“I did not show myself through fear of punishment, which would be repugnant to my rank and dignity of officer. I waited for a letter of pardon; I saw nothing of the letter, you saw nothing of me.”
“But are you not afraid at present?”
The young man showed his white teeth with a smile. “This place is governed by military power, to which even the power of a father must yield. Why should you not, my benefactor, embrace me, for you have a hearty desire to do so?”
Saying this, he opened his arms, and Pan Novoveski did not know himself what to do. Indeed, he could not quarrel with that son who went out of the house a lad, and returned now a mature man and an officer surrounded with military renown. And this and that flattered greatly the fatherly pride of Pan Novoveski; he hesitated only out of regard for his personal dignity.
But the son seized him; the bones of the old noble cracked in the bear-like embrace, and this touched him completely.
“What is to be done?” cried he, panting. “He feels, the rascal, that he is sitting on his own horse, and is not afraid. ’Pon my word! if I were at home, indeed I should not be so tender; but here, what can I do? Well, come on again.”
And they embraced a second time, after which the young man began to inquire hurriedly for his sister.
“I gave command to keep her aside till I called her,” said the father; “the girl will jump almost out of her skin.”
“For God’s sake, where is she?” cried the son, and opening the door he began to call so loudly that an echo answered, “Eva! Eva!” from the walls.
Eva, who was waiting in the next chamber, rushed in at once; but she was barely able to cry “Adam!” when strong arms seized her and raised her from the floor. The brother had loved her greatly always; in old times, while protecting her from the tyranny of their father, he took her faults on himself frequently, and received the floggings due her. In general the father was a despot at home, really cruel; therefore the maiden greeted now in that strong brother, not a brother merely, but her future refuge and protection. He kissed her on the head, on the eyes and hands; at times he held her at arms’ length, looked into her face, and cried out with delight—
“A splendid girl, as God is dear to me!” Then again, “See how she has grown! A stove,24 not a maiden!”
Her eyes were laughing at him. They began to talk then very rapidly, of their long separation, of home and the wars. Old Pan Novoveski walked around them and muttered. The son made a great impression on him; but at times disquiet touching his own future authority seemed to seize him. Those were the days of great parental power, which grew to boundless preponderance afterward; but this son was that partisan, that soldier from the wild stanitsas, who, as Pan Novoveski understood at once, was riding on his own special horse. Pan Novoveski guarded his parental authority jealously. He was certain, however, that his son would always respect him, would give him his due; but would he yield always like wax, would he endure everything as he had endured when a stripling? “Bah!” thought the old man, “if I make up my mind to it, I’ll treat him like a stripling. He is daring, a lieutenant; he imposes on me, as I love God.” To finish all, Pan Novoveski felt that his fatherly affection was growing each minute, and that he would have a weakness for that giant of a son.
Meanwhile Eva was twittering like a bird, overwhelming her brother with questions. “When would he come home; and wouldn’t he settle down, wouldn’t he marry?” She in truth does not know clearly, and is not certain; but as she loves her father, she has heard that soldiers are given to falling in love. But now she remembers that it was Paul Volodyovski who said so. How beautiful and kind she is, that Pani Volodyovski! A more beautiful and better is not to be found in all Poland with a candle. Zosia Boski alone might, perhaps, be compared with her.
“Who is Zosia Boski?” asked Pan Adam.
“She who with her mother is stopping here, whose father was carried off by the Tartars. If you see her yourself you will fall in love with her.”
“Give us Zosia Boski!” cried the young officer.
The father and Eva laughed at such readiness.
“Love is like death,” said Pan Adam: “it misses no one. I was still smooth-faced, and Pani Volodyovski was a young lady, when I fell terribly in love with her. Oi! dear God! how I loved that Basia! But what of it! ‘I will tell her so,’ thought I. I told her, and the answer was as if someone had given me a slap in the face. Shu, cat away from the milk! She was in love with Pan Volodyovski, it seems, already; but what is the use in talking?—she was right.”
“Why?” asked old Pan Novoveski.
“Why? This is why: because I, without boasting, could meet everyone else with the sabre; but he would not amuse himself with me while you could say ‘Our Father’ twice. And besides he is a partisan beyond compare, before whom Rushchyts himself would take off his cap. What, Pan Rushchyts? Even the Tartars love him. He is the greatest soldier in the Commonwealth.”
“And how he and his wife love each other! Ai, ai! enough to make your eyes ache to look at them,” put in Eva.
“Ai, your mouth waters! Your mouth waters, for your time has come too,” exclaimed Pan Adam. And putting his hands on his hips he began to nod his head, as a horse does; but she answered modestly—
“I have no thought of it.”
“Well,
