On the Field of Glory Part 35

"What wilt thou grind with it?"

"What will I grind? This: that I will quarrel with those serpents. I will invent something against them; I will give one a slap in the face when it pleases me, then the orphan will kiss me on the hands, on the knees. 'I am thy defender, thy brother, thy true friend,' I will say to her, 'thou art here the real mistress.' And dost thou think, father, that the heart in her will not soften, that she will not fall in love with him who will be a shield and defence to her, who will wipe away her tears, who will watch day and night over her? And if in her sorrow and abandonment and tears she comes to some extraordinary confidence, so much the better! so much the better! so much the better!"

Here Martsian rubbed his hands and so exhibited his goat eyes to his father that the old man had to spit in abhorrence. "Tfu! Pagan!"

exclaimed he. "There is always one thing in thy mind."

"Indeed ants walk on me when I look at her. It wasn't for nothing that Pan Gideon drove me from the mansion."

A moment of silence now followed.

"Then thou wilt tell Johanna and Agneshka to act as thou wishest?"

"There is no need to say anything to them or to teach them; their nature suffices. Tekla alone is a dove, they are kites, the two others."

Martsian had not deceived himself, his sisters had begun, each in her own way to take charge of Anulka. Tekla took her every little while in her arms and wept with her, Agneshka and Johanna solaced her, but in another fashion,--

"What did not happen, did not happen," said Agneshka, "but be at rest, thou wilt not be our aunt, because the Lord was not willing, but no one here will harm thee, or grudge thee a morsel."

"And no one will drive thee to work," said the other, "for we know that thou art not used to it; when thou hast recovered, if thou thyself wish, then that is different; in every case wait till thy sorrow is over, for indeed great misfortune has struck thee. Thou wert to be mistress here, thou wert to have thy husband, and now except us thou hast no one. But believe that though we are not relatives we will be to thee as if relatives. Be reconciled to the will of G.o.d. The Lord has tried thee, but for that cause he pardons thee other sins. For if thou, perhaps, hast trusted too much in thy beauty, or didst desire wealth and rich clothing (we are all sinful for that matter, therefore I only say this), that will be accounted to thee against other sins."

"Amen," said Agneshka. "Give to the church for the soul of the dead man some ornament, or some little jewel, for thou hast no need of bridal robes now, and we will ask father to permit thee to do this."

Then they looked with sharp eyes at the robes on the table, and at the chests in which lay the trousseau. Such a desire at last seized them to see what was hidden that Johanna burst out with these words,--

"Perhaps we might help thee in selecting?"

And both rushed at the chests, boxes, and bundles, in which were still lying unpacked the robes brought from Radom, and out with them, to be opened and examined before the light, and under the light, and then the two girls began to try them on their own persons.

Panna Anulka sat, as if stunned, in the arms of the dear Tekla, seeing nothing, knowing nothing of what they were doing to her and around her.

CHAPTER XV

As a betrothed she had felt as if something in her life had grown black, as if something had been quenched, had been cut off and ended; hence that betrothal had not roused in her heart any gladness. She had only consented to the marriage because such was the will of Pan Gideon, and because of her grat.i.tude for care, and still more because, after Yatsek's departure, there remained in her heart only bitterness and sorrow, with this painful thought, that save her guardian she had no one, and that without him she would be a lost orphan, wandering among enemies and strangers. But all on a sudden a thunderbolt had struck that hearth at which she was to sit with some kind of peace, though a sad one, now the only man in this world who to her was important had vanished. It was not strange, then, that the thunderbolt had stunned her, that all thoughts were confused in her head, while in her heart sorrow for that only near soul had been fused into one with a feeling of amazement and terror.

So the words of the elder sisters, who had begun straightway to pilfer her dresses, struck her ears just like sounds without meaning. Then Martsian came, bowed, rubbed his hands, jumped around her; but she understood him no more than she did all the others, who, according to custom, approached her with phrases of sympathy, which were more elaborate the less they were heartfelt. It was only when Pan Serafin put his hand on her head in the style of a father and said: "G.o.d will be over thee, my orphan," that something moved in her suddenly, and then tears rushed to her eyelids. Now for the first time the thought came to her that she was as a poor little leaf given over to the will of the whirlwind.

Meanwhile began ceremonies, which, since Pan Gideon had been a man of position in his neighborhood, lasted ten days, in accordance with custom. At the betrothal, with few exceptions, invited guests only were present, but to the funeral came all near and distant neighbors, hence the mansion was swarming. Receptions, speeches, processions, and returns from the church followed one after the other.

During the first days exclusive attention was given to the incomplete widow; but later, when people beheld the Krepetskis in possession and saw that they alone appeared in the mansion as masters, they ceased to regard the young lady, and toward the end of the funeral solemnities no one paid more heed to her than to any house visitor.

Pan Serafin alone had a thought for her. He was moved by her tears and touched by her misfortune. The servants had begun to whisper that the Krepetski old maids had swept off her whole trousseau, and the old lord had hidden in his box her "little jewels," and that in the house they were already beginning to browbeat the "young lady." When these reports went to Pan Serafin they moved his kind heart, and he resolved to see Father Voynovski.

But that kindly man was prejudiced much against Panna Anulka because of Yatsek, so at the very beginning he answered,--

"I am sorry for her, the poor lady, for she is in need, but in what can I help her? That, speaking between us, G.o.d punished her for Yatsek is certain."

"But Yatsek is gone, as is Stanislav, and she is here simply an orphan."

"Of course he is gone, but how did he go? You saw him going, but I went with him farther, and I tell you that the poor boy had his teeth set, and the heart in him was bleeding, so that he could not utter a syllable. Oh! he loved that girl as people loved only in the old time; they know not to-day how to love in that manner."

"Still he was able to move his hands," said Pan Serafin, "for I heard that just beyond Radom he had a quarrel and cut up a pa.s.sing n.o.ble, or even two of them."

"Ah, because he has a girl's face every road-blocker thinks that he can get on with him cheaply. Some drunken fellows sought a quarrel. What was he to do? I blame in him that method; I blame it, but remember, your grace, that a man with a heart torn by love is like a lion seeking to devour some one."

"True; but as to the girl. Ah, my benefactor, G.o.d knows if she is as much to blame as we imagine."

"Woman is insidious."

"Insidious or not, but when I heard that Pan Gideon wished to marry her it occurred to me straightway that he roused up everything, for it must have been all-important for him to get rid of Yatsek forever."

"No," said the priest, shaking his head. "We remarked immediately from the letter that it was written at her instigation. I remember that perfectly, and I could repeat to your grace every word of it."

"I, too, remember, but we could not know what Pan Gideon had told her, and how he described Yatsek's deeds to the lady. The Bukoyemskis, for example, confessed to me, that meeting her and Pan Gideon while travelling to Prityk they said purposely, that Yatsek went away after great stirrup cups, laughing, gladsome, and uncommonly curious about the daughter of Pan Zbierhovski to whom you had given him a letter."

"Here they lied! And what for?"

"Well, they lied to show the girl and Pan Gideon that Yatsek had no thought for them. But note this, your grace, if the Bukoyemskis spoke thus out of friendship for Yatsek, what must Pan Gideon have said out of hatred."

"It is sure that he did not spare Yatsek. Still, even if she were less to blame than we imagine, tell me what of that? Yatsek has gone, and perhaps will never come back to us, for I know that he will spare his life less than Pan Gideon spared his reputation."

"Yatsek would have gone in every case," answered Pan Serafin.

"And if he does not return I will not tear the soutane on my body. A death in defence of the country and fighting Mohammedan vileness is a worthy end for a Christian knight, and a worthy end for a great family.

But I will add one thing: I should have preferred to see him go without that painful dart which is sticking in him."

"Neither had my only son special happiness in life; he too went, and perhaps will not return to me."

They grew thoughtful, for their souls were filled with love for those young men.

Tvorkovski, the prelate, came upon them while thoughtful, and learned that they had been talking of Panna Sieninski.

"I will tell you, gentlemen," said he, "but let this be a secret. Pan Gideon left no will, the Krepetskis have a right to the property. I know that he had the wish to provide for his wife and leave all to her, but he was not able. Do not mention this before the Krepetskis."

"But have you said nothing?"

"Why should I? Those are hard people, and with me the question is that they should not be too hard toward the orphan, hence I withheld information, and then told them this: 'Not only does G.o.d sometimes try a man, but one man tries another.' When they heard this they were disquieted greatly, and fell to inquiring: 'How is it? Does your grace know anything?' 'What has to be shown will be shown,' remarked I, 'but remember one thing. Pan Gideon had the right to will what he owned to whatever person pleased him.'"

Here the prelate laughed, and, putting his hands behind his violet girdle, continued,--

"I say, gentlemen, that the legs trembled under old Krepetski when he heard this; he began to contradict. 'Oh,' said he, 'that is impossible!

he had not the right. Neither G.o.d nor men would agree to that.'

"I looked at him severely, and said: 'If you think of G.o.d, you do well, for at your age it is proper to have His mercy in mind, and not turn to earthly tribunals, for it may happen very easily that you will not have time to await a decision.' He was frightened then terribly, and I added: 'And be kind to the orphan, lest G.o.d punish you sooner than you imagine.'"

Hereupon Father Voynovski, whose compa.s.sionate heart was moved at the fate of the maiden, embraced the wise prelate.