Генрик Сенкевич
Pan Michael
CHAPTER XI
All the nights that Pan Michael had spent were nothing in comparison with the night after that adventure with Krysia. For, behold, he had betrayed the memory of his dead one, and he loved that memory. He had deceived the confidence of the living woman, had abused friendship, had contracted certain obligations, had acted like a man without conscience. Another soldier would have made nothing of such a kiss, or, what is more, would have twisted his mustache at thought of it; but Pan Michael was squeamish, especially since the death of Anusia, as is every man who has a soul in pain and a torn heart. What was left for him to do, then? How was he to act?
Only a few days remained until his departure; that departure would cut short everything. But was it proper to go without a word to Krysia, and leave her as he would leave any chamber-maid from whom he might steal a kiss? The brave heart of Pan Michael trembled at the thought. Even in the struggle in which he was then, the thought of Krysia filled him with pleasure, and the remembrance of that kiss passed through him with a quiver of delight. Rage against his own head seized him; still he could not refrain from a feeling of sweetness. And he took the whole blame on himself.
"I brought Krysia to that," repeated he, with bitterness and pain; "I brought her to it, therefore it is not just for me to go away without a word. What, then? Make a proposal, and go away Krysia's betrothed?"
Here the form of Anusia stood before the knight, dressed in white, and pale herself as wax, just as he had laid her in the coffin. "This much is due me," said the figure, "that you mourn and grieve for me. You wished at first to become a monk, to bewail me all your life; but now you are taking another before my poor soul could fly to the gates of heaven. Ah! wait, let me reach heaven first; let me cease looking at the earth."
And it seemed to the knight that he was a species of perjurer before that bright soul whose memory he should honor and hold as sacred. Sorrow and immeasurable shame seized him, and self-contempt. He desired death.
"Anulya,"11 repeated he, on his knees, "I shall not cease to bewail thee till death; but what am I to do now?"
The white form gave no answer to that as it vanished like a light mist; and instead of it appeared in the imagination of the knight Krysia's eyes and her lip covered with down, and with it temptations from which the knight wished to free himself. So his heart was wavering in uncertainty, suffering, and torment. At moments it came to his head to go and confess all to Zagloba, and take counsel of that man whose reason could settle all difficulties. And he had foreseen everything; he had told beforehand what it was to enter into "friendship" with fair heads. But just that view restrained the little knight. He recollected how sharply he had called to Pan Zagloba, "Do not offend Panna Krysia, sir!" And now, who had offended Panna Krysia? Who was the man who had thought, "Is it not best to leave her like a chamber-maid and go away?"
"If it were not for that dear one up there, I would not hesitate a moment," thought the knight, "I should not be tormented at all; on the contrary, I should be glad in soul that I had tasted such delight." After a while he muttered, "I would take it willingly a hundred times." Seeing, however, that temptations were flocking around him, he shook them off again powerfully, and began to reason in this way: "It is all over. Since I have acted like one who is not desirous of friendship, but who is looking for satisfaction from Cupid, I must go by that road, and tell Krysia tomorrow that I wish to marry her."
Here he stopped awhile, then thought further thuswise: "Through which declaration the confidence of to-day will become quite proper, and to-morrow I can permit myself – " But at this moment he struck his mouth with his palm. "Tfu!" said he; "is a whole chambul of devils sitting behind my collar?"
But still he did not set aside his plan of making the declaration, thinking to himself simply: "If I offend the dear dead one, I can conciliate her with Masses and prayer; by this I shall show also that I remember her always, and will not cease in devotion. If people wonder and laugh at me because two weeks ago I wanted from sorrow to be a monk, and now have made a declaration of love to another, the shame will be on my side alone. If I make no declaration, the innocent Krysia will have to share my shame and my fault. I will propose to her to-morrow; it cannot be otherwise," said he, at last.
He calmed himself then considerably; and when he had repeated "Our Father," and prayed earnestly for Anusia, he fell asleep. In the morning, when he woke, he repeated, "I will propose to-day." But it was not so easy to propose, for Pan Michael did not wish to inform others, but to talk with Krysia first, and then act as was proper. Meanwhile Pan Adam arrived in the early morning, and filled the whole house with his presence.
Krysia went about as if poisoned; the whole day she was pale, worried, sometimes dropped her eyes, sometimes blushed so that the color went to her neck; at times her lips quivered as if she were going to cry; then again she was as if dreamy and languid. It was difficult for the knight to approach her, and especially to remain long alone with her. It is true he might have taken her to walk, for the weather was wonderful, and some time before he would have done so without any scruple; but now he dared not, for it seemed to him that all would divine on the spot what his object was, – all would think he was going to propose.
Pan Adam saved him. He took Pani Makovetski aside, conversed with her a good while touching something, then both returned to the room in which the little knight was sitting with the two young ladies and Pan Zagloba, and said, "You young people might have a ride in two sleighs, for the snow is sparkling."
At this Pan Michael inclined quickly to Krysia's ear and said, "I beg you to sit with me. I have a world of things to say."
"Very well," answered Krysia.
Then the two men hastened to the stables, followed by Basia; and in the space of a few "Our Fathers," the two sleighs were driven up before the house. Pan Michael and Krysia took their places in one. Pan Adam and the little haiduk in the other, and moved on without drivers.
When they had gone, Pani Makovetski turned to Zagloba and said, "Pan Adam has proposed for Basia."
"How is that?" asked Zagloba, alarmed.
"His godmother, the wife of the chamberlain of Lvoff, is to come here to-morrow to talk with me; Pan Adam himself has begged of me permission to talk with Basia, even hintingly, for he understands himself that if Basia is not his friend, the trouble and pains will be useless."
"It was for this that you, my benefactress, sent them sleigh-riding?"
"For this. My husband is very scrupulous. More than once he has said to me, 'I will guard their property, but let each choose a husband for herself; if he is honorable, I will not oppose, even in case of inequality of property.' Moreover, they are of mature years and can give advice to themselves."
"But what answer do you think of giving Pan Adam's godmother?"
"My husband will come in May. I will turn the affair over to him; but I think this way, – as Basia wishes, so will it be."
"Pan Adam is a stripling!"
"But Michael himself says that he is a famous soldier, noted already for deeds of valor. He has a respectable property, and his godmother has recounted to me all his relations. You see, it is this way: his great-grandfather was born of Princess Senyut; he was married the first time to – "
"But what do I care for his relations?" interrupted Zagloba, not hiding his ill-humor; "he is neither brother nor godfather to me, and I tell your ladyship that I have predestined the little haiduk to Michael; for if among maidens who walk the world on two feet there is one better or more honest than she, may I from this moment begin to walk on all-four like a bear!"
"Michael is thinking of nothing yet; and even if he were, Krysia has struck his eye more. Ah! God, whose ways are inscrutable, will decide this."
"But if that bare-lipped youngster goes away with a water-melon,12 I shall be drunk with delight," added Zagloba.
Meanwhile in the two sleighs the fates of both knights were in the balance. Pan Michael was unable to utter a word for a long time; at last he said to Krysia, "Do not think that I am a frivolous man, or some kind of fop, for not such are my years."
Krysia made no answer.
"Forgive me for what I did yesterday, for it was from the good feeling which I have for you, which is so great that I was altogether unable to restrain it. My gracious lady, my beloved Krysia, consider who I am; I am a simple soldier, whose life has been passed in wars. Another would have prepared an oration beforehand, and then come to confidence; I have begun with confidence. Remember this also, that if a horse, though trained, takes the bit in his teeth and runs away with a man, why should not love, whose force is greater, run away with him? Love carried me away, simply because you are dear to me. My beloved Krysia, you are worthy, of castellans and senators; but if you do not disdain a soldier, who, though in simple rank, has served the country not without some glory, I fall at your feet, I kiss your feet, and I ask, do you wish me? Can you think of me without repulsion?"
"Pan Michael!" answered Krysia. And her hand, drawn from her muff, hid itself in the hand of the knight.
"Do you consent?" asked Volodyovski.
"I do!" answered Krysia; "and I know that I could not find a more honorable man in all Poland."
"God reward you! God reward you, Krysia!" said the knight, covering the hand with kisses. "A greater happiness could not meet me. Only tell me that you are not angry at yesterday's confidence, so that I may find relief of conscience."
"I am not angry."
"Oh that I could kiss your feet!" cried Pan Michael.
They remained some time in silence; the runners were whistling on the snow, and snowballs were flying from under the horse's feet. Then Pan Michael said, "I marvel that you regard me."
"It is more wonderful," answered Krysia, "that you came to love me so quickly."
At this Pan Michael's face grew very serious, and he said, "It may seem ill to you that before I shook off sorrow for one, I fell in love with another. I own to you also, as if I were at confession, that in my time I have been giddy; but now it is different. I have not forgotten that dear one, and shall never forget her; I love her yet, and if you knew how much I weep for her, you would weep over me yourself."
Here voice failed the little knight, for he was greatly moved, and perhaps for that reason he did not notice that these words did not seem to make a very deep impression on Krysia.
Silence followed again, interrupted this time by the lady: "I will try to comfort you, as far as my strength permits."
"I loved you so soon," said Pan Michael, "because you began from the first day to cure my wounds. What was I to you? Nothing! But you began at once, because you had pity in your heart for an unfortunate. Ah! I am thankful to you, greatly thankful! Who does not know this will perhaps reproach me, since I wished to be a monk in November, and am preparing for marriage in December. First, Pan Zagloba will be ready to jeer, for he is glad to do that when occasion offers; but let the man jeer who is able! I do not care about that, especially since the reproach will not fall on you, but on me."
Krysia began to look at the sky thoughtfully, and said at last, "Must we absolutely tell people of our engagement?"
"What is your meaning?"
"You are going away, it seems, in a couple of days?"
"Even against my will, I must go."
"I am wearing mourning for my father. Why should we exhibit ourselves to the gaze of people? Let our engagement remain between ourselves, and people need not know of it till you return from Russia. Are you satisfied?"
"Then I am to say nothing to my sister?"
"I will tell her myself, but after you have gone."
"And to Pan Zagloba?"
"Pan Zagloba would sharpen his wit on me. Ei, better say nothing! Basia too would tease me; and she these last days is so whimsical and has such changing humor as never before. Better say nothing." Here Krysia raised her dark-blue eyes to the heavens: "God is the witness above us; let people remain uninformed."
"I see that your wit is equal to your beauty. I agree. Then God is our witness. Amen! Now rest your shoulder on me; for as soon as our contract is made, modesty is not opposed to that. Have no fear! Even if I wished to repeat yesterday's act, I cannot, for I must take care of the horse."
Krysia gratified the knight, and he said, "As often as we are alone, call me by name only."
"Somehow it does not fit," said she, with a smile. "I never shall dare to do that."
"But I have dared."
"For Pan Michael is a knight, Pan Michael is daring, Pan Michael is a soldier."
"Krysia, you are my love!"
"Mich – " But Krysia had not courage to finish, and covered her face with her muff.
After a while Pan Michael returned to the house; they did not converse much on the road, but at the gate the little knight asked again, "But after yesterday's – you understand – were you very sad?"
"Oh, I was ashamed and sad, but had a wonderful feeling," added she, in a lower voice.
All at once they put on a look of indifference, so that no one might see what had passed between them. But that was a needless precaution, for no one paid heed to them. It is true that Zagloba and Pan Michael's sister ran out to meet the two couples, but their eyes were turned only on Basia and Pan Adam.
Basia was red, certainly, but it was unknown whether from cold or emotion; and Pan Adam was as if poisoned. Immediately after, too, he took farewell of the lady of the house. In vain did she try to detain him; in vain Pan Michael himself tried to persuade him to remain to supper: he excused himself with service and went away. That moment Pan Michael's sister, without saying a word, kissed Basia on the forehead; the young lady flew to her own chamber and did not return to supper.
Only on the next day did Zagloba make a direct attack on her and inquire, "Well, little haiduk, a thunderbolt, as it were, struck Pan Adam?"
"Aha!" answered she, nodding affirmatively and blinking.
"Tell me what you said to him."
"The question was quick, for he is daring; but so was the answer, for I too am daring. Is it not true?"
"You acted splendidly! Let me embrace you! What did he say? Did he let himself be beaten off easily?"
"He asked if with time he could not effect something. I was sorry for him, but no, no; nothing can come of that!"
Here Basia, distending her nostrils, began to shake her forelock somewhat sadly, as if in thought.
"Tell me your reasons," said Zagloba.
"He too wanted them, but it was of no use; I did not tell him, and I will tell no man."
"But perhaps," said Zagloba, looking quickly into her eyes, "you bear some hidden love in your heart. Hei?"
"A fig for love!" cried Basia. And springing from the place, she began to repeat quickly, as if wishing to cover her confusion, "I do not want Pan Adam! I do not want Pan Adam! I do not want any one! Why do you plague me? Why do you plague me, all of you?" And on a sudden she burst into tears.
Zagloba comforted her as best he could, but during the whole day she was gloomy and peevish. "Michael," said he at dinner, "you are going, and Ketling will come soon; he is a beauty above beauties. I know not how these young ladies will defend themselves, but I think this, when you come back, you will find them both dead in love."
"Profit for us!" said Volodyovski. "We'll give him Panna Basia at once."
Basia fixed on him the look of a wild-cat and said, "But why are you less concerned about Krysia?"
The little knight was confused beyond measure at these words, and said, "You do not know Ketling's power, but you will discover it."
"But why should not Krysia discover it? Besides, it is not I who sing, —
'The fair head grows faint;
Where will she hide herself?
How will the poor thing defend herself?'"
Now Krysia was confused in her turn, and the little wasp continued, "In extremities I will ask Pan Adam to lend me his shield; but when you go away, I know not with what Krysia will defend herself, if peril comes on her."
Pan Michael had now recovered, and answered somewhat severely, "Perhaps she will find wherewith to defend herself better than you."
"How so?"
"For she is less giddy, and has more sedateness and dignity."
Pan Zagloba and the little knight's sister thought that the keen haiduk would come to battle at once; but to their great amazement, she dropped her head toward the plate, and after a while said, in a low voice, "If you are angry, I ask pardon of you and of Krysia."
CHAPTER XII
As Pan Michael had permission to set out whenever he wished, he went to Anusia's grave at Chenstohova. After he had shed the last of his tears there, he journeyed on farther; and under the influence of fresh reminiscences it occurred to him that the secret engagement with Krysia was in some way too early. He felt that in sorrow and mourning there is something sacred and inviolable, which should not be touched, but permitted to rise heavenward like a cloud, and vanish in measureless space. Other men, it is true, after losing their wives, had married in a month or in two months; but they had not begun with the cloister, nor had misfortune met them at the threshold of happiness after whole years of waiting. But even if men of common mould do not respect the sacredness of sorrow, is it proper to follow their example?
Pan Michael journeyed forward then toward Russia, and reproaches went with him. But he was so just that he took all the blame on himself, and did not put any on Krysia; and to the many alarms which seized him was added this also, would not Krysia in the depth of her soul take that haste ill of him?
"Surely she would not act thus in my place," said Pan Michael to himself; "and having a lofty soul herself, beyond doubt, she seeks loftiness in others."
Fear seized the little knight lest he might seem to her petty; but that was vain fear. Krysia cared nothing for Pan Michael's mourning; and when he spoke to her too much concerning it, not only did it not excite sympathy in the lady, but it roused her self-love. Was not she, the living woman, equal to the dead one? Or, in general, was she of such small worth that the dead Anusia could be her rival? If Zagloba had been in the secret, he would have pacified Pan Michael certainly, by saying that women have not over-much mercy for one another.
After Volodyovski's departure, Panna Krysia was astonished not a little at what had happened, and at this, that the latch had fallen. In going from the Ukraine to Warsaw, where she had never been before, she had imagined that it would be different altogether. At the Diet of Convocation the escorts of bishops and dignitaries would meet; a brilliant knighthood would assemble from all sides of the Commonwealth. How many amusements and reviews would there be, how much bustle! and in all that whirl, in the concourse of knights, would appear some unknown "he," some knight such as maidens see only in dreams. This knight would flush up with love, appear under her windows with a lute; he would form cavalcades, love and sigh a long time, wear on his armor the knot of his loved one, suffer and overcome obstacles before he would fall at her feet and win mutual love.
But nothing of all that had come to pass. The haze, changing and colored, like a rainbow, vanished; a knight appeared, it is true, – a knight not at all common, heralded as the first soldier of the Commonwealth, a great cavalier, but not much, or indeed, not at all, like that "he." There were no cavalcades either, nor playing of lutes, nor tournaments, nor the knot on the armor, nor bustle, nor games, nor any of all that which rouses curiosity like a May dream, or a wonderful tale in the evening, which intoxicates like the odor of flowers, which allures as bait does a bird; from which the face flushes, the heart throbs, the body trembles. There was nothing but a small house outside the city; in the house Pan Michael; then intimacy grew up, and the rest of the vision disappeared as the moon disappears in the sky when clouds come and hide it. If that Pan Michael had appeared at the end of the story, he would be the desired one. More than once, when thinking of his fame, of his worth, of his valor, which made him the glory of the Commonwealth and the terror of its enemies, Krysia felt that, in spite of all, she loved him greatly; only it seemed to her that something had missed her, that a certain injustice had met her, a little through him, or rather through haste. That haste, therefore, had fallen into the hearts of both like a grain of sand; and since both were farther and farther from each other, that grain began to pain them somewhat. It happens frequently that something insignificant as a little thorn pricks the feelings of people, and in time either heals or festers more and more, and brings bitterness and pain, even to the greatest love. But in this case it was still far to pain and bitterness. For Pan Michael, the thought of Krysia was especially agreeable and soothing; and the thought of her followed him as his shadow follows a man. He thought too that the farther he went, the dearer she would become to him, and the more he would sigh and yearn for her. The time passed more heavily for her; for no one visited Ketling's house since the departure of the little knight, and day followed day in monotony and weariness.
Pani Makovetski counted the days before the election, waited for her husband, and talked only of him; Basia had put on a very long face. Zagloba reproached her, saying that she had rejected Pan Adam and was then wishing for him. In fact, she would have been glad if even he had come; but Novoveski said to himself, "There is nothing for me there," and soon he followed Pan Michael. Zagloba too was preparing to return to Pan Yan's, saying that he wished to see his boys. Still, being heavy, he put off his journey day after day; he explained to Basia that she was the cause of his delay, that he was in love with her and intended to seek her hand. Meanwhile he kept company with Krysia when Pan Michael's sister went with Basia to visit the wife of the chamberlain of Lvoff. Krysia never accompanied them in those visits; for the lady, notwithstanding her worthiness, could not endure Krysia. Frequently and often too Zagloba went to Warsaw, where he met pleasant company and returned more than once tipsy on the following day; and then Krysia was entirely alone, passing the dreary hours in thinking a little of Pan Michael, a little of what might happen if that latch had not fallen once and forever, and often, what did that unknown rival of Pan Michael look like, – the King's son in the fairy tale?
Once Krysia was sitting by the window and looking in thoughtfulness at the door of the room, on which a very bright gleam of the setting sun was falling, when suddenly a sleigh-bell was heard on the other side of the house. It ran through Krysia's head that Pani Makovetski and Basia must have returned; but that did not bring her out of meditation, and she did not even withdraw her eyes from the door. Meanwhile the door opened; and on the background of the dark depth beyond appeared to the eyes of the maiden some unknown man.
At the first moment it seemed to Krysia that she saw a picture, or that she had fallen asleep and was dreaming, such a wonderful vision stood before her. The unknown was young, dressed in black foreign costume, with a white lace collar coming to his shoulders. Once in childhood Krysia had seen Pan Artsishevski, general of the artillery of the kingdom, dressed in such a costume; by reason of the dress, as well as of his unusual beauty, the general had remained long in her memory. Now, that young man before her was dressed in like fashion; but in beauty he surpassed Pan Artsishevski and all men walking the earth. His hair, cut evenly over his forehead, fell in bright curls on both sides of his face, just marvellously. He had dark brows, definitely outlined on a forehead white as marble; eyes mild and melancholy; a yellow mustache and a yellow, pointed beard. It was an incomparable head, in which nobility was united to manfulness, – the head at once of an angel and a warrior. Krysia's breath was stopped in her breast, for looking, she did not believe her own eyes, nor could she decide whether she had before her an illusion or a real man. He stood awhile motionless, astonished, or through politeness feigning astonishment at Krysia; at last he moved from the door, and waving his hat downward began to sweep the floor with its plumes. Krysia rose, but her feet trembled under her; and now blushing, now growing pale, she closed her eyes.
Meanwhile his voice sounded low and soft, "I am Ketling of Elgin, – the friend and companion-at-arms of Pan Volodyovski. The servant has told me already that I have the unspeakable happiness and honor to receive as guests under my roof the sister and relatives of my Pallas; but pardon, worthy lady, my confusion, for the servant told me nothing of what my eyes see, and my eyes are overcome by the brightness of your presence."
With such a compliment did the knightly Ketling greet Krysia; but she did not repay him in like manner, for she could not find a single word. She thought only that when he had finished, he would incline surely a second time, for in the silence she heard again the rustle of plumes on the floor. She felt also that there was need, urgent need, to make some answer and return compliment for compliment, otherwise she might be held a simple woman; but meanwhile her breath fails her, the pulse is throbbing in her hands and her temples, her breast rises and falls as if she were suffering greatly. She opens her eyelids; he stands before her with head inclined somewhat, with admiration and respect in his wonderful face. With trembling hand Krysia seizes her robe to make even a courtesy before the cavalier; fortunately, at that moment cries of "Ketling! Ketling!" are heard behind the door, and into the room rushes, with open arms, the panting Zagloba.
The two men embraced each other then; and during that time the young lady tried to recover, and to look two or three times at the knight. He embraced Zagloba heartily, but with that unusual elegance in every movement which he had either inherited from his ancestors or acquired at the refined courts of kings and magnates.
"How are you?" cried Zagloba. "I am as glad to see you in your house as in my own. Let me look at you. Ah, you have grown thin! Is it not some love-affair? As God lives, you have grown thin. Do you know, Michael has gone to the squadron? Oh, you have done splendidly to come! Michael thinks no more of the cloister. His sister is living here with two young ladies, – maidens like turnips! Oh, for God's sake, Panna Krysia is here! I beg pardon for my words, but let that man's eyes crawl out who denies beauty to either of you; this cavalier has seen it already in your case."
Ketling inclined his head a third time, and said with a smile, "I left the house a barrack and find it Olympus; for I see a goddess at the entrance."
"Ketling! how are you?" cried a second time Zagloba, for whom one greeting was too little, and he seized him again in his arms. "Never mind," said he, "you haven't seen the haiduk yet. One is a beauty, but the other is honey! How are you, Ketling? God give you health! I will talk to you. It is you; very good. That is a delight to this old man. You are glad of your guests. Pani Makovetski has come here, for it was difficult to find lodgings in the time of the Diet; but now it is easier, and she will go out, of course, for it is not well for young ladies to lodge in a single man's house, lest people might look awry, and some gossip might come of the matter."
"For God's sake! I will never permit that! I am to Volodyovski not a friend, but a brother; and I may receive Pani Makovetski as a sister under my roof. To you, young lady, I shall turn for assistance, and if necessary will beg it here on my knees."
Saying this, Ketling knelt before Krysia, and seizing her hand, pressed it to his lips and looked into her eyes imploringly, joyously, and at the same time pensively; she began to blush, especially as Zagloba cried out straightway, "He has barely come when he is on his knees before her. As God lives! I'll tell Pani Makovetski that I found you in that posture. Sharp, Ketling! See what court customs are!"
"I am not skilled in court customs," whispered the lady, in great confusion.
"Can I reckon on your aid?" asked Ketling.
"Rise, sir!"
"May I reckon on your aid? I am Pan Michael's brother. An injury will be done him if this house is abandoned."
"My wishes are nothing here," answered Krysia, with more presence of mind, "though I must be grateful for yours."
"I thank you!" answered Ketling, pressing her hand to his mouth.
"Ah! frost out of doors, and Cupid is naked; but he would not freeze in this house," said Zagloba. "And I see that from sighs alone there will be a thaw, – from nothing but sighs."
"Spare us," said Krysia.
"I thank God that you have not lost your jovial humor," said Ketling, "for joyousness is a sign of health."
"And a clear conscience," added Zagloba. "'He grieves who is troubled,' declares the Seer in Holy Writ. Nothing troubles me, therefore I am joyous. Oh, a hundred Turks! What do I behold? For I saw you in Polish costume with a lynx-skin cap and a sabre, and now you have changed again into some kind of Englishman, and are going around on slim legs like a stork."
"For I have been in Courland, where the Polish dress is not worn, and have just passed two days with the English resident in Warsaw."
"Then you are returning from Courland?"
