“Most worthy colonel,” said Zatsvilikhovski to Barabash, “you should go to the Saitch and neutralize the influence of Hmelnitski; pacify them, pacify them.”
“Most worthy standard-bearer,” answered Barabash, “I will merely say that in consequence of the news of Hmelnitski’s flight with the papers of the king, one half of my men have followed him to the Saitch. My time has passed; not the baton awaits me, but the grave!”
Barabash was indeed a good soldier, but old and without influence.
Meanwhile they had come to the quarters of Zatsvilikhovski, who had regained somewhat the composure peculiar to his mild character; and when they sat down to half a gallon of mead, he said emphatically—
“All this is nothing, if, as they say, war is on foot against the Mussulman; and it is likely that such is the case, for though the Commonwealth does not want war, and the diets have roused much bad blood in the king, still he may carry his point. All this fire may be turned against the Turk, and in every case we have time on our side. I will go myself to Pan Pototski, inform him, and ask that he, being nearest to us, should come with his army. I do not know whether I shall succeed, for though a brave man and a trained warrior, he is terribly confident in himself and his army. And you, Colonel of Cherkasi, keep the Cossacks in curb—and you, Lieutenant, the moment you arrive at Lubni warn the prince to keep his eyes on the Saitch. Even if they begin action, I repeat it, we have time. There are not many people at the Saitch now; they have scattered around, fishing and hunting, and are in villages throughout the whole Ukraine. Before they assemble, much water will flow down the Dnieper. Besides, the name of the prince is terrible, and if they know that he has his eye on Chertomelik, perhaps they will remain in peace.”
“I am ready,” said the lieutenant, “to start from Chigirin even in a couple of days.”
“That’s right. Two or three days are of no account. And do you, Colonel of Cherkasi, send couriers with an account of the affair to Konyetspolski and Prince Dominic. But you are asleep, as I see.”
Barabash had crossed his hands on his stomach and was in a deep slumber, snoring from time to time. The old colonel, when neither eating nor drinking—and he loved both beyond measure—was sleeping.
“Look!” said Zatsvilikhovski quietly to the lieutenant; “the statesmen at Warsaw think of holding the Cossacks in curb through such an old man as that. God be good to them! They put trust, too, even in Hmelnitski himself, with whom the chancellor entered into some negotiations or other; and Hmelnitski no doubt is fooling them terribly.”
The lieutenant sighed in token of sympathy. But Barabash snored more deeply, and then murmured in his sleep: “Christ save us! Christ save us!”
“When do you think of leaving Chigirin?” asked Zatsvilikhovski.
“I shall have to wait two days for Chaplinski, who will bring an action, beyond doubt, for what has happened to him.”
“He will not do that. He would prefer to send his servants against you if you didn’t wear the uniform of the prince; but it is ugly work to tackle the prince, even for the servants of the Konyetspolskis.”
“I will notify him that I am waiting, and start in two or three days. I am not afraid of an ambush, either, having a sabre at my side and a party of men.”
The lieutenant now took farewell of Zatsvilikhovski, and went out.
The blaze from the piles on the square spread such a glare over the town that all Chigirin seemed burning. The bustle and shouts increased with the approach of night. The Jews did not peep from their houses. In every corner crowds of Chabani howled plaintive songs of the steppe. The wild Zaporojians danced around the fires, hurling their caps in the air, firing from their “squealers,” and drinking gorailka by the quart. Here and there a scuffle broke out, which the starosta’s men put down. The lieutenant had to open a way with the hilt of his sabre. Hearing the shouts and noise of the Cossacks, he thought at times that rebellion was already beginning to speak. It seemed to him, also, that he saw threatening looks and heard low-spoken curses directed against his person. In his ears were still ringing the words of Barabash, “Christ save us! Christ save us!” and his heart beat more quickly.
But the Chabani sang their songs more loudly in the town; the Zaporojians fired from their muskets and swam in gorailka. The firing and the wild “U-ha! u-ha!” reached the ears of the lieutenant, even after he had lain down to sleep in his quarters.
III
A few days later the lieutenant with his escort pressed forward briskly in the direction of Lubni. After the passage of the Dnieper, they travelled by a broad steppe road which united Chigirin with Lubni, passing through Juki, Semi Mogil, and Khorol. A similar road joined Lubni with Kiev. In times past, before the campaign of the hetman Jolkyevski against Solonitsa, these roads were not in existence. People travelled to Kiev from Lubni by the desert and the steppe; the way to Chigirin was by water, with return by land through Khorol. In general the country beyond the Dnieper, the ancient land of the Pólovtsi, was wild, scarcely more inhabited than the Wilderness, frequently visited by the Tartars, and exposed to Zaporojian bands.
On the banks of the Sula immense forests, which had never been touched by the foot
