XXXIII

As much as Pan Bogush hastened when going from Hreptyoff to the hetman, so much did he loiter on the way back. He halted a week or two in each more considerable place; he spent Christmas in Lvoff, and the New Year came on him there. He carried, it is true, the hetman’s instructions for the son of Tugai Bey; but they contained merely injunctions to finish the affair of the captains promptly, and a dry and even threatening command to leave his great plans. Pan Bogush had no reason to push on, for Azya could do nothing among the Tartars without a document from the hetman. He loitered, therefore, visiting churches along the road, and doing penance because he had joined Azya’s plans.

Meanwhile guests had swarmed into Hreptyoff immediately after the New Year. From Kamenyets came Naviragh, a delegate from the patriarch of Echmiadzin, with him the two Anardrats, skilful theologians from Kaffa, and a numerous retinue. The soldiers wondered greatly at the strange garments of these men, at the violet and red Crimean caps, long shawls, velvet and silk, at their dark faces, and the great gravity with which they strode, like bustards or cranes, through the Hreptyoff stanitsa. Pan Zaharyash Pyotrovich, famed for his continual journeys to the Crimea, nay, to Tsargrad itself, and still more for the eagerness with which he sought out and ransomed captives in the markets of the East, accompanied, as interpreter, Naviragh and the Anardrats. Pan Volodyovski counted out to him at once the sum needful to ransom Pan Boski; and since the wife had not money sufficient, he gave from his own; Basia added her earrings with pearls, so as to aid more efficiently the suffering lady and her charming daughter. Pan Seferovich, pretor of Kamenyets, came also⁠—a rich Armenian whose brother was groaning in Tartar bonds⁠—and two women, still young and of beauty far from inconsiderable, though somewhat dark, Pani Neresevich and Pani Kyeremovich. Both were concerned for their captive husbands.

The guests were for the greater part in trouble, but there were joyous ones also. Father Kaminski had sent, to remain for the carnival at Hreptyoff, under Basia’s protection, his niece Panna Kaminski; and on a certain day Pan Novoveski the younger⁠—that is, Pan Adam⁠—burst in like a thunderbolt. When he had heard of the arrival of his father at Hreptyoff he obtained leave at once from Pan Rushchyts, and hastened to meet him.

Pan Adam had changed greatly during the last few years; first of all, his upper lip was shaded thickly by a short mustache, which did not cover his teeth, white as a wolf’s teeth, but was handsome and twisted. Secondly, the young man, always stalwart, had now become almost a giant. It seemed that such a dense and bushy forelock could grow only on such an enormous head, and such an enormous head could find needful support only on fabulous shoulders. His face, always dark, was swarthy from the winds; his eyes were gleaming like coals; defiance was as if written on his features. When he seized a large apple he hid it so easily in his powerful palm that he could play “guess which one;” and when he put a handful of nuts on his knee and pressed them with his hand he made snuff of them. Everything in him went to strength; still he was lean⁠—his stomach was receding, but the chest above it was as roomy as a chapel. He broke horseshoes with ease, he tied iron rods around the necks of soldiers, he seemed even larger than he was in reality; when he walked, planks creaked under him; and when he stumbled against a bench, he knocked splinters from it.

In a word, he was a man in a hundred, in whom life, daring, and strength were boiling, as water in a cauldron. Not being able to find room, in even such an enormous body, it seemed that he had a flame in his breast and his head, and involuntarily one looked to see if his forelock were not steaming. In fact, it steamed sometimes, for he was good at the goblet. To battle he went with a laugh which recalled the neighing of a charger; and he hewed in such fashion that when each engagement was over soldiers went to examine the bodies left by him, and wonder at his astonishing blows. Accustomed, moreover, from childhood to the steppe, to watchfulness and war, he was careful and foreseeing in spite of all his vehemence; he knew every Tartar stratagem, and, after Volodyovski and Rushchyts, was deemed the best partisan leader.

In spite of threats and promises, old Novoveski did not receive his son very harshly; for he feared lest he might go away again if offended, and not show himself for another eleven years. Besides, the selfish noble was satisfied at heart with that son who had taken no money from home, who had helped himself thoroughly in the world, won glory among his comrades, the favor of the hetman, and the rank of an officer, which no one else could have struggled to without protection. The father considered that this young man, grown wild in the steppes, might not bend before the importance of his father, and in such a case it was not best to expose it to the test. Therefore the son fell at his feet, as was proper; still he looked into his eyes, and at the first reproach he answered without ceremony⁠—

“Father, you have blame in your mouth, but at heart you are glad, and with reason, I have incurred no disgrace⁠—I ran away to the squadron; besides, I am a noble.”

“But you may be a Mussulman,” said the father, “since you did not show yourself at home for eleven years.”

“I did not show myself through fear of punishment, which would be repugnant to my rank and dignity of officer. I waited for a letter of pardon; I saw nothing of the letter, you saw nothing of me.”

“But are you not afraid at present?”

The young man showed his white teeth with a smile. “This place is governed by military power, to which even the power of a father must yield. Why should you not, my benefactor, embrace me, for you have a hearty desire to do so?”

Saying this, he opened his arms, and Pan Novoveski did not know himself what to do. Indeed, he could not quarrel with that son who went out of the house a lad, and returned now a mature man and an officer surrounded with military renown. And this and that flattered greatly the fatherly pride of Pan Novoveski; he hesitated only out of regard for his personal dignity.

But the son seized him; the bones of the old noble cracked in the bear-like embrace, and this touched him completely.

“What is to be done?” cried he, panting. “He feels, the rascal, that he is sitting on his own horse, and is not afraid. ’Pon my word! if I were at home, indeed I should not be so tender; but here, what can I do? Well, come on again.”

And they embraced a second time, after which the young man began to inquire hurriedly for his sister.

“I gave command to keep her aside till I called her,” said the father; “the girl will jump almost out of her skin.”

“For God’s sake, where is she?” cried the son, and opening the door he began to call so loudly that an echo answered, “Eva! Eva!” from the walls.

Eva, who was waiting in the next chamber, rushed in at once; but she was barely able to cry “Adam!” when strong arms seized her and raised her from the floor. The brother had loved her greatly always; in old times, while protecting her from the tyranny of their father, he took her faults on himself frequently, and received the floggings due her. In general the father was a despot at home, really cruel; therefore the maiden greeted now in that strong brother, not a brother merely, but her future refuge and protection. He kissed her on the head, on the eyes and hands; at times he held her at arms’ length, looked into her face, and cried out with delight⁠—

“A splendid girl, as God is dear to me!” Then again, “See how she has grown! A stove,24 not a maiden!”

Her eyes were laughing at him. They began to talk then very rapidly, of their long separation, of home and the wars. Old Pan Novoveski walked around them and muttered. The son made a great impression on him; but at times disquiet touching his own future authority seemed to seize him. Those were the days of great parental power, which grew to boundless preponderance afterward; but this son was that partisan, that soldier from the wild stanitsas, who, as Pan Novoveski understood at once, was riding on his own special horse. Pan Novoveski guarded his parental authority jealously. He was certain, however, that his son would always respect him, would give him his due; but would he yield always like wax, would he endure everything as he had endured when a stripling? “Bah!” thought the old man, “if I make up my mind to it, I’ll treat him like a stripling. He is daring, a lieutenant; he imposes on me, as I love God.” To finish all, Pan Novoveski felt that his fatherly affection was growing each minute, and that he would have a weakness for that giant of a son.

Meanwhile Eva was twittering like a bird, overwhelming her brother with questions. “When would he come home; and wouldn’t he settle down, wouldn’t he marry?” She in truth does not know clearly, and is not certain; but as she loves her father, she has heard that soldiers are given to falling in love. But now she remembers that it was Paul Volodyovski who said so. How beautiful and kind she is, that Pani Volodyovski! A more beautiful and better is not to be found in all Poland with a candle. Zosia Boski alone might, perhaps, be compared with her.

“Who is Zosia Boski?” asked Pan Adam.

“She who with her mother is stopping here, whose father was carried off by the Tartars. If you see her yourself you will fall in love with her.”

“Give us Zosia Boski!” cried the young officer.

The father and Eva laughed at such readiness.

“Love is like death,” said Pan Adam: “it misses no one. I was still smooth-faced, and Pani Volodyovski was a young lady, when I fell terribly in love with her. Oi! dear God! how I loved that Basia! But what of it! ‘I will tell her so,’ thought I. I told her, and the answer was as if someone had given me a slap in the face. Shu, cat away from the milk! She was in love with Pan Volodyovski, it seems, already; but what is the use in talking?⁠—she was right.”

“Why?” asked old Pan Novoveski.

“Why? This is why: because I, without boasting, could meet everyone else with the sabre; but he would not amuse himself with me while you could say ‘Our Father’ twice. And besides he is a partisan beyond compare, before whom Rushchyts himself would take off his cap. What, Pan Rushchyts? Even the Tartars love him. He is the greatest soldier in the Commonwealth.”

“And how he and his wife love each other! Ai, ai! enough to make your eyes ache to look at them,” put in Eva.

“Ai, your mouth waters! Your mouth waters, for your time has come too,” exclaimed Pan Adam. And putting his hands on his hips he began to nod his head, as a horse does; but she answered modestly⁠—

“I have no thought of it.”

“Well, there is no lack of officers and pleasant company here.”

“But,” said Eva, “I do not know whether father has told you that Azya is here.”

“Azya Mellehovich, the Lithuanian Tartar? I know him; he is a good soldier.”

“But you do not know,” said old Pan Novoveski, “that he is not Mellehovich, but that Azya who grew up with you.”

“In God’s name, what do I hear? Just think! Sometimes that came to my head too; but they told me that his name was Mellehovich, therefore I thought, ‘Well, he is not the man,’ Azya with the Tartars is a universal name. I had not seen him for so many years that I was not certain. Our Azya was rather ugly and short, and this one is a beauty.”

“He is ours, ours!” said old Novoveski, “or rather not ours, for do you know what has come out, whose son he is?”

“How should I know?”

“He is the son of the great Tugai Bey.”

The young man struck his powerful palms on his knees till the sound was heard through the house.

“I cannot believe my ears! Of the great Tugai Bey? If that is true, he is a prince and a relative of the Khan. There is no higher blood in the Crimea than Tugai Bey’s.”

“It is the blood of an enemy!”

“It was that in the father, but the son serves us; I have seen him myself twenty times in action. Ha! I understand now whence comes that devilish daring in him. Pan Sobieski distinguished him before the whole army, and made him a captain. I am glad from my soul to greet him⁠—a strong soldier; from my whole heart I will greet him.”

“But be not too familiar with him.”

“Why? Is he my servant, or ours? I am a soldier, he is a soldier; I am an officer, he is an officer. If he were some fellow of the infantry who commands his regiment with a reed, I shouldn’t have a word to say; but if he is the son of Tugai Bey, then no common blood flows in him. He is a prince, and that is the end of it; the hetman himself will provide naturalization for him. How should I thrust my nose above him, when I am in brotherhood with Kulak Murza, with Bakchy Aga and Sukyman? None of these would be ashamed to herd sheep for Tugai Bey.”

Eva felt a sudden wish to kiss her brother again; then she sat so near him that she began to stroke his bushy forelock with her shapely hand.

The entrance of Pan Michael interrupted this tenderness.

Pan Adam sprang up to greet the commanding officer, and began at once to explain that he had not paid his respects first of all to the commandant, because he had not come on service, but as a private person. Pan Michael embraced him cordially and said⁠—

“And who would blame you, dear comrade, if after so many years of absence you fell at your father’s knees first of all? It would be something different were it a question of service; but have you no commission from Pan Rushchyts?”

“Only obeisances. Pan Rushchyts went down to Yagorlik, for they informed him that there were multitudes of horse-tracks on the snow. My commandant received your letter and sent it to the horde to his relatives and brothers, instructing them to search and make inquiries there; but he will not write himself. ‘My hand is too heavy,’ he says, ‘and I have no experience in that art.’ ”

“He does not like writing, I know,” said Pan Michael. “The sabre with him is always the basis.” Here the mustaches of the little knight quivered, and he added, not without a certain boastfulness, “And still you were chasing Azba Bey two months for nothing.”

“But your grace gulped him as a pike does a whiting,” cried Pan Adam, with enthusiasm. “Well, God must have disturbed his mind, that when he had escaped from Pan Rushchyts, he came under your hand. He caught it!”

These words tickled the little knight agreeably, and wishing to return politeness for politeness, he turned to Pan Novoveski and said⁠—

“The Lord Jesus has not given me a son so far; but if ever He does, I should wish him to be like this cavalier.”

“There is nothing in him!” answered the old noble⁠—“nothing, and that is the end of it.”

But in spite of these words he began to puff from delight.

“Here is another great treat for me!”

Meanwhile the little knight stroked Eva’s face, and said to her: “You see that I am no stripling; but my Basia is almost of your age; therefore I am thinking that at times she should have some pleasant amusement, proper for youthful years. It is true that all here love her beyond description, and you, I trust, see some reason for it.”

“Beloved God!” said Eva, “there is not in the world another such woman! I have said that just now.”

The little knight was rejoiced beyond measure, so that his face shone, and he asked, “Did you say that really?”

“As I live she did!” cried father and son together.

“Well, then, array yourself in the best, for, without Basia’s knowledge, I have brought an orchestra from Kamenyets. I ordered the men to hide the instruments in straw, and I told her that they were Gypsies who had come to shoe horses. This evening I’ll have tremendous dancing. She loves it, she loves it, though she likes to play the dignified matron.”

When he had said this, Pan Michael began to rub his hands, and was greatly pleased with himself.