Book 1, Chapter 4 of With Fire and Sword by Henrik Sinkhevich, translated by Samuel A. Benion. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The family of Kurtsevich Boljov was of an old princely stock which bore the coat of arms of Kirch. It claimed to come from Koryat, but it was said that it really originated in Rurik. Of the two principal lines of dissent one belonged in Lithuania, the other in Bohinia. This vassal of the numerous descendants of the Bohinian line had settled in the country beyond the Nipur. Because he was poor and did not wish to remain in the neighbourhood of his rich relations, he enlisted in the service of Prince Michael Vishnovitsky, the father of the celebrated Yeremi. He had covered himself with glory and had done the prince nightly service. As a reward he was given red, krasny, rosloga, which later on account of the enormous number of wolves who congregated there, was called Wolfsrosloga, and here he settled permanently. In the year 1629 he entered the Romish Church and married Pana Rojosia, the daughter of a noble house that took its origin in Balakia. From this union a year later a daughter, Helena, was born to the young couple, but the mother died at her birth. Prince Vassal gave no thought to a second marriage, but devoted himself entirely to cultivating his land and to the education of his only daughter. He was a man of a noble character and unusual virtue. Having accumulated in a short time a moderate fortune, he thought of his elder brother Constantine, who had remained behind in Bohinia in poverty, forsaken by his rich relations and obliged to go into service on various estates. He invited him to Rosloga with his wife and his five sons, and shared with them all he had. The two Kurtsevichs lived in peace until the end of the year 1634, when Vassal went to Smolinsk with King Vladislav. There occurred the misfortune that preceded his ruin. In the king's camp a letter was intercepted which had been written to Shehin. It was signed with the name of the prince and sealed with the coat of arms of Kirch. Such evident proof of treachery on the part of the night, who had hitherto enjoyed an untainted reputation, struck everyone with astonishment and horror. In vain did Vassal call God to witness that neither the letter nor the signature of the letter was his. The coat of arms on the seal banished every doubt, and no one would believe in the loss of his seal by which the prince sought to clear himself. And so the unfortunate prince, who was attainted for the crime of prokrimine perdualeonus, was forced to save himself by flight. He arrived by night at Rosloga, made his brother Constantine swear by all the saints that he would take care of his daughter as her own father, and disappeared for ever. It was said he had once written a letter to Prince Yeremi from Bar, with the request that he would not deprive his daughter Helena of the last morsel of bread, and would allow her to remain quietly in Rosloga in the care of Constantine. Then he completely vanished. Reports were spread immediately that he had died. It was also said that he had gone over to the emperor and had fallen in war in Germany, but who could tell for certain anything about him? He must have perished, for no further inquiries came from him about his daughter. All mention of him ceased, and he was only remembered once more when his innocence was established. A certain Kuptsovich from Vitebsk confessed on his dying bed that he had written the letter to Shehin, and had sealed it with the seal that he had found in the camp. At this testimony all hearts were filled with sorrow and regret. The sentence was annulled, the name of Prince Vassal was reinstated with honor, but for him, consolation for his wrongs came too late. As far as Rosloga was concerned it had never occurred to Prince Yeremi to take it from him, for the Vishnyovetskis who knew Vassal better than most people, had never been quite convinced of his guilt. He might even have remained, and under their mighty protection might have mocked at the sentence. When he went away it was simply because he could not endure the disgrace. Thus Helena had grown up peacefully at Rosloga under the sheltering care of her uncle. It was not until his death that life became hard for her. Constantine's wife, who had come from a family of doubtful origin, was a rough, passionate, energetic woman whom her husband alone had been able to restrain. After his death she had taken the management of Rosloga into her iron hands. The servants trembled before her, the household avoided her like fire, and she even made her presence unpleasantly felt in the neighborhood. In the third year of her rule, twice did she invade the Sivinsk at Brovok with warlike intent. She herself dressed in man's clothing and led her servants and Cossacks on horseback. Once after one of Prince Yeremi's regiments had scattered a band of Tartars who had been committing depredations in Siedim Ogul, the princess at the head of her people cut down to the last man all that remained after they had fled to Rosloga. She had planted herself in Rosloga for good, and began to regard it as her own and her son's property. She loved her sons as the wolf loves her young, but as she herself was boorish it did not occur to her to give them a decent bringing up. A monk of the Greek church whom she had brought from Kiev taught them to read and write. That was all their instruction, and yet Lubny was close by, and the court of the prince, at which the young princes might have learned courtly manners, have obtained experience in government affairs, have undertaken some kind of business, or if they wished to go into military service might have acquired military knowledge. The old princess, however, had her reasons for not going to Lubny. How easy it would be for Prince Yeremi to remember to whom Rosloga really belonged, how easily might he inquire into her guardianship of Helena, or even, in memory of Vazul, undertake the guardianship himself. In that case she would have been obliged to leave Rosloga. She preferred, therefore, that everyone in Lubny should forget her, and that there were Kurtsevichs in the world. So for this reason the young princes were brought up like half savages and more like Cossacks than noblemen. When they were still lads they took part in the disputes of the old princes in their warlike excursions against the Sivinski's and the Tartar hordes. They themselves had a natural dislike to books and writing, and would rather shoot the whole day with their bows, or practice exercising with spears or swords, or in casting with slings. They took not the slightest interest in the management of the lands, for the mother would not let it go out of her own hands. It was really sad to see these descendants of a renowned race, in whose veins ran princely blood, but whose manners were rough and indelicate, and whose tastes and hard hearts recalled the wild steps. They grew up, meanwhile, like young oaks, but as they themselves knew that they were uncultivated men, they were ashamed to mix with the nobility, and thus they preferred the comrade ship of the wild Cossack bands. They early came into relations with Niege, where they were looked upon as comrades. Sometimes they spent a whole six months in Siege. They went on business with the Cossacks, took part in their expeditions against the Turks and the Tartars, and these finally became their principal and favorite occupations. The mother was not displeased with this, for they often brought home rich booty. On one of these expeditions the eldest, Vassel, fell into the hands of the Infidels. His brothers freed him with the assistance of Bohan and his Zapperosians, but not before his eyes had been put out. From that time on he was obliged to sit at home, and though he had formerly been the wildest of all, he was now very gentle, and became absorbed in religious meditation and reflection. The younger sons carried on their war-like enterprises until they finally received the nickname of the Cossack princes. Indeed it was only necessary to cast a glance at Rosloga Siromak in order to guess what kind of people occupied it. As the ambassador Anskeshetowski passed through the gates they did not see a gentleman's castle, but a roomy barrack constructed of enormous beams of oak with narrow windows like loopholes. The servants' quarters and those of the Cossacks, the stables, the granaries, and the storehouses joined on to the dwelling-house and formed an irregular building consisting of higher and lower portions, outwardly so mean and poor-looking that if one had not perceived light through the windows one would hardly have believed it to be a human habitation. In the courtyard before the house were two wells with cranes, and the gate-post had a ring at the top of it to which was chained a tame bear. A massive gate also made of oak beams formed the entrance to the courtyard, which was entirely surrounded by a moat and palisade. It was evidently a fortified place protected against incursions and attacks. It reminded one in all particulars of the border forts of the Cossacks, and although the greater number of the mansions of the nobility and the borderlands had very much the same outward appearance, one felt here more than elsewhere that this was a robber's den. The servants who came to meet the guests with lighted torches looked more like robbers than domestic servants. The huge dogs in the yard dragged at their chains as if they would break loose and jump on the newcomers. The sound of neighing horses was heard from the stable. The young bull-yawves in concert with their mother began to scold the servants to give orders and to swear. In the midst of this confusion the guests stepped into the house. Rosevan Ursu, who had already seen the savagery and the miserable condition of the houses, felt almost regret to think that he had consented to stay overnight at this place, but he was fairly dazed at the sight that met his eyes. The interior of the house did not fulfill the promise of the miserable outward appearance. One stepped first into a roomy vestibule whose walls were almost entirely covered with shields and skins of wild animals. In two enormous fireplaces huge logs of wood were burning, and by their bright light one saw rows of shining armor, Turkish shields in which here and there were precious stones, shirts of chain armor with gold buttons at the fastenings, curises, breast-plates, gorgets, steel armor of great value, Polish and Turkish helmets, and visors overlaid with silver. On the opposite wall hung shields of a kind no longer used, beside them Polish lances and oriental spears, broad swords innumerable, from simple swords to scimitars and yastagans which, with their gay-colored hilts, sparkled in the fire-light like stars. In the corners hung rolls of fox, wolf, bear, martin, and ermine skins, the prizes of the chase of the young princes. Lowered down along the wall slept in their hoops, hawks, falcons, and huge vultures, which brought from the farther eastern steps were used in wolf hunting. From this room the guests went into a large hall, here also a bright fire burned on the hearth, above which was a mantelpiece. In this room still greater magnificence was displayed than in the vestibule. The bare wood of the walls was hung with Turkish draperies, upon the floor were spread valuable oriental rugs. In the middle of the room stood a long table on crossed legs. This was made of rough planks, but upon it stood cups entirely gilt and of vanishing cut glass. Alongside the walls were smaller tables, chests of drawers and closets, and upon these stood chests and cases packed full of bronzes, brass candlesticks, and clocks, which in their time the Turks had stolen from the Venetians and the Cossacks again from the Turks. The whole room was packed with a quantity of beautiful objects that, as far as one could see, could be but little appreciated by the hostess. Everywhere this luxury was mingled with the greatest simplicity such as belongs to the steps. The costly Turkish cabinets, ebony, and mother of pearl stood beside rough, unpolished cupboards. Simple wooden chairs were placed beside luxurious sofas covered with rugs. The cushions which in oriental fashion lay upon the sofas were covered with gold embroidery and silk, but were seldom filled with feathers, but more frequently with hay or pea shucks. The costly draperies and the gorgeous articles constituted so-called Turkish and Tartar goods, which had been bought in part from the Cossacks, in many wars in the time of old Prince Vazel, and in part had been brought home as booty from the expeditions against the Nizovs by the young Bolyovs, who preferred to make expedition to the Black Sea in boats, to bringing a wife home or looking after the affairs of the estate. All this did not surprise Skyshettsky, he knew the homes in the borderlands, but the Valakian Boyar was surprised to see that in the midst of all this splendor the Kurtseviches walked about in calfskin boots and in sheepskin coats that were not much better than those worn by the servants. But Lungen pod bipienta, who had been accustomed to other kinds of establishments in Lithuania, was also surprised. The young princes, meanwhile, received the guests kindly and with the greatest impressment, but they did it in such a clumsy manner, owing to their want of polish, that the lieutenant could hardly keep from laughing. The eldest Simeon said, Be welcome, we thank you for your kindness, look upon our house as your home, make yourselves at home, we greet you humbly on our threshold of the Niche. And although in the tones of his voice no humility was expressed, or even a pretense of it as though he were receiving superiors, yet he bowed himself Cossack fashion to the girdle, and his younger brothers followed his example believing that hospitality demanded it, and said, at your service, worthy sirs, at your service, meanwhile the princess had pulled Bohun by the sleeve and led him out of the room. Listen Bohun, she said hastily, I have not long to talk to you, I see that you showed your teeth at that young nobleman and are seeking a quarrel with him.  I never knew him, never heard him before, but let him keep away from the princess, or as true as I live, I will flash my sword in his eyes.  Do you want to ruin us and yourself? He is one of Vishnovetsky's soldiers, a lieutenant, a man of standing, for he was sent by the prince as an ambassador to the con.  The boy of Voda will then turn his eyes upon Rosloga, will avenge him, will hunt us all to the forewinds, and will take Helena to Lubny. And what then? Do you want to have a quarrel with him, too? Do you want to attack Lubny? Try it if you wish to be impaled, little spoiled Cossack. If the nobleman likes the girl or not, he will depart as he has come, and that is the end of it. Calm yourself, and if you will not do so, see to it that you get out of here to winch you came, or you will bring misfortune upon us. The Cossack bit his mustache and groaned, but he understood that the princess was right. They are going away tomorrow, mother, he said, and I will call myself, but do not let my black-eyed girl talk to him. What's the matter with you?  She will entertain them, I wish it. You cannot rule here in the house, you are not the master. Do not be angry, princess. If it cannot be otherwise, I will show them a face as sweet as Turkish dainties. I will gnash my teeth, but I will not grasp my sword, even if I should be torn with anger, and if my soul should dissolve with a thousand sighs, let your will be done. That's right, well said, Falcon. Take your Theobo, play, sing, and you will feel better in your mind, and now go to the guests. They returned to the reception room where the young princes, not knowing how to entertain their guests, were continually bidding them welcome and bending low before them, as they approached Skyshettsky looked sternly and proudly into Bohan's eyes, and he found in them no provocation nor challenge. The face of the young Cossack chief beamed with polite gaiety, and he dissimulated so well that the most practiced eye might have been deceived. The lieutenant looked at him sharply, for in the darkness he had not been able to distinguish his features. Now he saw a straight figure, slender as a poplar, with mobile features, a luxuriant black mustache that hung down in two ends, gaiety shown on his face through the Ukrainian melancholy like the sun through a mist.  The aquiline nose, the broad nostrils, and the white teeth which showed at every smile gave his face something the expression of a bird of prey. But taken together he was a type of the dashing, defiant beauty of the Ukraine. His gorgeous attire especially distinguished this horseman of the steps from the princes who were clad in skins. Bohan wore a silver brocaded coat and a red waistcoat, that was the color which all the Cossacks of Periyaslav wore. Around his waist was a crepe girdle from which a richly mounted sword hung by silver cords, but the sword itself as well as his apparel were eclipsed by the richness of the Turkish scimitar which he wore at his girdle, the handle of which was so thickly set with gems that it fairly sparkled. In this costume he could easily have been mistaken for a Lord of High Birth, not for a Cossack, and the more so as his easy and courtly manners gave no hint of his low origin. He stepped up to Lungen, listened to his story of his ancestor and of the killing of the three Crusaders. Then he turned to the Lieutenant and, as if nothing had happened between them, asked with perfect freedom, you've returned from the Crimea I hear. From the Crimea, answered the Lieutenant dryly, I have also been there, and if I did not get as far as Baksaray, I hope to go there some day if those joyful reports are true. What reports do you mean? They say that if our gracious King should begin war with the Turks, Vishniovetsky will devastate the Crimea with fire and sword, and these reports have spread great joy over the whole Ukraine and Nizh. For unless we fight in Baksaray under such a leader, we shall fight under no one. Oh, we will revel as true of God is in heaven, answered the Kurtsevich. The Lieutenant was astonished at the respect with which the Cossack spoke of the Prince. He smiled, therefore, and said in a somewhat gentler tone, I see that the expeditions against the Nizhovs that have covered you with fame still do not satisfy you. A little war, a little fame, great war, great fame. Korneshevich did not kill so high-dats on the boats but at Kotsim. At that moment the door opened and vassal the eldest Kurtsevich walked slowly into the room, Helena leading him by the hand. He was a man of middle age, pale and thin, with a sad, ascetic expression that reminded one of the pictures of Byzantine saints. His long hair, which from sorrow and suffering had grown gray, fell down upon his shoulders, and in place of eyes were two red hollows. In his hand he held a brass crucifix with which he blessed the room and all present. In the name of God the Father, in the name of the Redeemer, and of the Holy Virgin, said he, If you are apostles and bring good news, welcome to this Christian threshold. Amen. Pardon him worthy, sirs, murmured the young Princess. He has lost his mind. Vassal, however, continued his blessing and said, As it is written in the Acts of the Apostles, those who shed their blood for the faith will be saved, but those who seek for earthly possessions, for prizes or booty shall be damned. Let us pray. We'll want to you, brothers, we'll want to me, for we have made war for the sake of spoil. God be merciful to us, poor sinners, God be merciful, and you men come here from afar. What news do you bring? Are you apostles? He was silent and appeared to wait an answer. The Lieutenant answered, therefore, after a pause. We are very far removed from such a high position. We are only soldiers and are ready to die for the faith. Then you will be saved, answered the blind man, but for us the hour of redemption is not yet at hand. We'll want to you, brothers, we'll want to me. The last words he spoke almost groaning, and upon his face was pictured such boundless despair that the guests did not know what to do. Helena had meanwhile seated him on a chair, and she herself hastened into the hall, and returned in a few minutes with a lute in her hand. Soft tones filled the air, and to the sound of the lute the maiden sang a hymn. To thee, O Lord, in heaven's height I raise my prayer by day and night. O pity take, have mercy on a sinner's woe, and dry mine eyes, though salt tears flow. The blind man leaned his head back and listened to the words of the song which appeared to soothe him like a healing balm. Then by degrees the traces of sorrow and despair disappeared from his features. Finally his head sank upon his breast, and he remained thus, as if in a half-sleep or stupor. Do not interrupt the music, for that will quiet him entirely, said the Princess gently. You see his mental peculiarity consists in this, that he is always expecting the Apostles, and as soon as any one comes into the house he goes to meet them and asks them if they are not the Apostles. Helena sang meanwhile. Guide, O gracious God, my path, like a wanderer in the wild, like a ship upon strange seas, I am lost and alone. Her sweet voice became stronger, and with the lute in her hand her eyes raised to heaven, she was so enchantingly beautiful that the lieutenant could not take his eyes off her. He continued to gaze upon her, and for some moments forgot everything else. He was aroused from his enchantment by the words of the old Princess. That will do, he won't wake soon, and now I invite the gentlemen to supper. We invite you to bread and salt, said the young bullyoves. Pan-Rosvan, as a polished cavalier, offered his arm to the old Princess. When Skyshetowski saw this he went to Panahalena. His heart became soft as wax when he felt her hand upon his arm, and his eyes sparkled as he said, The angels in heaven do not sing more sweetly than you do. Thou sinnest, O night, comparing my voice to that of the angels, answered Helena, I do not know if it is a sin, but I know I would willingly let my eyes be put out, if I could listen to thy singing until my death. But what am I saying? If I were blind I could not see thee, and that would be a torment unbearable. Oh, do not say that, sir, to-morrow thou wilt go from here and thou wilt forget me. Oh, that could not be, for I have learned to love thee so well that in my whole life I will never love anyone else. I will never forget thee. The cheeks of the young girl flushed scarlet, her breast heaved strongly, she wished to reply, but her lips only trembled. Skyshetowski therefore continued, You, thou wilt forget me beside that handsome Cossack, who will accompany thy song on the balalaika. Never, never, whispered the maiden, but beware of him, for he is a terrible man. What do I care for one Cossack, if the whole of Siech were at his back, I would dare all for thee. To me thou art a priceless jewel, thou art my world. Oh, if I only knew that I were loved in return. A soft, yes, sounded like the music of paradise in Skyshetowski's ears, and it seemed to him as if ten hearts were beating in his breast.  He felt an unusual strength as if wings had grown on him. During the supper, Bohan's glance repeatedly sought him, and his face was changed and very pale, but the lieutenant, who possessed Helena's love, did not trouble himself about his rival. Let him go to the devil, he thought to himself, if he comes across my path I will crush him, and then his thoughts turned to another direction. He felt that Helena sat so near him that his arm almost touched hers. He saw the blush that would not fade from her face and which seemed to give forth heat. He saw her breast heaving like waves, and her eyes that were now cast to the ground and shaded by the lashes, then again raised and beaming like two stars. For Helena, although suppressed by the princess, although living as an orphan in sorrow and care, was a Ukraine maiden with fiery blood in her veins. As she now felt the first warm rays of love, she bloomed out like a rose and awoke to a new hitherto unknown life. In her features shown happiness and courage, which struggled with maidenly modesty and painted upon her cheeks those beautiful rosy colors. Skoshetovsky could hardly contain himself for joy. He drank to excess, but the mead could not hurt him, for he was already intoxicated with love. He no longer saw anyone at the table besides his love. He did not notice that Bohan was growing very pale, that he clutched the handle of his scimitar more and more convulsively. He did not hear how Longan, for the third time, related the history of his ancestor and how the Kurtsevich told of their expeditions after Turkish property. All of them except Bohan drank deeply, and the chief example was given by the old princess, who raised her glass to drink now to the health of her guests, now to the health of the gracious prince, then to the health of Hospedal Lupnik.  It is a very delicate organ, remarked Pan Longan. Suddenly the old princess noticed Bohan's face. What hails you, Falcon? I have a pain at my heart, mother, he said gloomily, but the word of a Cossack is not spoken to the winds. I will bear it. Bear it, my son, be enduring! The supper was over, but they continued pouring fresh mead into the cups. Some Cossack boys entered the rooms, whom they had invited to dance in order to amuse the guests. The sound of Balaleca's and of drums were heard, and the sleepy boys were obliged to dance. Then the young bullyoves began to turn about. The old princess placed her hands akimbo, and stepping upon the floor began to stamp and posture and sing, and when Skishtosky saw this he ventured a dance with Helena. As he placed his arm round her he felt as if he were clasping a portion of heaven to his breast. As they whirled round in the dance her long braids flew about his neck as if she would tie him to her forever. He could not resist the temptation, and when he thought no one was looking he bent down and kissed her sweet mouth with fervor. Late at night when he was alone with Longan in a room where they had prepared two beds, instead of going to sleep he sat upon the edge of his bed and said, You will ride to Lubny with another man to-morrow. Podbypienta, who had just ended his potters, opened his eyes wide and said, How is that? Are you going to stay here? Not I, but my heart remains here, and only the sweet memory will go with me. You will see a great change in me, for from Longing I can hardly draw breath. So you have fallen in love with the young princess. So it is, as sure as I am alive here before you. Sleep flees my eyelids, and I would like to sigh unceasingly and to dissolve in steam entirely. I tell you this because you have a sensitive and loving heart and so will understand my torment. Pan Longan began himself to sigh as a token that he understood the torments of love. After a while he asked in a plaintive tone, Perhaps you have made a vow of chastity? Your question is not sensible, for if we all took such vows the human race would die out. The entrance of a servant interrupted the conversation.  As he entered he cast a meaning look at Skishtosky and asked, Do the gentlemen need anything further? Perhaps a glass of mead for a pillow? We need nothing. The tartar approached Skishtosky and whispered, I have a word for you from the young lady. Then be my pandar, cried the lieutenant joyfully. You may speak in the presence of this gentleman, for I have confided my secret to him. The tartar drew a piece of ribbon from his sleeve. The young lady sensed the honored gentleman this scarf and says that she loves him with her whole soul.  And as he got a little calmer he asked, What did she tell you to say?  Here take this dollar as a present. She says then that she loves me. It is so. Here is another dollar for you. May God bless her, for I love her best of all. Tell her, or wait, I will write to her myself. Bring me ink, pen, and paper. What? asked the tartar, ink, pen, and paper. There isn't such a thing in the house. In the time of Prince Fassel there was some, and then, when the young princes learned to write from the monk, but that is a long time ago, Skishtosky snapped his fingers. Pan podby pienta, have you not pen and ink? The Lithuanian shrugged his shoulders and looked up into the sky. The devil said Skishtosky, then I am in a fix. The tartar had meanwhile crouched before the fire. What is the use of writing? he said as he raked the calls. The young lady has gone to sleep, and what your highness wishes to write to her you can say tomorrow. If that's so, it's another matter. You are, I see, a faithful servant to the young lady. There's a third dollar for you. How long have you been in her service? Alas, it is fourteen years since Count Fassel took me prisoner. From that time I have served him faithfully, and when he went away into banishment he left his child with Constantine.  La ala ila ala. And you have done so. I have done it and will continue to do it. See here, how do matters appear to you? How has the young lady treated here? They do not treat her very well. They wish to give her to Bohan, and he is an infernal hound. Nothing will come of it. Someone will be found who will take her away. Yes, said the old man as he stirred the glowing ashes. They want to give her to Bohan, but he may take and carry her away as the wolf does the lamb and leave them in possession of Rosloga. For Rosloga belongs to her, not to them, to the Prince Fassel. Bohan will also willingly do that, for he has in his hiding places more gold and silver than there is sand in Rosloga.  Blood fell between them and hatred grew out of it. La ala. The lieutenant could not close his eyes the whole night long. He walked up and down the room, gazed at the moon, and made several resolutions. Now he understood the Boljov's game. If a nobleman from the vicinity should marry the young princess, he would demand Rosloga as her fortune, and would have a right to it for it belonged to her. Perhaps he would demand an account of their guardianship. That was why the Boljovs who had grown up entirely in a Cossack country had resolved to give the girl to a Cossack. When Skacetowski thought of this, he clenched his fist and felt for the sword at his side. He determined also to crush this intrigue and felt the power in him to do it. In the first place Prince Yeremi ought to be the guardian of Helena, because Rosloga was a gift from the Vishnovetsky to the old Vazel, and secondly because Vazel himself had written from bar to the prince, begging him to be her guardian. Only the urgency of public business, of war, and great undertakings had prevented the voyavoda from interesting himself in the guardianship. But it would be sufficient to remind him by a word, in order that justice may be done. Don was already gray when Panskacetowski threw himself upon his bed. He slept soundly and awoke in the morning with a firm resolve. They dressed themselves quickly, he and Lungen, for the carriage was already waiting for them, and Skacetowski's soldiers were already mounted and ready for the march. In the reception room, the ambassador, in company with the old princess and her sons, was strengthening himself with a little soup, but Bohun was not there, so no one knew whether he still slept or had gone away. After he had refreshed himself, Skacetowski said, Lady time flies, we must soon mount our horses. Before we express our gratitude to you for your hospitality, there is an important matter about which I would like to say a word to you and to your sons in private. In the features of the princess lively astonishment was depicted. She looked first at her sons, then at the ambassador and Pan Lungen, as if she would read from their faces what it was all about, and with a certain uneasiness in her voice she said, I am at your service, sir. The ambassador wanted to retire, but she would not hear of it. Instead of that she led the way into the vestibule with its hangings and armour. The young princess rose and followed their mother, and after them came Skacetowski. She went up to him and asked, what do you wish to talk to me about? The lieutenant fixed an almost stern look upon her and said, Pardon me, gracious lady, and you young princes, that contrary to custom and good manners I have undertaken to put this matter before you instead of entrusting it to a confidential messenger, but it cannot be done otherwise, and as no one can fight against fate I will set before you without further delay, my humble prayer that you as her guardians will give me the princess Helena as my wife. If at this moment in the middle of winter a stroke of lightning had struck the courtyard in Rosloga it would not have produced such an effect upon the princess and her sons as these words of the lieutenant. For a time they looked in astonishment at the speaker who stood before them, erect as a statue, calm and proud, as if he had no intention of begging but rather of commanding, but they could find no words to reply. Instead the princess began to ask, What, she, Helena? Yes, gracious princess, and that is my unalterable intention. A short silence followed. I am awaiting your answer, princess. Pardon me worthy, sir, answered the princess after she had calmed down a little, but her voice was dry and harsh. It is no slight honour for us to receive this request from such a cavalier, but nothing can come of it, for I've already promised Helena to another. Consider, gracious princess, as a careful guardian, if that is not against the wish of the young lady, and if I am not better than he to whom you have promised her. Good sir, who is best is for me to judge. You may be the best. That makes no difference to us. We do not know you. The lieutenant stood more proudly erect, and his glances were like sharp knives and cold as steel. But I know you, you traitors, he thundered.   Is that how you thank us for our hospitality? Is that the gratitude that dwells in your heart? Oh, Viper, who are you? Whence do you come? The young Kurtseviches began to snap their fingers and glance at the weapons on the walls.  Only one day more, and the prince will hear of it. At these words the princess darted into the back of the room, seized a javelin and made for the lieutenant. The young princes also seized whatever they could lay hold of, one a sword, another a spear, or knife, surrounded the lieutenant in a semicircle and sniffed like a pack of raging wolves. You will go and tell the prince, screamed the princess. How do you know you will get away from here alive? How do you know this is not your last hour? Skyshettersky crossed his hands upon his breast and did not move an eyelash. As the envoy of the prince, I am on my way back from the Crimea. If one drop of my blood is spilled here, within three days this house will be in ashes, and you will all rot in the dungeons at Lopni. Is there a power in the world that can protect you? Do not threaten, for I do not fear you. We shall perish, but you will perish first. Well, strike, here is my breast. The young princes, with their mother at their head, held their weapons pointed towards the lieutenant's breast, but it seemed as if invisible chains held their hands in bonds, breathing heavily and grinding their teeth. They rose in impotent rage, but not one of them dared to strike. The dreaded name of Vishnuovetsky had made them powerless. The lieutenant was master of the situation. The helpless anger of the princess exhausted herself in a torrent of abuse. Braggart, miserable vagabond, good for nothing, princely blood, do you wish? Nothing will come of it. We will give her to anyone, but not to you, and the prince himself cannot oblige us to do so. Skishtosky answered, This is not the time for me to prove my nobility to you, but I believe that your family would be glad to bear sword and shield after me. Besides, if the peasant is good enough for you, I am better. As for my property, it can well be compared with yours, and if you say that you will not give Helena to me, hear what I have to say, I would also let you remain in Rosloga, and would demand no account of your guardianship. Do not give away what is not yours. I am not giving anything. I am only giving my promise for the future and confirm it with the word of a knight. Choose, therefore, either you will give an account to the prince and leave Rosloga, or you will give me the girl and retain the property. The javelin slowly slipped from the hands of the princess and fell noisily to the ground. Choose, repeated Skishtosky, either peace or war. It is lucky, said Princess Kurtsevich already in a milder tone, that Bohan has written out with the falcon and does not see you, for he suspected you already yesterday. If he were here it would not end without bloodshed, and I do not carry my sword only that it may weigh down my belt. Consider whether you think it polite for a cavalier who has come into a house in friendship to overpower people like this, and to carry off a girl by exactly as if she were a Turkish slave. I think it is very appropriate since she is to be sold against her will to a peasant. Do not speak so of Bohan, for even though he does not know his parentage he is still a famous warrior and a brave knight, and we have known him from childhood and consider him as one of our own blood. To rob him of the girl or to stab him to death would be about the same thing to him. Gracious Princess, time presses. I must go on my journey. Pardon me if I repeat once more. Make your choice. The Countess turned to her sons. What do you say, my sons, to the humble request of this cavalier? The bullyards looked at one another and nudged each other, but were silent. Finally Simian growled, If you bid us fight, mother, we will fight. If you bid us give him the girl, we will give her to him. To fight is bad and to give is bad. She then turned to Schetowski. You have driven us so to the wall that we can hardly breathe.  He himself will be ruined through the Prince, but before that occurs he will destroy us. What shall we do? That is for you to decide. The Princess was silent for a moment. Listen, worthy cavalier. Absolute secrecy must be preserved. We will send Bohan to Periaslav, and we ourselves will drive to Lupini with Helena. You will entreat the Prince to send a guard to Rosloka. Bohan has in the vicinity one hundred and fifty men, some of whom are here. One could not easily take Helena away, for he would try to get her back alive or dead. It cannot be otherwise. Go, therefore, betray our secret to no one and expect us. In order that you may betray me, we would if that were only possible, but we cannot do so as you see yourself. Give us your word that you will preserve our secret till that time. I give my word. Do you give me the girl? We cannot do otherwise, even if Bohan should injure us. To-to-t, gentlemen, said the Lieutenant suddenly, turning to the young princes, here are four of you, like oaks, and you fear one Cossack and want to destroy him through treachery. Although I thank you, I must say that this is not worthy of honourable noblemen. Do not mix yourself up in this affair, cried the Princess. This is not your business. What shall we do? How many soldiers have you to pit against one hundred and fifty men? Would you protect Helena when he comes to take her away by force? That is not your business.  Do as you will, but one thing I must say, if any evil happens to the girl, then woe to you. Do not talk thus and drive us to desperation. Yes, you did wish to use force, and even now when you are trying to sell her in exchange for Rosloga, it does not occur to you to ask her if she is favourably disposed towards my person.  Simeon went to fetch Helena, and in a few moments appeared with her in the hall. Amid the ebullitions of rage and the threatenings which appeared still to rumble in the air like the echo of a passing storm, in the midst of those knitted brows, fierce looks, and unfriendly faces, her beautiful countenance beamed like the sun after a storm. Young Lady, said the Princess solemnly, pointing to Skashetosky, if you have no objection, there is your future husband. Helena grew pale as the wall. She screamed and covered her eyes with her hands. Then she suddenly stretched out her hands to Skashetosky and whispered rapturously, is it true? An hour later the ambassador's train and that of the Lieutenant were slowly winding their way along the forest highway, in the direction of Lubny. Skashetosky and Longin rode at the head of the cavalcade. Behind them came the long file of carriages belonging to the ambassador. The Lieutenant was absorbed in thought, when, suddenly, there came to his ears snatches of the song, Alas! Alas! How sore my heart! In the depth of the forest, on a narrow footpath, Bohun appeared. His horse was completely covered with dust and mud. The Cossack had evidently, as was his custom, been wandering about on the steps, and in the forest, in order to breathe in the air, to forget the world and the sorrow that gnawed at his heart, to numb his pain. He was now just on his way to Rosloga. When Skashetosky saw the splendid nightly figure that appeared and vanished, he could not help murmuring to himself, what a fortunate thing it was that he clove a man's skull in her presence. Suddenly he had a feeling of compunction. It seemed to him as if he felt sorry for Bohun, more particularly because he was bound by his word to the Princess, and could not immediately, on the spot, ride after him and say, We both love the same girl. One of us is superfluous in the world. Unchief, Cossack, villain! of With Fire and Sword by Henrik Sinkhevich, translated by Samuel A. Benyon. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Skashetosky did not find the Prince at home when he reached Lubny. He had gone to attend a christening at the house of one of his old retainers, Pansuvchinsky, at Sinch, and with him went the Princess, the two Princess Zabarska and many people of the court. Word was sent to Sinch of the return of the Lieutenant from the Crimea and also of the arrival of the Ambassador. Meantime Skashetosky was received with joy by his friends after his long journey, and especially by Volodzhovsky, who, since his last duel with the Lieutenant, had become his warmest friend. This night was distinguished for one peculiarity that he was always in love. After he had become convinced of Anousia Borzobahata's faithlessness, he had turned his sensitive heart over to Angelika Linska, also a lady-in-waiting, and when she, a month ago, married Stanishevsky, Pan Michael began to comfort himself by paying attentions to the elder Princess Zabarska, Anna, the niece of Prince Vishnyovetsky. He knew very well that he lifted his eyes too high and that he could not flatter himself with the smallest hope, especially as several suitors had pretended to the hand of the Princess, among them Bodzinsky and Lasota, who, in the name of Pan Sheyimtsky and of the voyavoda of Lensh, were suing for her hand. The unlucky Pan Michael related his new sorrow to the Lieutenant and initiated him into all the occurrences and secrets of the court. Skashetosky, however, listened with divided attention, for his mind and his heart were occupied with other matters. If that restlessness of the soul which is inseparable from love, even the happiest love, had not tortured him, Skashetosky would have felt happy after such a long absence on returning to Lubny. For here he was surrounded with friendly faces and the noises of military life which was his favourite music. Now Lubny, although the fortified residence of the Prince, might be compared favourably as regards magnificence with any of the courts of the petty kings. It was different from the others only in that a strict military discipline, as in camp, was observed. Anyone who did not understand the manners and regulations of the place might imagine, even if he came here in time of peace, that some kind of military expedition was in preparation. The soldiers here took precedence of the courtiers, steel above gold, the sound of the bugle above the sound of revels and enjoyment. Everywhere perfect order reigned and remarkable discipline, everywhere officers swarmed, belonging to the different regiments, curaseers, cavalry, heavy dragoons, Cossacks, Tartars, and Voleks, among whom were not only representatives of the entire country of the Nipper, but also volunteer recruits of the nobility from all parts of the Commonwealth. Whoever wished to educate himself in a truly knightly school came to Lubny. Nobody was wanting there. Consequently, besides natives of Russia, there were a number of massures, Lithuanians, natives of little Poland, and even Prussians. The foot soldiers of the artillery, the so-called fiery people, consisted principally of picked Germans who had enlisted for high pay. The dragoons were principally natives. The Lithuanians had entered the Tartar regiments. The Poles chose by preference to enlist in the curaseer regiments. The prince did not let the knighthood remain idle. Consequently, there was constant stir in the camp. Certain regiments went to relieve others at the posts and border garrisons. Others came to the capital. Whole days were taken up in mustering and drilling. At times, even when the Tartars were quiet, the prince would undertake distant military expeditions into the limitless steppes and deserts in order to accustom the soldiers to the march to go to places that had never yet been visited, and to carry the fame of his name in all directions. The previous autumn he had followed the left bank of the Nipur as far as Kudak, where Pan-Grodzitsky, who was governor, received him like a sovereign. Then he followed the Porogh till he came to Kortitsa, and there upon the meadows of Kushkas he had caused to be erected an enormous pile of stones as a memorial, and also as a token that, as yet, no lord had traveled this road to such a distance. Pan-Boguslav Mashkevich, a good though young soldier, and at the same time a man of learning, who described this journey as also other expeditions of the prince, told Skyshettsky wonderful stories about it. Folojovsky confirmed everything he had said, for he also had been on this expedition. They also had seen the rapids and wondered at them, especially at the dreadful Nyinyasitov, which, yearly, like the fabulous Silla and Charybdis, swallowed up many human victims. They had then turned towards the east to the burnt-up steppes, where the cavalry could make no progress on account of the stubs, and the horses were obliged to have their feet wrapped in leather. There were, in that direction, a quantity of otter, moles, gigantic snakes, ten yards long and as thick as a man's arm. Upon the way, to perpetuate the memory of the affair, they had carved the princely coat of arms on a solitary oak, and finally they arrived at such forsaken deserts that they couldn't find the slightest vestige of any human habitation. I thought, said the learned Panmashekevich, that like Ulysses we would also at last arrive in Hades, to which Pan Michael answered, the men of Zamoysky's squadron, who were in the van, swear that they saw the boundary where the terrestrial orb ends. The lieutenant thereupon related to his companions' stories of the Crimea, where he had passed almost half a year, waiting for the Khan's answer, of the towns there which remain from the earliest times, of the tarters, of their military prowess, and finally of the terror which took possession of them when they heard of the great military expedition against the Crimea, in which all the military powers of the Commonwealth were to take part. With such conversation they passed their evenings and awaited the return of the prince. The lieutenant introduced Longin Podbipienta to his friends. His kindly disposition won all hearts, and his superhuman strength in sword exercises won him universal respect. He told one and all about his ancestor, and about the three decapitated knights, but he remained silent about his vow, for he did not wish to lay himself open to ridicule. A special friendship sprang up between himself and Pan Michael as they both had such soft hearts. Before many days had passed they were taking long walks together upon the ramparts and sighing, one to the star that seemed so high above him that he could not reach it, that is, the princess Anna, the other to the unknown from whom he was divided by the three heads of his vow. Folojovsky tried to persuade Longin to enter the dragoons. The Lithuanian, however, remained firm in his decision to enter the Curesseers in order to serve under Skyshettovsky, for he had heard with delight in Lupini that he was considered by all a knight without blemish, and one of the prince's best officers. And just now a vacancy had occurred in Lieutenant Skyshettovsky's regiment as Pan Zakhevsky, nicknamed Miserere Mayee, had been dangerously and hopelessly ill for two weeks in consequence of the damp weather which had caused all his wounds to open afresh. Added to the love sorrows of the lieutenant was now the threatened loss of his old comrade and trusty friend. For hours he remained daily at his bed, comforting him as well as he could, and cheering him with the hope that they would yet make many an expedition together. But the old soldier needed no comfort. He awaited death joyfully on his hard pallet that was covered with horse's hides. He looked at the crucifix that hung over his cot with an almost childlike smile, but to Skyshettovsky he said, Miserere Mayee, Lieutenant, I am going to my heavenly rest. My body is so torn with holes that I fear that St. Peter, who is God's steward and has to keep account of the order in heaven, will not let me into paradise in such a tattered garment.  Do not disgrace me so. It was the heathen that put my bodily garment in such a condition. Miserere Mayee, and should there be an expedition led by St. Michael against the powers of hell, the old Skyshettovsky can yet be of some service. The lieutenant, although as a soldier he had so often gazed into the eye of death and had even been the cause of death himself, could not keep back his tears when he heard the old man talking, as if his departure were no more than a bright sunset. But one morning the bells in all the churches of Lutny told to announce the death of Zakshevsky. On this day the prince arrived from Sinch and with him Panbodzinski and Panlosota and the whole court and a number of the nobility in several dozen carriages, for the journey to Pansovchinski was a long one. The prince arranged a splendid funeral to honor the dead soldier and to show how much he loved a true knight. Consequently all the regiments stationed in Lutny took part in the funeral procession. From the ramparts salutes were fired from canon and smaller arms. The cavalry marched from the castle to the parish church of the town in order of battle but with crepe on their flags. The infantry followed with their muskets reversed.  In front of the hearse walked a division of janissaries who were the bodyguard of the prince and immediately behind the hearse rode pages in Spanish dress mounted on powerful horses. Then came the high court officials, the unattached courtiers, the household, and finally the high dukes and paddukes, Turkish servants. The mourning procession halted at the door of the church where the priest Yaskolsky greeted the coffin with a speech beginning with these words, with a hastenest thou, Zakshevsky? Then several of his comrades spoke in his praise, among them Skyshettsky as his superior officer and friend. The coffin was then carried into the church, and, the most eloquent orator of all, the Jesuit Mukovetsky, spoke with such fervor and impressive earnestness that the prince himself was moved to tears. He was indeed a man of exceedingly tender heart and a true father to his soldiers. He maintained a rigid discipline, but in point of generosity, kindly treatment of his men, and care for them, and not only for them, but also for their children and wives, no one could be compared with him. Towards rebels he was terrible and pitiless, but he was a true benefactor, not only to the nobility, but to all his people. In forty-six, when the locusts had destroyed the crops, he remitted all the rents of his tenantry for a whole year, and commanded his subjects to give out grain from their stores. And after the great fire in Coral, he maintained all the citizens for two months at his own charge. The farmers and vice-starosts on the estates trembled lest the slightest rumor should come to the ear of the prince of any ill treatment or wrong that should happen to the peasants. He exercised such a watchfulness over orphans that in the Nipper country they received the nickname of the prince's children. They were the special care of Princess Griselda, and Father Mukovetsky was her firm ally. Therefore, all through the prince's territory, order, prosperity, justice, and peace reigned, but also terror, for at the least sign of rebellion the prince's anger and punishment were unbounded, so closely allied in his nature were broad-mindedness and severity. In those days and in those countries it was only this severity that could diffuse and establish civilization, and with its help towns and villages arose. The former could get the upper hand of the robber Hedemak. The merchant could peacefully sell his wares. The bells could call the faithful peacefully to prayer. Only by its help could the enemy be prevented from crossing the borders, and could the multitude of robber bands be destroyed or turned into disciplined soldiers. Only by its help could the desert lands be made to flourish. The wild territory and the wild inhabitants required just such a hand as that of the prince, for in the Nieper district the most restless elements came from the Ukraine, colonists enticed thither by the fruitfulness of the soil, run away peasants from all parts of the commonwealth, criminals who had escaped from prison, in a word, as Livy says, pastorum convinaromque plebs transfuga ex suis populis. To hold these elements in bounds, to transform them into peaceful settlers, and to enchain them in the fetters of civilized life, a lion was needed at whose roar all trembled.  But in fact the prince was almost undersized and rather thin. He was still young only in his thirty-sixth year, but his face bore traces of the hardships of war, for although in Lubny he lived as a veritable king, during his numerous military expeditions he partook of the hardships of the simplest companion, ate black bread, and slept upon the ground on a felt rug, and, as he spent the greater part of his time in camp, the traces of his hardships were visible in his features. But his face, at first glance, gave evidence of an extraordinary man. It portrayed an unyielding iron will and a majesty before which everyone involuntarily bowed his head. One could see that this man understood his power and his greatness, and if tomorrow a crown should be set on his head he would neither be astonished nor feel oppressed by its weight. His eyes were large, peaceful, almost gentle, and yet fire seemed to sleep in their depths. One felt that it would go hard with him who should awaken that fire. No one could enter the flash of that glance. Even ambassadors, experienced courtiers, when they came in Yerime's presence, were confused and knew not how to begin their speech. He was really in this country of the neaper a true king. From his office privileges and grants were sent abroad, headed, we by the grace of God, prince and hospodar, etc. He considered very few lords his equals, princes of the blood of the old rulers were marshals at his court, such a one was in his time the father of Helena, Basil Bulyov-Kurtsevich, whose race, as told before, took its origin in Koryat, and in truth went back as far as Rurik. There was something about prince Yerime that, in spite of his natural benevolence, kept men at a distance. He loved his soldiers and treated them familiarly, but no one dared to treat him with it. And yet if he had commanded his officers to plunge on horseback into the neaper, they would have done it without hesitating.  It was cut straight across the forehead which it half covered. He wore the Polish dress, but paid little attention to his apparel, and only on great occasions wore costly garments, but then he glittered all over from head to foot in gold and precious stones. Panlongin happened a few days later to be present on such an occasion, when the prince was giving audience to Rosvan Ursu. The ambassadors were always received in the Blue Hall, so called because on the ceiling was the firmament set with stars, painted by the brush of the Danzig artist Helm. The prince took his seat under a Baldaqian of velvet and ermine, upon a raised seat similar to a throne whose footstool was covered with gilded work. Behind the prince stood the priest Mucowiecki, the secretary, the marshal, Count Boronich, Pan Boguslav, Mashkiewicz, then came the pages, and twelve attendants in Spanish garb carrying their halberds. The background of the hall was filled with knights in glittering apparel and jewelry. Pan Rosvan entreated in the name of the hospodar that the prince, through his influence and the terror of his name, might carry out in the Khan's dominions the ordinance against the Tartars of Budzyak, that they should no longer be allowed to attack Velakia, for they had been in the habit of perpetrating frightful damage and destruction each year. Thereupon the prince answered in excellent Latin that the Budzyaks had no great respect for the Khan's authority, but that when Chosa Merza, the ambassador of the Khan, should arrive, as he expected, in April, he would, through him, make representations to the Khan regarding the Velakian outrages. Panskiewicz had already given the prince a full report of his journey and his embassy, as well as all that he had learned about Nielnicki and his flight to Siech. The prince determined to send some regiments to Kudak, but he did not attach more importance to this matter. As peace reigned and nothing seemed to threaten the power of the Nipur regions, all kinds of festivities and entertainments took place in Lubny, both in honor of the presence of the ambassador Rosvan, as well as because Pan Bozinski and Lasota had with due ceremony in the name of the voyavoda's son, Szyemski, made a formal request for the hand of the elder princess, Anna, and had received a favorable answer from the prince and the prince's Griselda. Only little Volodzowski suffered on that account no slight pain, and when Skishtoski sought to console him, he answered, It is all very well for you to talk. If you only wish it, you know Anna Bozobohata will not refuse you. She has thought frequently of you while you were away. At first I thought she pretended to like you in order to excite Bikov yet jealousy, but I see she was only quietly hanging him on the hook and feels a lively affection for you alone. What is Anna to me? Turn to her, I don't forbid, but give up thinking about Princess Anna. It is exactly like trying to cover a phoenix's nest with a cap. I know well that she is a phoenix, and therefore I shall certainly die for sorrow. You will live and soon fall in love again, but not with Princess Barbara, for the son of some other Bojavoda will carry her off from under your nose. Is the heart a slave that can be commanded? Can you hinder your eyes from admiring such a wonderful being as Princess Barbara, the sight of whom is enough to move even wild animals? Devil, you have a covering, cried Skishtoski. I see that you do not need me to comfort you, but I repeat, return to Anousia. I will not stand in your way. Anousia, however, gave no thought to Volodiovski. Skishtoski's indifference, on the contrary, provoked her, made her curious and annoyed her. After being away so long, he hardly glanced at her. In the evenings when the Prince, with the distinguished officers and courtiers, came into the Prince's sitting-room to pass the time in conversation, Anousia would look around the shoulders of her mistress, for the Princess was tall and Anousia was short, her black eyes fixed inquiringly upon the face of the lieutenant, trying to solve this riddle. But Skishtoski's eyes, like his thoughts, were wandering, and if his eyes chanced to fall on Anousia, they were absorbed in thought and glassy, as though he hardly saw her, her to whom he once sang, The tarter makes captives of people, but thou makest captives of hearts. What has happened to him? The spoiled darling of the whole court asked herself, and stamping her little foot upon the ground, she determined that she would get to the bottom of the matter. She did not really love Skishtoski, but she was so accustomed to homage that she could not endure that any one should not notice her, and for very peak she was ready to fall in love with the daring fellow. One day, when she was taking a skein of thread to the Princess, she met Skishtoski, who was just coming out of the bedroom of the Prince.  Good morning, sir! Good day, Panna Anna! Have I done something monstrous to frighten Panna Anna? The girl stood there with her eyes cast down, twisting the end of her long braid with the fingers of her empty hand, resting first on one foot and then on the other, and answered with a smile as though confused, Oh no, not that, not at all, as I love my mother. Then all at once she looked up at the Lieutenant and immediately let her eyes fall again.  I, as if Panna Anna, cared for my anger. Why, no, in truth not. Why should I care, or do you think perhaps I am going to cry? Panbikoviets is more polite. Well, there is nothing for it then but to give place to Panbikoviets and to disappear from Panna Anna's sight. Do I detain you? Then Anousia placed herself right in his way. You have just come back from the Crimea, she said. From the Crimea? And what did you bring back from the Crimea? I brought Panpod Bepyanta back with me. You have seen him? He is an amiable and stately cavalier. He might easily be more amiable than you. Why did he come here? In order that Panna Anna might have someone on whom she might try her power. But I would advise you to set about it carefully, for I know a secret about this gentleman that makes him invulnerable. Even Panna Anna will not be able to do anything with him. Why is he invulnerable? Because he cannot marry. What does that matter to me? Why can he not marry? Skishtoski leaned over the maiden's ear, but said very loudly and impressively, because he has taken a vow of chastity.  But that very evening she observed Panlongin attentively for the first time. There were many guests assembled on this day, for the princess was giving a farewell dinner to Panbodzinski. Our Lithuanian, carefully dressed in a white satin coat and a dark blue velvet waistcoat, looked very stately, and more so as, instead of his cowl shearing sword, he wore a light scimitar and a golden sheath at his side. Anna's little eyes were aimed at Longin somewhat intentionally to annoy Skishtoski. The lieutenant, however, would have paid no attention if Volojovsky had not nudged him and said, May I fall into the hands of the heathen if Anna is not beginning a flirtation with that Lithuanian hop-pole? Tell him that. Certainly I will tell him they would make a capital pair. He could wear her as the clasp of his coat, such as the proportion between them, or instead of a tassel on his cap. Volojovsky stepped up to the Lithuanian. You have not been here long, said he, but I see that you are a lady killer. What is it, little brother? You have caught the most beautiful lady in waiting in the whole court. But, sir, said Podbepienta, folding his hands, what do you mean? Just look at Anna Bozobohata whom we are all in love with, how she is shooting at you with her little eyes, but beware that she does not lead you a dance as she has led many of us already. Volojovsky turned away and went off, leaving long into his astonishment. He did not dare to look over in the direction where Anusia was. It was not for some time that he glanced over there, but he was fairly frightened. From behind the shoulders of Princess Griselda looked too bright eyes, full of curiosity and interest. Get behind me, Satan! thought the Lithuanian and fled, blushing like a schoolboy to the other end of the room. But the temptation was too great. The little minks who looked around the shoulders of the Princess was so attractive, and her little eyes shone so brightly that Panlongin felt drawn somewhat in that direction, if to see her only once more. Then he thought of his vow, his ancestor Stovakopodbepienta. The three trunkless heads stood before his eyes and a terror seized him. He crossed himself and did not look in her direction once again that evening. The following morning, however, he betook himself to Skyshettsky's quarters. Lieutenant, are we soon going to march? What have you heard about the war? Are you in such haste? Have patience until you get your commission. Panpodbepienta had in fact not yet replaced the late Zakhevsky. He had to wait until three months had elapsed, and that would not be until the first of April, but he was really anxious to know, so he asked the lieutenant again. And has not his excellency the Prince said anything about this matter? Not a word. The King will never, until he dies, give up the idea of this war, but the Commonwealth does not wish it. And in Chagrin they say a Cossack rebellion is threatened. It is easy to see that your vow bothers you a good deal. As far as the rebellion is concerned, you may as well know that it will not take place till spring. Even if winter is mild, winter is still winter. It is only February 15th. Any day we may have frost and the Cossack will never take the field, unless he can throw up earthworks to protect himself, for behind the earthworks he can fight splendidly, but in the open field he cannot hold his own. So then we shall have to wait for the Cossacks. Consider, besides, that even if during the rebellion you should find your three heads, it is still a question whether you are free from your vow, for it is one thing to kill Crusaders or Turks, and another to kill, how shall I say it, your own, the children of the same mother? That's a naughty point. That is desperate. Father Mokovetsky must solve these doubts for me, otherwise we shall not have a moment's peace. Certainly he will solve them, for he is a learned and pious man, but certainly he will not say otherwise. Civil war, that is a war between brothers. And if a foreign power should come to the assistance of the rebels? Then you might have the field, but for the present I can only advise you one thing—wait and be patient. Skyshetsky could not, however, follow this advice himself. His longing increased more and more. The court festivities and the faces that he formerly looked at with pleasure were now wearysome to him. Panbodzinski and Panlasota and Panrosvan Ursu had at length gone away, and after their departure everything was very quiet. Life began to flow along monotonously. The prince was occupied with making an inventory of his enormous possessions, and shut himself up every morning with his commissioners, who had come together from the whole of Russia and from the Sandun Mursky territory, so that even the military exercises now seldom could take place. The brilliant military festivities, at which the future war was discussed, were very distasteful to Skyshetsky. Therefore he took his gun and escaped to the Solonits, where long years before Zolievsky had so thoroughly beaten Nalevaika, Loboda, and Krensky. The traces of that battle were already extinct in the memory of man, as well as the scene of the battle. From time to time, however, the earth threw up whitened bones, and on the other side of the water, Cossack earthworks rose behind which Loboda's Zaporosians and Nalevaika's freebooters defended themselves so desperately. But now, on the entrenchment, grew luxuriant brush. Thitherskyshetsky went to seek refuge from the stir of the court life, and instead of shooting birds, he gave himself up to meditation. There, before the eyes of his soul, stood the form of his beloved, brought thereby remembrance and by the wish of his heart. There, amid the mists, the rustling of the reeds, and the melancholy of the surroundings, he found an alleviation for his longings. Soon, however, rains that announced the spring began to pour down. The Solonits changed to a swamp, one dared not to put his head out of doors, and the lieutenant was deprived of the consolation of his wanderings. His restlessness increased, meanwhile, and not without cause. He had hoped in the beginning that the Princess Kurtsevich and Helena, as soon as the Princess was able to send Bohun away, would come to Lupini. Now, however, this hope was extinguished. The wet weather had destroyed the roads. The steps on both sides of the Suli for several miles were an enormous swamp that could only be crossed by waiting, until the warm spring sun had absorbed the water and the dampness. All this time Helena was obliged to remain in the care of those whom Skishtosky did not trust in a veritable wolf-sten, among uncultivated, wild people whose feelings were hostile to Skishtosky. For their own good indeed they were obliged to keep their word, and they had no other way. But who could say what they might plan, what they might dare, especially as that terrible Cossack chief whom they evidently loved and at the same time feared, was in their neighborhood. It would not be difficult for him to oblige them to give him the girl. Such cases were not rare. Years before Laboda, the comrade of the unfortunate Nelavaika, had obliged Pana Poplinska to give him her ward as a wife, although the girl was of noble birth and hated the rebel leader with her whole heart. And if it were true that Bohan possessed such immense treasures, he could pay them not only for the girl, but also for the loss of Rosloga, and what then? Then thought Skishtosky, they will inform me contemptuously that the hunt is over, and they themselves will hide in the Lithuanian or Mazurian deserts, where even the mighty hand of the Prince could not reach them. Skishtosky shuddered at this thought as if he had a fever, raged like a wolf at his chain, regretted that he had given his nightly word to the Princess, and knew not what he should do, and he was a man who did not easily let chance lead him by the beard. In his nature he had great enterprise and energy. He did not wait for what fate might have in store. He preferred to take fate by the neck and oblige it to bring him fortune.  He resolved, therefore, to act. He had a serving boy, Zinzhan, an impoverished noble podlesian. He was only sixteen, but he was a rascal who could not be surpassed by any old fox. Skishtosky resolved to send him to Helena and to obtain at once information about her. February had come to an end, the reigns were over. March appeared to promise milder weather, and the roads were somewhat improved. Zinzhan set out, therefore, on his way. Skishtosky provided him with a letter, with paper, pen, and a bottle of ink, which he commanded him to treasure as the eye in his head, for he remembered that these things were not to be had in Rosloga. He also warned the boy not to say from whom he came, but to say that he was travelling to Chigrin and to carefully note all that he saw, and especially to get exact information about Bohun, where he was, and what he was doing. Zinzhan did not need to have the instructions repeated, but setting his cap on one side of his head, whirled his whip in the air, and rode off. Skishtosky had now passed weary days of expectation. In order to kill time he took up fencing with Panvolodovsky, who was a great master of the art, or through javelins at a mark. An event took place in Lupini by which the lieutenant nearly lost his life. One day a bear broke loose from his chain, wounded two of the stablemen of the court, frightened the commissioner Klibovsky's horse, and sprang on the lieutenant as he was coming out of the armory on his way to see the prince without his sword at his side, and only a light poleaxe with a brass head in his hand. The lieutenant would assuredly have been killed if Longin, who saw everything from the armory window, had not seized his cowl trencher and hastened to his assistance. Pan Longin showed himself a worthy descendant of his ancestor Stoveika. Before the eyes of the whole household, with one stroke of his sword, he cut off the bear's snout as well as his paws. This proof of extraordinary strength astonished the prince who was looking out of a window. He conducted Pan Longin to the room of the princess, where Anna Bozobohata fascinated him so with her little eyes that the following day he did not let himself be seen in order by earnest prayer to resist all temptation. Meanwhile, ten days had elapsed, and Jinzhan had not yet returned. Skyshettsky began to grow thin from suspense and to look so ill that even Anusia sent a messenger to ask what ailed him, and Karboni, the court doctor, prescribed him some kind of draft against melancholy. But he needed something more than this potion. Day and night he thought of his princess, and felt more than ever that it was not a passing emotion that had taken possession of him, but a great love which must be satisfied, or it would break his heart like a fragile vessel. His joy therefore could easily be imagined when, one day, Jinzhan stepped into his quarters, covered with mud, weary and bedraggled, but with good news written on his brow. The lieutenant sprang out of bed, ran to meet him, seized him by the arm, and shouted, Have you a letter? I have, sir. Here it is. The lieutenant snatched it quickly from his hand and began to read. He had long doubted whether, even if things were favourable, Jinzhan would bring him a letter, for he was not certain that Helena could write. Women in the borderlands were not learned, and Helena, besides, had grown up among uneducated people. But her father had evidently taught her this art, for she had written a long letter, covering four pages of the paper. The poor little woman could not indeed express herself with rhetorical grace, but she wrote from her heart as follows, I will never forget thee, but you may soon forget me, for I hear that there are flirts among you. But if thou hast sent thy boy so many miles on purpose, I see that I am dear to thee as thou art to me, for which I thank thee gratefully. Do not think, sir, that it is contrary to modesty if I write to thee of my love. But is it not better to speak the truth than to lie, or to conceal it if one has anything else in their heart? I also asked Jinzhan what is doing in Luqni, and what are the manners of the great court, and when he told me of the beauty and the graceful manners of the young ladies there, I cried for sadness. Here the lieutenant interrupted his reading, and asked Jinzhan, What did you tell her, you idiot? Everything good, sir, answered Jinzhan. The lieutenant read on, How shall I, a simple maiden, compare myself with them, but the boy told me that thou dost not look at any of them. You said well, remarked the lieutenant. Jinzhan did not know what Skishtoski was talking about, for he read the letter to himself, but he looked very knowing and cleared his throat meaningly. Skishtoski continued to read, So I was immediately comforted and prayed God to continue to keep thee in such an affectionate disposition towards me and to bless us both. Amen. I have longed for thee as for my mother, for for me an orphan the world is sad but not for thee. God looks in my heart and sees that it is pure, and thou will pardon my lack of education. Then the pretty little princess told him that she was going to Lubny with her aunt as soon as the roads became passable, and that the princess herself wished to hurry the journey, as news of a Cossack rebellion had come from Chagrin. She was waiting only the return of the young princes who had driven to Boguslav to the horse fair.  The Lieutenant smiled when he remembered by what means he had won her aunt. The letter closed with the assurance of steadfast, faithful love, such as a betrothed ose to her future husband. The whole letter revealed a pure, true heart, and the Lieutenant read this dear letter several times from beginning to end, and he repeated in his soul, My darling girl, may God forsake me if I ever fail you. Now he began to question Jinzhan about everything. The sly fellow gave him an exact account of his journey. They had received him well. The old princess had inquired about the Lieutenant, and after she learned that he was a distinguished knight and the confidant of the Prince, and, besides that, a man of means, she appeared satisfied. She also asked me, said Jinzhan, if the Lieutenant, when he promised anything, was sure always to keep his word, and I answered her, Gracious Lady, if the little Valakponi upon which I rode here were promised me, I should be sure that he would not escape me. You're a rascal, said the Lieutenant, but as you did me such good service you shall have him. You did not conceal your identity, then, but said who sent you? I said so because I saw that I might venture to do it, and they received me all the more kindly, especially the young lady, who is so beautiful that she has not her superior in the whole world, and when she heard that I had come from your honour she did not know what she could do for me. If it had not been a fast day she would have loaded me with everything as in heaven. She wept with joy as she read your Excellency's letter. The Lieutenant was silent from joy, and presently he asked again, Did you hear nothing about Bohun? It did not appear wise to ask the young lady or the old princess anything about him, but I made friends with old Chekli. He is a heathen, but yet a faithful servant of the young lady. He told me that they had grumbled at first about your Excellency, but afterwards they appeared to be satisfied, and the reason was that they had learned that all that had been told about Bohun's treasures was a fable. And how did they become convinced of this? See, hear your Excellency, this is how it was. They had a feud with the Sivinski's to whom they had bound themselves to make a payment. When the money was due they said to Bohun, lend us some money. He answered, however, Turkish property I have a certain amount of, but treasure I have none for what I once possessed I have run through. As they heard this he seemed to decrease in value in their sight, and they turned their love over to you. I have nothing to say but that you made all the inquiries I wanted. My Lord, if I had inquired after one thing and not after another you would have said to me with justice, the horse thou mayest have, but the saddle I shall keep back. What would my master do with a saddle without a horse? Well, well, take the saddle, too. I thank my master most humbly. They sent Bohun immediately to Periyaslav. When I learned that I thought to myself, why should I not go to Periyaslav? If my master is satisfied with me I shall more readily receive my colors. You shall have them at the next quarter, so you went to Periyaslav. I did, but I did not find Bohun there. The old Colonel Loboda is ill. They say he will not last long, and Bohun will become Colonel. But there is something strange going on there. Of all his Semenovs it is said that only a handful remain under his colors. The rest of them they say have gone over to Bohun or have fled to Siche, and that gracious sir is a serious matter. There must be a rebellion under consideration there. I absolutely insisted upon learning something about Bohun, but all they could tell me was that he had gone over to the Russian Bank of the Nipper. So I think if that is the case, our young lady is safe from him, and then I came home. You have done well. Did you have any adventures on your journey? No, gracious sir, but I am frightfully hungry. Jinzhan went out, and the Lieutenant, who was left alone, began to read over Helena's letter, and to press those characters that were not as graceful as the hand which had formed them to his lips. His heart was full of hope and he thought to himself, The roads will soon be dry if God gives us fine weather. The Kurtsevichs then, who have now found out that Bohun is a beggar, will not care to betray me. I will leave them Rosloga and give them some of my own property, if I can only attain that beloved star. He dressed himself and went with beaming face and joyful heart into the chapel, to give humble thanks to God for the good news. From farm to farm, like those plants which the wind in autumn carries across the steps and which the peasants call Pyrrhicotapole. In the towns there were rumors of an approaching great war, although no one knew who would lead it or against whom it would be undertaken. Something must come, however. The faces of men became anxious, the farmer went reluctantly to plow his fields, although an early, peaceful warm spring had come, and over the breadth of the steps the larks were singing. In the evenings the men in the villages gathered in crowds, stopped in the middle of the road and gossiped in low tones about terrible rumors. The blind beggars who travelled with liars and songs were eagerly asked for news. To many it seemed as if they saw a glow in the heavens at night, and as if the moon rose more red than usual behind the forests. Calamities were prophesied, and the death of the king, and it was all the more wonderful as in this part of the country which, from time immemorial, had been accustomed to unrest, wars, invasions, or fear, did not easily find an entrance. There must therefore be evil omens in the air, as the alarm was universal. It was all the more oppressive, all the more terrifying, as no one could point out the danger, but among the signs of threatening danger too especially seemed to be of prime importance. First an unheard of crowd of travelling blind singers were seen in every village and town, and among them were strangers, unknown forms, and it was whispered that they were pretended beggars. They travelled everywhere and prophesied mysteriously that the day of judgement and of divine wrath was at hand. Then the Nizhovs began to drink as if to excess. The second sign was even more ominous, Siche which was enclosed in narrow boundaries could not support all its inhabitants. Warlike expeditions did not always take place and in their absence the steps did not give bread to the Cossacks. Consequently a great number of the Nizhovs scattered abroad in times of peace in the inhabited districts. Numbers of them were in the Ukraine, yes, even in the whole of Russia. Some of them joined the following of the Starotsa, others dispensed Vodka in the street, others occupied themselves in the villages and small towns with commerce and professions. In almost every village there stood not far from the other dwellings a cabin in which lived a Zaporosian. Some of them had a wife and kept house in these cabins, and such a Zaporosian, one who was generally capable, was in some respects a benefit to the villages in which he lived. There were no better smiths, wheelwrights, tanners, wax-bleachers, fishermen, and sportsmen than they. The Cossack understood everything, could make anything. He could build a house, and could sew a saddle. Usually, however, the Cossacks were not permanent settlers, for they always lived for the moment. Whoever desired to execute the law with the might of arms, to attack his neighbors, or fearing their attack, wished to defend himself, such a one needed only to shout, and the Cossacks came flying to him like crows to their prey. The nobility, those landed proprietors who were continually outfued with one another, made use of them. When the Cossacks had no such services to perform, they remained quietly in the villages, and earned with the severest toil and by the sweat of their brow their daily bread. This lasted sometimes for a year or two years, until suddenly news would be spread of some great military expedition, either between an ottoman against the Tatars or against the Poles, or by the petty lords of Poland against Wallachia, and, quick as a flash, these smiths, wheel rights, tanners, and wax-bleachers cast aside their quiet occupations and began, first of all, to drink unto death in all the wine-shops of the Ukraine. When they had drunk up all their money, they drank on credit, not on what it is, but on what it will be. The future booty would pay for the revel. This happened so regularly that, in later times, people who knew the Ukraine well were accustomed to say, Aha! the wine-shops are packed full of Nizhavs, something must be preparing in the Ukraine. And then the Starostas would strengthen the fortifications of their castles and watch all signs carefully. The lords gathered together their retainers. The nobility sent their wives and children into the towns. This spring the Cossacks began to drink harder than ever, to dissipate blindly every hard-earned possession, and this not only in one district, in one province, but in the whole length and breadth of Russia. So there really was something on foot, although the Nizhavs did not know what it was. Men began to speak of Miannitsky, of his flight to Sish, of the people from Cherkass, Bogoslav, Kursun, and other towns that had gone over to him. They also told other stories. For many years rumors had been spread of a great war with the heathen, which the king favored in order to provide booty for his good Cossacks, but which the Poles did not desire, and now all these rumors were mixed up in people's heads and caused excitement and the expectation of something unusual. This alarm had also pierced through the walls of Lubny.  In his dominions it is true the restlessness did not go beyond bounds. Fear held everyone in check, but after a time news came from the Ukraine that here and there the peasants were beginning to raise opposition to the nobility, that they were killing the Jews, that they were seeking earnestly to enlist in the war against the heathen, and that the number of deserters to Sish was growing daily. The Prince, therefore, sent out messengers to Pankrakovsky, to Pankalinovsky, to Loboda in Periyaslov, and he even recalled the herds from the steppes and his forces from his outposts. All this time quieting news was coming in. The chief Hetman told the Prince all that they knew about Nyanitsky, but did not believe that any storm could result. The grand Hetman wrote, The people riot every spring like swarms of bees. The old standard bearers at Zvilikovsky alone conjured the Prince in a letter not to take matters too lightly. A great storm was brewing in the direction of the wild lands. He announced that Nyanitsky had hastened from Sitch to the Crimea to beg the Khan for assistance. And as friends from Sitch have told me, he wrote, that there the Koshov commander has gathered together from all the rivers and hiding places, infantry and cavalry, without saying a word to anyone about it. And the reason he does it in my belief is that this storm is going to break on us in all its fury. And if the Tatars are called in to assist, may God grant that it does not bring destruction to all the territory of Russia. The Prince trusted Zatsvilikovsky even more than the Hetmans. He knew well that in the whole of Russia no one knew the Kossacks and their ways so well as he did. He resolved, therefore, to gather together as many soldiers as he could, and at the same time to learn the truth. One morning he sent for Colonel Bikovets, the commander of the Valak regiment, and said to him, You will go in my name and as ambassador to Sitch to the Ottoman of Koshovs and take him this letter with my princely seal. In order, however, that you may know what course you must take, I will tell you this much. The letter is a pretext, and the whole responsibility of the embassy depends on your adroitness. You must observe everything that is going on there, how many men they have called to arms, and how many they are still calling. One thing I specially command you, to obtain the confidence of some of the people and find out everything about Mielnitsky, where he is, and if it is true that he has gone to the Crimea to ask for assistance from the Tartars, do you understand, as though it were written on my hand? You will go by way of Chigrin, do not stay anywhere longer than one night, as soon as you reach Chigrin, go to the standard-bearers at Filikovsky and ask him to give you letters to his friends in Sitch, which you will give to them privately. They will tell you everything. From Chigrin you will go to Kudak by boat, salute Pan-Grodzitsky for me and hand him this letter. He will see to it that you get through the Porog, and will send the necessary escort with you. Do not stop in Sitch. Look, listen, and return if you are alive, for this is no easy expedition.  How many men shall I take with me? You will take 40 men. Today, towards evening, you will set out. Before that time, come to me again for instructions. I am entrusting you with an important mission. Pan-Bekovets went out full of joy. In the anti-room, he met Skeshettsky with some artillery officers. What's up, they asked him. I am going away today. Where to? Where to? To Chigrin and from there elsewhere. Then come with me, said Skeshettsky, and he led him into his quarters, and began to beg him to let him take his place on this mission. As true as you're my friend, he said, ask what you will, a Turkish horse, a Spanish horse, you shall have it. Nothing would be too costly if I could only get in your place, for my soul longs intensely for those countries. Do you want money? You have it if you will let me go. It cannot bring fame, for if there is to be a war, it will come in the meantime, and you may leave your life on the field. I know also that Anousia loves you as much as others.  This last argument weighed more with Bekovets than any of the others, but he withstood it nevertheless. What would the Prince say if he should withdraw? Would he be angry? Was not such a commission a special mark of the Prince's favour? When Skyshettsky heard this, he hastened to the Prince and had himself at once announced by a page. The page returned with the command for the Lieutenant to enter. Skyshettsky's heart thumped like a hammer for fear he should receive a curt no in reply, and then there would have been nothing for him to do but to give up everything. Well, what have you to say to me? began the Prince as he received the Lieutenant. Skyshettsky made a low bow. My Prince, I came here to beg in all humanity that you would entrust me with the Embassy to cease. Bekovets would probably withdraw for he's my friend, and my very life depends on this matter. Bekovets fears only that your Prince's highness might be annoyed with him. My God! said the Prince, I would rather have sent you than anyone, but I thought you would not wish to go, as you had so recently returned from such a long journey. My Prince, if I was sent there every day I would willingly go to that region. The Prince looked at him earnestly with his black eyes and presently asked, What have you over there? The Lieutenant stood embarrassed as if he were guilty and could not endure the searching glance. I see that I must tell the truth, he began, for no secret can withstand your highness's penetration, but I do not know if I shall obtain a favourable hearing from your highness. And then he went on to tell how he had made the acquaintance of Prince Vassel's daughter, had learned to love her, and how he now yearned to see her, and on his return from Siege would bring her back to Lubny with him, to save her from the Cossack rebellion and from Bohun's persistent attentions. But about the old Princess's machinations he was silent, for his word bound him, but he entreated the Prince so earnestly to entrust him with the mission that he had given to Bikovyets, that the Prince said, I would like you to go in any case and would also give you an escort, and as you have already arranged everything so cleverly in combining your own love affairs with this undertaking, I suppose I must do this for you. Then he clapped his hands and commanded the page to call Bikovyets. The Lieutenant kissed the Prince's hand for joy. Prince Yeremi, however, placed both hands on Skyshettsky's head and advised him to be calm. He loved him as a valiant soldier and officer on whom he could always depend. Besides this there existed between them the union which arises between an inferior who trusts those above him with his whole soul and the superior who appreciates that feeling. A crowd of courteurs surrounded the Prince who served him and flattered him for their own interests, but the penetrating eye of Prince Yeremi judged well what he might expect from such. He knew that Skyshettsky was genuine. He valued him therefore and was grateful to him for his devotion. He also heard with pleasure that his favourite loved the daughter of Prince Vazel, the old servant of the Vyshnovetskys whose memory was all the more dear to the Prince from the fact that it had such sad associations. It is not from ingratitude to Prince Vazel, said the Prince, that I have neglected to inquire for his daughter, but as her guardians never came to Lumni and I heard no complaints against them I took it for granted that they were good people. As you have brought her to my remembrance I will think of her as of a blood relation. Skyshettsky, hearing this, was lost in admiration of the kindness of the Prince who seemed to reproach himself that among his manifold affairs he had not interested himself in the fate of the child of his old soldier and courteur. Meanwhile Bekovets had entered. Listen, said the Prince, I gave you my orders. If you want to go you may do so, but if you will oblige me give up your mission to Skyshettsky. He has very particular reasons for asking this and I will think of some other recompense. My Prince, answered Bekovets, it is a great favour of your highness who may command what he will to allow me to make a choice. And I were not worthy of this honour, did I not accept your wishes with a grateful heart. Thank your friend, said the Prince, and you, turning to Skyshettsky, prepare for the road. Skyshettsky fervently thanked Bekovets and in a few hours he was ready. He could not have stayed much longer in Lugny and this expedition accorded with all his wishes. First he would see Helena and then he must be separated from her for a long time, but just so much time as was necessary for the roads were almost impassable on account of the great rains. Until they were in better condition the Princess could not come to Lugny with Helena. Skyshettsky would have had, therefore, to wait in Lugny or in Rosloga, which latter was contrary to his agreement with the Princess, and what was still worse would awaken Bohun's suspicions. It was certain that Helena would not be safe from his attentions until she reached Lugny. Therefore, as she had to remain some time longer in Rosloga, Skyshettsky judged it best to leave Rosloga, and on his return to take her away under the protection of the Princess's soldiers. The Lieutenant had weighed all these things and this hastened his journey. After he had arranged his own affairs, received his letters and instructions from the Prince, and the money for the expedition from the treasurer, he set out on his journey long before nightfall, taking with him Jinzhan and Forti Semenovs from the Prince's Cossack Regiment. Chapter 7 of With Fire and Sword by Henrik Sinkiewicz It was already the latter half of March. The grass grew luxuriously, the butter-cups were in flower, and life was awakening in the steps. As the Lieutenant the following morning rode at the head of his men, it seemed as if he were on an ocean whose waves were swaying the undulating wind-blown grass of the steps. In all directions sounded the joyful voices of spring and of happiness, the calls and clucking and twittering of birds, whistling, flapping of wings, the joyous humming of insects. The sounds of the steps were like a lyre played by the hand of God. Above the heads of the horsemen flew hawks who seemed to be fixed immovably in the blue sky, like suspended crosses, triangular flights of wild geese, strings of cranes, and on the earth herds of wild horses moving here and there. Look there! A herd of horses of the steps, see how they beat back the grass with their breasts. They rush by like a storm, and then suddenly stand still like statues, and surround the riders in a semi-circle, their mains floating in the wind, their nostrils distended, their eyes wide open in astonishment as if they would drive away the unwelcome guests. But in a moment they take to flight and disappear as quickly as they came. Only the grass rustles, only the flowers gleam. The tramping of hoofs is silent, one hears nothing now but the cries of birds. Gayety and joy seem paramount, and yet there is a sad strain through all the gladness of this land, inhabited, and yet so desolate, so limitless, so immense. No horse can traverse it, no thought can span it. One must learn to love this sadness, this wilderness, these steps, and with yearning soul cleave to them, rest on their grave-mounds, listen to their voices and answer. It was morning, heavy dew-drops glistened on the herbs and meadows, a refreshing morning wind swept over the ground which, after a heavy rain, was full of large puddles that looked like little lakes in the sunlight. The lieutenants' train moved slowly forward, for they could not hurry, as the horses often sank up to their knees in the soft earth. But Skyshetsysky gave them little time to rest on the high mounds, for he was hastening forward at once to a welcome and to a farewell. On the second day at noon, just as he was riding out of a wood, he saw in the distance the windmills of Rosloga scattered about the surrounding hills. His heart beat like a hammer. No one there expected him. No one knew that he was coming. What would she say when she saw him? And there already were the cabins of their neighbors almost hidden in the young cherry orchards. Then the straggling village of the serfs, and farther in the distance the crane of the well in the courtyard of the castle. The lieutenant put spurs to his horse and rode on at a gallop, his attendants following him. In this manner they passed through the village with noise and clatter. Here and there a peasant stepped out of his cabin, looked after them, and crossing himself, said, Are those devils or not totters or not totters? The mud splashed from their horses hoofs so that one could hardly see who the riders were. Meanwhile they had reached the courtyard of Rosloga, and had come to a halt before the open gate. Hey there, open the gate, whoever is there. The noise, the knocking, and the barking of the dogs had called the people out of the house. They hastened in terror to the gate, expecting an attack. Who's there? Open the gate. The princes are not at home.  We are from the prince in Lubny. Finally the servants recognized Schetowski. Ah, that is your grace immediately, immediately. The gate was opened, and the old princess herself stepped out into the hall, put her hand up to shade her eyes, and appeared at the new arrivals. Schetowski sprang from his horse, approached her, and said, Gracious Princess, do you not recognize me? Ah, it is you, Lieutenant. I thought it was a tartar attack. I greet you and beg you to come into the house. Perhaps you are surprised, Gracious Princess, said Schetowski as they entered the room, to see me in Rosloga, and yet I have not broken my word for the princes sending me to Chigrin and still further. He commanded me to stop over in Rosloga and inquire after your welfare. I thank his highness as my gracious lord. Does he think of sending us away soon from Rosloga? He has no idea of it, for he knows no reason for sending you away, and what I told you will come true. You will remain in Rosloga. I have all I need myself. When the princess heard this, she regained her cheerfulness, and said, Sit down and be as happy as I am to see you. And is the young princess well? Where is she? I am well aware that you did not come to see me, Cavalier. She is well, she is indeed. The girl has grown fat upon all these love affairs, but I will call her now, and will go and change my dress, for I am ashamed to receive guests in this attire. The princess wore a dress of coloured chints with a fur cape and calfskin shoes. At this moment Helena came bounding into the room, for she had heard from the tarter, Chekli, who the arrival was. She ran in, out of breath, and read as a cherry.  Skachetowski sprang towards her to kiss her hand, and as the old princess had discreetly left the room, he also kissed her on the mouth, for he was a passionate lover. She did not make much resistance, for she felt overcome with joy. I did not expect you, she said softly, closing her pretty eyes, but do not kiss me so much. It is not proper. Oh, can I help kissing you? answered the knight, for honey is not as sweet to me as your lips.  Then the prince knows. I told him everything, and he was even delighted, and remembered Prince Fazl.   Do you still remember the omen that the falcon gave us when he dragged our hands together? It was a prophecy. I remember it well. When, out of sheer longing, I walked from Lubny to the Solonites, I saw you there plainly as if you were standing before me, but when I stretched out my hand you disappeared. But now you shall not escape me any more, for I think that nothing can any longer stand in our way. If anything stands in our way it will not be my fault. Tell me once again that you love me. Helena cast down her eyes, but said earnestly and gravely, as no one else in the world. If any one would load me with gold and high honors I would count it as nothing against your word, for I feel that you are speaking the truth, although I do not know how I have deserved such great favour from you.   You shall be my ruler as well as my wife. They were silent a while. He could not take his eyes off her, as though he would compensate himself for his long absence. She appeared to him more beautiful than before. In fact, in this dim light, in the play of the sunbeams, which painted rainbow colours on the window panes, she looked like one of those pictures of the Holy Virgin in the twilight of a side chapel, and at the same time so much warmth and life seemed to radiate from her, and so much delightful womanly and witchery was painted in her face and in her whole being, that one might lose his head and love her till death and forever. I shall yet be blinded by your beauty, said the lieutenant. The little white teeth of the young princess gleamed in a joyous smile. Pana Anna Bozobohatta is sure a hundred times more beautiful than I. You and she are as much a like as the moon's disc to a tin platter. Zhenzhan told me differently. Zhenzhan deserves a punch in the mouth. What do I care for that young lady? Let other bees draw honey from that flower. There is no lack of bees there. Further conversation was interrupted by the entrance of old Chekli who came to salute the lieutenant. He looked upon him already as his future master, and therefore he bowed low on the threshold and made him a salam in Oriental fashion. Well, old Chekli, I will take you along with the young lady. You are willing to serve her until your death? It will not be long before that time comes, but as long as I live, I will remain in her service, that one God knows it. In a month's time, when I return from Siech, we will go to Lumni, said the lieutenant, turning to Helena. Father Mokovetsky is waiting for us at the altar. Helena exclaimed in a terrified voice. Are you going to Siech? The prince is sending me there with letters, but fear nothing. The person of an ambassador is sacred even to the heathen. I would have preferred to have taken you and the princess at once, believe me, but the roads are so dreadful. I saw myself that it was hardly possible even for the horses to travel. Are you going to stay long in Rosloga? This evening I am going to Chigrin, and the sooner I take leave, the sooner I will see you again. And besides, the prince's mission hurries me. My time is not my own, nor my will. I want you to take some refreshments if you've had enough billing and cooing, said the old princess, entering. The girl has red cheeks.  Well, I do not wonder. Then she gave Helena a friendly slap on the shoulder, and they went in together to luncheon. The princess was in an excellent humour. She had long ceased to feel worried about Bohun, and now, thanks to the generosity of the lieutenant, things had been so arranged that Rosloga, with its forests, fields, and inhabitants, could be considered absolutely as her property and that of her sons, and they were not in significant possessions. The lieutenant inquired after the princes, if they would soon return. I await them daily. At first they were angry with you, but then, after they appreciated your behaviour, they began to love you as a future relation, for they thought that it was not easy to find a Cavalier of your character in the present degenerate times. As soon as luncheon was over, the lieutenant and Helena went into the cherry orchard, which reached to the moat beyond the courtyard. The garden was white with blossoms like snow, while behind it rose an oak forest in which a cuckoo was calling. That is a happy omen, said Skyshetto ski, but we must question him. And turning to the oak wood he asked, Poor little cuckoo, tell me how many years I shall live in union with this young lady. The cuckoo began to call again and again. They counted fifty and more. God grant it may be so. The cuckoo always tells the truth, said Helena. If that is so, I will ask him another question, said the lieutenant gaily. And he asked, Tell me, poor little cuckoo, how many boys shall we have? As if he knew all about it, the cuckoo immediately began to answer and called neither more or less than twelve times. Skyshetto ski was beside himself with joy. Oh, as I love God, I shall become a starosta. Did you hear him, lady? I heard nothing at all. Answered Helena, getting red as a cherry. I do not even know what you asked him. Shall I repeat it? That is not necessary. With such chatter and pastime the day passed like a dream, and with evening came a moment of lingering, touching farewell. Then the lieutenant started for Chigrion.