Pan Michael

"I have heard of the ambitious designs of Prince Boguslav Radzivill," muttered the prelate, as if to himself.

"While there is breath in my nostrils, while the last drop of blood is in my breast," cried Zagloba, with the force of deep conviction, "nothing will come of that! I should not wish to live in a nation so disgraced as to make a traitor and a Judas its king."

"That is the voice not only of reason, but of civic virtue," muttered the vice-chancellor, again.

"Ha!" thought Zagloba, "if you wish to draw me, I will draw you."

Then the vice-chancellor began anew: "When wilt thou sail in, O battered ship of my country? What storms, what rocks are in wait for thee? In truth, it will be evil if a foreigner becomes thy steersman; but it must be so evidently, if among thy sons there is no one better." Here he stretched out his white hands, ornamented with glittering rings, and inclining his head, said with resignation, "Then Condé, or he of Lorraine, or the Prince of Neuberg? There is no other outcome!"

"That is impossible! A Pole!" answered Zagloba.

"Who?" inquired the prelate.

Silence followed. Then the prelate began to speak again: "If there were even one on whom all could agree! Where is there a man who would touch the heart of the knighthood at once, so that no one would dare to murmur against his election? There was one such, the greatest, who had rendered most service, – your worthy friend, O knight, who walked in glory as in sunlight. There was such a – "

"Prince Yeremi Vishnyevetski!" interrupted Zagloba.

"That is true. But he is in the grave."

"His son lives," replied Zagloba.

The vice-chancellor half closed his eyes, and sat some time in silence; all at once he raised his head, looked at Zagloba, and began to speak slowly: "I thank God for having inspired me with the idea of knowing your grace. That is it! the son of the great Yeremi is alive, – a prince young and full of hope, to whom the Commonwealth has a debt to pay. Of his gigantic fortune nothing remains but glory, – that is his only inheritance. Therefore in the present times of corruption, when every man turns his eyes only to where gold is attracting, who will mention his name, who will have the courage to make him a candidate? You? True! But will there be many like you? It is not wonderful that he whose life has been passed in heroic struggles on all fields will not fear to give homage to merit with his vote on the field of election; but will others follow his example?" Here the vice-chancellor fell to thinking, then raised his eyes and spoke on: "God is mightier than all. Who knows His decisions, who knows? When I think how all the knighthood believe and trust you, I see indeed with wonderment that a certain hope enters my heart. Tell me sincerely, has the impossible ever existed for you?"

"Never!" answered Zagloba, with conviction.

"Still, it is not proper to advance that candidacy too decidedly at first. Let the name strike people's ears, but let it not seem too formidable to opponents; let them rather laugh at it, and sneer, so that they may not raise too serious impediments. Perhaps, too, God will grant it to succeed quickly, when the intrigues of parties bring them to mutual destruction. Smooth the road for it gradually, your grace, and grow not weary in labor; for this is your candidate, worthy of your reason and experience. God bless you in these plans!"

"Am I to suppose," inquired Zagloba, "that your dignity has been thinking also of Prince Michael?"

The vice-chancellor took from his sleeve a small book on which the title "Censura Candidatorum" stood in large black letters, and said, "Read, your grace; let this letter answer for me."

Then the vice-chancellor began preparations for going; but Zagloba detained him and said, "Permit me, your dignity, to say something more. First of all, I thank God that the lesser seal is in hands which can bend men like wax."

"How is that?" asked the vice-chancellor, astonished.

"Secondly, I will tell your dignity in advance that the candidacy of Prince Michael is greatly to my heart, for I knew his father, and loved him and fought under him with my friends; they too will be delighted in soul at the thought that they can show the son that love which they had for the father. Therefore I seize at this candidacy with both hands, and this day I will speak with Pan Krytski, – a man of great family and my acquaintance, who is in high consideration among the nobles, for it is difficult not to love him. We will both do what is in our power; and God grant that we shall effect something!"

"May the angels attend you!" said the prelate; "if you do that, we have nothing more to say."

"With the permission of your dignity I have to speak of one thing more; namely, that your dignity should not think to yourself thuswise: 'I have put my own wishes into his mouth; I have talked into him this idea that he has found out of his own wit the candidacy of Prince Michael, – speaking briefly, I have twisted the fool in my hand as if he were wax.' Your dignity, I will advance the cause of Prince Michael, because it is to my heart, – that is what the case is; because, as I see, it is to the heart also of your dignity, – that is what the case is! I will advance it for the sake of his mother, for the sake of my friends; I will advance it because of the confidence which I have in the head" (here Zagloba inclined) "from which that Minerva sprang forth, but not because I let myself be persuaded, like a little boy, that the invention is mine; and in fine, not because I am a fool, but for the reason that when a wise man tells me a wise thing, old Zagloba says, 'Agreed!'"

Here the noble inclined once more. The vice-chancellor was confused considerably at first; but seeing the good-humor of the noble and that the affair was taking the turn so much desired, he laughed from his whole soul, then seizing his head with both hands, he began to repeat, —

"Ulysses! as God is dear to me, a genuine Ulysses! Lord brother, whoso wishes to do a good thing must deal with men variously; but with you I see it is requisite to strike the quick straightway. You have pleased my heart immensely."

"As Prince Michael has mine."

"May God give you health! Ha! I am beaten, but I am glad. You must have eaten many a starling in your youth. And this signet ring, – if it will serve to commemorate our colloquium– "

"Let that ring remain in its own place," said Zagloba.

"You will do this for me – "

"I cannot by any means. Perhaps another time – later on – after the election."

The vice-chancellor understood, and insisted no more; he went out, however, with a radiant face.

Zagloba conducted him to the gate, and returning, muttered, "Ha! I gave him a lesson! One rogue met another. But it is an honor. Dignitaries will outrun one another in coming to these gates. I am curious to know what the ladies think of this!"

The ladies were indeed full of admiration; and Zagloba grew to the ceiling, especially in the eyes of Pan Michael's sister, so that he had barely shown himself when she exclaimed with great enthusiasm, "You have surpassed Solomon in wisdom."

And Zagloba was very glad. "Whom have I surpassed, do you say? Wait, you will see hetmans, bishops, and senators here; I shall have to escape from them or hide behind the curtains."

Further conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Ketling.

"Ketling, do you want promotion?" cried Zagloba, still charmed with his own significance.

"No!" answered the knight, in sadness; "for I must leave you again, and for a long time."

Zagloba looked at him more attentively. "How is it that you are so cut down?"

"Just for this, that I am going away."

"Whither?"

"I have received letters from Scotland, from old friends of my father and myself. My affairs demand me there absolutely; perhaps for a long time. I am grieved to part with all here – but I must."

Zagloba, going into the middle of the room, looked at Pan Michael's sister, then at the young ladies, and asked, "Have you heard? In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!"

CHAPTER XVII

Though Zagloba received the news of Ketling's departure with astonishment, still no suspicion came into his head; for it was easy to admit that Charles II. had remembered the services which the Ketlings had rendered the throne in time of disturbance, and that he wished to show his gratitude to the last descendant of the family. It would seem even most wonderful were he to act otherwise. Besides, Ketling showed Zagloba certain letters from beyond the sea, and convinced him decisively. In its way that journey endangered all the old noble's plans, and he was thinking with alarm of the future. Judging by his letter, Volodyovski might return any day.

"The winds have blown away in the steppes the remnant of his grief," thought Zagloba. "He will come back more daring than when he departed; and because some devil is drawing him more powerfully to Krysia, he is ready to propose to her straightway. And then, – then Krysia will say yes (for how could she say no to such a cavalier, and, besides, the brother of Pani Makovetski?), and my poor, dearest haiduk will be on the ice."

But Zagloba, with the persistence special to old people, determined at all costs to marry Basia to the little knight. Neither the arguments of Pan Yan, nor those which at intervals he used on himself, had serious effect. At times he promised mentally, it is true, not to interfere again in anything; but he returned afterward involuntarily with greater persistence to the thought of uniting this pair. He meditated for whole days how to effect this; he formed plans, he framed stratagems. And he went so far that when it seemed to him that he had hit upon the means, he cried out straightway, as if the affair were over, "May God bless you!"

But now Zagloba saw before him almost the ruin of his wishes. There remained nothing more to him but to abandon all his efforts and leave the future to God's will; for the shadow of hope that before his departure Ketling would take some decisive step with reference to Krysia could not remain long in Zagloba's head. It was only from sorrow and curiosity, therefore, that he determined to inquire of the young knight touching the time of his going, as well as what he intended to do before leaving the Commonwealth.

Having invited Ketling to a conversation, Zagloba said with a greatly grieved face, "A difficult case! Each man knows best what he ought to do, and I will not ask you to stay; but I should like to know at least something about your return."

"Can I tell what is waiting for me there, where I am going?" answered Ketling, – "what questions and what adventures? I will return sometime, if I can. I will stay there for good if I must."

"You will find that your heart will draw you back to us."

"God grant that my grave will be nowhere else but in the land which gave me all that it could give!"

"Ah, you see in other countries a foreigner is a stepchild all his life; but our mother opens her arms to you at once, and cherishes you as her own son."

"Truth, a great truth. Ei! if only I could – For everything in the old country may come to me, but happiness will not come."

"Ah! I said to you, 'Settle down; get married.' You would not listen to me. If you were married, even if you went away, you would have to return, unless you wished to take your wife through the raging waves; and I do not suppose that. I gave you advice. Well, you wouldn't take it; you wouldn't take it."

Here Zagloba looked attentively at Ketling's face, wishing some definite explanation from him, but Ketling was silent; he merely hung his head and fixed his eyes on the floor.

"What is your answer to this?" asked Zagloba, after a while.

"I had no chance whatever of taking it," answered the young knight, slowly.

Zagloba began to walk through the room, then he stopped in front of Ketling, joined his hands behind his back, and said, "But I tell you that you had. If you had not, may I never from this day forward bind this body of mine with this belt here! Krysia is a friend of yours."

"God grant that she remain one, though seas be between us!"

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing more; nothing more."

"Have you asked her?"

"Spare me. As it is, I am so sad because I am going."

"Ketling, do you wish me to speak to her while there is time?"

Ketling considered that if Krysia wished so earnestly that their feelings should remain secret, perhaps she might be glad if an opportunity were offered of denying them openly, therefore he answered, "I assure you that that is vain, and I am so far convinced that I have done everything to drive that feeling from my head; but if you are looking for a miracle, ask."

"Ah, if you have driven her out of your head," said Zagloba, with a certain bitterness, "there is nothing indeed to be done. Only permit me to remark that I looked on you as a man of more constancy."

Ketling rose, and stretching upward his two hands feverishly, said with violence unusual to him, "What will it help me to wish for one of those stars? I cannot fly up to it, neither can it come down to me. Woe to people who sigh after the silver moon!"

Zagloba grew angry, and began to puff. For a time he could not even speak, and only when he had mastered his anger did he answer with a broken voice, "My dear, do not hold me a fool; if you have reasons to give, give them to me, as to a man who lives on bread and meat, not as to one who is mad, – for if I should now frame a fiction, and tell you that this cap of mine here is the moon, and that I cannot reach it with my hand, I should go around the city with a bare, bald head, and the frost would bite my ears like a dog. I will not wrestle with statements like that. But I know this: the maiden lives three rooms distant from here; she eats; she drinks; when she walks, she must put one foot before the other; in the frost her nose grows red, and she feels hot in the heat; when a mosquito bites her, she feels it; and as to the moon, she may resemble it in this, that she has no beard. But in the way that you talk, it may be said that a turnip is an astrologer. As to Krysia, if you have not tried, if you have not asked her, it is your own fault; but if you have ceased to love the girl, and now you are going away, saying to yourself 'moon,' then you may nourish any weed with your honesty as well as your wit, – that is the point of the question."

To this Ketling answered, "It is not sweet, but bitter in my mouth from the food which you are giving me. I go, for I must; I do not ask, because I have nothing to ask about. But you judge me unjustly, – God knows how unjustly!"

"Ketling! I know, of course, that you are a man of honor; but I cannot understand those ways of yours. In my time a man went to a maiden and spoke into her eyes with this rhyme, 'If you wish me, we will live together; if not, I will not buy you.'15 Each one knew what he had to do; whoever was halting, and not bold in speech, sent a better man to talk than himself. I offered you my services, and offer them yet. I will go; I will talk; I will bring back an answer, and according to that, you will go or stay."

"I must go! it cannot be otherwise, and will not."

"You will return."

"No! Do me a kindness, and speak no more of this. If you wish to inquire for your own satisfaction, very well, but not in my name."

"For God's sake, have you asked her already?"

"Let us not speak of this. Do me the favor."

"Well, let us talk of the weather. May the thunderbolt strike you, and your ways! So you must go, and I must curse."

"I take farewell of you."

"Wait, wait! Anger will leave me this moment. My Ketling, wait, for I had something to say to you. When do you go?"

"As soon as I can settle my affairs. I should like to wait in Courland for the quarter's rent; and the house in which we have been living I would sell willingly if any one would buy it."

"Let Makovetski buy it, or Michael. In God's name! but you will not go away without seeing Michael?"

"I should be glad in my soul to see him."

"He may be here any moment. He may incline you to Krysia."

Here Zagloba stopped, for a certain alarm seized him suddenly. "I was serving Michael in good intent," thought he, "but terribly against his will; if discord is to rise between him and Ketling, better let Ketling go away." Here Zagloba rubbed his bald head with his hand; at last he added, "One thing and another was said out of pure goodwill. I have so fallen in love with you that I would be glad to detain you by all means; therefore I put Krysia before you, like a bit of bacon. But that was only through good-will. What is it to me, old man? In truth, that was only good-will, – nothing more. I am not match-making; if I were, I would have made a match for myself. Ketling, give me your face,16 and be not angry."

Ketling embraced Zagloba, who became really tender, and straightway gave command to bring the decanter, saying, "We will drink one like this every day on the occasion of your departure."

And they drank. Then Ketling bade him good-by and went out. Immediately the wine roused fancy in Zagloba; he began to meditate about Basia, Krysia, Pan Michael, and Ketling, began to unite them in couples, to bless them; at last he wished to see the young ladies, and said, "Well, I will go and see those kids."

The young ladies were sitting in the room beyond the entrance, and sewing. Zagloba, after he had greeted them, walked through the room, dragging his feet a little; for they did not serve him as formerly, especially after wine. While walking, he looked at the maidens, who were sitting closely, one near the other, so that the bright head of Basia almost touched the dark one of Krysia. Basia followed him with her eyes; but Krysia was sewing so diligently that it was barely possible to catch the glitter of her needle with the eye.

"H'm!" said Zagloba.

"H'm!" repeated Basia.

"Don't mock me, for I am angry."

"He'll be sure to cut my head off!" cried Basia, feigning terror.

"Strike! strike! I'll cut your tongue out, – that's what I'll do!"

Saying this, Zagloba approached the young ladies, and putting his hands on his hips, asked without any preliminary, "Do you want Ketling as husband?"

"Yes; five like him!" said Basia, quickly.

"Be quiet, fly! I am not talking to you. Krysia, the speech is to you. Do you want Ketling as husband?"

Krysia had grown pale somewhat, though at first she thought that Zagloba was asking Basia, not her; then she raised on the old noble her beautiful dark-blue eyes. "No," answered she, calmly.

"Well, 'pon my word! No! At least it is short. 'Pon my word! – 'pon my word! And why do you not want him?"

"I want no one."

"Krysia, tell that to some one else," put in Basia.

"What brought the married state into such contempt with you?" continued Zagloba.

"Not contempt; I have a vocation for the convent," answered Krysia.

There was in her voice so much seriousness and such sadness that Basia and Zagloba did not admit even for a moment that she was jesting; but such great astonishment seized both that they began to look as if dazed, now on each other, now on Krysia.

"Well!" said Zagloba, breaking the silence first.

"I wish to enter a convent," repeated Krysia, with sweetness.

Basia looked at her once and a second time, suddenly threw her arms around her neck, pressed her rosy lips to her cheek, and began to say quickly, "Oh, Krysia, I shall sob! Say quickly that you are only talking to the wind; I shall sob, as God is in heaven, I shall!"

CHAPTER XVIII

After his interview with Zagloba, Ketling went to Pan Michael's sister, whom he informed that because of urgent affairs he must remain in the city, and perhaps too before his final journey he would go for some weeks to Courland; therefore he would not be able in person to entertain her in his suburban house longer. But he implored her to consider that house as her residence in the same way as hitherto, and to occupy it with her husband and Pan Michael during the coming election. Pani Makovetski consented, for in the opposite event the house would become empty, and bring profit to no one.

After that conversation Ketling vanished, and showed himself no more either in the inn, or later in the neighborhood of Mokotov, when Pan Michael's sister returned to the suburbs with the young ladies. Krysia alone felt that absence; Zagloba was occupied wholly with the coming election; while Basia and Pani Makovetski had taken the sudden decision of Krysia to heart so much that they could think of nothing else.

Still, Pani Makovetski did not even try to dissuade Krysia; for in those times opposition to such undertakings seemed to people an injury and an offence to God. Zagloba alone, in spite of all his piety, would have had the courage to protest, had it concerned him in any way; but since it did not, he sat quietly, and he was content in spirit that affairs had arranged themselves so that Krysia retired from between Pan Michael and the haiduk. Now Zagloba was convinced of the successful accomplishment of his most secret desires, and gave himself with all freedom to the labors of the election; he visited the nobles who had come to the capital, or he spent the time in conversations with the vice-chancellor, with whom he fell in love at last, becoming his trusted assistant. After each such conversation he returned home a more zealous partisan of the "Pole," and a more determined enemy of foreigners. Accommodating himself to the instructions of the vice-chancellor, he remained quietly in that condition so far, but not a day passed that he did not win some one for the secret candidate, and that happened which usually happens in such cases, – he pushed himself forward so far that that candidacy became the second object in his life, at the side of the union of Basia and Pan Michael. Meanwhile they were nearer and nearer the election.

Spring had already freed the waters from ice; breezes warm and strong had begun to blow; under the breath of these breezes the trees were sprinkled with buds, and flocks of swallows were hovering around, to spring out at any moment, as simple people think, from the ocean of winter into the bright sunlight. Guests began to come to the election, with the swallows and other birds of passage. First of all came merchants, to whom a rich harvest of profit was indicated, in a place where more than half a million of people were to assemble, counting magnates with their forces, nobles, servants, and the army. Englishmen, Hollanders, Germans, Russians, Tartars, Turks, Armenians, and even Persians came, bringing stuffs, linen, damask, brocades, furs, jewels, perfumes, and sweetmeats. Booths were erected on the streets and outside the city, and in them was every kind of merchandise. Some "bazaars" were placed even in suburban villages; for it was known that the inns of the capital could not receive one tenth of the electors, and that an enormous majority of them would be encamped outside the walls, as was the case always during time of election. Finally, the nobles began to assemble so numerously, in such throngs, that if they had come in like numbers to the threatened boundaries of the Commonwealth, the foot of any enemy would never have crossed them.

Reports went around that the election would be a stormy one, for the whole country was divided between three chief candidates, – Condé, the Princes of Neuberg and of Lorraine. It was said that each party would endeavor to seat its own candidate, even by force. Alarm seized hearts; spirits were inflamed with partisan rancor. Some prophesied civil war; and these forebodings found faith, in view of the gigantic military legions with which the magnates had surrounded themselves. They arrived early, so as to have time for intrigues of all kinds. When the Commonwealth was in peril, when the enemy was putting the keen edge to its throat, neither king nor hetman could bring more than a wretched handful of troops against him; but now in spite of laws and enactments, the Radzivills alone came with an army numbering between ten and twenty thousand men. The Patses had behind them an almost equivalent force; the powerful Pototskis were coming with no smaller strength; other "kinglets" of Poland, Lithuania, and Russia were coming with forces but slightly inferior. "When wilt thou sail in, O battered ship of my country?" repeated the vice-chancellor, more and more frequently; but he himself had selfish objects in his heart. The magnates, with few exceptions, corrupted to the marrow of their bones, were thinking only of themselves and the greatness of their houses, and were ready at any moment to rouse the tempest of civil war.