The Deluge. Vol. 2. Генрик Сенкевич

does my poor anger mean for such a great man?" answered Pan Andrei. "And I should not dare to murmur against a worthy senator, who gives an example of loyalty and love of country to all."

      The chancellor smiled kindly and extended his hand. "Well, let there be peace! You spoke ill to me of wax; but know this, that the Korytsinskis have sealed often with blood, not with wax only."

      The king was rejoiced. "This Babinich has pleased us," said he to the senators, "has touched our heart as few have. We will not let you go from our side, and God grant that we shall return together soon to our beloved country."

      "Oh, Most Serene King," cried Kmita, with ecstasy; "though confined in the fortress of Yasna Gora, I know from the nobles, from the army, and even from those who, serving under Zbrojek and Kalinski, besieged Chenstohova, that all are waiting for the day and the hour of your return. Only show yourself. Gracious Lord, and that day all Lithuania, Poland, and Russia will stand by you as one man! The nobles will join; even insignificant peasants will go with their lord to resist. The army under the hetmans is barely breathing from eagerness to move against the Swedes. I know this, too, that at Chenstohova deputies came from the hetmans' troops to arouse Zbrojek, Kalinski, and Kuklinovski, against the Swedes. Appear on the boundary to-day, and in a week there will not be a Swede; only appear, only show yourself, for we are there like sheep without a shepherd."

      Sparks came from Kmita's eyes while he was speaking, and such great ardor seized him that he knelt in the middle of the hall. His enthusiasm was communicated even to the queen herself, who, being of fearless courage, had long been persuading the king to return.

      Therefore, turning to Yan Kazimir, she said with energy and determination: "I hear the voice of the whole people through the mouth of this noble."

      "That is true, that is true, Gracious Lady, our Mother!" exclaimed Kmita.

      But certain words in what Kmita had said struck the chancellor and the king.

      "We have always been ready," said the king, "to sacrifice our health and life, and hitherto we have been waiting for nothing else but a change in our subjects."

      "That change has taken place already," said Marya Ludvika.

      "Majestas infracta malis (Majesty unbroken by misfortune)!" said Father Vydjga, looking at her with homage.

      "It is important," said the archbishop, "if, really, deputations from the hetmans went to Chenstohova."

      "I know this from my men, those Kyemliches," answered Pan Andrei. "In the squadrons of Zbrojek and Kalinski all spoke openly of this, paying no attention to Miller and the Swedes. These Kyemliches were not enclosed in the fortress; they had relations with the world, with soldiers and nobles, – I can bring them before your Royal Grace and your worthinesses; let them tell how it is seething in the whole country as in a pot. The hetmans joined the Swedes from constraint only; the troops wish to return to duty. The Swedes beat nobles and priests, plunder, violate ancient liberties; it is no wonder then that each man balls his fist and looks anxiously at his sabre."

      "We, too, have had news from the troops," said the king; "there were here, also, secret envoys who told us of the general wish to return to former loyalty and honor."

      "And that agrees with what this cavalier tells," said the chancellor. "But if deputations are passing among the regiments it is important, for it means that the fruit is already ripe, that our efforts were not vain, that our work is accomplished, that the time is at hand."

      "But Konyetspolski," said the king, "and so many others who are still at the side of the invader, who look into his eyes and give assurances of their devotion?"

      Then all grew silent, the king became gloomy on a sudden, and as when the sun goes behind a cloud a shadow covers at once the whole world, so did his face grow dark. After a time he said, —

      "God sees in our heart that even to-day we are ready to move, and that not the power of Sweden detains us, but the unhappy fickleness of our people, who, like Proteus, take on a new form every moment. Can we believe that this change is sincere, this desire not imagined, this readiness not deceitful? Can we believe that people who so recently deserted us, and with such light hearts joined the invader against their own king, against their own country, against their own liberties? Pain straitens our heart, and we are ashamed of our own subjects! Where does history show such examples? What king has met so many treasons, so much ill-will? Who has been so deserted? Call to mind, your kindnesses, that we in the midst of our army, in the midst of those who were bound to shed their blood for us, – it is a danger and a terror to tell it, – we were not sure of our life. And if we left the country and had to seek an asylum, it is not from fear of the Swedish enemy, but of our own subjects, to save our own children from the terrible crime of king murder and parricide."

      "Gracious Lord!" exclaimed Kmita; "our people have sinned grievously; they are guilty, and the hand of God is punishing them justly; but still, by the wounds of Christ, there has not been found among that people, and God grant that there will never be found, a man who would raise his hand on the sacred person of the anointed of God."

      "You do not believe, because you are honest," said the king, "but we have letters and proofs. The Radzivills have paid us badly for the kindness with which we have covered them; but still Boguslav, though a traitor, was moved by conscience, and not only did he not wish to lend a hand to such a deed, but he was the first to warn us of it."

      "What deed?" asked the astonished Kmita.

      "He informed us," said the king, "that there was a man who offered for one hundred gold ducats to seize us and deliver us, living or dead, to the Swedes."

      A shiver passed through the whole assembly at these words of the king, and Kmita was barely able to groan out the question, "Who was that man? – who was he?"

      "A certain Kmita," answered the king.

      A wave of blood suddenly struck Pan Andrei in the head, it grew dark in his eyes, he seized his forelock, and with a terribly wandering voice said: "That is a lie! Prince Boguslav lies like a dog! Gracious King, believe not that traitor; he did that of purpose to bring infamy on an enemy, and to frighten you, my king. He is a traitor! Kmita would not have done such a deed."

      Here Pan Andrei turned suddenly where he was standing. His strength, exhausted by the siege, undermined by the explosion of powder in the great gun, and through the torture given by Kuklinovski, left him altogether, and he fell without consciousness at the feet of the king.

      They bore him into the adjoining room, where the king's physician examined him. But in the assembly of dignitaries they knew not how to explain why the words of the king had produced such a terrible impression on the young man.

      "Either he is so honest that horror alone has thrown him off his feet, or he is some relative of that Kmita," said the castellan of Cracow.

      "We must ask him," replied the chancellor. "In Lithuania nobles are all related one to another, as in fact they are with us."

      "Gracious Lord," said Tyzenhauz, "God preserve me from wishing to speak evil of this young man; but we should not trust him at present too much. That he served in Chenstohova is certain, – his side is burned; this the monks would not have done in any event, for they as servants of God must have every clemency, even for prisoners and traitors; but one thing is coming continually to my head and destroying trust in him, that is, I met him somewhere in Lithuania, – still a youth, at a diet or a carnival, – I don't remember – "

      "And what of that?" asked the king.

      "And it seems to me always that his name was not Babinich."

      "Do not tell every little thing," said the king; "you are young and inattentive, and a thing might easily enter your head. Whether he is Babinich or not, why should I not trust him? Sincerity and truth are written on his lips, and evidently he has a golden heart. I should not trust myself, if I could not trust a soldier who has shed his blood for us and the country."

      "He deserves more confidence than the letter of Prince Boguslav," said the queen, suddenly, "and I recommend this to the consideration of your worthinesses, there may not be a word of truth in that letter. It might have been very important for the Radzivills of Birji