“O Almighty God!” cried he, “I asked a sedate, sober wife of Thee, and Thou didst give me a whirlwind!”
“Talk that way, talk; then I’ll die.”
“Ah, your impatience!” cried the little knight, with animation—“your impatience, tfu! tfu! a charm for a dog!” Here he turned to Zagloba: “Do you not know the words of a charm?”
“I know them, and I’ve told them,” said Zagloba.
“Write!” cried Basia, “or I shall jump out of my skin.”
“I would write twelve letters, to please you, though I know not what good that would be, for in this case the hetman himself can do nothing; even with protection, Azya can appear only at the right time. My Basia, Panna Novoveski has revealed her secret to you—very well! But you have not spoken to Azya, and you do not know to this moment whether he is burning with love for Eva or not.”
“He not burning! Why shouldn’t he be burning, when he kissed her in the storehouse? Aha!”
“Golden soul!” said Zagloba, smiling. “That is like the talk of a newly born infant, except that you turn your tongue better. My love, if Michael and I had to marry all the women whom we happened to kiss, we should have to join the Mohammedan faith at once, and I should be Sultan of Turkey, and he Khan of the Crimea. How is that, Michael, hei?”
“I suspected Michael before I was his,” said Basia; and thrusting her finger up to his eye, she began to tease him. “Move your mustaches; move them! Do not deny! I know, I know, and you know—at Ketling’s.”
The little knight really moved his mustaches to give himself courage, and at the same time to cover his confusion; at last, wishing to change the conversation, he said, “And so you do not know whether Azya is in love with Panna Eva?”
“Wait; I will talk to him alone and ask him. But he is in love, he must be in love! Otherwise I don’t want to know him.”
“In God’s name! she is ready to talk him into it,” said Zagloba.
“And I will persuade him, even if I had to shut myself in with him daily.”
“Inquire of him, to begin with,” said the little knight. “Maybe at first he will not confess, for he is shy; that is nothing. You will gain his confidence gradually; you’ll know him better; you’ll understand him, and then only can you decide what to do.” Here the little knight turned to Zagloba: “She seems giddy, but she is quick.”
“Kids are quick,” said Zagloba, seriously.
Further conversation was interrupted by Pan Bogush, who rushed in like a bomb, and had barely kissed Basia’s hands when he exclaimed, “May the bullets strike that Azya! I could not close my eyes the whole night. May the woods cover him!”
“What did Pan Azya bring against your grace?” asked Basia.
“Do you know what we were making yesterday?” And Pan Bogush, staring, began to look around on those present.
“What?”
“History! As God is dear to me, I do not lie.”
“What history?”
“The history of the Commonwealth; that is, simply a great man. Pan Sobieski himself will be astonished when I lay Azya’s ideas before him. A great man, I repeat to you; and I regret that I cannot tell you more, for I am sure that you would be as much astonished as I. I can only say that if what he has in view succeeds, God knows what he will be.”
“For example,” asked Zagloba, “will he be hetman?”
Pan Bogush put his hands on his hips: “That is it—he will be hetman. I am sorry that I cannot tell you more. He will be hetman, and that’s enough.”
“Perhaps a dog hetman, or he will go with bullocks. Chabans have their hetmans also. Tfu! what is this that your grace is saying. Pan Under-Stolnik? That he is the son of Tugai Bey is true; but if he is to become hetman, what am I to become, or what will Pan Michael become, or your grace? Shall we become three kings at the birth of Christ, waiting for the abdication of Caspar, Melchior, and Baltazar? The nobles at least created me commander; I resigned the office, however, out of friendship for Pavel,19 but, as God lives, I don’t understand your prediction.”
“But I tell you that Azya is a great man.”
“I said so,” exclaimed Basia, turning toward the door, through which other guests at the stanitsa began to enter.
First came Pani Boski with the blue-eyed Zosia, and Pan Novoveski with Eva, who, after a night of bad sleep, looked more charming than usual. She had slept badly, for strange dreams had disturbed her; she dreamed of Azya, only he was more beautiful and insistent than of old. The blood rushed to her face at thought of this dream, for she imagined that everyone would guess it in her eyes. But no one noticed her, since all had begun to say “good day” to Pani Volodyovski. Then Pan Bogush resumed his narrative touching Azya’s greatness and destiny; and Basia was glad that Eva and Pan Novoveski must listen to it. In fact, the old noble had blown off his anger since his first meeting with the Tartar, and was notably calmer. He spoke of him no longer as his man. To tell the truth, the discovery that he was a Tartar prince and a son of Tugai Bey imposed upon him beyond measure. He heard with wonder of Azya’s uncommon bravery, and how the hetman had entrusted such an important function to him as that of bringing back to the service of the Commonwealth all the Lithuanian and Podolian Tartars. At times it seemed even to Pan Novoveski that they were talking of someone else besides Azya, to such a degree had the young Tartar become uncommon.
But Pan Bogush repeated every little while,
