I’ll tell you later on. But as to what
Concerns the bear escaping from the toils,
That the young gentlemen did not, as fitting,
Engage the beast, although they had a spear,
No one will praise this, neither blame. To fly,
With charge already loaded, formerly
Had shown a man a coward of cowards; and
To fire off blindly, as too many do,
Not letting come the beast in rifle range,
Nor taking aim, were a disgraceful thing.
But who well measureth, and lets the beast
Approach him as is fitting, though he miss,
May without shame retire, or with the spear
Engage him, but of free will, not compulsion;
Because the spear to hunters is not given
To make attack, but for their own defence.
And so believe me, and your drawing back
Take ye not thus to heart, beloved Thaddeus,
And you, most powerful Count. But often as
You shall recall this day’s events, remember
The ancient Wojski’s warning; let not one
Thus place himself upon another’s way,
Nor either let the two of you again
Together measure at like game.” Soon as
The Wojski had this latter word pronounced,
The Assessor whispered half aloud, “Like dame.”153
“Bravo!” exclaimed the young men. Murmurs rose,
And laughter; they repeated all around
Hreczecha’s warning, chiefly the last words,
And others, laughing loud, said, “At one dame.”
The Regent whispered, “Woman;” the Assessor
“Coquette,”154 on Telimena fixing eyes
Sharp-piercing as stilettos. Never thought
The ancient Wojski to upbraid a soul,
Nor marked he what they whispered all around;
But glad indeed that he had caused to laugh
The ladies and the young men, he turned round
Towards the hunters, wishing likewise these
To gladden. He began, outpouring wine:
“In vain my eyes do seek the Bernardine;
I should be glad to tell him a strange chance,
Like that occurrence of our hunt to-day.
The Klucznik said he only knew one man
As true a shot as Robak from so far;
But I have known another, just as good—
He saved two gentlemen. Myself I saw it,
The time when, in the Naliboko woods,
Our nuncio, Thaddeus Rejtan, and the Prince
Denassau went to hunt. These gentlemen
Did envy not the glory of that noble;
But rather, they were first to drink his health
At table, and bestowed on him great gifts
Unnumbered, and the skin of the slain boar.
Concerning this wild boar, likewise the shot,
I will relate the tale, for I was present
As an eye-witness, and it much resembled
To-day’s occurrence; but it chanced unto
The greatest hunters of my time, our envoy
Rejtan, and Prince Denassau.” But just then
The Judge, his goblet filling up, began,
“I drink the health of Robak; in your hands,
Wojski! If we may not make rich a friar
By presents, let us try at least to pay him
For powder spent. We may be sure the bear,
Slain in the forest, will two years at least
The convent kitchen furnish forth. But I
Will not bestow the skin upon the priest,
For either I must take it back by force,
Or else the friar must from humility
Abandon it, or I must buy it back
Even with a tithe of sable. Let us then
Bestow this skin according to our will,
The servant of the Lord already has
The chiefest garland ta’en and highest praise.
Let then the Most Illustrious Chamberlain
Adjudge the gift to him who has deserved
The second prize.” The Chamberlain then smoothed
His forehead, and half shut his eyes. The hunters
Began to murmur; each one something said,
The one how he had first espied the beast,
The other how he wounded it; one there
Had called the dogs, another had driven back
The game into the toils. The Regent quarrelled
With the Assessor, one extolling loud
The excellence of his Sanguszko gun,
The other of his Sagalas. “My neighbour!
Judge,” said the Chamberlain at last, “most justly
The servant of the Lord has won the first
Reward; but ’tis not easy to decide
Who next to him in glory stands. For all
Appear to me in merit equal; all
Alike in skill, experience, courage seem.
However, fate distinguished two to-day
By danger; two men nearest were unto
The creature’s claws; the Count and Thaddeus.
The skin is theirs. But Master Thaddeus,
I am sure, will waive his right, as of the two
The younger, and related to our host.
Take then, Sir Count, the spolia opima,155
And let these spoils your hunting-chamber deck.
Be it a memory of this day’s sport,
An emblem of the hunter’s fortune, spur
To future glory.” Here he ceased, in joy,
Believing that the Count was much rejoiced.
He knew not how he pierced his breast with grief,
For at the mention of the hunting-chamber
The Count, despite himself, upraised his eyes;
Those heads of stags, those branching horns, a forest
Of laurels planted by the fathers’ hands
As garlands for their sons; those columned rows
Adorned with portraits, and that shining crest,
The half-goat on the archèd roof, called loud,
On every side, with voices of the past.
He roused him from his dreams, remembered where
He was, and whose guest. He, the proper heir
Of the Horeszkos, in his fathers’ halls,
A banquet-sharer of Soplicas, foes
Eternal of his race. With bitter laugh
He answered thus: “My house is far too small;
There’s no place in it worthy of a gift
Of such magnificence. Let then the bear
Rest here among these hornèd beasts, until
The Judge will condescend to give it me
Together with the castle.” Quickly guessed
The Chamberlain the thing of which he spake.
He tapped his golden snuff-box, asking hearing.
“You are of praise deserving, neighbour Count,”
He said, “in that to business you attend
At dinner even; not like men of fashion
Of your age, who without a reckoning live.
I’ll pledge myself, and do desire to end
By compromise my verdict. Heretofore
The only difficulty doth consist
In the court foundation. But I have a plan
Of making an exchange, and compensating
With land for the foundation, in this wise;”—
And here in order he began to unfold
In order, as he aye was wont to do,
The plan of this exchange. Already half
The subject he had ended, when began
A sudden movement at the table’s end.
Some there observed an object strange; they pointed
Towards it; others ran there with their eyes.
And all the heads at last, like ears of corn
Bent backwards by the wind, turned towards the side
Opposing, to a corner. From that corner,
Where hung the portrait of the dead man,
