“The Tartar seizes people captive;
Thou seizest captive hearts!”
“What has happened to him?” asked of herself the petted favorite of the whole castle; and stamping with her little foot, she determined to investigate the matter. She didn’t love Skshetuski; but accustomed to homage, she was unable to endure neglect, and was ready from very spite to fall in love with the insolent fellow.
Once, when running with skeins of thread for the princess, she met Pan Yan coming out of the bedchamber of the prince. She ran against him like a storm, striking him full in the breast; then springing back, she exclaimed—
“Oh, how you have frightened me! Good day, sir!”
“Good day. Am I such a monster as to terrify you?”
She stood with downcast eyes, began to twist the end of her tresses, and standing first on one foot and then on the other, as if confused, she answered with a smile: “Oh, no! not at all—sure as I love my mother!” She looked quickly at the lieutenant and dropped her eyes a second time. “Are you angry with me?” asked she.
“I? But could Panna Anna care for my anger?”
“Well, to tell the truth, no. Maybe you think that I would fall to crying at once? Pan Bykhovets is more polite.”
“If that is true, there is nothing for me but to leave the field to Pan Bykhovets and vanish from the eyes of Panna Anna.”
“Do I prevent you?” Having said this, Anusia blocked the way before him. “You have just returned from the Crimea?” asked she.
“From the Crimea.”
“And what have you brought back from the Crimea?”
“I’ve brought back Pan Podbipienta. You have seen him, I think? A very amiable and excellent cavalier.”
“It is sure he is more amiable than you. And why has he come?”
“So there might be someone on whom Panna Anna might try her power. But I advise great care, for I know a secret which makes this cavalier invincible, and Panna Anna can do nothing with him.”
“Why is he invincible?”
“He cannot marry.”
“What do I care for that? Why can he not marry?”
Skshetuski bent to the ear of the young woman, but said very clearly and emphatically: “He has made a vow of celibacy.”
“Oh, you stupid!” cried Anusia, quickly; and at the same moment she shot away like a frightened bird.
That evening, however, she looked for the first time carefully at Pan Longin. The guests were numerous, for the prince gave a farewell dinner to Pan Bodzynski. Our Lithuanian, dressed with care in a white satin tunic and a dark blue velvet coat, had a grand appearance, especially since a light curved sabre hung at his side in a gilded sheath, instead of his death-dealing long sword.
The eyes of Anusia shot their darts at Pan Longin, somewhat on purpose to spite Skshetuski. The lieutenant would not have noticed them, however, had it not been for Volodyovski, who, pushing him with his elbow, said—
“May captivity strike me if Anusia isn’t making up to that Lithuanian hop-pole!”
“Tell him so.”
“Of course I will. They will make a pair.”
“Yes, he might wear her in place of a button in his coat, such is the proportion between them, or instead of a plume in his cap.”
Volodyovski went up to the Lithuanian and said: “It is not long since you arrived, but I see you are getting to be a great rogue.”
“How is that, brother? how is that?”
“You have already turned the head of the prettiest girl among the ladies in waiting.”
“Oh, my dear friend!” said Podbipienta, clasping his hands together, “what do you tell me?”
“Well, look for yourself at Panna Anusia Borzobogata, with whom we have all fallen in love, and see how she fixes you with her eyes. But look out that she doesn’t fool you as she has us!”
When he had said this, Volodyovski turned on his heel and walked off, leaving Podbipienta in meditation. He did not indeed dare to look in the direction of Anusia at once. After a time, however, he cast a quick glance at her, but he trembled. From behind the shoulder of Princess Griselda two shining eyes looked on him steadfastly and curiously. “Avaunt, Satan!” thought the Lithuanian; and he hurried off to the other end of the hall, blushing like a schoolboy.
Still, the temptation was great. That imp, looking from behind the shoulder of the princess, possessed such charm, those eyes shone so clearly, that something drew Pan Longin on to glance at them even once more. But that moment he remembered his vow. Zervikaptur stood before him, his ancestor Stoveiko Podbipienta, the three severed heads—and terror seized him. He made the sign of the cross, and looked at her no more that evening. But next morning, early, he went to the quarters of Pan Yan.
“Well, Lieutenant, are we going to march soon? What do you hear about the war?”
“You are in great straits. Be patient till you join the regiment.”
Pan Podbipienta had not yet been enrolled in the place of the late Zakshevski; he had to wait till the quarter of the year had expired—till . But he was in a real hurry; therefore he asked—
“And has the prince said nothing about this matter?”
“Nothing. The king won’t stop thinking of war while he lives, but the Commonwealth does not want
