Thou never shall come forth! I swear it, thou
Who hast sucked Horeszko’s drops of blood away.”
Meanwhile the priest sat up upon the couch,
And ended thus: “I rode around the castle.
How many devils were there in my head,
And in my heart! who shall repeat their names?
The Pantler slayeth his own child. Already
Me has he slain, annihilated.’ Under
The door I rode; some devil lured me there.
Look on his riot! Drunkenness each day
Within the castle, and how many lights
The windows show; what music in the halls!
And will that castle not in ruins fall
Upon his bald head? “Think of vengeance, swift
Will Satan give a weapon to thy hand.
Scarce I imagined it, when Satan sent
The Muscovites! I stood on gazing. Thou
Knowest how they stormed your castle. “But ’tis false
That I was in accord with Muscovites!
“I gazed on. Various thoughts swarmed through my head.
First with a foolish smile, as children look
On conflagration, gazed I; then I felt
A murderer’s joy, and while I waited, swift
The castle walls began to burn and fall.
At times the thought possessed me to rush in,
To rescue her, the Pantler even—
“Ye did defend yourselves, thou knowest, bravely
And prudently. I marvelled. Round me fell
The Muscovites. Those cattle! ill they aim!
On viewing their disasters, once again
Did spite possess me. Shall this Pantler be
Victorious, and shall all things in the world.
Thus prosper for him? And shall he come forth
With triumph from this terrible attack?
I rode away in shame. Just then ’twas morn.
Then looked I up, I knew him. He came forth
Upon the balcony, his diamond clasp
Did in the sunlight glitter, and he twirled
His whisker proudly, and a proud glance threw.
It seemed that unto me especially
He bade defiance, that he knew me, and
Thus stretched his hand towards me, mocking me,
And threatening. I a Russian’s rifle grasped,
Scarce pointed, scarce took aim, but off it went!
Thou knowest!—
“Cursed be those firearms! He who slays with sword
Must place himself, attack and parry, turn;
He may disarm his foe, may stay the sword
Half-way; but with these firearms! ’tis enough
To touch the lock! a moment? one sole spark!
“Did I fly then, when thou took’st aim at me
From overhead? I fixed my eyes upon
My gun’s two barrels; and some strange despair,
Some wondrous sorrow, fixed me to the earth.
Why then, alas! Gervasy, why didst thou
Then miss me? Thou hadst done me service thus!
But well it might be seen for expiation
Of sin ’twas needful”— Here again he failed
For want of breath. “God knows,” the Klucznik said,
“I truly wished to hit thee! How much blood
By that one shot of thine hast thou poured forth!
How many miseries fell on us, and on
Thine own race, all through thy fault, Master Jacek!
But when the Jägers for their target took
The last of the Horeszkos, although by
The spindle side, thou didst him shield, and when
A Muscovite did fire at me, thou didst
Cast me to earth, and thus didst save us both.
If true it is thou art a cloistered priest,
Thy frock alone protects thee from the Penknife.
Farewell, no more I’ll tarry on your threshold.
Let us be quits, and leave to Heaven the rest.”
Jacek stretched forth his hand. Gervasy drew
Backwards. “I cannot,” said he, “without shame
To my nobility, e’er touch a hand
With such a murder stained, from private vengeance,
And not pro bono publico.” But Jacek
Sank from the pillows back upon the couch,
And turned towards the Judge, and ever paler,
Asked anxiously about the parish priest;
And to the Klucznik called, “I do beseech you,
That you remain! I presently will end.
I scarce have power sufficient.” “What, my brother!”
The Judge exclaimed; “thy wound is not so grave.
What sayest thou of the parish priest? Perhaps
It was ill dressed. I’ll call the doctor here.
“Or in our store of medicines”—The priest
Broke in: “My brother, ’twere in vain! It is
A former wound from Jena; ’twas ill-healed,
And now fresh opened; there is gangrene here.
I understand wounds. Look how black the blood,
Like pitch! What use the doctor here? but that
A vain thing is! Once only can we die;
Give up our soul to-morrow, or to-day.
Sir Klucznik, wilt thou pardon me? I must
Conclude— “There is in this some merit, not
To will to be a traitor to the nation,
Although the nation traitor thee proclaim;
For him, above all, in whom dwells such pride
As dwelt in me.— “The name of traitor clung
To me like pestilence. All patriots
Did turn their faces from me; former friends
Fled from me; he who timid was, afar
Saluted and avoided me; and even
Each wretched peasant, miserable Jew,
Although he bowed, did pierce me from aside
With mocking smile. The name of traitor rung
Within my ears, with echo did resound
At home, abroad. That word from morn till dusk
Before me circled, as a spot before
An eye diseased. And yet no traitor was I
Unto my country”—
“The Muscovites would gain me partisan;
They gave to the Soplicas a large share
Of the deceased man’s lands; and later on
The Targowica traitors241 wished to honour
Me with an office. If I then had willed
To Russianise myself, which Satan counselled,
I had by now most rich and powerful grown.
Had I become a Muscovite, the highest
Magnates had sought my favour, even my brother
Nobles, and even the commonality,
Who do so readily despise their own,
Forgive those happier who serve Muscovy!
I knew all that—but yet—I could not!—
“From the land I fled—
Where have I not been? what have I not suffered?
“Until God deigned reveal the only cure:
I must reform myself, and must repair,
As far as in my power might lie—
“The Pantler’s daughter, with the Wojewode,
Her husband, somewhere in Siberia.
Transported, there died early. In this country
She left Sophia, her little daughter. I
Commanded she should be adopted—
“Maybe from foolish pride, far more than love,
I slew; so must I show humility.
I went among the monks. I, once so proud
Of race, I, who was as a blusterer,
Did bow my head, a friar; I called me Robak,
Since like a worm in dust—
“That ill example for the Fatherland,
Encouragement to treason, it was needful
By good example to redeem, by blood,
By sacrifice—
“I for my country fought; -but where I
