After he had refreshed himself Skshetuski said: “Worthy princess! time flies, and we must be on horseback in a moment; but before we thank you with grateful hearts for your entertainment, I have an important affair on which I should like to say a few words to you and your sons apart.”
Astonishment was visible on the face of the princess. She looked at her sons, at the envoy, and Pan Longin, as if trying to divine from their faces what the question might be; and with a certain alarm in her voice she said: “I am at your service.”
The envoy wished to retire, but she did not permit him. They went at once to the room which was hung with armor and weapons. The young princes took their places in a row behind their mother, who, standing opposite Skshetuski, asked: “Of what affair do you wish to speak, sir?”
The lieutenant fastened a quick and indeed severe glance on her, and said: “Pardon me, Princess, and you, young Princes, that I act contrary to custom, and instead of speaking through ambassadors of distinction, I am the advocate in my own cause. But it cannot be otherwise; and since no man can battle with necessity, I present my humble request to you as guardians to be pleased to give me Princess Helena as wife.”
If at that moment of the winter season lightning had descended in front of the house at Rozlogi, it would have caused less astonishment to the princess and her sons than those words of the lieutenant. For a time they looked with amazement on the speaker, who stood before them erect, calm, and wonderfully proud, as if he intended not to ask, but to command; and they could not find a word of answer, but instead, the princess began to ask—
“How is this? Are you speaking of Helena?”
“I am, Princess, and you hear my fixed resolve.”
A moment of silence followed.
“I am waiting for your answer, Princess.”
“Forgive me, sir,” said she, coughing; and her voice became dry and sharp. “The proposal of such a knight is no small honor for us; but nothing can come of it, since I have already promised Helena to another.”
“But be pleased to consider, as a careful guardian, whether that promise was not made against the will of the princess, and if I am not better than he to whom you have promised her.”
“Well, sir, it is for me to judge who is better. You may be the best of men; but that is nothing to us, for we do not know you.”
The lieutenant straightened himself still more proudly, and his glances, though cold, became sharp as knives.
“But I know you, you traitors!” he burst forth. “You wish to give your relative to a peasant, on condition that he leaves you property unjustly acquired.”
“You are a traitor yourself!” shouted the princess. “Is this your return for hospitality? Is this the gratitude you cherish in your heart? Oh, serpent! What kind of person are you? Whence have you come?”
The fingers of the young princes began to quiver, and they looked along the walls for weapons; but the lieutenant cried out—
“Wretches! you have seized the property of an orphan, but to no purpose. In a day from now Vishnyevetski will know of this.”
At these words the princess rushed to the end of the room, and seizing a dart, went up to the lieutenant. The young men also, having seized each what he could lay hands on—one a sabre, another a knife—stood in a half-circle near him, panting like a pack of mad wolves.
“You will go to the prince, will you?” shouted the old woman; “and are you sure that you will go out of here alive, and that this is not your last hour?”
Skshetuski crossed his arms on his breast, and did not wink an eye.
“I am on my way from the Crimea,” said he, “as an envoy of Prince Yeremi. Let a single drop of my blood fall here, and in three days the ashes of this house will have vanished, and you will rot in the dungeons of Lubni. Is there power in the world to save you? Do not threaten, for I am not afraid of you.”
“We may perish, but you will perish first.”
“Then strike! Here is my breast.”
The princes, with their mother near them, held weapons pointed at the breast of the lieutenant; but it seemed as if invisible fetters held their hands. Panting, and gnashing their teeth, they struggled in vain rage, but none of them struck a blow. The terrible name of Vishnyevetski deprived them of strength. The lieutenant was master of the position.
The weak rage of the princess was poured out in a mere torrent of abuse: “Trickster! beggar! you want princely blood. But in vain; we will give her to anyone, but not to you. The prince cannot make us do that.”
Skshetuski answered: “This is no time for me to speak of my nobility. I think, however, that your rank might well bear the sword and shield behind mine. But for that matter, since a peasant was good in your eyes, I am better. As to my fortune, that too may be compared with yours; and since you say that you will not give me Helena, then listen to what I tell you: I will leave you in Rozlogi, and ask no account of guardianship.”
“Do not give that which is not yours.”
“I give nothing but my promise for the future. I give it, and strengthen it with my knightly word. Now choose, either to render account to the prince of your guardianship and leave Rozlogi, or give me Helena and you may keep the land.”
The dart dropped slowly from the hand of the princess, and after a moment fell on the floor with a rattle.
“Choose,” repeated Skshetuski—“either peace or war!”
“It is lucky,” said she, more mildly, “that
