man reined in the horses; then an unknown nobleman approached the wagon with gleaming face, and cried out, "Pan Zagloba! Does your grace not know me?"
Zagloba saw before him a man of somewhat over thirty years, wearing a leopard-skin cap with a feather,—an unerring mark of military service,—a poppy-colored under-coat, and a dark-red kontush, girded with a gold brocade belt. The face of the unknown was of unusual beauty: his complexion was pale, but burned somewhat by wind in the fields to a yellowish tinge; his blue eyes were full of a certain melancholy and pensiveness; his features were unusually symmetrical, almost too beautiful for a man. Notwithstanding his Polish dress, he wore long hair and a beard cut in foreign fashion. Halting at the wagon, he opened his arms widely; and Zagloba, though he could not remember him at once, bent over and embraced him. They pressed each other heartily, and at moments one pushed the other back so as to have a better look.
"Pardon me, your grace," said Zagloba, at last; "but I cannot call to mind yet."
"Hassling-Ketling!"
"For God's sake! The face seemed well known to me, but the dress has changed you entirely, for I saw you in old times in a Prussian uniform. Now you wear the Polish dress?"
"Yes; for I have taken as my mother this Commonwealth, which received me when a wanderer, almost in years of boyhood, and gave me abundant bread and another mother I do not wish. You do not know that I received citizenship after the war."
"But you bring me good news! So Fortune favored you in this?"
"Both in this and in something else; for in Courland, on the very boundary of Jmud, I found a man of my own name, who adopted me, gave me his escutcheon, and bestowed on me property. He lives in Svyenta in Courland; but on this side he has an estate called Shkudy, which he gave me."
"God favor you! Then you have given up war?"
"Only let the chance come, and I'll take my place without fail. In view of that, I have rented my land, and am waiting here for an opening."
"That is the courage that I like. Just as I was in youth, and I have strength yet in my bones. What are you doing now in Warsaw?"
"I am a deputy at the Diet of Convocation."
"God's wounds! But you are already a Pole to the bones!"
The young knight smiled. "To my soul, which is better."
"Are you married?"
Ketling sighed. "No."
"Only that is lacking. But I think—wait a minute! But has that old feeling for Panna Billevich gone out of your mind?"
"Since you know of that which I thought my secret, be assured that no new one has come."
"Oh, leave her in peace! She will soon give the world a young Kmita. Never mind! What sort of work is it to sigh when another is living with her in better confidence? To tell the truth, 'tis ridiculous."
Ketling raised his pensive eyes. "I have said only that no new feeling has come."
"It will come, never fear! we'll have you married. I know from experience that in love too great constancy brings merely suffering. In my time I was as constant as Troilus, and lost a world of pleasure and a world of good opportunities; and how much I suffered!"
"God grant every one to retain such jovial humor as your grace!"
"Because I lived in moderation always, therefore I have no aches in my bones. Where are you stopping? Have you found lodgings?"
"I have a comfortable cottage, which I built after the war."
"You are fortunate; but I have been travelling through the whole city in vain since yesterday."
"For God's sake! my benefactor, you will not refuse, I hope, to stop with me. There is room enough; besides the house, there are wings and a commodious stable. You will find room for your servants and horses."
"You have fallen from heaven, as God is dear to me!"
Ketling took a seat in the wagon and they drove forward. On the way Zagloba told him of the misfortune that had met Pan Michael, and he wrung his hands, for hitherto he had not heard of it.
"The dart is all the keener for me," said he, at last; "and perhaps your grace does not know what a friendship sprang up between us in recent times. Together we went through all the later wars with Prussia, at the besieging of fortresses, where there were only Swedish garrisons. We went to the Ukraine and against Pan Lyubomirski, and after the death of the voevoda of Rus, to the Ukraine a second time under Sobieski, the marshal of the kingdom. The same saddle served us as a pillow, and we ate from the same dish; we were called Castor and Pollux. And only when he went for his affianced, did the moment of separation come. Who could think that his best hopes would vanish like an arrow in the air?"
"There is nothing fixed in this vale of tears," said Zagloba.
"Except steady friendship. We must take counsel and learn where he is at this moment. We may hear something from the marshal of the kingdom, who loves Michael as the apple of his eye. If he can tell nothing, there are deputies here from all sides. It cannot be that no man has heard of such a knight. In what I have power, in that I will aid you, more quickly than if the question affected myself."
Thus conversing, they came at last to Ketling's cottage, which turned out to be a mansion. Inside was every kind of order and no small number of costly utensils, either purchased, or obtained in campaigns. The collection of weapons especially was remarkable. Zagloba was delighted with what he saw, and said,—
"Oh, you could find lodgings here for twenty men. It was lucky for me that I met you. I might have occupied apartments with Pan Anton Hrapovitski, for he is an acquaintance and friend. The Patses also invited me,—they are seeking partisans against the Radzivills,—but I prefer to be with you."
"I have heard among the Lithuanian deputies," said Ketling, "that since the turn comes now to Lithuania, they wish absolutely to choose Pan Hrapovitski as marshal of the Diet."
"And justly. He is an honest man and a sensible one, but too good-natured. For him there is nothing more precious than harmony; he is only seeking to reconcile some man with some other, and that is useless. But tell me sincerely, what is Boguslav Radzivill to you?"
"From the time that Pan Kmita's Tartars took me captive at Warsaw, he has been nothing; for although he is a great lord, he is a perverse and malicious man. I saw enough of him when he plotted in Taurogi against that being superior to earth."
"How superior to earth? What are you talking of, man? She is of clay, and may be broken like any clay vessel. But that is no matter."
Here Zagloba grew purple from rage, till the eyes were starting from his head. "Imagine to yourself, that ruffian is a deputy!"
"Who?" asked in astonishment Ketling, whose mind was still on Olenka.
"Boguslav Radzivill! But the verification of powers,—what is that for? Listen: you are a deputy; you can raise the question. I will roar to you from the gallery in support; have no fear on that point. The right is with us; and if they try to degrade the right, a tumult may be raised in the audience that will not pass without blood."
"Do
