On the Field of Glory Part 41

Martsian looked at him with staring eyes and open mouth as he panted.

Once and a second time he tried to say something, then hiccoughing seized him, his eyes grew expressionless, he closed his lids on a sudden, and then began a rattling in his throat as if the man were dying.

"Sleep, or die, dirty dog!" growled the butler as he looked at him. And he went from the room to the outbuildings. Half an hour later he returned and knocked at the young lady's chamber. Finding the two sisters with her he said to them,--

"Ladies, perhaps you would look in a moment at the chancellery, for the young lord has grown very feeble. But if he sleeps it is better not to wake him."

Then when alone with Panna Anulka he inclined to her knees, and said,--

"Young lady, there is need to flee from this mansion. All is ready."

And she, though broken and barely able to stand on her feet, sprang up in one instant.

"It is well, and I am ready! Save me!"

"I will conduct you to a wagon which is waiting beyond the river.

To-night I will bring your clothing. Pan Krepetski is as drunk as Bela, and will lie like a dead man till morning. Only take a cloak, and let us go. No one will stop us; have no fear on that point."

"G.o.d reward! G.o.d reward!" repeated she, feverishly.

They went out through the garden to that gate by which Yatsek used to enter from Vyrambki. On the way the butler said to her,--

"Long ago Vilchopolski arranged with the servants that if an attack upon you were attempted, they would set fire to the granary. Pan Krepetski would be forced to the fire, and you would have time to escape through the garden to a place beyond the river, where a man was to wait with a wagon. But it is better not to burn anything. To set fire is a crime, no matter what happens. Krepetski will be like a stone until morning, so no pursuit threatens you."

"Where are we going?"

"To Pan Serafin's; defence there is easy. Vilchopolski is there. So are the Bukoyemskis and other foresters. Krepetski will try to take you back, but will fail. And later on Pan Serafin will conduct you to Radom, or farther. That will be settled with the priests. Here is the wagon! Fear no pursuit. It is not far to Yedlinka, and G.o.d gives a wonderful evening. I will bring your clothing to-night. If they try to stop me I will not mind them. May the Most Holy Mother, the guardian and protectress of orphans conduct you!"

And taking her by the hand like a child, he seated her in the wagon.

"Move on!" cried he to the driver.

It was growing dark in the world, and the twilight of evening was quenching, but from the remnant of its rays the stars in the clear sky were rosy. The calm evening was filled with the odors of the earth, of leaves, and of blossoming alders, while nightingales were filling with their song, as with a warm rain of spring, the garden, the trees, and the whole region.

CHAPTER XVII

That evening Pan Serafin was sitting on a bench in the front of his mansion, entertaining Father Voynovski, who had come after evening prayers to see him, and the four Bukoyemskis, who were stopping then permanently at Yedlinka. Before them on a table, with legs crossed like the letter X, stood a pitcher of mead and some gla.s.ses. They, while listening to the murmur of the forest, were drinking from time to time and conversing of the war, raising their eyes to the heavens in which the sickle of the moon was s.h.i.+ning clearly.

"Thanks to your grace, our benefactor, we shall be ready soon for the road," said Mateush Bukoyemski. "What has happened is pa.s.sed. Even saints have their failings; then how must it be with frail men, who without the grace of G.o.d can do nothing? But when I look at that moon, which forms the Turkish standard, my fist is stung as if mosquitoes were biting. Well, G.o.d grant a man to gratify his hands at the earliest."

The youngest Bukoyemski fell to thinking.

"Why is it, my reverend benefactor," asked he at last, "that Turks cherish some kind of wors.h.i.+p for the moon, and bear it on their standards?"

"But have not dogs some devotion toward the moon also?" asked the priest.

"Of course, but why should the Turks have it?"

"Just because they are dog-brothers."

"Well, as G.o.d is dear to me, that explains all," said the young man, looking at the moon then in wonderment.

"But the moon is not to blame," said the host, "and it is delightful to gaze at it when in the calm of night it paints all the trees with its beams, as if some one had coated them with silver. I love greatly to sit by myself on such a night, gaze at the sky, and marvel at the Lord G.o.d's almightiness."

"Yes, at such times the soul flies on wings, as it were, to its Creator," said Father Voynovski. "G.o.d in his mercy created the moon as well as the sun, and what an immense benefaction. As to the sun, well, everything is visible in the daytime, but if there were no moon people would break their necks in the night if they travelled, not to mention this, that in perfect darkness devilish wickedness would be greater by far than it is at the present."

They were silent for a while and pa.s.sed over the peaceful sky with their eyes; the priest took a pinch of snuff then, and added,--

"Fix this in your memories, gentlemen, that a kind Providence thinks not only of the needs, but the comfort of people."

The rattle of wheels, which in the night stillness reached their ears very clearly, interrupted the conversation. Pan Serafin rose from his seat.

"G.o.d is bringing some guest," said he, "for the whole household is here. I am curious to know who it may be."

"Surely some one with news from our lads," added Father Voynovski.

All rose, and thereupon a wagon drawn by two horses entered in through the gateway.

"Some woman is on the seat," called out Lukash.

"That is true."

The wagon pa.s.sed through half the courtyard and stopped at the entrance. Pan Serafin looked at the face of the woman, recognized it in the wonderful moonlight, and cried,--

"Panna Anulka!"

And he almost lifted her in his arms from the wagon, then she bent at once to his knees, and burst into weeping.

"An orphan!" cried she, "who begs for rescue and a refuge!"

Then she nestled up to his knees, embraced them with still greater vigor, and sobbed more complainingly. Such great astonishment seized every man there, that for a time no one uttered a syllable; at last Pan Serafin raised the orphan and pressed her to his heart.

"While there is breath in my nostrils," cried he, "I will be to thee a father. But tell me what has happened? Have they driven thee from Belchantska?"

"Krepetski has beaten me, and threatened me with infamy," answered she, in a voice barely audible.

Father Voynovski, who was there very near her, heard this answer.

"Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews!" exclaimed he, seizing his white hair with both hands.

The four Bukoyemskis gazed with open mouths, and eyes bursting from their sockets, but understood nothing. Their hearts were moved at once, it is true, by the weeping of the orphan, but they considered that Panna Anulka had wrought foul injustice on Yatsek. They remembered also the teaching of Father Voynovski, that woman is the cause of all evil.

So they looked at one another inquiringly, as if hoping that some clear idea would come, if not to one, to another of them. At last words came to Marek.

"Well, now, here is Krepetski for you. But in every case that Martsian will get from us a----, or won't he?"