had known me a long time and knew that I came to rescue you.  The pale cheeks of the girl became suddenly crimson.  The eyes of the girl flashed fire. The chieftain saw that there was no trifling with this princely curts of each blood, which, in its excitement, would carry out whatever it threatened, and he knew that the girl would aim the dagger more surely the second time than the first. So he answered nothing, but walked forward two or three steps to the window, and sat down on a bench covered with gold embroidery, and hung his head. There was silence for a while. "'You can rest in peace,' he said, as long as I am sober, as long as the gozolka does not mount to my head, so long you will be to me as a statue of a saint in the churches. And from the time I found you in bar I left off drinking. Before that I drank, I drank to drown my sorrow in gozolka. What could I do? But now neither sweet wine nor gozolka passes my lips.' The princess was silent. "'I will look at you,' he continued, gladdened my eyes with the sight of your rosy cheeks, and then I will go. "'Give me back my freedom,' said the girl. "'But you are not a prisoner, you are mistress here. And wither would you go. The Kurtzavitches are dead. The villages and settlements are destroyed by fire. The prince is not in Lutini. He is marching against Mianitsky, and Mianitsky against him. Everywhere is war, shedding of blood. Everywhere are Cossacks, hordes, and soldiers. Who will protect you? Who will take care of you, if not I?' The princess raised her eyes. Then it occurred to her that there was still someone in the world who would take her to himself and defend her, but she would not name him for fear of awaking the terrible lion. At the same time a deep sorrow filled her heart. Was he still alive, whom her soul longed for? As long as she remained in bar, she knew that he was alive, for immediately after Zagloba's departure the name of Skyshettsky came to her ears, together with the news of the victories of the terrible prince. But how many days and nights had passed since that time? How many fights? How many dangers might have overtaken him? She could now only get news of him through Bohun, whom she dared not and would not ask.  Then I must remain here a prisoner! She asked Moaning, What have I done to you that you should pursue me like misfortune? The Cossack raised his head and began to speak so softly that one could hardly understand him. What thou hast done to me I do not know, but I do know that if I am thy fate thou art also mine. If I did not love thee, I should be as free as the wind of the fields, with a heart free from care, with a free soul, and famous as Konashevich, the Hadeshny himself. Thy cheeks are my fate, thine eyes are my fate, neither free will nor Cossack honor are any longer dear to me. What did I care for beauty until you grew from a child to a maiden? Once I took a galley on board of which were the most beautiful girls, destined for the Sultan, and not one of them won my heart. The Cossack brothers played with them, and then I had a stone tied round the neck of each one and had her thrown into the water. I feared no one, no one dared attack me. I went to the war against a heathen, took booty, and as the prince is in his palace so was I on the steps. And today here I sit, a slave, in treating for a kind word from you, and I may not have it, and have never had it. Not even then, when, girl, if you had treated me differently, if you had ever treated me differently, all this would not have happened that has happened. I would not have killed your relations. I would not have joined the disaffected peasants. But through thy unkindness I have lost my reason. Thou mightest have led me wither thou wouldst. I gave thee my blood, my soul. Now I am stained with the blood of the nobility. I killed only Tartars, and brought home booty for thee that thou mightst walk in gold and jewels like God's cherubim. Why didst thou not love me then? Oh, heavy, heavy, does repentance weigh on my heart. I may not live with thee, and without thee I cannot live. Not at a distance, not near, not on the mountains, not in the valleys. Thou, my beloved, my little dove, but pardon me, that I came for thee to Rosloga in the Cossack fashion with sword and fire. I was drunk with anger towards the princes, and on the road I drank Cossack. I, unhappy murderer. And then when thou fleddest from me, I howled like a dog and my wounds pained. I would not eat, and I called my mother death to take me away.  Bohan interrupted himself. His voice was choking, and he was almost sobbing. And Helena's face grew first white, then red. The more intense the love that spoke in Bohan's words, the greater was the abyss that opened before the girl, a bottomless abyss without hope of escape. When the Cossack had paused awhile, he collected himself, and then continued, Demand what thou wilt. See how this room is adorned. This is all mine. This is booty from Bar. I brought it here for thee from Bar on six horses. Ask what thou wilt. No gold, rich dresses, bright jewels, humble slaves. I am rich. I have enough property. Mianitsky will not grudge it, nor will Sivonos.  I will conquer palaces for thee. I will give thee half of the Ukraine, for even if I am a Cossack, not a nobleman, I am a Bunchakataman. Ten thousand soldiers are under me, more than under Prince Yeremi. Ask what thou wilt. Thou wilt only not leave me, darling, and learn to love me. The Princess raised herself pale as death from her cushion, but her sweet beautiful face bore the impress of such an unyielding will of so much pride and power that at this moment this dove resembled a young eagle. If you are waiting for my answer, she said, know that should I be forced to pass my whole life moaning in captivity, I would never love you, so help me, God. Sivon underwent a struggle with himself. Do not say such things to me, he said in a hoarse voice. And do not speak to me of your love, for I am ashamed of it. It insults and angers me. I am not for you. The chieftain rose from his seat. And for whom, then, Princess Kurtsevich, to whom would you belong in bar if I had not been there? He who saved my life to disgrace and imprison me as my enemy and not my friend. And do you remember that the peasants would have killed you? It is frightful to think of it. The dagger would have killed me. You snatched it from me. And I will not give it back to you, for you must be mine. Said the Cossack, exploding, Never, I prefer death.  Well if you were not wounded after what you said to me today, I would this very day send some soldiers to Raskov and have a monk brought hither by the hair of his head. And tomorrow I would be your husband. What then? Is it not a sin not to love one's husband? Gracious lady, so the Cossack's love insults you and makes you angry. Who are you, then, that I should be to you as a peasant? Where are your palaces, your boyars, your soldiers? Why are you insulted? Why are you angry? I took you in war, you slave. Oh, if I were a peasant, I would teach you wisdom with a whip upon your whiteback and satisfy myself with your beauty without the assistance of any priest. If I were a peasant and not a knight, heavenly angels save me, whispered the princess. Meanwhile rage became more and more apparent in the face of the Cossack. Anger seized him by the hair. I know why it insults you, why I am distasteful to you. You are saving or made in honor for another. But nothing will come of it as true as I live, as true as I am a Cossack. For that mangy nobleman, that miserable pole, death and destruction to him, he hardly looked at you, had hardly turned you round once in the dance when you were completely infatuated with him.  Know that Mionitsky is marching against the poles, and I am going with him, and I will find your dove, even if he were under the earth. And when I come back, I will at once throw his head on the highway underfoot." Helena had not heard the last words of the Ottoman. Pain, anger, her wound, excitement, fear had robbed her of her strength, and intense weakness took possession of her limbs. Her sight failed, and her thoughts became confused. She fainted. Bohan stood there awhile, pale with anger, foam on his lips, wind suddenly noticing this lifeless, powerless form with his head hanging helplessly. An unearthly cry escaped his lips. It is all over with her hopina, orpina, orpina! And he fell to the ground. The giantess came hurrying to the guest-room. What is the matter with you? Save her, save her! cried Bohan. I have killed her! My soul, my light!   But orpina, approaching the princess, soon saw that she was not dead, but in a dead faint, and as soon as she got Bohan got out of the room she began to restore her. After awhile the princess opened her eyes. Well, dearie, there is nothing the matter, said the witch. One can see that you were frightened at him and lost consciousness, but the fainting fit is over and your health will come back. You are as sound as a nut and will live a long time and enjoy happiness. Who are you? asked the princess in a weak voice. I? Your servant, for so he commanded. Where am I? In the devil's hollow it is an absolute wilderness. You will see no one here but him. Do you live here, too? This is our farm. I am Don Solvna. My brother commands a squadron under Bohan. He has good Cossacks. And I stay here and will keep you in this golden room. The cabin is turned into an enchanted castle. It fairly glitters. He brought all this here for you." Helena looked sharply into the bright face of the girl. She appeared to be perfectly sincere. And will you be good to me? The white teeth of the witch gleamed as she laughed. I will indeed. Why should I not? She said. But you must be good to the Ottoman. He is a falcon, a famous young soldier. He will." Here the witch leaned over and whispered something into Helena's ear, and then broke into a loud laugh. Away! screamed the princess. End of Book 3, Chapter 2 Book 3, Chapter 3 of With Fire and Sword, by Henrik Sinkhevich, translated by Samuel A. Benyon, this LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Two days later, in the morning, Don Solvna sat with Bohan beneath a willow near the mill-wheel, and looked at the foaming water.  Once the side of the river, the ravine has a narrow opening, but here it is roomy. Let the entrance be filled with stones, and we will stay here as if we were at the bottom of a well. If necessary, I can find a way out. What do you live on here? Cherimus plants corn behind the rocks. He also plants grapevines, and catches birds in nets. With all that and what you have brought, we have no lack of anything except birds' milk. Do not fear she will not escape from the ravine, and no one will find out that she is here unless some of your people gossip it. I have sworn them. They are all faithful cassocks. They will not talk, although one should flay them. But you said yourself that people often come here for you to tell their fortunes. Sometimes they come from Rashkov, sometimes when they know about me from God knows where, but they stay by the river. You saw those bones. There were some who tried to come in. There lie their bones. You killed them? Who killed them? Killed them. Whoever wishes to have his fortune told must wait outside the hollow, and I go to the mill-wheel. Whatever I see in the water, I go and tell him. I will look for you in a minute, but I do not know if I shall see anything, for one cannot always see. As long as you do not see anything evil. If it is something evil, you will not ride away from here. It would be better if you did not leave. I must. Mjolnicki sent me a letter to Bar to tell me to come back, and he gave Sivonos the same orders. Now that the Poles are marching toward us with a large force, we must keep our forces together. And when will you come back? I do not know. There will be a great battle greater than any we have had. Either we shall die or the Poles. If they beat us, I will hide myself here, but if we beat them, I will come for my little bird and drive with her to Kiev. And if you fall, that is why I have come to you to tell my fortune I want to find out. And if you fall, our mother has borne us but once. Bah! Bah! And what shall I then do with the girl? Shall I ring her neck or what? If you lay a hand on her, I will have you impaled by oxen. The officer reflected gloomily. If I fall, tell her to think of me. O the ungrateful little pole, to think that she should not love you in return for so much love. If it were I, I would not be so contrary. With these words, Horpina punched him twice in the side with her fist and showed him all her teeth as she smiled. Go to the devil, said the Cossack. Now, now, I know that you are not for me. Bohan stared into the foaming water above the wheel as if he himself could read his own future. Horpina, he said presently, what? Will she fret for me when I am gone? If you will not make her your own Cossack fashion, perhaps it is better that you should go away. I will not. I cannot. I dare not. I know she would die. Then it is better for you to go. As long as she sees you, she cannot bear you. But when she has stayed here with me and cherimus for one or two months, she will begin to like you better. If she were well, I know what I would do. I would let a priest come from Rashkov and I would marry her. But now I am afraid that if she should be frightened, she would die. You saw that yourself. Let be. What good would the priest and the marriage do you? No, you are no true Cossack. No. I will not have any priest or any other minister here. In Rashkov the Tatars from Dobruja are stationed. They would attack us, and if they should come, you would never see the princess again. What have you got into your head? You away and come back again. And you look into the water and tell me what you see. Tell me the truth and do not lie, even though you should see me dead. Donsovna approached the trough and raised the second sluice that shut off the water from the mill-wheel. The flood poured with double force over the wheel which went round faster and faster, until it was completely enveloped in spray. Curdling foam gathered beneath the wheel as from boiling water. The fortune teller fixed her dark eyes on that foaming water, and seizing her long braids that hung down behind her ears, she began to cry out, O cool! O cool! Show thyself! In the oak wheel, in the white foam, in the bright spray, good or bad, show thyself! Bohan approached and sat down beside her, his face betrayed anxiety and feverish curiosity. I see, screamed the witch. What does thou see? The death of my brother, two oxen are dragging Donsa to the stake. To the devil with your brother, growled Bohan, who wanted to find out something else. For a time one heard only the rattle of the wheel which was turning madly. My brother's head is blue, quite blue. The ravens are pecking him, said the witch. What else do you see? Nothing! O how blue he is! O cool! O cool! Show thyself! In the oak wheel, in the white foam, in the bright spray, I see. And what? A battle. The Poles are fleeing before our soldiers. And I? Am I pursuing them? I see you, too.  Ha, ha, ha! Beware of that little knight. And the princess? She is not there. I see you again. Someone is with you who has betrayed you, your false friend. Bohan devoured with his eyes first the foaming water, then horpina, and wracked his brain to explain the prophecy. What friend? I do not see. I do not know if he is old or young. Old, quite old? Perhaps he is old. Then I know who he is. He has already betrayed me once, an old nobleman with a grey beard and a white eye. Death and destruction to him. He is not my friend. He is spying on you. I see him again. Wait! The princess is there, too, with a cornet on her head, in a white dress, and above her is a hawk. That is I. Perhaps it is you, a hawk, or a falcon. It is a hawk. It is. Wait! There is something more to be seen. In the oak wheel, in the white foam, oh, a crowd of soldiers, numerous as the trees in the forest, numerous as the thistles in the steppes, and you above them all. And they are carrying three bonchocks before you. And is the princess with me? No, she is not there. You are in the camp. Again they were silent for a few minutes. The wheel whirled round so that the whole mill trembled. Ha! What is all this blood? So much blood! So many corpses, wolves and ravens among them. A pestilence comes from them. Nothing but corpses! Nothing but corpses! Far away in the blue distance, one sees nothing but corpses! Nothing but blood! Suddenly a gust of wind blowing across the wheel swept away the cloud of spray, and at the same time above them in the mill the ugly cherimus appeared with a bundle of wood on his back. Cherimus, put down the sluice, cried the girl, and then she went to wash her hands and face in the brook. The dwarf, meanwhile, put down the sluice and stemmed the water. Bohan sat still in thought, and only the approach of Orpina roused him. You saw nothing else, he asked. I told you whatever appeared and could see nothing more. And were you not lying? By my brother's head I spoke the truth. They were going to impale him. With his feet tied to oxen they will have him dragged to the stake. I am sorry for him, but he is not the only one who is doomed to death. How many bodies I saw! I have never seen so many! There is going to be a great war on the earth. And so you saw me with a hawk over my head. Yes I did. And she had on a coronet, a coronet and a white dress. And how do you know that I am this hawk? I told you about the young pole, the nobleman, perhaps it is he. The girl frowned and reflected. No! After a while she said, shaking her head, if it were a pole there would be an eagle. Thank God! Thank God! I am now going to the servants to tell them to get the horses ready, and we will set out this night. Yes, it is necessary that you should go. Yonitsky has commanded it, and Shivonos has commanded it. You saw rightly that there is going to be a great war, for I saw that in Bar and also in Yonitsky's letter. Bohan really could not read, but he was ashamed to acknowledge it, for he did not wish to appear uneducated. Well, then go, said the witch, you are fortunate for you will become a Hetman. I saw above you three bonchucks as clearly as I see these fingers. I shall be a Hetman and marry a princess. It would not be suitable for me to marry a peasant girl.   I am not inferior to a pole. Then Bohan went into the stable to the servants, and Horpina began to cook the dinner. By evening the horses were ready for the journey, but the chieftain was not in a hurry. He sat in the guest-room upon a pile of rugs with a loot in his hand, and looked at the princess who had already left her couch, but had taken refuge in the other corner of the room and was telling her beads softly. She paid no more attention to Bohan than if he were not there. He on the contrary followed her every movement with his eyes, caught with his ears her every sigh, and knew not how he could bear it. He constantly opened his lids to begin a conversation, but his throat seemed choked.  He had formerly never remarked this expression in her face. Involuntarily the remembrance of similar evenings in Rosloga came to his mind and a vivid picture of the Kurtseviches and himself sitting round the oak table. The old princess was pulling the leaves off the summer roses, the princes were throwing dice, and he was watching the beautiful princess, just as he was now watching her. But then he was happy, then she would listen to his stories of military expeditions with a zither in her hand, her black eyes resting on his face, and her parted cherry lips showing with what interest she listened. Now she did not even look up. Formerly when he played the lute she would listen and look up at him till his very heart melted. And yet wonder of wonders, now he was her master, he had taken her by force. She was his booty, his slave, he could command her, and nevertheless he was formerly far nearer to her and felt himself far more her equal. The Kurtseviches were like brothers to him, and she, their sister, was for him not only the beloved of his heart, the falcon, the dearest black-eyed girl, but also almost a relation. And now she sat there before him, a proud, gloomy, silent and merciless mistress. Anger took possession of him, he would show her what it meant to despise a Cossack. But he loved this merciless mistress. He would pour out his blood for her, and whenever fury possessed him, it seemed to him as though an unseen hand seized him by the forelock, as though a voice called into his ear, Halt! Presently he broke into a violent fury, and then he dashed his head against the floor. The reason was this. The Cossack was filled with anguish. He felt that he was a burden to her in this room. If she would only smile on him once, say one kind word to him, he would fall at her feet, and then ride to the devil, to drown his sorrow, his anger, and his feeling of humiliation in the blood of the Poles. But here he felt as though he were the slave of this Princess. If he had not known her formerly, and known that she was a Polish lady of one of the first noble families, he would have had more courage. But she was the Princess Helena, whose hand he had sued for from the Kurtsevici, for whom he would give Rosloga and all that he possessed.  Time pressed. From outside came the buzz of conversation from the servants, who were probably sitting in their saddles, awaiting the Ottoman who was suffering such tortures. The bright flame from the pitch-pine lighted up his face, his rich mantle, his lute, and the Princess. If she would only cast one glance in his direction, the Ottoman felt bitterness, anger, oppression. He also felt foolish. He wished to take a touching farewell, and feared that the parting would not be what he so longed for. He feared that he must leave her in bitterness, anger, and pain. Oh, if it were not the Princess Helena, who had wounded herself with the dagger, who would like now to kill herself, who was so dear to him, so dear to him, and all the dearer, the prouder and more cruel she showed herself. A horse neighed outside the window. The chieftain gained courage. Princess, he said, it is time for me to leave. Helena was silent. And you do not bid me Godspeed. Godspeed, she said earnestly. The Cossack's heart throbbed. She had said what he wanted, but he would have liked to hear it said in a different tone. Now I know, he said, that you are angry with me, that you despise me, but I can tell you one thing, that another would have treated you worse than I have done. I brought you here because I could not do otherwise. But what harm have I done you? Have I not treated you as what's becoming, like a king's daughter? Say yourself, am I such a villain that you cannot give me one kind word, and yet you are in my power? I am in God's power, she said, as earnestly as before. But as you have restrained yourself in my presence, I am grateful to you. Well then, I will go with only this word of farewell. Perhaps you may repent, perhaps a longing will come over you. Helena was silent. I am sorry to leave you here alone, said Bohun. Sorry also that I must go away, but it must be. It would be easier for me if you should give me a blessing on my journey. What can I do to conciliate you?  Well, perhaps that may happen yet, answered the Cossack. Perhaps you may yet regret that you have treated me so cruelly. Bohun wanted to buy a leave taking, even if with a half promise, which he had no intention to fulfill and gain his end, for a ray of hope beamed in Helena's eyes, and the expression of sternness melted from her face.  Would you— I do not know, said the Cossack softly, for shame and compassion were striving for the mastery. I cannot now, I cannot. Hordes are encamped in the wild fields, divisions of the army are marching in every direction. The Dobrudja Tartars are marching here from Rashkov. It cannot be now, for I am afraid.  You do what you will with me. I do not know, I do not know.  She stretched out her hand to him. Bohun sprang towards her and pressed her hand to his lips. Then suddenly raising his hand, an earnest look came into his face, and he let fall her hand. Going towards the door, he bowed himself repeatedly in the Cossack manor, and disappeared behind the portier. Presently a louder hum was heard outside, the clatter of weapons and then the words of a song sung by several voices. I shall be the bravest of all the brave, among the Cossacks, among my friends, through long, long years until the end of the world." The voices and the sound of hoofs were presently lost in the distance. CHAPTER III God has already worked a manifest miracle in her behalf, said Zaglova, to Valajovsky and Podmypienta, in Skyshevsky's chamber. A manifest miracle, I say, when he helped me to rescue her from the hands of those dogs and protected her along the whole journey. Let us trust that he will once again have compassion on her and on us, if she is only alive. But something whispers to me that he has stolen her again. For, Mark, gentlemen, as the informer told us, he has been made the second in command, next to Polion under Sivonos, may the devil take him. Therefore, he must have been at the taking of Bar. Perhaps he did not find her among the crowd of unfortunate ones. There were twenty thousand killed there, said Valajovsky. You don't know him. I would swear that he knew she was in Bar. I am convinced that he saved her from the slaughter and has taken her away somewhere. You do not give us much comfort or hope, for in Skyshevsky's place I would rather see her dead than let her remain in those vile hands. And that is no comfort for, even if she be dead, she has been wronged. It is enough to make one desperate, said Valajovsky. Yes, to make one desperate, repeated Longin. The globe at twirled his mustache and his beard, and then he burst forth, ah, may they get the scabs the whole of this dog's brood! May they heathen make ropes of their guts! God has made all kinds of men, but they were made by the devil! Such sons! Sodomites! May they be devoured by wild beasts! I did not know this sweet maiden, said Pan Michael, sadly, but I would rather that misfortune should pursue me than her. I have seen her only once in my life, but when I think of her I am so sad that I do not care to live, said Pan Longin. If that's how you feel, cried Zagloba, how do you suppose I feel, who loves her as my own daughter and have brought her safely through so many dangers, how do you suppose I feel? And how does Panskyshevsky feel, asked Valajovsky? Thus despairing the nights presently became silent, Zagloba was heard first. Can no one advise anything, he asked. Nothing can be done, it is our duty to avenge her, answered Valajovsky. God grant that we may have a battle, sighed Pan Longin. They say that the Tatars have already crossed the river and have struck camp in the wildlands. It must not be, said Zagloba. We cannot forsake the poor girl without doing something to help her. I have dragged my old bones far enough in this world. It would be better for me if I could find rest somewhere, I could stretch myself out in some bakery to get warm, but for the sake of this poor thing I would travel far, even to Stambur, though I had to put on a peasant's jerkin and carry a lute, a lute, which I cannot look at without abomination. You are so clever, can you not think out a plan how we can help her? said Padlypienta. I have already thought of several plans, if only half of Prince Dominic's men were as devoted as I am, Melnitsky would long ago have been disemboweled and hung up by his feet on the gallows. I have already spoken to Skashatursky about it, but just now one can do nothing with him. Sorrow has completely unmanned him and is wasting him more than an illness. Watch him that he may not lose his reason. It often happens that a great sorrow will make the mind ferment like wine until it finally becomes sour. It often happens, often happens, said Longin. Manvolodrovsky moved back and forth uneasily and said, What remedy are you thinking of? My remedy? Well first we must try and find out if the poor girl, the beautiful creature, may the holy angel's keeper from harm, is still alive, and we can do that in two ways. We may find among our Cossacks true and safe men who will undertake to go over to the Cossacks in appearance only, but in reality to mingle among Bohun soldiers and try to find out something from them. I have Russian dragoons, interrupted Volodrovsky. I can find such men among them. Wait a minute, or we will take prisoner some of the rascals who took bar and see if they do not know anything. They all look to Bohun as to a rainbow, so impressed are they with his devilish spirit. They sing songs about him, may their throat rust, and one relates to another what he has done or what he has not done. If he has taken our poor child prisoner they will not hide it. We can send men to make inquiries and take a prisoner as well, remarked Pan-Podby Pienta. You've struck it. The chief thing is for us to find out if she is alive. Then as soon as you gentlemen desire to help pan Skachetosky with a true heart, place yourselves under my command, for I have the most experience. We will disguise ourselves as peasants and try to find out where he has hidden her. Once we know that, I will lay my head we shall get her. Skachetosky and I have the most at stake, for Bohun knows us both, and should he recognize us, our own mother will not know us again, but he has not seen either of you. He has seen me, said Podby Pienta, but that makes no difference. Perhaps God will deliver him into our hands, said Pan-Volkovsky. I do not want to see him at all, continued Zagloba. May the hangman delight in his countenance. We must go to work carefully if we do not wish to spoil everything. It is impossible that he should be the only one who knows our hiding place, and it is safer to ask someone else about it. Perhaps our men whom we send out will find out for us. If the prince will only allow me, I will choose the most reliable and will send them out tomorrow. The prince will allow it sure enough, but I doubt whether they will find out anything. Listen, gentlemen, something has just occurred to me. How would it be if, instead of sending out men, we should dress ourselves as peasants and undertake the journey ourselves? Oh, no, that will not do. cried Pan-Volkovsky. Why will it not do? You cannot understand military service. When the regiments, without exception, stand ready for battle, it is a sacred thing. Though father and mother should be on their deathbed, no soldier would demand leave of absence. For that would be the most dishonorable thing that a soldier could do, just before a battle. After the battle is fought and the enemy scattered, one may do it, but not beforehand. And remember, Pansky Shetlsky himself may have the greatest wish to do the same, but he would not stir. He longs to go, the prince loves him, and yet he says not a word, because he knows his duty. This gentleman is public duty, the other is private duty. I do not know how it is elsewhere, although I judge that it is the same everywhere. But with our prince it was never the custom to ask leave before a battle, not even for the officers. And though Shetlsky's heart should break, he would not approach the prince with such a proposition. He is a Roman and a stickler for form, I know that," said Panzerglober. But if anyone should whisper a word to the prince, he would probably grant him, and you leave willingly. Such a thing would not occur to him. The prince is responsible for the whole commonwealth. What are you thinking of? It is a question here of matters of grave importance, which concern the whole nation, and the private consideration would have no weight with him, and even if he should voluntarily grant leave, which, however, it is quite improbable, as God is in heaven not one of us would now leave the camp, for we are bound in honor to serve our unhappy country in the first place, and not to think about own interests. I know that also, I know and understand the service from early times, and therefore I say to the gentleman that this idea only came into my mind, but I did not say that it had taken root there, besides to tell the truth we could not do much even that way, as long as the power of those rascals is not defeated. But if they are beaten and pursued, and have to save their own throats, then we can boldly go among them and easily get information from them. If the rest of the army would only join us as soon as possible, otherwise we shall grieve ourselves to death near this Golan-ski Khamin. If our prince only had the chief command, we should have gone away long ago, but it is easy to see that Prince Dominic likes to rest quite often, as he is not here yet. He is expected in three days. God grant that it may be as soon as possible. Is it not true that the cup-bearer is to come today? So it is said. At this moment the door opened, and Panskoshetysky stepped in. His face appeared to be petrified with sorrow, such a chill and stillness seemed to come from him. This young face, so stern and earnest, was a strange sight. A smile never lighted it up, and it seemed as if death itself would not alter him much. His beard had grown long, halfway down to his waist, his raven black hair showed a few silver threads. His companions and friends divined his sorrow, though he tried not to let it be perceived, otherwise he was perfectly conscious, apparently calm, and more zealous than before in his military duties, and quite occupied with the approaching battle. We were just speaking of your misfortune, and it is also ours, said Zagloba, for God is our witness that nothing can give us any comfort, but it would be sterile sympathy if we only helped you to shed tears, so we have decided to shed our blood for the sake of the dear one, if she is still on the earth, and to rescue her from prison. May God reward you, said Zkoshetysky. We will go with you, even into Mjolnitsky's camp, said Panvalojovsky, looking anxiously at his friend.  We know, said Zagloba, that you have sworn that you will find her dead or alive, and we are ready, even this very day. Zkoshetysky had seated himself on a bench with his eyes cast to the ground and said nothing. Zagloba was quite annoyed. Could he intend to give her up, he thought, if he does, may God be with him. I see there is neither gratitude nor remembrance in the world, but there are others who will save her. Let them do it, for I would sooner draw my last breath. Absolute silence reigned in the room, and was only broken by a scy from Panlongin. Meanwhile, little Volojovsky approached Zkoshetysky and shook him by the shoulder. Where do you come from? he asked. From the prince. And what's the news? I am going to-night on an expedition. Are you going far? As far as Yarmulins, if the road is clear. Volojovsky looked across at Zagloba. They understood each other at once. That is the way to bar! growled Zagloba. We will go with you. You must ask for leave, and find out if the prince has laid out any other work for you. We will go together. I have something else I wish to ask him. And so have we," said Zagloba. They rose and went out. The prince's quarters were at some distance, at the other end of the camp. They found the front room full of officers from the different regiments, for soldiers came hither from all parts of the country to the Koladsky commune, to offer their services to the prince. Panvolojovsky had to wait a long time before he and Panlongin could appear before the prince, but Yarmulins at once gave them permission to set out themselves, and to send out Dragoon spies, who should pretend to desert from the camp and go over to Bohan's Cossacks, and hear what these had to say about the princess. To Volojovsky, he said, I am thinking up new duties for Skyshettsky, for I see that he has buried in his sorrow, and that it is consuming him. I am unutterably sorry for him. Has he said nothing to you about her? Very little. At first he started up and wanted to go blindly into the midst of the Cossacks, but he remembered that the regiments without exception were in readiness for war, and that we were in the service of our country, which must be saved before all else, and that is why he did not come to see your highness, God only knows what is passing in his mind. This has hit him hard, watch him, for I see that you are a faithful friend to him. Panvolojovsky bowed low and left the room, and at this moment the Volyovoda of Kiev with the starosta of Stobnitsky, with Pandenhof the starosta of Sokalsky, and other dignitaries entered the prince's quarters. How goes it? asked Panskyshettsky. I am going with you, but before that I must go to my regiments, for I am to send several men away. Let us go together. They went, and with them, Panpodbypienta, Zagloba, and old Zatsvilekovsky, who was also going to his regiment, not far from the tents of Volojovsky's dragoons, they met Panlash, who was rolling away rather than walking, at the head of some nobles, for like his companions he was perfectly drunk. Zagloba sighed as he saw him. They had become acquainted and grown to like each other at Konstantinov, from the fact that they had similar characters and were alike as two drops of water. Panlash, although he was an awe-inspiring knight, feared by the heathen, as were not many others, was at the same time a noted drunkard, glutton, and dice-thrower, who, in the intervals of fighting, praying, dueling, and slaughtering, loved nothing better than to be in the company of such men as Zagloba, to drink for all he was worth and to listen to anecdotes. He was a brawler of the first water, who of his own self created so much disturbance and so often transgressed the law that, in any other country, he would long ago have lost his head. Many sentences were hanging over him, but even in times of peace he did not pay much attention to them, and during war he forgot them completely. He had joined the Prince at Rosolodza, and had done him no small service at Konstantinov, but from the moment they began to rest in Zabaraj he became more and more unendurable from the disturbances that he constantly created. It may be remarked at the same time that no one could have told or have written down how much wine Zagloba had drunk with him, how much he had talked to him, how many stories he had told him, to the great joy of the host, who invited him to come there every day. But since the news of the taking of Bar, Zagloba had become earnest. He had lost his humor, his vivacity, and no longer visited the commander. Pan Lash had begun to think that this jolly nobleman had left the army and gone elsewhere, when he suddenly came across him. He stretched both hands out towards him and said, Well, Mets, why do you never come to see me? What are you doing? I am keeping Pan Skashetosky company," answered the nobleman in a melancholy tone. Pan Lash could not bear Skashetosky because he was so serious and he called him the sedate. He knew of his unhappiness, for he had been at that dinner in Zabaraj when the news of the taking of Bar had been brought. But as he was naturally a man of unrestrained feelings and was also drunk he did not know how to respect the sorrow of others, and seizing a button of the lieutenant's coat he said, So you are weeping for your girl. Was she pretty? What? Let me alone, good sir," said Skashetosky. Wait a minute, as I am under orders I cannot stay. Wait a minute," said Lash, with the obstinacy of a drunken man. You may be under orders, but I am not. No one can command me." And then he repeated the question in a lower voice. Was she pretty? What? The lieutenant frowned. I must tell you, good sir, that it would be better not to re-open the wound. Do not be afraid, if she is pretty, she is alive. Skashetosky's face grew deathly pale, but he controlled himself and said, Sir, do not oblige me to forget to whom I am speaking. Lash opened his eyes very wide. What does that mean? You threaten me? You? Me? On account of a winch?   Gentlemen, draw your swords! And drawing his, he sprang towards Skashetosky, but at that moment it was knocked out of his hand by Panlash and flew like a bird into the air, while its owner, who had lost his balance from the force of the blow, fell over and lay full length on the ground. Skashetosky did nothing further but remained standing still, white as death, as though he were stunned. Meanwhile a tumult arose. From one direction came the commander's soldiers, and from the other direction Volodzhovsky's dragoons, like a swarm of bees from a hive. There were loud cries of, fight, fight! Many who came running up did not know what it was all about. Their swords clashed. At any moment the tumult might have turned into a general fight. Fortunately Lash's companions had noticed that an increasing number of Vishnovetsky's soldiers were arriving on the spot. They were becoming sobered by fear, and seizing the commander they fled with him. It is certain that if Panlash had been dealing with less well-disciplined soldiers he would have been cut into small pieces. But Oldzatzvilikovsky needed only to cry, Stop! And all swords disappeared in their sheaths. Nevertheless the whole camp resounded with the noise, and the echo even reached the ears of the prince, especially as Pan Kushel, who was on duty, dashed into the room in which the prince was having an interview with the voyavoda of Kiev, the starosta of Stolbnik, and Pandenhof, and cried, Your Highness, the soldiers are fighting with swords! At that moment the commander, pale and almost unconscious with anger, fell like a bomb into the room. Your Highness, Justice! he cried. In this camp things are going on just as they do with Melnitsky. No respect is paid to blood or rank. The officials of the crown are struck with swords. If Your Highness will not exercise justice and sentence the guilty ones to be hanged, I must see to it myself! The prince sprang from his seat at the table. What has happened? Who attacked you good, sir? Your officer, Skyshchetosky! The greatest astonishment was visible in the countenance of the prince. Skyshchetosky! Suddenly the door was opened, and in stepped Zatzvilikovsky. Your Highness, I was a witness! he said. I did not come here to give an account of it, but to demand punishment! cried Lash. The prince turned towards him and, looking at him fixedly, said quietly and impressively, Slowly, slowly, there was something so awe-inspiring in his eyes and in his quiet voice that pan Lash, although noted for his great boldness, was suddenly silent, as though he had lost his speech, and the other gentlemen were almost frightened. Speak, said the prince to Zatzvilikovsky. Zatzvilikovsky related the whole story, that Pan Lash had ridiculed in a manner unworthy not only of a dignitary but also of a nobleman, the sorrow of Pan Skyshchetosky, and had then sprung upon him with his sword, and with remarkable moderation for his years the lieutenant had merely satisfied himself with knocking the sword out of his opponent's hand. The old man concluded as follows, And your highness well knows that although I am in my seventieth year, no lie has ever passed my lips and never shall, as long as I live, I could not under oath change one word of my statement. The prince knew that Zatzvilikovsky's words were as true as gold, and he knew Pan Lash equally well, but he did not answer. He took a pen and began to write. When he had finished, he said, looking at Pan Lash, You shall have justice, gracious sir. The commander wished to say something, but it seemed as if words were wanting, and he put his hands to his sides, bowed, and went proudly out of the room. Zalinsky, said the prince, give this note to Pan Skyshchetosky. Pan Volodzhovsky, who had not left the lieutenant's side, was rather uneasy when he saw the prince's boy come into the room. He was certain that they would have to appear before the prince at once, but the boy left the letter without a word and went out. Skyshetosky read it and handed it to his friend. Read it, he said. Pan Volodzhovsky glanced at it and cried, A promotion! And putting his arm round Skyshetosky's neck, he kissed him on both cheeks. The colonel's full dignity in a Hussar regiment was almost the highest rank. The prince himself was captain in the regiment in which Skyshetosky served, and Pan Sofshinsky from Sincch was nominally colonel, but he was an old man and had long since retired from active service. Skyshetosky had for some time performed the duties of both positions, which often occurred in other regiments where the two chief positions were often only by courtesy or honorary positions. The king himself was captain of the royal regiment, and the primate himself was captain of the primate's regiment. The officers in both regiments, high court officials, also served actually as lieutenants and colonels. Such a lieutenant or rather colonel was Skyshetosky, but there was a great difference between the mere exercise of the duties, between the honorary dignity and the real rank. At this instance, however, through this appointment, Skyshetosky had become one of the first officers of the Voivoda of Russia. But while his friends were shouting for joy and wishing him happiness on his promotion, Skyshetosky's features remained fixed and calm, his face bore the same petrified stern expression. For there were no dignities nor honors in the world that could now cheer him or give him any happiness. He rose, however, and went to thank the prince, and little Panbolejovsky went to his own quarters, rubbing his hands. Well, well, he said, to be appointed colonel of a Hussar regiment, that very seldom happens to such a young man indeed never. If God would only give him back his happiness, said Zagloba, did you notice that he did not move a muscle? He would willingly resign, said Longan. I do not wonder, sir, said Zagloba. I would give my five fingers here for her, although I took a flag with them. Yes, indeed, yes. Then Panso Shinsky must have died, remarked Polojovsky. Probably he is dead. Who will then get the lieutenancy? The ensign is so young and only saw his first service at Konstantinov. This question remained undecided, but Colonel Skyshetosky himself brought the answer. Sir, he said, turning to Podbepienta, the prince has appointed you, lieutenant. Oh God, oh God! Growned Longan, holding his hands as if for prayer. He might just as well have appointed his Lithuanian mare, growled Zagloba. Well, and the expedition, asked Panvolejovsky, we ought to start without delay, answered Skyshetosky. How many men has the prince commanded us to take? A Cossack and a Volokian squadron, altogether five hundred men. Ha! That is a military expedition, not a scouting party. But if that is the case, it is time to set out. Let us set out, let us set out, repeated Zagloba. Perhaps God may help us to get some news! Two hours later, as the sun was setting, the four friends rode away from the Kolansky towards the south. Almost at the same moment the commander with his men left the camp. A number of officers from the different regiments came to see these last set out, amid cries and insults. The officers formed a circle round Pankushel, who was telling them the reason why this man had been sent away and how it had happened. I brought him the prince's order, said Pankushel, and believe me, honoured sirs, it was an important errand, for when he read it he began to bellow like an ox when he has branded. He wanted to spring on me with his battle-axe, and I wondered that he did not strike me. It seems that he saw through the windows Pankoritsky's Germans, who were surrounding his quarters, and my dragoons with their muskets in their hands, and then he began to shout, well, well, I will go if I am driven out, I will go to Prince Dominic, who will receive me kindly. I will not, he continued, serve among beggars any longer, but I will revenge myself, he screamed, as true as I am lash, and I will get satisfaction from that creature. I thought he would choke with rage, and he chopped the table in several places with his axe, and I must tell you, honoured sirs, that I am not sure that some evil may not happen to Pankushel Tuski, for one cannot trifle with Pan Lash.  What could happen to Tuski while under the protection of the prince, said one of the officers, although he might be capable of anything this Pan Lash, he would certainly respect the prince's mighty hand. Meanwhile the lieutenant not dreaming of the designs which Pan Lash had formed against him, was riding at the head of his division, and getting farther and farther away, in the direction of Oigotsa, towards the bug at Medvejovka. Although September had died all the leaves yellow, the night was as clear and warm as in July, as it had been almost for the whole year, for there had been hardly any winter, and in spring everything had blossomed out at once, where, in other years, deep snow lay on the steps. After a very wet summer the early autumn months were dry and mild, with clear days and bright nights. They rode forward, therefore, at a good pace, not especially careful, as they were still too near the camp to fear an attack. They rode fast the lieutenant at their head with several horses, and with him Volojovsky, Zagloba, and Longin. Look, gentlemen, how the moonlight lies on the hill! One could almost swear it was daylight. There is a saying that it is only in war times that we have such nights, so that the souls that leave their bodies may not strike their heads against the trees in the dark, like sparrows against the beams in a barn, and may find their way more easily. This is Friday, too, the day of the Lord, on which no poisonous vapours rise from the ground, and no evil spirits can approach men. I feel happier, and a ray of hope is dawning in my soul. The best of all is that we finally got away and are trying to do something to rescue her, said Panvolojovsky. And the worst thing is to remain in one place with your sorrow, said Zagloba. As soon as one has mounted his horse, despair falls gradually from one's shoulders, until it is finally completely shaken off. I do not believe, whispered Volojovsky, that one can shake off everything, for example a feeling which has fastened itself in your heart like a leech. If it is sincere, said Longin, it conquers you, even if you fight with it as you would with a bear. Longin relieved his pent-up feelings by a deep sigh that resembled a puff from a blacksmith's bellows. Little Volojovsky, however, raised his eyes to heaven as if he would search the very stars that were also beaming on Princess Barbara. The horses of the whole company began to snort, and the riders answered them with, Cidrov, Cidrov, health, health! Then all was silent until a melancholy voice in the rear began to sing.  Old soldiers say that when horses snort it is a sign of good luck. My deceased father used to tell me that, said Volojovsky, something tells me that we are not riding on a fool's errand, answered Zagloba. God grant that comfort may come to the Colonel's breast! sighed Longin. Zagloba turned round and nodded his head, like a man who cannot get rid of his thoughts. Presently he said, Altogether there is something quite remarkable in my mind, and in any case I must tell you my thoughts, for I cannot endure them any longer. See here, have you not noticed that for some time Skishevsky, I do not know, I may be mistaken, but it seems to me as if he thought less than any of us about rescuing that poor girl. What are you talking about? answered Volojovsky, that is his only temperament. He will never betray his feelings. He was always that way. That does not matter now. Do you remember, sir, when we gave him some hope he only said, God reward you, me and you, as indifferently as though it were a question of anything else in the world, and God knows it is black ingratitude on his part, how the poor thing longed for him, and how she cried on his account, would more than cover an ox-hide with writing. I witnessed it myself." Panvolojovsky shook his head. It cannot be that he has given her up, said he, although it is true that when we first saw him, when that devil had taken her from him in Rosloga, he was so desperate that we feared for his reason, but he is much more rational now. It is better if God has given him strength and peace in his soul, as his true friends we ought to be glad of it. As he said this, Volojovsky put spurs to his horse and rode forward to join Skishevsky, while Zagloba remained for some time in silence beside Panpodbepienta. Do you not think with me that if it were not for love there would be much less wickedness in the world? Whatever God has ordained will come to pass, answered the Lithuanian. Oh, you never stick to the point! This is something totally different! Why was Troy taken, ah? Will not this war be carried on on account of fair tresses? Melnitsky longed for Chaplinsky's wife, or perhaps Chaplinsky wanted Melnitsky's wife, and on account of their simple desires we twist necks. That was a dishonorable love, but there is a nobler kind which, thank God, is the more usual. Now you answer more sensibly. Will you soon begin to work in that vineyard? I heard that someone tied a scarf round you when you set out for the war.  But the three heads are in your way, what? Ah, yes indeed. Well, then I will tell you what, make one good stroke and cut off at a blow the heads of Melnitsky, the Khan, and Bohan, if they would only put themselves in my way, answered Longan, his eyes turned to heaven and his voice trembling with emotion. Meanwhile, Volodzhovsky rode beside Skyshettsky and looked at his death-like face which gazed silently from under his helmet, until he presently pushed his stirrup against Skyshettsky's.  I am not thinking, I am only praying, answered Skyshettsky. That is a holy and praiseworthy occupation, but you are not a monk that you should occupy yourself entirely with praying.  It remains for you to rescue her. Answered Volodzhovsky, I will do it to my last breath, but even if I find her alive, will it not be too late? God help me! I could bear anything else, but not that. God save my reason! I desire nothing further than to snatch her from those accursed hands. Then she may seek refuge where I shall also seek it. It was evidently not the will of God. Let me pray, Michael, and do not reopen my bleeding wounds. Volodzhovsky's heart was oppressed. He would willingly have comforted him, have whispered hope, but the words would not pass his lips. So they rode on in gloomy silence. Skyshetsky's lips moved quickly in prayer, by which means he endeavored to drive away his dreadful thoughts, and the little night was really frightened when the moonlight shone on that face, for it seemed to him as though it were the very face of a monk, wasted by penance and fasting and mortification.   BOOK III. CHAPTER IV. Panskyshetsky made an effort to advance in such a way that he and his men might rest by day in the woods and ravines carefully stationing numerous sentinels around them, pushing forward at night. Whenever they approached a village, he generally surrounded it so that none could come out. He collected provisions, food for the horses, and, above all, he gathered news of the enemy. Then he moved onward without doing the people any harm. After he had left, however, he soon changed his route so that the enemy might not be able to find out in the village what direction he had gone. The object of the expedition was to learn whether Shivonos was besieging Kamins with his forty thousand men, or if he had given up the useless siege and had gone to help Mianitsky so as to fight a decisive battle, and also to find out what the Tartars of the Dabruja were doing, whether they had already crossed the Nista and united with Shivonos, or if they were still on the other side. This was very important information for the Polish camp, and the commanders themselves should have striven to gather it. As however it never came into their minds, for they were inexperienced, the Vojevoda of Russia took this burden upon himself. Should it turn out that Shivonos with the hordes of Bielograd and Daruja had given up besieging the hitherto impregnable Kamins and have joined Mianitsky, it would be necessary to attack the latter as soon as possible before his power had reached its fullest extent. Meanwhile, the general of the army, Prince Dominik Zaslavsky Ostrogsky, did not hurry himself, and when Skoshetysky set out, he was not expected in the camp for two or three days. He was probably corousing on the way, as was his custom, and was enjoying a good time, and meanwhile the moment was passing in which Mianitsky's power could be broken. And Prince Yeremi despaired at the thought that if the war was carried on any longer in this manner, not only Shivonos would reach Mianitsky with the tartar hordes from the nister, but even the Khan himself, with all his forces from Pericope, Nohei, and from Azov. There were even rumors in the camp that the Khan had already crossed the Nipper and was marching day and night with two hundred thousand horse, and still Prince Dominik did not arrive. It became more and more probable that the army that was stationed at the Cholansky Commune would have to encounter a force of five times its size, and if the commanders suffered defeat, would no longer be able to hinder the enemy from penetrating into the very heart of the Commonwealth to Krakow and Warsaw. Shivonos was the more dangerous because, in case the commanders should try to make their way into the heart of the Ukraine, he could go directly from Khamenitsky towards the north to Konstantinov, and thus cut off their retreat, and they would in any case be between two fires. Therefore Panskyshetosky resolved not to wait for news of Shivonos but to check him. Quite carried away by the importance of his task, on the success of which depended the fate of the whole army, the lieutenant joyfully risked his life and that of his soldiers. But this undertaking might be considered the act of a madman, if the young knight had intended with his five hundred men to attack Shivonos Division, which had been strengthened by the addition of the hordes of Gelograd and Dobruja. But Panskyshetosky was much too experienced a soldier to undertake any such folly. He knew well that, in case of a battle, within an hour a wave of men would be riding over the dead bodies of himself and his companions, so he thought of other plans. First he spread the news among his soldiers that they were going out as an advance guard of the whole division of the terrible prince, and his news was told from mouth to mouth in all the country's seats, villages, and little towns through which they had passed. It spread with the speed of lightning along the shores of the Zabrusha, Smotrisha, Stugensi, Ushki, Kalusiku, and following their course reached the Nister and beyond there as it wafted by the wind from Kamenits to Yahorlik. It was repeated by the Turkish Pashas in Kocim by the Zaporosians in Yampol and by the Tartars in Roshkov, and the well-known cry, Yarimi is coming, resounded everywhere and filled with terror the hearts of the rebels who trembled with horror and never felt secure by day or night. And no one doubted the truth of the rumor. It seemed quite natural that the commanders should attack Mielnitsky and that Yarimi should attack Chivonos. Such was the situation. The latter believed it himself and let his hands fall inactive at his sides. What should he do? Go to meet the prince? His forces were greater at Konstantinov and a different spirit ruled the blacks, and yet they were beaten, their ranks broken to pieces and they hardly escaped with their lives. Chivonos was convinced that his Cossacks would fight like Madmen with any other army of the Commonwealth under any other leader, but at the approach of Yarimi's army they would all fly asunder like a flock of swans before an eagle like the thistle down of the steppes before a wind. To wait for the prince at Kominets was still worse. Chivonos resolved to turn towards the east and go as far as Brotslov to dodge his evil genius and to try and reach Mielnitsky. It was certain that by making this detour he would not reach Mielnitsky as soon as he ought and in time to fight, but he would hear the results and, besides, have time to think of his own safety. Meanwhile, the wind bore other news that Mielnitsky had been killed. Skyshettsky was the first to spread the rumor. The unlucky Chivonos did not know at first what he ought to do. He decided finally to turn in the direction of the east and to penetrate as far as possible into the steppes. Perhaps he might come across tartars and take refuge with them. Before all things, however, he wanted to be certain, so he sought carefully among his officers one who was reliable and fearless enough for him to send out with a detachment to gain information. The choice was difficult. There were not many who had any desire for such an enterprise, and for this mission one needed a man who would not let himself be compelled through the torture of fire, the fear of the stake or the wheel, to utter a word regarding Chivonos' plans of flight. Finally Chivonos found one. One night he sent to Bohun and said to him, Listen, Yurko, my friend, Yarmia's marching towards us with a large army, and we unhappy ones are lost. I also heard that he was coming.  We cannot conquer him. We might another, but not Yarmia. The Cossacks are afraid of him. But I am not afraid of him. I conquered one of his regiments, the other side of the Neeper. I know that you do not fear him. Your fame as a Cossack as a warrior may well compare with his fame as a prince, but I cannot give him battle, for my people will not. Do you not recollect what they said at the council, how they all wanted to attack me with their swords, because I, as they said, wanted to lead them to a butchery? Well, let us go to Mielnitsky, there we shall get blood and men. They say that Mielnitsky has already been beaten by the commanders. I do not believe that, Father Maxim. Mielnitsky is a fox. Without the Tartars he would not dare attack the Poles. I agree with you, but we must have certainty. If anyone who was not afraid of Yarmia would set out with some scouts and try to take a prisoner who could give us news, I would give him a cup full of red golden crowns. I will go, Father Maxim, not for the sake of the red gold, but for the glory of a soldier and of a Cossack. You, the second Ottoman under me, you will go. You will certainly yet be the first Ottoman of the Cossacks and have good soldiers under you, for you do not fear Yarmia. Go, you falcon, and then ask what you wish. I will say to you that if you were not going, I should go myself, but I must not. You must not, for, if you should go, Father. The soldiers would cry out that their commander had fled, and they would scatter themselves all over the world, but if I go they will gain fresh courage. And what escort shall I give you? I will not take many men. It is easier to hide and to creep about with a small number, but give me five hundred brave young fellows, and I will wager my head on it that I will bring you some prisoners with information, not any chance ones, but soldiers from whom you may learn everything. Not at once, in commonits they are already firing cannon for joy to welcome the Poles who will destroy us innocent ones. Bohan left and began at once to get ready for his journey. His men were drinking, as was the custom on such occasions, for slaughter in case mother death should take them.  And then after he had rolled about in Turkish rugs that he had taken as booty, and rubbed the tar off to some extent, he sprang upon his horse and rode off, followed by his faithful warriors in the shadow of the darkness. To honor! To happiness! In the meantime Skishtoski had already reached Yamalits. Here he had met with resistance, had bathed the inhabitants in blood, and after he had informed them that on the following day Prince Yeremi would arrive, he allowed his weary soldiers and horses to rest. He assembled his comrades for a council and said to them, So far God has led us safely. I have remarked also from the terror which seems to have seized the peasantry, that they take us for the advance guard of the prince, and believe that the whole army is following us, but we must be careful they do not observe that we are only one party going everywhere. And how long shall we have to go thus? said Zagloba. Until we find out what Sivonos has determined to do, then we shall probably not get back to the camp in time for the battle. That is possible, answered Skishtoski. I am not at all satisfied, sir, said the nobleman. Our hands got somewhat into practice on the rebels at Constantinople. We beat a few men there, but that is like a fly for a dog. My fingers itch for more. You may perhaps enjoy more battles here than you think, answered Skishtoski earnestly. Oh, how's that? said Zagloba very uneasily, because any fine day we may come across the enemy, and although we are not here in order to get in his way with our weapons, still we shall be obliged to defend ourselves. But to come to the point we must cover a wider stretch of the territory so that they may hear of us in different places at the same time, and we must here and there cut down those that would stand us in order to spread fear and to scatter the same rumour abroad. That is why I think we ought to divide our forces. I think the same, said Volodzhovsky. We want to make ourselves seem as many as possible in order that those who escape may give Sivonos news that hundreds of thousands are coming. Lieutenant, you are our leader. It is for you to command, said Podby Pienta. Well, I will go through Zincord to Solodkovskaya, and if possible still farther, said Skishtoski. You, Lieutenant Podby Pienta, will go straight out in the direction of Tatozisk, and you, Michael, ride to Kupin, and Panzer-Glober will ride to Zabrusha near Satanova. Why, said Zaglober, I have said it.  I thought you would like to undertake this command, but if that is not the case, Sergeant Kosmosh may take the fourth division. He will take it, but under my command, cried Zaglober, on whom it suddenly dawned that he was to be the leader of a special division. I merely asked because I was sorry to be separated from you. Have you had experience in military affairs? asked Volodkovsky. Have I had experience? No stork had yet thought of bringing you as a present to your father and mother when I was already leading larger divisions of scouts than these. I have served for an age in the army, and would serve yet if it had not happened that a solitary biscuit had remained stationary in my stomach for three years. I was obliged to go on a pilgrimage to Galatz, but I will tell you about this pilgrimage at some other time, for it is time now to set out. Start in at once, gentlemen, and spread the news everywhere that Mianitsky has already been beaten, and that the prince has passed Roskirov. Said Tskyshatovsky, do not take any mean prisoner that you may chance to come across, but try and find some scouts from comitets who can give you news about Shivonos, for those that we have taken give contradictory reports. If I could only meet Shivonos myself, if he would only take it in his head to ride out on a scouting expedition, I would give him pepper and ginger. Fear nothing, gentlemen! I will teach these vagabonds to sing, yes, even to dance. In three days we will meet again in Yarmulins, and now each go your way, said Tskyshatovsky, and spare your men, gentlemen. In three days in Yarmulins! repeated Zagloba, Volodzhovsky, and Podbypienta. End of Book Three, Chapter Five. Book Three, Chapter Six of With Fire and Sword, by Henrik Sinkhevich, translated by Samuel A. Benion. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.  He would have given a great deal if Tskyshatovsky, Volodzhovsky, or Longin had been at his side, all of whom he admired with his whole heart, with whom he felt perfectly secure and in whose valor and caution he believed blindly. He rode groomily, therefore, at the head of his men, looking mistrustfully round him on all sides, reviewing in his mind all the dangers that might happen to him, and growled, It would have been much more jolly if one of them had been with me, when God fits a man for anything he provides the work for him to do. The three ought to have been born horseflies, for they love to be in the midst of blood. They are as happy in war as another would be with the pitcher, or as a fish in water, that is their business. Light belly is but heavy fists. I have seen Tskyshatovsky at work, and know that he is an expert. He handles men as the monks do their prayers. That is his favorite trade. That Lithuanian, who has no head of his own, and is looking for three strange heads, has nothing to lose. I am least well acquainted with the little fellow. To judge by what I saw at Konstantinov, and by what Tskyshatovsky has said of him, he must be a hornet. Fortunately he is not very far from me, and I think it will be better for me to join him, for may that duckstread me if I know which way I have to go? The glober felt very much alone in the world, so much so that he began to pity himself. Yes, yes, he granted, each one has somebody upon whom they can depend, and I, not a companion, no father, no mother, I am an orphan, but enough. At this moment Sergeant Kosmatch approached him. Commander, where are we going? Where are we going? repeated Zagloba. What? Suddenly he straightened himself in his saddle and twisted his mustache. Too common it's if I desire it, do you understand, sir? The sergeant bowed, and drew silently back to join his companions, without being able to understand why the commander should have been so angry. Zagloba, however, cast a few more threatening looks around him, and then became calm and continued to himself. If I go too common it's you may give me a hundred strokes on the past in not a Turkish fashion, but if only one of them were with me I should feel more courage. What can I do with a hundred men? I would rather be alone, and then I would trust my own judgment. Now there are too many of us to be able to use craft, and too few to be of any service in defense. It was an unfortunate thought of Skashetlskis to divide the patrol, and whither shall I go?  Gervonos and Bohun are a nice pair. May the devil flay them alive. God preserved me from Bohun at least. Skashetlskis anxious to meet him. May the Lord grant his wish. I wish for him whatever he wishes for himself, for I am his friend. I will go to Zabrusha and come back to Yarmulintz and bring him some spies, more than he wishes. There will be no trouble about that." Cosmatch approached him again. "'Commander, behind the rise we can see some horsemen. May they ride to the devil. Where? Where? There, behind the hill. I saw their penance. Soldiers then? So it seems. May the dogs bite them. Are they many?' "'I do not know. They are still at some distance. If we were to hide behind these rocks we might attack them unawares, as they must pass by here. If there should be many of them, Polajovsky is not far off, and he would hear the shots and come to our assistance.' Zagloba's courage suddenly increased and flew to his head like wine. Perhaps despair may have given him this impulse for action. Perhaps also the hope that Panvolajovsky might be nearby. In any case, he rolled his eyes frightfully, drew his sword that flashed and cried, "'Hide behind the rocks. We will attack them unawares. We will show these scoundrels!' The princes practised soldiers turned toward the rocks and placed themselves in readiness for a sudden attack. An hour had already passed when the noise of approaching riders was heard. This was accompanied by the echo of joyous songs, and presently those in hiding heard the sounds of a violin, of bagpipes, and of a little drum. The sergeant approached Pan Zagloba and said, "'Those are not soldiers, Colonel, not cross-ex. It is a wedding.' "'A wedding?' said Zagloba. "'I will play them a trick you shall see.' And as he said this he put his spurs to his horse, the soldiers following him, and placed himself in the middle of the road. "'Follow me!' cried Zagloba. The column moved forward at a trot and then changed into a gallop, and when they came from behind the rocks they stood still suddenly before the procession, who were frightened and confused at this unexpected sight. "'Halt! Halt!' was heard from both sides. It was indeed a peasant's wedding. The bagpipes, the drummers, and the fiddler rose at their head with two jesters who were already half-drunk and were making jokes. Behind them came the bride, a fresh-looking girl in a dark dress, with long hair hanging over her shoulders. She was surrounded by her bridesmaids who were singing and carried wreaths in their hands. All the girls rode astride, they were adorned with wild flowers, and in the distance looked like a crowd of gaudy cossacks. Behind them came the bridegroom on a big horse, surrounded by friends carrying reeds on long sticks like pikes. The procession closed with the bridegroom's parents and the guests. All were on horseback, and the barrels of grozolka, mead, and beer were drawn in little wagons made of plated straw, and the liquid gurgled on the rough uneven road in a most tantalizing manner. "'Stand still! Stand still!' was again heard from both parties, and they fled to either side. The joyful band was in confusion. The girls gave a piercing shriek and drew back. The servants, however, and the older men sprang forward in order to protect the girls from the unexpected attack. Zagloba sprang forward close to them, and, flourishing his sword right under the eyes of the terrified peasants, began to scream, "'Ah!  You want to mutiny! You belong to shivonos, you ragamuffins! You are going out as spies! You are sending the soldiers in wrong directions!   I will have you placed on the block impaled! Oh, you rascals! Oh, you heathen! You shall now pay for all your crimes!' An old white-headed wedding guest sprang from his horse, approached the noblemen, took hold of his stirrup, bowed low, and said in a humble tone, "'Have mercy, illustrious knight!  God is our witness! We are not going to rebel! We have just come from the church, from Hushatin, where we have married our relation Dimitri the blacksmith to Xenia the cooper's daughter. We were just going to the wedding feast with the dancers. "'Those are innocent people, sir,' whispered the sergeant. "'Go away, they are rascals! They have been to a wedding with Shivonos!' shouted Zagloba. "'May the plague take him!' cried the old man. We never even saw him! We are poor people! Have mercy on us, illustrious colonel! Let us go on! We are doing no harm to anyone, and we know our duty. You will go to Yarmulant in chains! Wherever you like, sir, it is yours to command, ours to obey, but grant us one mercy.  Pardon us, simple people, if we entreat you humbly. Drink with us to the health of the married couple. Drink your grace to the welfare of our simple people, as God and the Holy Gospel have commanded. Do not think that I will overlook anything, even if I do drink,' said Zagloba sharply. "'No, sir,' cried the old man joyfully, we will not think it.  He will not do the poor people any harm. We thank the gentleman.' The young people set to work to open the barrels, and during this time the drums sounded, the fiddles squeaked, the bagpipers puffed out their cheeks and began to squeeze their bagpipes, and the bridesmaidens waved the wreaths at the end of their poles. When the soldiers saw this, they came closer, twisted their mustaches, and looked laughingly across the shoulders of the young men at the girls. The songs began afresh, fear disappeared, and here and there one even heard joyous cries of "'Oha! Oha!' But Zagloba was not perfectly at ease, even when they brought him a quart of mead, he still growled, "'O, you rascals, you ragamuffins!' and even when his mustache was plunged into the dark surface of the draught, he looked into the goblet gloomily. He raised his head and, blinking his eyes, tasted the mead. As he smacked his lips, astonishment, but also anger, were visible on his countenance. "'What times are these?' he growled. "'The mug drinks such mead as this! God, thou seest this and doth not strike them with a thunderbolt!' As he said this, he raised the mug and emptied it to the bottom. The wedding guests, having gained confidence, now approached him altogether and prayed him not to harm them, but let them continue their journey, and the bride, Xenia, rosy and beautiful as the dawn, but trembling and with tears in her eyes, added her voice to the entreaties. She folded her hands and, kissing Zagloba's yellow boot, she said, "'Have mercy on us, sir!' The nobleman's heart melted like wax. Loosening his leather belt, he seemed to be looking for something, and finally brought forth the last golden crown that the Prince had given him. Handing this to the girl, he said to her, "'Take this! God bless thee, as he does all innocence!'' His emotion prevented him from continuing, for this slender dark-eyed Xenia reminded him of the Princess, whom Zagloba loved in his own way. "'Where might the poor girl be now? Were the holy angels watching over her?' he thought, and he was so moved that he was just in a mood to embrace them all as brothers. The wedding guests, however, delighted at his generous treatment, began to shout and sing for joy, to press towards him and to kiss the flaps of his coat. "'He is good! They repeated a golden pole! He gives us red gold! Does not harm us! The kind gentleman! May he have glory and fortune!' The fiddler was dancing and playing his fiddle. The bagpiper's eyes seemed starting from his head, and the drummer's hands fell at his sides. The old cooper, evidently a born coward, who had kept himself in the background, now pressed forward with his wife and the blacksmith's old wife, mother of the bridegroom, and, amid bowings, begged Zagloba to come to the wedding at the farm with them, as it would be a great honour for them to have such a guest and a happy omen for the young couple, and it would not be right not to come with them. The bridegroom and the black-eyed Xenia were also urgent in their entreaties, for the simple maiden had recognised at once that her people would derive the most benefit, and the bridesmaid said that it was not far to the farm, that the knights would not have to go out of their way, and that the old cooper was rich and could tap even better mead. Zagloba cast his eyes over his soldiers and saw that they were as anxious as hairs for a little enjoyment, and saw that the prospect of drink and dancing filled them with anticipation and delight. As however they did not dare to ask him on their own account, Zagloba took pity on them, and in a few minutes the wedding procession and the soldiers marched in the most beautiful harmony towards the farm. It was, as they said, not very far off, and as the old cooper was rich, the wedding feast was so abundant that they all got very drunk, and Zagloba became so merry that he took the lead in everything. Remarkable ceremonies were performed. The older women led Xenia into her bedroom and shut themselves in there with her. They remained there some time, and then they came out alone and announced that the bride was like a dove, like a lily. Great joy immediately seized all those assembled and loud shouts a rose of, to glory, to fortune! The women clapped their hands and screamed, What? Did we not say it? The young men stamped their feet and danced about singly holding their drinking cups in their hand, and then going to the door of the bedroom emptied the cup crying, To glory! Zagloba also danced, upholding the dignity of his noble birth by drinking half a golem of mead instead of a cupful. Then the old cooper and the blacksmith's wife led young Dmitry into the room, and as he had no father they begged Zagloba to act in that capacity, to which he agreed at once and went in with them. Now the room became quiet. The only noise that was heard was made by the soldiers who were drinking in the courtyard before the house amid the tartar cries of, Allah! And the firing of muskets. But the greatest joy broke forth when the parents came back into the room. The old cooper hugged the blacksmith's wife for joy. The young couple put their arms round the feet of the old cooper's wife, and the women congratulated themselves that they had preserved their daughter as the apple of their eye like a little dove, and as a lily, upon which Zagloba took her by the hand and led her out on the floor. They tripped about opposite each other. He clapped his hands, bobbed down, with his knees turned out. Then suddenly bounded into the air, bringing his iron heels to the floor with such a clatter that splinters flew out from the planks and great drops of perspiration came out on his forehead. Other couples followed their example, and, when there was no room inside, they danced in the courtyard, the girls with the young men and the soldiers. The cooper tapped fresh barrels of mead. Soon the whole wedding company went out into the court before the house. They lighted bundles of briar and pitch pine, for it was already late and quite dark. The revelry had become a drinking-bout, and the soldiers were firing off their rifles and muskets, as though they were in a battle. Panzagloba, his face crimson, soaking with perspiration and staggering, had completely forgotten what was going on. Through the smoke that surrounded him he saw the faces of the revelers, but if he had been threatened with a stake he could not have told who they were. He remembered that he was at a wedding, but whose? Ah! It was Skoshetlsky's wedding with the princess! This thought appeared to him the most probable, for he could not get it out of his head, and it filled him with such happiness that he began to shout as if he were possessed. Long may they live, gentlemen and brothers, let us love one another! And he emptied another half-gallon of mead. Take your glasses, brothers, to the health of our illustrious prince! May he all go well with us, if only this paroxysm might pass by! Here he burst into tears, and as he walked towards the barrel his gait grew more and more unsteady, especially as there lay on the floor a number of apparently lifeless bodies as on a field of battle. Oh, God! cried Zagloba. There are no more brave men in the commonwealth, but one panlationals how to drink, the other is Zagloba, and the rest, oh God, oh God! He turned his eyes sadly toward the sky, and noticed that the heavenly bodies no longer looked like golden buttons in the firmament, but some of them trembled as though they were about to spring from their places. Others described circles, and others seemed to be dancing the cossack opposite one another. Zagloba was more and more astonished and said to himself, Am I the only sober person in this world? But presently the earth seemed to tremble, just as the stars were doing. It turned round in a mad whirl, and Zagloba fell his full length on the ground. He was soon troubled with bad dreams. It seemed to him as if he had a mountain on his chest, which was crushing him to the ground and binding him hand and foot.  He tried to get up to open his eyes, but he could not. He felt that something unusual was happening to him, that his head was falling backward as if it did not belong to him. Finally a dreadful fear came upon him. He felt sick, very sick, very heavy. He soon regained his senses, but strange to say he was so intensely weak that he could not remember ever having experienced a similar sensation. He tried to move but could not do so. Then he became perfectly wide awake and opened his eyelids.  They were cold black eyes, and had such an evil expression that Zagloba, now perfectly wide awake, thought at the first moment that his Satanic Majesty was looking at him, and closed his eyes quickly. To open them again just as quickly, these eyes continued to look at him obstinately. The face seemed familiar. Suddenly Zagloba trembled to his very marrow. A cold sweat covered him, and all down his back thousands of ants seemed to be crawling. He had recognized Bohun's face. End of Book 3, Chapter 6


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