"Your grace seems to be in rather good spirits?"
"And also your grace," said Father Voynovski.
"Yes, that is true. Until a man starts, he is bustling and hurrying and in trouble; only when the wind blows around him in the field is it light at his heartstrings. I remember how when, ten years ago, we were marching to Hotsim, there was a wonderful willingness in every warrior, so that though the action took place in the harsh weather of November, more than one threw his coat off because of the warmth which came out of his heart then. Well, G.o.d, who gave such a victory that time, will give it undoubtedly now, for the leader is the same, and the vigor and valor of the men not inferior. I know nations splendidly, Swedes, French, even Germans, but against Turks there is no one superior to our men."
"I have heard how his grace the king said the same," replied Father Voynovski. ""The Germans," said he, "stand under fire patiently, though they blink when attacking, but," said he, "if I can bring mine up nose to nose I am satisfied, for they will sweep everything before them as can no other cavalry in existence." And this is true. The Lord Jesus has gifted us richly with this power, not only the n.o.bles, but the peasants. For instance, our field infantry, when they spit on their palms and advance with their muskets, the best of the Janissaries cannot in any way equal them. I have seen both more than once in the struggle."
"If G.o.d has preserved in health Yatsek and Stashko, I am glad that their earliest campaign will be made against Turkish warriors. But how does your grace think, against whom will the Turks turn their main forces?"
"Against the emperor, as it seems, for they are warring against him, and helping rebellion in Hungary. But the Turks have two or three armies, hence it is unknown where we shall meet them decisively. For this cause, beyond doubt, no main camp has been organized, and regiments move from one place to another, as reports come. The regiments under Pan Yablonovski are now at Trembovla; others are concentrating on Cracow; others as happens to each of them. I know not where the voevoda of Volynia is quartered at present, nor where Zbierhovski"s command is. At moments I think that my son has not written this long time because his regiment may be moving toward these parts."
"If he is commanded to Cracow, he must march near us, surely. That, however, depends upon where he was earlier and whence he is starting at present. We may get news at Radom. Is not our first night halt at Radom?"
"It is. I should wish too that the prelate Tvorkovski saw Panna Anulka and gave her final counsels. He will furnish us letters to help her in Cracow."
The conversation stopped for a time; then Pan Serafin raised his eyes again to Father Voynovski.
"But," asked he, "what will happen, think you, should she meet Yatsek in Cracow?"
"I know not. In every case that will take place which G.o.d wishes.
Yatsek might win a fortune by marriage, while she is as poor as a Turkish saint--but wealth alone is mere nonsense, the splendor of a family is the great point in this case."
"Panna Anulka is of high lineage, and she is like gold--besides we know well that they are love-stricken, mortally."
"Of course, mortally, mortally."
The priest did not speak very willingly on this point, that was clear, for he turned the conversation to other subjects.
"Well," said he, "but let us think of this, that a robber is watching for that golden maiden. Do you remember Vilchopolski"s words?"
Pan Serafin looked at the depth of the forest on all sides.
"Yes. But the Krepetskis will not dare," said he. "They will not dare!
Our party is fairly large, and your grace sees the calmness of everything around us. I wish the girl to be in that carriage for safety, but she begged to be on horseback--she has no fear of anything."
"Well, she has good blood. But I note that she masters you thoroughly."
"And you, too, somewhat," answered Pan Serafin. "But as to me I confess right away; when she begs for a thing she knows how to move her eyes in such fashion that you must yield where you stand. Women have various methods, but have you noticed that she has that sort of blinking before which a man drops his arms. Near Belchantska I will tell her to enter the carriage, but so far she wishes absolutely to be on horseback, because, as she says, it is healthier."
"In such weather it is surely healthier."
"Look how rosy the girl is, just like a euphorbia laurel."
"What is her rosiness to me?" replied Father Voynovski. "But in truth the dear day is lovely."
In fact the weather was really wonderful, and the morning fresh and dewy. Single drops on the needlelike pine leaves glittered with the rainbow-like colors of diamonds. The forest interior was brightened by hazel trees filled with the sun rays of morning. Farther in, orioles were twittering with joyousness. Roundabout was the odor of pine, the whole earth seemed rejoicing, and the blue air was cloudless.
Thus pushing forward, they reached the same tar pit at which Martsian had been seized by the brothers. But the fear that some ambush might be there lurking proved groundless. Near the well were two tar-laden wagons, nothing more. To these, which belonged to peasants, were attached two wretched little horses, whose heads were sunk in bags of oats to their foreheads; the drivers, each near the side of his horse, were eating cheese and bread, but at sight of the showy party they put away these provisions; when asked if they had seen armed men, they answered that since morning a mounted man had been waiting, but that shortly before, on seeing this party from a distance, he had rushed away with all the speed of his beast in the opposite direction. The news alarmed Pan Serafin. It seemed to him that this horseman had been sent as a scout by Krepetski; and he redoubled his watchfulness. He commanded two attendants to ride at both sides and examine the forest; he sent two others ahead with this order: "If ye see an armed group fire your muskets, and return with all haste to the wagons." An hour pa.s.sed, however, without a report from them. The party pushed forward slowly, watching in front and at both sides with carefulness, but it was quiet in the forest, except that the orioles twittered, while here and there was heard the hammering of those little smiths of the forest, the hard-working woodp.e.c.k.e.rs.
At last they reached a wide plain, but before going out on it Pan Serafin and the priest directed Anulka to sit in the carriage, since they had to pa.s.s now not far from Belchantska, the trees of which, and even the mansion between them, were visible to the eye without gla.s.ses.
The young lady looked on that house with emotion, for in it she had pa.s.sed very many of the best, and the bitterest, days of her existence.
She had wished to look first of all at Vyrambki, but the Belchantska lindens so covered it that the dwelling was not to be seen from the carriage. It occurred to Anulka that she might never again in her life see those places, so she sighed quietly and became sorrowful.
The Bukoyemskis looked challengingly and quickly at the mansion, the village, and the neighborhood, but great quiet reigned in those places.
Along broad fallow lands, which were flooded in sunlight, were grazing cows and sheep, guarded by dogs, and crowds of children. Here and there flocks of geese seemed white spots, and had it not been for summer heat, one might have thought from afar that they were bits of snow lying on the hill slopes; for the rest the region seemed empty.
Pan Serafin, who lacked not the daring of a cavalier, wished to show the Krepetskis how little he cared for them, and directed to make the first halt at that place, and give rest to the horses. So the party stopped; on one side were fields of wheat waving under the wind and rustling gently; on the other was the silence of the plain broken only by the snorting of horses.
"Health! health!" said the attendants in answer to the snorting.
But that calm was not to the taste of the youngest Bukoyemski, who turned toward the mansion and cried to the absent Krepetskis, while he beckoned with his hand an invitation.
"But come out here, ye sons of a such a one! O Stump, show thy dog snout; we will soon put a cross on it with our sabres!"
Then he bent toward the carriage.
"Your ladyship," said he, "that Martsian and his company are not in a hurry to attack us, neither he nor his bandits from the wilderness."
"But do bandits attack?" asked the lady.
"Oh-ho! they do, but not us. And there are many of them in the wilderness of Kozenitse, and in the forest toward Cracow. If his Grace the King would grant pardon, enough would be found of those bandits right here in this neighborhood to make two good regiments."
"I should rather meet bandits than Pan Martsian"s company, of which people tell in Belchantska such terrible stories. I have not heard of bandits attacking a mansion."
"They do not, for a bandit has the same kind of sense that a wolf has.
Consider, young lady, that a wolf never kills sheep or horned cattle in the neighborhood where his lair is."
"He speaks truth," said the other brothers.
Yan, glad of this praise, explained further.
"The bandit attacks no village or mansion near his hiding place. For if neighboring people should pursue, they, knowing the forests and secret spots in them, would hunt him out the more easily. So bandits go to a distance, and plunder houses or fall upon travellers in great or small parties."
"Have they no fear?"
"They have no fear of G.o.d. Why should they fear men?"
But Panna Anulka had turned her mind elsewhere, so, when Pan Serafin came to the carriage, she began to blink and implore him.
"Why should I stay in the carriage when no attack threatens? May I not go on horseback?"
"Why?" asked Pan Serafin. "The sun is high. It would burn your face.
There is one who would not like that."
Thereupon she withdrew on a sudden to the depth of the carriage, and Pan Serafin turned to the brothers,--
"Have I not told her the truth?"