On the Field of Glory. Генрик Сенкевич

horse dropped down dead, and there before his eyes the wolves ate the beast up. This man grew so stiff on the tree that he had barely strength to speak to us, and now he is sleeping."

      "What is his name? Did he tell whence he came?"

      "No. He just drank some hot beer and fell on a bench as if lifeless."

      Pan Gideon turned then to the horsemen, -

      "Have ye heard that?"

      "We have."

      "We must rouse the man, and make inquiries. He has no horse, how could we leave him alone here? My page could sit on the second front carriage horse, and give up his own. They say that the man is a noble. Perhaps he is here from a distance."

      "He must be in a hurry," said Pan Stanislav, "since he was travelling at night, and besides without company. I will rouse him and make inquiry."

      But his plan proved superfluous, since at that moment the page returned from the inn with a tray on which mugs of hot wine were steaming.

      "I beg to tell your grace that Pan Tachevski is here," began he on reaching the carriage.

      "Pan Tachevski? What the devil is he doing in this place?"

      "Pan Tachevski!" repeated Panna Anulka.

      "He is making ready, and will come out this minute," said the page. "He almost knocked the tray from my hand when he heard of your coming-"

      "But who spoke of the tray to thee?"

      The page became silent immediately, as if power of speech had deserted him.

      Pan Gideon seized a goblet of wine, took one and a second draught, and said then to Pan Stanislav, as if with a certain repulsion, -

      "He is an acquaintance of ours, and in some sense a neighbor from Charny- Well-rather giddy and unreliable-of those Tachevskis who long ago were, as some people say, of some note in the province."

      Further explanations were stopped by Tachevski, who, coming out hurriedly, walked with firm stride toward the carriage, but on his face was a certain hesitation. He was a young noble of medium stature. He had splendid dark eyes, and was as lean as a splinter. His head was covered with a Hungarian cap, recalling, one might say, the time of King Bátory; he wore a gray coat lined with sheepskin, and long, yellow, Swedish boots reaching up to his body. No one wore such boots then in Poland. They had been taken during war in the days of Yan Kazimir, that was evident, and brought now through need from the storehouse by Tachevski. While approaching, he looked first at Pan Gideon, then at the young lady, and smiled, showing white, perfect teeth, but his smile was rather gloomy, his face showed embarrassment and even a trace of confusion.

      "I rejoice beyond measure," said he, as he stood at the carriage and removed his cap gracefully, "to see, in good health, Pani Vinnitski and Panna Sieninski, with your grace, my benefactor, for the road is now dangerous; this I have learned from experience."

      "Cover your head, or your ears will be frozen," said Pan Gideon, abruptly. "I thank you for the attention, but why are you wandering through the wilderness?"

      Tachevski looked quickly at the young lady, as if to inquire: "Thou knowst why, dost thou not?" but seeing her eyes downcast, and noting also that she was biting a ribbon of her hood for occupation, he answered in a voice of some harshness, -

      "Well, the fancy struck me to gaze at the moon above pine trees."

      "A pretty fancy. But did the wolves kill thy horse?"

      "They only ate him, for I myself drove his life out."

      "We know. And thou wert roosting, like a crow, all the night in a pine tree."

      Here the Bukoyemskis burst into such mighty laughter that their horses were put on their haunches. Tachevski turned and measured them one after another, with glances which were ice cold and as sharp as a sword edge.

      "Not like a crow," said he then to Pan Gideon, "but like a horseless noble, at which condition it is granted you, my benefactor, to laugh, but it may be unhealthy for another to do so."

      "Oho! oho! oho!" repeated the Bukoyemskis, urging toward him their horses. Their faces grew dark in one moment, and their mustaches quivered. Again Tachevski measured them, and raised his head higher.

      But Pan Gideon spoke with a voice as severe and commanding as if he had power over all of them.

      "No quarrels here, I beg! This is Pan Tachevski," said he after a while, with more mildness, turning to the cavaliers, "and this is Pan Tsyprianovitch, and each of the other four nobles is a Pan Bukoyemski, to whom I may say we owe our lives, for wolves met us yesterday. These gentlemen came to our aid unexpectedly, and God knows in season."

      "In season," repeated Panna Anulka, with emphasis, pouting a little, and looking at Pan Stanislav bewitchingly.

      Tachevski's cheeks flushed, but on his face there appeared as it were humiliation, his eyes became mist-covered, and, with immense sadness in his accents, he said, -

      "In season, for they were in company, and happy because on good horses, but wolf teeth at that time were cutting old Voloshyn, and my last friend had vanished. But-" even here he looked with greater good-will at the Bukoyemskis-"may your hands be sacred, for ye have done that which with my whole soul I wished to do, but God did not let me."

      Panna Anulka seemed changeable, like all women, perhaps too she was sorry for Tachevski, since her eyes became pleasant and twinkling, her lids opened and closed very quickly, and she asked with a different voice altogether, -

      "Old Voloshyn? My God, I loved him so much and he knew me. My God!"

      Tachevski looked at her straightway with thankfulness.

      "He knew you, gracious lady, he knew you."

      "Grieve not, Pan Yatsek, grieve not so cruelly."

      "I grieved before this, but on horseback. I shall grieve now on foot. God reward you, however, for the kind words."

      "But mount now the mouse-colored horse," said Pan Gideon. "The page will ride the off leader, or sit behind the carriage. There is an extra burka at the saddle, put it on, for thou hast been freezing all night, and the cold is increasing."

      "No," said Tachevski, "I am warm. I left my shuba behind, since I felt no need of it."

      "Well, for the road!"

      They started. Yatsek Tachevski taking his place near the left carriage window, Stanislav Tsyprianovitch at the right, so the young lady sitting in front might without turning her head look freely at the one and the other.

      But the Bukoyemskis were not glad to see Yatsek. They were angry that he had taken a place at the side of the carriage, so, bringing their horses together till their heads almost touched, they talked with one another and counselled, -

      "He looked at us insolently," said Mateush. "As God is in heaven he wants to insult us."

      "Just now he turned his horse's tail to us. What do ye say to that?"

      "Well, he could not turn the horse's head, for horses do not travel tail forward like crawfish. But that he is making up to that young lady is certain," put in Marek.

      "Thou hast taken in the situation correctly. See how he bends and leans forward. If his stirrup strap breaks he will fall."

      "He will not fall, the son of a such a one, for the saddle straps are strong, and he is a firm rider."

      "Bend thyself, bend till we break thee!"

      "Just look how he smiles at her!"

      "Well, brothers, are we to permit this? Never, as God lives! The girl is not for us, that may be, but does he remember what we did yesterday?"

      "Of course! He must divine that, for he is cunning, and now he is making up to her to spite us."

      "And in contempt for our poverty and orphanhood."

      "Oh! upon my word a great magnate-on another man's horse."

      "Well, for that matter we are not riding our own beasts."

      "One horse remains to us anyhow, so if three sit at home the fourth man may ride to the war if he