And he seized at his left side, and, following his example, the other three brothers began to feel for the hilts of their sabres.
Meanwhile, Pan Serafin had led in the young lady and committed her to Pani Dzvonkovski, his housekeeper, a woman of sensitive heart and irrepressible eloquence, and explained to her that she was to concern herself with this the most notable guest that had come to them. He said that the housekeeper was to yield up her own bedroom to the lady, light the house, make a fire in the kitchen, find calming medicines and plasters for the blue spots, prepare heated wine and various dainties.
He advised the young lady herself to lie down in bed until all was given her, and to rest, deferring detailed discourse till the morrow.
But she desired to open her heart straightway to those gentlemen with whom she had sought rescue. She wanted to cast out immediately from her soul all that anguish which had been collecting so long in it, and that misfortune, shame, humiliation, and torture in which she had been living at Belchantska. So, shutting herself up with Father Voynovski and Pan Serafin, she spoke as if to a confessor and a father. She told them everything, both her sorrow for Yatsek, and that she had consented to marry her guardian only because she thought Yatsek had contemned her, and because she had heard from the Bukoyemskis that Yatsek was to marry Parma Zbierhovski. Finally, she explained what her life had been in Belchantska,--or rather, what her sufferings had been there; she explained the torturing malice of the two sisters, the ghastly advances of Martsian, and the happenings of that day which were the cause of her flight from the mansion.
And they seized their own heads while they listened. The hand of Father Voynovski, an old soldier, went to his left side involuntarily, in the manner of the Bukoyemskis, though for many a day he had not carried a weapon; but the worthy Pan Serafin put his palms on the temples of the maiden, and said to her,--
"Let him try to take thee. I had an only son, but now G.o.d has given me a daughter."
Father Voynovski, who had been struck most by what she had said touching Yatsek, remembering all that had happened, could not take in the position immediately. Hence he thought and thought, smoothed with his palm the whole length of his crown which was milk-white, and then he asked finally,--
"Didst thou know of that letter which Pan Gideon wrote to Yatsek?"
"I begged him to write it."
"Then I understand nothing. Why didst thou do so?"
"Because I wanted Yatsek to return to us."
"How return?" cried the priest, with real anger. "The letter was such that just because of it Yatsek went away to the ends of the earth broken-hearted, to forget, and cast out of him that love which thou, my young lady, didst trample."
Her eyes blinked from amazement, and she put her hands together, as if praying.
"My guardian told me that he had written the letter of a father. O Holy Mother! What was there in it?"
"Insults, contempt, a trampling upon the man"s poverty and his honor.
Dost understand?"
Then from the gill"s breast was rent a shriek of such pain and sincerity that the honest heart of the priest quivered in him. He approached her, removed the hands with which she had covered her face, and asked,--
"Then didst thou not know of this?"
"I did not--I did not!"
"And thou didst wish Yatsek to return to thee?
"I did!"
"In G.o.d"s name! Why was that?"
Tears as large as pearls began again to drop from her closed lashes in abundance, and quickly; her face was red from maiden shame, she caught for air with her open lips, the heart was throbbing in her as in a captured bird, and at last after great effort, she whispered,--
"Because--I love him!"
"My child, is that possible!" cried out Father Voynovski.
But the voice broke in his breast, for tears were choking him also. He was seized at the same instant by delight and immense compa.s.sion for the girl, and astonishment that "a woman" in this case was not the cause of all evil, but an innocent lamb on which so much suffering had fallen G.o.d knew for what reason. He caught her in his arms, pressed her to his heart. "My child! my child!" repeated he, time after time.
The Bukoyemskis, meanwhile, had betaken themselves, with the gla.s.ses and pitcher, to the dining-room; had emptied the pitcher conscientiously to the bottom, and were waiting for the priest and Pan Serafin, in the hope that with their coming supper would be put on the table.
They returned at last with moistened eyes and with emotion on their faces. Pan Serafin breathed deeply once, and a second time, then he said,--
"Pani Dzvonkovski is putting the poor thing to bed. Indeed, a man is unwilling to believe his own ears. We too, are to blame; but Krepetski,--what he has done is simply infamous and disgraceful. We may not let him go without punishment."
"On the contrary," answered Marek, "we will talk about this with that "stump." Oh-ho!"
Then he turned to Father Voynovski,--
"I am very sorry for her, but still, I think that G.o.d punished her for Yatsek. Is that not true?"
"Thou art a fool!" called out Father Voynovski.
"But how is that? Why?"
The old man, whose breast was full of pity, fell to talking quickly and pa.s.sionately of the innocence and suffering of the girl, as if wishing in that way to make up for the injustice which he had permitted regarding her; but after a time all discussion was interrupted by the coming of Pani Dzvonkovski, who burst into the room like a bomb into a fortress.
Her face was as flooded with tears as if it had been dipped in a full bucket, and right on the threshold she fell to crying, with arms stretched out before her,--
"People, whoso believes in G.o.d! Vengeance, justice! As G.o.d lives! her dear shoulders are all in blue lumps, those shoulders once white as wafers--hair torn out by the handful, golden hair! my dearest dove! my innocent lamb! my precious little flower!"
On hearing this, Mateush Bukoyemski, already excited by the narrative of Father Voynovski, bellowed out at one moment, the next he was accompanied by Marek, Lukash, and Yan till the servants rushed into the dining-hall and the dogs began to bark at the entrance. But Vilchopolski, who a moment later returned from his night review of haystacks, met now another humor of the brothers. Their hair was on end, their eyes were staring with rage, their right hands were grasping at their sabre hilts.
"Blood!" shouted Lukash.
"Give him hither, the son of a such a one!"
"Kill him!"
"On sabres with him!"
And they moved toward the door as one man; but Pan Serafin sprang to the entrance and stopped them.
"Halt!" cried he. "Martsian deserves not the sabre, but the headsman!"
CHAPTER XVIII
And he had to speak long in pacifying the angry brothers. He explained to them that were they to cut down Krepetski at once it would be the act not of n.o.bles but a.s.sa.s.sins.
"There is need first of all," said he, "to visit our neighbors, to come to an understanding with Father Tvorkovski, to have the support of the clergy and the n.o.bles, to obtain the testimony of the servants at Belchantska, then to take the case before a tribunal, and only when the sentence is pa.s.sed to stand behind it with weapons. If," continued he, "ye were to bear Martsian apart on your sabres immediately, his father would not fail to report in all places that ye did so through agreement with Panna Anulka; by this her reputation might suffer, and the old man would summon you, and, instead of going to the war, ye would have to drag around through tribunals, for, not being under the authority of the hetman as yet, ye would not escape a civil summons. That is how this matter stands at the moment."
"How so?" inquired Yan, with sorrow; "then we are to let the wrong done this dove go unpunished?"
"But do ye think," said the priest, "that life will be pleasant for Krepetski when infamy is hanging over him, or the axe of the headsman, and in addition when general contempt is surrounding him? That is a worse torment than a quick death would be, and I should not wish, for all the silver in Olkuts, to be in his skin at this moment."