The Deluge. Vol. 1. Генрик Сенкевич

I die, they will carry me out; if not, I will remain."

      "Dost thou think to earn Pakosh's daughter?"

      "I know not."

      "He would give death to such a poor fellow before he would his daughter."

      "I have gold pieces buried in the woods," said the Cossack, – "two purses."

      "From robbery?"

      "From robbery."

      "Even if thou hadst a pot of gold, thou art a peasant and Pakosh is a noble."

      "I am an attendant boyar."

      "If thou art an attendant boyar, thou art worse than a peasant, for thou'rt a traitor. How couldst thou serve the enemy?"

      "I did not serve the enemy."

      "And where did Pan Kmita find thee and thy comrades?"

      "On the road. I served with the full hetman; but the squadron went to pieces, for we had nothing to eat. I had no reason to go home, for my house was burned. Others went to rob on the road, and I went with them."

      Volodyovski wondered greatly, for hitherto he had thought that Kmita had attacked Olenka with forces obtained from the enemy.

      "So Pan Kmita did not get thee from Trubetskoi?"

      "Most of the other men had served before with Trubetskoi and Hovanski, but they had run away too and taken to the road."

      "Why did you go with Pan Kmita?"

      "Because he is a splendid ataman. We were told that when he called on any one to go with him, thalers as it were flowed out of a bag, to that man. That's why we went. Well, God did not give us good luck!"

      Volodyovski began to rack his head, and to think that they had blackened Kmita too much; then he looked at the pale attendant boyar and again racked his head.

      "And so thou art in love with her?"

      "Oi, so much!"

      Volodyovski walked away, and while going he thought: "That is a resolute man. He did not break his head; he fell in love and remained. Such men are best. If he is really an attendant boyar, he is of the same rank as the village nobles. When he digs up his gold pieces, perhaps the old man will give him Maryska. And why? Because he did not go to drumming with his fingers, but made up his mind that he would get her. I'll make up my mind too."

      Thus meditating, Volodyovski walked along the road in the sunshine. Sometimes he would stop, fix his eyes on the ground or raise them to the sky, then again go farther, till all at once he saw a flock of wild ducks flying through the air. He began to soothsay whether he should go or not. It came out that he was to go.

      "I will go; it cannot be otherwise."

      When he had said this he turned toward the house; but on the way he went once more to the stable, before which his two servants were playing dice.

      "Syruts, is Basior's mane plaited?"

      "Plaited, Colonel!"

      Volodyovski went into the stable. Basior neighed at him from the manger; the knight approached the horse, patted him on the side, and then began to count the braids on his neck. "Go-not go-go." Again the soothsaying came out favorably.

      "Saddle the horse and dress decently," commanded Volodyovski.

      Then he went to the house quickly, and began to dress. He put on high cavalry boots, yellow, with gilded spurs, and a new red uniform, besides a rapier with steel scabbard, the hilt ornamented with gold; in addition a half breastplate of bright steel covering only the upper part of the breast near the neck. He had also a lynxskin cap with a beautiful heron feather; but since that was worn only with a Polish dress, he left it in the trunk, put on a Swedish helmet with a vizor, and went out before the porch.

      "Where is your grace going?" asked old Pakosh, who was sitting on the railing.

      "Where am I going? It is proper for me to go and inquire after the health of your lady; if not, she might think me rude."

      "From your grace there is a blaze like fire. Every bulfinch is a fool in comparison! Unless the lady is without eyes, she will fall in love in a minute."

      Just then the two youngest daughters of Pakosh hurried up on their way home from the forenoon milking, each with a pail of milk. When they saw Volodyovski they stood as if fixed to the earth from wonder.

      "Is it a king or not?" asked Zonia.

      "Your grace is like one going to a wedding," added Marysia.

      "Maybe there will be a wedding," laughed old Pakosh, "for he is going to see our lady."

      Before the old man had stopped speaking the full pail dropped from the hand of Marysia, and a stream of milk flowed along till it reached the feet of Volodyovski.

      "Pay attention to what you are holding!" said Pakosh, angrily. "Giddy thing!"

      Marysia said nothing; she raised the pail and walked off in silence.

      Volodyovski mounted his horse; his two servants followed him, riding abreast, and the three moved on toward Vodokty. The day was beautiful. The May sun played on the breastplate and helmet of the colonel, so that when at a distance he was gleaming among the willows it seemed that another sun was pushing along the road.

      "I am curious to know whether I shall come back with a ring or a melon?" said the knight to himself.

      "What is your grace saying?" asked Syruts.

      "Thou art a blockhead!"

      Syruts reined in his horse, and Volodyovski continued: "The whole luck of the matter is that it is not the first time!"

      This idea gave him uncommon comfort.

      When he arrived at Vodokty, Panna Aleksandra did not recognize him at the first moment, and he had to repeat his name. She greeted him heartily, but ceremoniously and with a certain constraint; but he presented himself befittingly, – for though a soldier, not a courtier, he had still lived long at great houses, had been among people. He bowed to her therefore with great respect, and placing his hand on his heart spoke as follows: -

      "I have come to inquire about the health of my lady benefactress, whether some pain has not come from the fright. I ought to have done this the day after, but I did not wish to give annoyance."

      "It is very kind of you to keep me in mind after having saved me from such straits. Sit down, for you are a welcome guest."

      "My lady," replied Volodyovski, "had I forgotten you I should not have deserved the favor which God sent when he permitted me to give aid to so worthy a person."

      "No, I ought to thank first God, and then you."

      "Then let us both thank; for I implore nothing else than this, – that he grant me to defend you as often as need comes."

      Pan Michael now moved his waxed mustaches, which curled up higher than his nose, for he was satisfied with himself for having gone straight in medias res and placed his sentiments, so to speak, on the table. She sat embarrassed and silent, but beautiful as a spring day. A slight flush came on her cheeks, and she covered her eyes with the long lashes from which shadows fell on the pupils.

      "That confusion is a good sign," thought Volodyovski; and coughing he proceeded: "You know, I suppose, that I led the Lauda men after your grandfather?"

      "I know," answered Olenka. "My late grandfather was unable to make the last campaign, but he was wonderfully glad when he heard whom the voevoda of Vilna had appointed to the command, and said that he knew you by reputation as a splendid soldier."

      "Did he say that?"

      "I myself heard how he praised you to the skies, and how the Lauda men did the same after the campaign."

      "I am a simple soldier, not worthy of being exalted to the skies, nor above other men. Still I rejoice that I am not quite a stranger, for you do not think now that an unknown and uncertain guest has fallen with the last rain from the clouds. Many people are wandering about who call themselves persons of high family and say they are in office, and God knows who they are; perhaps often they are not even nobles."

      Pan