In his own girdle; yet he writhed about,
And made such powerful springs, he fell upon
The sleepers’ chests, among their heads he rolled,
And like a pike-fish flung himself about,
Who throws him on the sand, and like a bear
He roared aloud, for he had powerful lungs.
He roared out “Treachery!” The whole assembly
Waked up, and all in chorus answered, “Treachery!
Violence! and treachery!” To the mirrored hall
The echoes of that shout arrived, where slept
The Count, Gervasy, and the jockeys. Then
Gervasy woke, in vain he strove to rise,
To his own rapier bound in stick-like form.
He looked, and through the window armèd men
Perceived, in low black hats, green uniforms.
Of these one, girded with a scarf, upheld
A sword, and with its point his company
Of soldiers ordered, whispering the while,
“Bind! bind!” Around like sheep the jockeys lie
In bonds; the Count sits unbound, but disarmed;
Beside him stand, with naked bayonets,
Two soldiers. These Gervasy recognised.
Alas! they are Muscovites!! Not seldom had
The Klucznik been in such a plight before.
Not seldom ropes were on his feet and hands,
Yet could he free himself; he knew the way
To break asunder bonds; great strength had he,
Trust in himself; in silence he considered
How best release himself. He closed his eyes,
As though he slept; he slowly lengthened out
Both feet and hands, drew in his breath, compressed
His chest unto the narrowest, until
At once contracting, swelling, rolling up,
As when a serpent hides both head and tail
Among his folds, Gervasy thus from long
Grew short and thick; the ropes expanded, they
Did even creak, but still they did not burst.
The Klucznik turned him round in shame and rage,
And on the ground his angry visage hid;
Eyes closed, he lay insensible as wood.
Then woke the drums: at first full low, and then
With ever greater and with louder rattle.
At this appel the Russian officer
Ordered the Count and jockeys to be locked
Within the hall, and under guard, to lead
The nobles to the mansion, where there stood
The second band. In vain the Baptist strove,
And flung himself about. The staff was placed
Within the mansion, and with it were many
Well-armed nobility, Podhajscy,
And Birbaszowie, Hreczechy, Biergele,
Relations all, or friends unto the Judge,
Who hastened to his succour when they heard
About the attack, the more because they long
Had been at feud with the Dobrzynskis. Who
The Muscovite battalion from the hamlets
Had brought? Who from the nobles’ farmsteads round
So fast had summoned all the neighbourhood.
The Assessor was it? or else Jankiel?
Of this were differing tales, but no one knew
For certain, either then, or later on.
Now had the sun arisen, all bloody red,
Stripped of his beams, half seen, and half in clouds
Concealed, like horseshoe in a smithy’s coals
Enkindled. Now the wind increased, and blew
Clouds from the eastward quarter, thick and ragged
Like ice-floes; every cloud cold drizzly rain
In flying scattered; after it the wind
Flew swift, and dried the rain up; and again
A damp cloud following the wind rushed on.
And thus the day by turns was chill and rainy.
Meanwhile the Major ordered to be brought
Some beams that near the house were laid to dry,
And in each beam with hatchet to be cut
A half-round opening, and in these holes
To insert the prisoners’ legs, and close them round
With other beams. Both logs of wood, with nails
Secured upon the corners, tightly pressed
Like canine jaws upon their legs; their hands
Were tighter yet secured behind their backs.
The Major, to increase their torment, ordered
Their caps to be first stripped from off their heads,
Their cloaks from off their shoulders, their kontusze,
Ev’n taratatki, even their zupany.
And thus the nobles, fettered in the stocks,
Sat in a row, their teeth all chattering,
In cold and rain, for still the wet increased.
In vain the Baptist strove, and flung about.
In vain the Judge made intercession for
The noblemen, and Telimena joined
Entreaties to Sophia’s tears, to use
Towards the prisoners greater gentleness.
The officer, indeed, who led the band,
Nikita Rykow, though a Muscovite,
A good man,222 let himself be pacified.
But what of that when he must Major Plut
Himself obey? This Major was by race
A Pole from Dzierowicz, and named, ’twas said,
In Polish Plutowicz; but he had taken
Another name; a rascal great was he,
As usual with a Pole who makes himself
A Muscovite in service of the Czar.
Plut with his pipe stood there before the front,
With hands upon his side; and when folks bowed
To him, he lifted up his nose in air,
And for all answering he blew as sign
Of angry humour from his mouth a cloud
Of smoke, and went away into the house.
But meantime had the Judge made Rykow mild,
And led the Assessor likewise on one side,
Consulting how to finish this affair
Without a trial, and, yet more important,
Without entanglement with government.
So Captain Rykow said to Major Plut,
“Sir Major, what to us are all these prisoners?
Must we deliver them unto the law?
’Twill be a great misfortune to the nobles,
And none will give you, Major, aught for this.
Major, do you know how we’ll best compose
This business? Let the Judge reward your pains.
We’ll say that we came here a-visiting,
Thus will the goats be whole, the wolf be fed.
It is a Russian proverb, ‘All things can
Be done, if but with prudence.’ And a proverb
Is this, ‘Roast on the Czar’s spit for yourself.’
And this too is a proverb, ‘Better is
Agreeing than disagreement,’ ‘Weave thou well
The knot, and put the end in water.’ We
Need give in no report, so none need know.
For ‘God gave hands to take’—a Russian proverb.”
This hearing, up the Major starts and snorts
With anger: “Rykow, are you mad? This is
The imperial service, service is not friendship.
Stupid old Rykow! Are you mad? Shall I
Let mutineers loose, in these warlike times?
Ha ha! you Poles! I’ll teach you mutiny!
You miserable nobles! you Dobrzynskis!
Eh! I’ll soon teach you! Let the wretches soak!”
He roared with laughter, from the window looking.
“Why, there’s that same Dobrzynski in a surtout!
Hey! strip him of his surtout! last year he
Began at a redoubt this quarrel with me.
And who began it? He it was, not I.
He, when I danced, exclaimed, ‘Put out that thief!’
For
