"She was. Skshetuski met Pan Yoakhim Yerlich, who was hiding in a monastery; and as he had asked every one about the princess, he asked him too. Pan Yerlich said that there were certain young ladies whom the Cossacks had taken, but at Nikolai the Good twelve remained, whom afterward they suffocated with smoke,--among them Kurtsevichovna.
Skshetuski, since Yerlich is a hypochondriac and only half-witted from continual terror, did not believe him, and hurried off immediately a second time to Nikolai the Good to inquire. Unfortunately the nuns, three of whom were suffocated in the same cell, did not know the names, but hearing the description which Skshetuski gave, they said that she was the one. Then Skshetuski went away from Kieff and straightway fell ill."
"The only wonder is that he is still alive."
"He would have died undoubtedly but for that old Cossack who nursed him during captivity in the Saitch, and then came here with letters from him, and when he had returned, helped him again in his search. He took him to Korets and gave him into the hands of Zatsvilikhovski."
"May G.o.d protect him, for he has never yet consoled him!" said Podbipienta.
Volodyovski ceased, and a silence of the grave reigned over all. The princes resting upon their elbows sat motionless with frowning brows; Podbipienta raised his eyes to heaven, and Zagloba fixed his gla.s.sy gaze on the opposite wall as if sunk in the deepest thought.
"Rouse yourself!" said Volodyovski, shaking him by the shoulder. "Of what are you thinking so? You will not think out anything, and all your stratagems will be useless."
"I know that," answered Zagloba, with a broken voice. "I am thinking that I am old, that I have nothing to do in this world."
CHAPTER LIV.
"Picture to yourself," said Volodyovski to Pan Longin a few days later, "that that man has changed in one hour as if he had grown ten years older. So joyous was he, so talkative, so full of tricks, that he surpa.s.sed Ulysses himself. Now he does not let two words out of his lips, but dozes away whole days, complains of old age, and speaks as in a dream. I knew that he loved her, but I did not think that he loved her to this degree."
"What is there wonderful in that?" answered the Lithuanian, sighing.
"He was the more attached to her that he s.n.a.t.c.hed her from the hands of Bogun, and went through so many dangers and adventures in the flight.
While there was hope his wit was exerted in inventions, and he kept on foot; but now he has really nothing to do in the world, being alone and without heart for anything."
"I tried to drink with him, hoping that drink would restore his former vigor, but in vain. He drinks, but does not think as before, does not talk about his exploits; only becomes sensitive, and then hangs his head on his breast and goes to sleep. I do not know if even Pan Yan is in greater despair than he."
"It is an unspeakable loss, for withal he was a great knight. Let us go to him, Pan Michael. He had the habit of scoffing at me and teasing me on every occasion; perhaps the desire will take him now. My G.o.d, how people change! He was such a gladsome man."
"Let us go," said Volodyovski. "It is already late; but it is most grievous for him in the evening,--for dozing all day, he is unable to sleep at night."
Thus conversing, they betook themselves to the quarters of Zagloba, whom they found sitting under the open window with his head resting on his hand. It was late; every movement in the castle had ceased; only the sentinels answered in prolonged tones, and in the thickets separating the castle from the town the nightingales brought out their pa.s.sionate trills, whistling, smacking, and clapping as quickly as fall the drops in a spring shower. Through the open window came in the warm breeze of May and the clear rays of the moon, which lighted the downcast face of Zagloba and the bald crown bent toward his breast.
"Good-evening!" said the two knights.
"Good-evening!" answered Zagloba.
"Why have you forgotten yourself before the window instead of going to bed?" asked Volodyovski.
Zagloba sighed. "It is not a question of sleep with me," said he, with a drawling voice. "A year ago I was fleeing with her on the Kagamlik from Bogun, and in this same way those birds were twittering; and where is she now?"
"G.o.d has so ordained," said Volodyovski.
"Ordained to tears and sorrow, Pan Michael. There is no more consolation for me."
They were silent; but through the open window came, with power increasing each moment, the trill of the nightingales, with which all that clear night seemed filled.
"Oh, G.o.d, G.o.d!" sighed Zagloba, "exactly as it was on the Kagamlik."
Pan Longin shook a tear from his great mustaches, and the little knight said after a while,--
"Sorrow is sorrow; but drink some mead with us, for there is nothing better against sorrow. At the gla.s.s we will talk of better times."
"Let us drink," said Zagloba, with resignation.
Volodyovski ordered the servant to bring a light and decanter, and afterward, when they had sat down, knowing that reminiscences enlivened Zagloba more than anything else, he inquired: "It is just a year, is it not, since you fled with her before Bogun from Rozlogi?"
"It was in May, in May," answered Zagloba. "We pa.s.sed through the Kagamlik to flee to Zolotonosha. Oh, it is hard in this world!"
"And she was disguised?"
"As a Cossack. I had to cut off her hair with my sabre, poor thing! so that she shouldn"t be discovered. I know the place under the tree where I hid the hair, together with the sabre."
"Oh, she was a sweet lady!" added Longin, with a sigh.
"I tell you, gentlemen, from the first day I fell in love with her as if I had paid homage to her from youthful years. And she would clasp her hands before me and thank me for her rescue and my care. I wish they had killed me before I had lived to this day! Would that I had not lived to it!"
Then came silence again, and the three knights drank mead mixed with tears. After that Zagloba began to speak again.
"I thought to pa.s.s a calm old age with them, but now"--here his hands hung down powerless--"nowhere solace, nowhere solace, but in the grave--"
Before Zagloba had finished speaking a disturbance rose in the anteroom; some one wished to enter, and the servant would not let him in. A wordy struggle followed, in which it seemed to Volodyovski that he recognized some known voice; therefore he called to the servant not to forbid entrance further.
The door opened, and in it appeared the plump, ruddy face of Jendzian, who, pa.s.sing his eyes over those present, bowed and said: "May Jesus Christ be praised!"
"For the ages of ages," said Volodyovski. "This is Jendzian?"
"I am he," said the young man, "and I bow to your knees. And where is my master?"
"Your master is in Korets, and ill."
"Oh, for G.o.d"s sake, what do you tell me? And is he seriously ill, which G.o.d forbid?"
"He was, but he is better now. The doctor says he will recover."
"For I have come with news about the lady to my master."
The little knight began to nod his head in melancholy fashion. "You need not hasten, for Pan Skshetuski already knows of her death, and we here are shedding tears of mourning for her."
Jendzian"s eyes were bursting from his head. "By violence! What do I hear? Is she dead?"
"Not dead, but murdered in Kieff by robbers."
"What are you talking about? In what Kieff?"
"Don"t you know Kieff?"
"For G.o.d"s sake, are you fooling with me? What had she to do in Kieff when she is hidden in the ravine at Valad.i.n.ka, not far from Rashkoff, and the witch was commanded not to move a step till Bogun should come?