Fire in the Steppe (23 page)

"Then come to me, or give command to bring the decanter to this place. It is good after the journey."

They went, and sat drinking till late at night.

Next day Pan Michael arrayed his body in fine garments and his face in seriousness, armed himself with all the arguments which came to his own head, and with those which Zagloba had given him; thus equipped, he went to the dining-room, where all met usually at meal-time. Of the whole company only Krysia was absent, but she did not let people wait for her long; barely had the little knight swallowed two spoonfuls of soup when through the open door the rustle of a robe was heard, and the maiden came in.

She entered very quickly, rather rushed in. Her cheeks were burning; her lids were dropped; in her face were mingled fear and constraint. Approaching Pan Michael, she gave him both hands, but did not raise her eyes at all, and when he began to kiss those hands with eagerness, she grew very pale; besides, she did not find one word for greeting. But his heart filled with love, alarm, and rapture at sight of her face, delicate and changeful as a wonder-working image, at sight of that form shapely and beautiful, from which the warmth of recent sleep was still beating; he was moved even by that confusion and that fear depicted in her face.

"Dearest flower!" thought he, in his soul, "why do you fear? I would give even my life and blood for you." But he did not say this aloud, he only pressed his pointed mustaches so long to her hands that red traces were left on them. Basia, looking at all this, gathered over her forehead her yellow forelock of purpose, so that no one might notice her emotion; but no one gave attention to her at that time; all were looking at the pair, and a vexatious silence followed.

Pan Michael interrupted it first. "The night passed for me in grief and disquiet," said he; "for yesterday I saw all except you, and such terrible tidings were told of you that I was nearer to weeping than to sleep."

Krysia, hearing such outspoken words, grew still paler, so that for a while Pan Michael thought that she would faint, and said hurriedly, "We must talk of this matter; but now I will ask no more, so that you may grow calm and recover. I am no barbarian, nor am I a wolf, and God sees that I have good-will toward you."

"Thank you!" whispered Krysia.

Zagloba, Pan Makovetski, and his wife began to exchange glances, as if urging one another to begin the usual conversation; but for a long time no one was able to venture a word; at last Zagloba began. "We must go to the city to-day," said he, turning to the newly arrived. "It is boiling there before the election, as in a pot, for every man is urging his own candidate. On the road, I will tell you to whom, in my opinion, we should give our votes."

No one answered, therefore Zagloba cast around an owlish eye; at last he turned to Basia, "Well, Maybug, will you go with us?"

"I will go even to Russia!" answered Basia, abruptly.

And silence followed again. The whole meal passed in similar attempts to begin a conversation that would not begin. At last the company rose. Then Pan Michael approached Krysia at once and said,—

"I must speak with you alone."

He gave her his arm and conducted her to the adjoining room, to that same apartment which was the witness of their first kiss. Seating Krysia on the sofa, he took his place near her, and began to stroke her hair as he would have stroked the hair of a child.

"Krysia!" said he, at last, with a mild voice. "Has your confusion passed? Can you answer me calmly and with presence of mind?"

Her confusion had passed, and besides, she was moved by his kindness; therefore she raised for a moment her eyes on him for the first time since his return. "I can," said she, in a low voice.

"Is it true that you have devoted yourself to the cloister?"

Krysia put her hands together and began to whisper imploringly, "Do not take this ill of me, do not curse me; but it is true."

"Krysia!" said the knight, "is it right to trample on the happiness of people, as you are trampling? Where is your word, where is our agreement? I cannot war with God, but I will tell you, to begin with, what Pan Zagloba told me yesterday,—that the habit should not be made of injustice to others. You will not increase the glory of God by injustice to me. God reigns over the whole world; His are all nations, His the lands and the sea and the rivers, the birds of the air and the beasts of the forests, the sun and the stars. He has all, whatsoever may come to the mind of man, and still more; but I have only you, beloved and dear; you are my happiness, my every possession. And can you suppose that the Lord God needs that possession? He, with such wealth, to tear away his only treasure from a poor soldier? Can you suppose that He will be rejoiced, and not offended? See what you are giving Him,—yourself. But you are mine, for you promised yourself to me; therefore you are giving Him that which belongs to another, that which is not your own: you are giving Him my weeping, my pain, my death. Have you a right to do so? Weigh this in your heart and in your mind; finally ask your own conscience. If I had offended you, if I had contemned you in love, if I had forgotten you, if I had committed crimes or offences—ah, I will not speak; I will not speak. But I went to the horde, to watch, to attack ravagers, to serve the country with my blood, with my health, with my time; and I loved you, I thought of you whole days and nights, and as a deer longs for waters, as a bird for the air, as a child for its mother, as a parent for its child, was I longing for you. And for all this what is the greeting, what the reward, that you have prepared for me? Krysia dearest, my friend, my chosen love, tell me whence is all this? Give me your reasons as sincerely, as openly, as I bring before you my reasons and my rights; keep faith with me; do not leave me alone with misfortune. You gave me this right yourself; do not make me an outlaw."

The unfortunate Pan Michael did not know that there is a right higher and older than all other human rights, in virtue of which the heart must and does follow love only; but the heart which ceases to love commits thereby the deepest perfidy, though often with as much innocence as the lamp quenches in which fire has burned out the oil. Not knowing this. Pan Michael embraced Krysia's knees, implored, and begged; but she answered him with floods of tears only because she could not answer with her heart.

"Krysia," said the knight, at last, while rising, "in your tears my happiness may drown; and I do not implore you for that, but for rescue."

"Do not ask me for a reason," answered Krysia, sobbing; "do not ask for a cause, since it must be this way, and cannot be otherwise. I am not worthy of such a man as you, and I have never been worthy. I know that I am doing you an injustice, and that pains me so terribly that, see! I cannot help myself. I know that this is an injustice. O God of greatness, my heart is breaking! Forgive me; do not leave me in anger! Pardon me; do not curse me!" When she had said this, Krysia threw herself on her knees before Pan Michael. "I know that I am doing you a wrong, but I implore of you condescension and pardon."

Here the dark head of Krysia bent to the floor. Pan Michael raised in one moment the poor weeping maiden, and placed her again on the sofa; but he began himself to pace up and down in the room, like one dazed. At times he stopped suddenly and pressed his fists to his temples; then again he walked; at last he stood before Krysia.

"Leave yourself time, and me some hope," said he. "Think that I too am not of stone. Why press red-hot iron against me without the least pity? Even though I knew not my own endurance, still when the skin hisses, pain pierces me. I cannot tell you how I suffer,—as God lives, I cannot. I am a simple man; my years have passed in war. Oh, for God's sake! O dear Jesus! In this same room our love began. Krysia, Krysia! I thought that you would be mine for life; and now there is nothing, nothing! What has taken place in you? Who has changed your heart? Krysia, I am just the same. And do you not know that for me this is a worse blow than for another, for I have already lost one love? O Jesus, what shall I tell her to move her heart? A man only torments himself, that is all. But leave me even hope! Do not take everything away at one time."

Krysia made no answer; but sobbing shook her more and more; the little knight stood before her, restraining at first his sorrow, and terrible anger. And only when he had broken that in himself, he said,—

"Leave me even hope! Do you hear me?"

"I cannot! I cannot!" answered Krysia.

Pan Michael went to the window and pressed his head against the cold glass. He stood a long time without motion; at last he turned, and advancing a couple of steps toward Krysia, he said in a very low voice,—

"Farewell! There is nothing for me here. Oh that it may be as pleasant for you as it is grievous for me! Know this, that I forgive you with my lips, and as God will grant, I will forgive you with my heart as well. But have more mercy on people's suffering, and a second time promise not. It cannot be said that I take happiness with me from these thresholds! Farewell!"

When Pan Michael had said this, his mustaches quivered; he bowed, and went out. In the next room were Makovetski and his wife and Zagloba; they sprang up at once as if to inquire, but he only waved his hand. "All to no use!" said he. "Leave me in peace!"

From that room a narrow corridor led to his own chamber; in that corridor, at the staircase leading to the young ladies' rooms, Basia stopped the way to the little knight. "May God console you and change Krysia's heart!" cried she, with a voice trembling from tears.

He went past without even looking at her, or saying a word. Suddenly wild anger bore him away; bitterness rose in his breast; he turned, therefore, and stood before the innocent Basia with a face changed and full of derision. "Promise your hand to Ketling," said he, hoarsely, "then cease to love him, trample on his heart, rend it, and go to the cloister!"

"Pan Michael!" cried Basia, in amazement.

"Enjoy yourself, taste kisses, and then go to repent! Would to God that you both were killed!"

That was too much for Basia. God alone knew how much she had wrestled with herself for this wish which she had given Pan Michael,—that God might change Krysia's heart,—and in return an unjust condemnation had met her, derision, insult, just at the moment in which she would have given her blood to comfort the thankless man. Therefore her soul stormed up in her as quickly as a flame; her cheeks burned; her nostrils dilated; and without an instant's thought, she cried, shaking her yellow hair,—

"Know, sir, that
I
am not the one who is going to the cloister for Ketling!"

When she had said this, she sprang on the stairs and vanished from before the eyes of the knight. He stood there like a stone pillar; after a while he began to rub his eyes like a man who is waking from sleep.

Then he was thirsting for blood; he seized his sabre, and cried with a terrible voice, "Woe to the traitor!"

A quarter of an hour later Pan Michael was rushing toward Warsaw so swiftly that the wind was howling in his ears, and lumps of earth were flying in a shower from the hoofs of his horse.

Pan Makovetski, with his wife and Zagloba, saw Pan Michael riding away, and alarm seized all hearts; therefore they asked one another with their eyes, "What has happened; where is he going?"

"Great God!" cried Pani Makovetski; "he will go to the Wilderness, and we shall never see him again in life!"

"Or to the cloister, like that crazy woman," said Zagloba, in despair.

"Counsel is necessary here," said Makovetski.

With that the door opened and Basia burst into the room like a whirlwind, excited, pale, with fingers in both her eyes; stamping in the middle of the floor, like a little child, she began to scream, "Rescue! save! Pan Michael has gone to kill Ketling! Whoso believes in God, let him fly to stop him! Rescue! rescue!"

"What is the matter, girl?" cried Zagloba, seizing her hands.

"Rescue! Pan Michael will kill Ketling! Through me blood will be shed, and Krysia will die, all through me!"

"Speak!" cried Zagloba, shaking her. "How do you know? Why is it through you?"

"Because I told him in anger that they love each other; that Krysia is going behind the grating for Ketling's sake. Whoso believes in God, stop them! Go quickly; go all of you! Let us all go!"

Zagloba, not wont to lose time in such cases, rushed to the yard and gave command to bring the carriage out at once. Pani Makovetski wished to ask Basia about the astonishing news, for up to that moment she had not suspected the love between Krysia and Ketling; but Basia rushed after Zagloba to look to the harnessing of the horses. She helped to lead out the beasts and attach them to the carriage; at last, though bareheaded, she mounted the driver's seat before the entrance, where two men were waiting and already dressed for the road.

"Come down!" said Zagloba to her.

"I will not come down! Take your seats; you must take your seats; if not, I will go alone!" So saying, she took the reins, and they, seeing that the stubbornness of the girl might cause a considerable delay, ceased to ask her to come down.

Meanwhile the servant ran up with a whip: and Pani Makovetski succeeded in bringing out a shuba and cap to Basia, for the day was cold. Then they moved on. Basia remained on the driver's seat. Zagloba, wishing to speak with her, asked her to sit on the front seat; but she was unwilling, it may be through fear of being scolded. Zagloba therefore had to inquire from a distance, and she answered without turning her head.

"How do you know," asked he, "that which you told your uncle about those two?"

"I know all."

"Did Krysia tell you?"

"Krysia told me nothing."

"Then maybe the Scot did?"

"No, but I know; and that is why he is going to England. He fooled everybody but me."

"A wonderful thing!" said Zagloba.

"This is your work," said Basia; "you should not have pushed them against each other."

"Sit there in quiet, and do not thrust yourself into what does not belong to you," answered Zagloba, who was struck to the quick because this reproach was made in presence of Makovetski. Therefore he added after a while, "I push anybody! I advise! Look at that! I like such suppositions."