“Your ancestor had not a lighter hand than you, and he was justly ‘Tear cowl.’ ”
“To him the king granted a coat of arms, and upon it three goat-heads on a silver field in memory of those knights, because the same heads were depicted on their shields. Those arms, together with this sword, my ancestor, Stoveiko Podbipienta, left to his descendants with the injunction to strive to uphold the glory of their race and sword.”
“It is not to be denied that you come of gentle stock.”
Here Pan Longin began to sigh earnestly; and when he had comforted himself somewhat he continued:—
“Being the last of my race, I made a vow in Troki to the Most Holy Lady to live in continence and not marry till, in emulation of my ancestor Stoveiko Podbipienta, I should sweep off with this same sword three heads at one blow. Oh, merciful God, thou seest that I have done all in my power. I have preserved my purity to this day; I have commanded a tender heart to be still; I have sought war and I have fought, but without good fortune.”
The lieutenant smiled under his mustache. “And you have not taken off three heads?”
“ ‘No! it has not come to pass! No luck! Two at a blow I have taken more than once, but never three. I’ve never been able to come up to them, and it would be hard to ask enemies to stand in line for a blow. God knows my grief. There is strength in my bones, I have wealth, youth is passing away, I am approaching my forty-fifth year, my heart rushes forth in affection, my family is coming to an end, and still the three heads are not there! Such a Zervikaptur am I. A laughingstock for the people, as Pan Zagloba truly remarks. All of which I endure patiently and offer to the Lord.”
The Lithuanian began again to sigh, noticing which his Livonian mare from sympathy for her master fell to groaning and snorting.
“Well, I can only tell you,” said the lieutenant, “if you do not find an opportunity under Prince Yeremi, then you will find it nowhere.”
“God grant!” answered Podbipienta; “this is why I am going to beg a favor of the prince.”
Further conversation was interrupted by an unusual sound of wings. As has been stated, birds of passage did not go beyond the sea that winter; the rivers did not freeze over, therefore the whole country was full of waterfowl, especially over the marshes. Just as the lieutenant and Pan Longin were approaching the bank of the Kagamlik there was a sudden rushing noise above their heads of a whole flock of storks, which flew so near the ground that it was almost possible to strike them with a stick. The flock flew with a tremendous outcry, and instead of settling in the reeds rose unexpectedly through the air.
“They rush as if hunted,” said Skshetuski.
“Ah, see!” said Pan Longin, pointing to a white bird which, cutting the air in sidelong flight, tried to overtake the flock.
“A falcon stops them from alighting,” said the lieutenant. “The envoy has a falcon; it must be that he has let her out.”
At that moment Pan Rozvan Ursu rode up at full speed on a black Anatolian steed, and after him a number of his service.
“I beg you to come to the sport, Lieutenant,” said he.
“This falcon is yours, then?”
“Yes, and a very noble bird, as you will see.”
All three rushed forward, followed by the Wallachian falconer with a hoop, who, fixing his eyes on the bird, shouted with all his might, urging her to the struggle.
The valiant bird immediately forced the flock to rise in the air, and then in a flash shot up still higher and hung over it. The storks arranged themselves in one enormous circle, making the noise of a storm with their wings. They filled the air with terrible cries, stretched their necks, pointed their bills upward like lances, and waited the attack. The falcon circled above them, at one time descending, at another rising, as if hesitating to sweep down since a hundred sharp beaks were waiting for her breast. Her white plumage, shone on by rays of light, gleamed like the sun itself on the clear blue of the sky. Suddenly, instead of rushing on the flock, the falcon darted like an arrow into the distance, and disappeared at once behind the trees and the reeds.
Skshetuski at first rushed after her at full speed. The envoy, the falconer, and Longin followed his example.
At the crossing of the roads the lieutenant checked his horse. A new and wonderful sight met his eye. In the middle of the road a carriage lay on its side with a broken axle. Horses detached from the carriage were held by two Cossacks. There was no driver at hand; he had evidently gone for assistance. At the side of the carriage stood two women. One wore a fox-skin cloak and a round-topped cap of the same material; her face was stern and masculine. The other was a young lady of tall stature, and gentle features of great regularity. On the shoulder of the young lady the falcon was sitting quietly. Having parted the feathers on her breast, the bird was stroking them with her bill.
The lieutenant reined in his horse till its hoofs dug into the sand of the road, and raised his hand to his cap in uncertainty, not knowing what to say—whether to greet the ladies or to speak to the falcon. He was confused also because there looked upon him from under a marten-skin hood eyes such as he had never seen in his life—black, satinlike, liquid, full of life and fire—near which the eyes of Anusia Borzobogata would be as a tallow candle before a torch. Above those eyes dark velvety brows were defined in two delicate arches; her blushing face bloomed like the most beautiful flower,
