"So after that often and often I said in my prayers: "O G.o.d, grant me death, for Thou seest that it is impossible for me to attain her, and impossible for me to be without her!" And that was before I had hoped for the favor of seeing thee in life again--thou, the only one in the world--thou, beloved!"
As he said this he bent toward her and touched her arm with his temple.
"Thou," whispered he, "art as that blood which gives life to me, as that sun in the heavens. The mercy of G.o.d is upon me, that I see thee once more-- O beloved! beloved!"
And it seemed to her that Yatsek was singing some marvellous song at that moment. Her eyes were filled with a wave of tears then, and a wave of happiness flooded her heart. Again there was silence between them; but she wept long with such a sweet weeping as she had never known in her life till that morning.
"Yatsek," said she at last, "why have we so tormented each other?"
"G.o.d has rewarded us a hundred fold," said he in answer.
And for the third time there was silence between them; only the wagon squeaked on, pushing forward slowly over the ruts of the roadway.
Beyond the forest they came out onto great fields bathed in sunlight; on those fields wheat was rustling, dotted richly with red poppies and blue star thistles. There was great calm in that region. Above fields on which the grain had been reaped, here and there skylarks were soaring, lost in song, motionless; on the edges of the fields sickles glittered in the distance; from the remoter green pastures came the cries and songs of men herding cattle. And to both it seemed that the wheat was rustling because of them; that the poppies and star thistles were blooming because of them; that, the larks were singing because of them; that the calls of the herdsmen were uttered because of them; that all the sunny peace of those fields and all those voices were simply repeating their ecstasy and happiness.
They were roused from this oblivion by Father Voynovski, who had pushed up unnoticed to the wagon.
"How art thou, Yatsus?" asked he.
Yatsek trembled and looked with shining eyes at him, as if just roused from slumber.
"What is it, benefactor?"
"How art thou?"
"Eh! it will not be better in paradise!"
The priest looked seriously first at him, then at the young lady.
"Is that true?" asked he.
And he galloped off to the company. But the delightful reality embraced them anew. They began to look on each other, and sink in the eyes of each other.
"O, thou not-to-be-looked-at-sufficiently!" said Yatsek.
But she lowered her eyes, smiled at the corners of her mouth till dimples appeared in her rosy cheeks, and asked in a whisper,--
"But is not Panna Zbierhovski more beautiful?"
Yatsek looked at her with amazement.
"What, Panna Zbierhovski?"
She made no answer; she simply laughed in her fist, with a laugh as resonant as a silver bell.
Meanwhile, when the priest had galloped to the company, the men, who loved Yatsek, fell to inquiring,--
"Well, how is it there? How is our wounded man?"
"He is no longer in this world!" replied Father Voynovski.
"As G.o.d lives! What has happened? How is he not in the world?"
"He is not, for he says that he is in paradise--a woman!!!"
The Bukoyemskis, as men who understand without metaphor all that is said to them, did not cease to look at the priest with astonishment and, removing their caps, were just ready to say, "eternal rest," when a general outbreak of laughter interrupted their pious thoughts and intention. But in that laughter of the company there was sincere good-will and sympathy for Yatsek. Some of the men had learned from Pan Stanislav how sensitive that cavalier was, and all divined how he must have suffered, hence the words of the priest delighted them greatly.
Voices were heard at once, therefore: "G.o.d knows! we have seen how he fought with his feelings, how he answered questions at random, how he left buckles unfastened, how he forgot himself when eating or drinking, how he turned his eyes to the moon during night hours."
"Those are infallible signs of unfortunate love," added some. "It is true," put in others, "that he is now as if in paradise, for if no wounds give more pain than those caused by Love, there is no sweeter thing than mutuality."
These and similar remarks were made by Yatsek"s comrades. Some of them, having learned of the hardships which the lady had pa.s.sed through, and how shamefully Krepetski had treated her, fell to shaking their sabres, and crying; "Give him hither!" Some became sensitive over the maiden, some, having learned how Martsian had been handled by the Bukoyemskis, raised to the skies the native valor and wit of those brothers. But after a while universal attention was centred again on the lovers: "Well," cried out all, "let us shout to their health and good fortune _et felices rerum successus!_" and immediately a noisy throng moved toward the wagon on horseback. In one moment almost the whole regiment had surrounded Pan Yatsek and Panna Anulka. Loud voices thundered: "_Vivant! floreant!_" others cried before the time: "_Crescite et multiplicamini!_" Whether Panna Anulka was really frightened by those cries, or rather as an "insidious woman," she only feigned terror father Voynovski himself could not have decided. It is enough that, sheltering her bright head at the unwounded shoulder of Yatsek, she asked with shamefaced confusion,--
"What is this, Yatsek? what are they doing?"
He surrounded her with his sound arm, and said,--
"People are giving thee, dearest flower, and I am taking thee."
"After the war?"
"Before the war."
"In G.o.d"s name, why so hurried?"
But it was evident that Yatsek had not heard this query for instead of replying, he said to her,--
"Let us bow to the dear comrades for this good-will, and thank them."
Hence they bowed toward both sides, which roused still greater enthusiasm. Seeing the blushing face of the maiden, which was as beautiful as the morning dawn, the warriors struck their thighs with their palms from admiration.
"By the dear G.o.d!" cried they. "One might be dazzled!"
"An angel would be enamoured; what can a sinful man do?"
"It is no wonder that he was withering with sorrow."
And again hundreds of voices thundered more powerfully,--
"_Vivant! crescant! floreant!_"
Amid those shouts, and in clouds of golden dust they entered Shydlovets. At the first moment the inhabitants were frightened, and, leaving in front of their houses the workshops in which they were cutting out whetstones from sandrock, they ran to their chambers. But, learning soon that those were the shouts of a betrothal, and not of anger, they rushed in a crowd to the street and followed the soldiers.
A throng of horses and men was formed straightway. The kettledrums of the hors.e.m.e.n were beaten, the trumpets and crooked horns sounded.
Gladness became universal. Even the Jews, who through fear had stayed longer in the houses, shouted: "_Vivait!_"[7] though they knew not well what the question was.
But Tachevski said to Panna Anulka,--
"Before the war, before the war, even though death were to come one hour later."