“Michael,” said she, “it is so cold outside the windows for the soldiers, give command to let them have a keg of gorailka.”
He, being unusually jovial, fell to kissing her hands, and cried—
“I would not spare blood to please you!”
Then he hurried out himself to tell the soldiers at whose instance they were to have the keg; for he wished them to thank Basia, and love her the more.
In answer, they raised such a shout that the snow began to fall from the roof; the little knight cried in addition, “Let the muskets roar there as a vivat to the Pani!” Upon his return to the room he found Basia dancing with Azya. When the Tartar embraced that sweet figure with his arm, when he felt the warmth coming from her and her breath on his face, his pupils went up almost into his skull, and the whole world turned before his eyes; in his soul he gave up paradise, eternity, and for all the houris he wanted only this one.
Then Basia, when she noticed in passing the crimson jacket of Eva, curious to know if Azya had proposed yet, inquired—
“Have you told her?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“It is not time yet,” said he, with a strange expression.
“But are you greatly in love?”
“To the death, to the death!” answered the Tartar, with a low but hoarse voice, like the croaking of a raven.
And they danced on, immediately after Pan Adam, who had pushed to the front. Others had changed partners, but Pan Adam did not let Zosia go; only at times he seated her on a bench to rest and recover breath, then he revelled again. At last he stopped before the orchestra, and holding Zosia with one arm, cried to the musicians—
“Play the krakoviak! on with it!”
Obedient to command, they played at once. Pan Adam kept time with his foot, and sang with an immense voice—
“Lost are crystal torrents,
In the Dniester River;
Lost in thee, my heart is,
Lost in thee, O maiden!
U-há!”
And that U-há he roared out in such Cossack fashion that Zosia was drooping from fear. The dignified Naviragh, standing near, was frightened, the two learned Anardrats were frightened; but Pan Adam led the dance farther. Twice he made the circle of the room, and stopping before the musicians, sang of his heart again—
“Lost, but not to perish,
Though the current snatch it;
In the depth ’twill seek out
And bear back a gold ring.
U-há!”
“Very pretty rhymes,” cried Zagloba; “I am skilled in the matter, for I have made many such. Bark away, cavalier, bark away; and when you find the ring I will continue in this sense—
“Flint are all the maidens,
Steel are all the young men;
You’ll have sparks in plenty
If you strike with will.
U-há!”
“Vivat! vivat Pan Zagloba!” cried the officers, with a mighty voice, so that the dignified Naviragh was frightened, and the two learned Anardrats were frightened, and began to look at one another with exceeding amazement.
But Pan Adam went around twice more, and seated his partner at last on the bench, panting, and astonished at the boldness of her cavalier. He was very agreeable to her, so valiant and honest, a regular conflagration; but just because she had not met such a man hitherto, great confusion seized her—therefore, dropping her eyes still lower, she sat in silence, like a little innocent.
“Why are you silent; are you grieving for something?” asked Pan Adam.
“I am; my father is in captivity,” answered Zosia, with a thin voice.
“Never mind that,” said the young man; “it is proper to dance! Look at this room; here are some tens of officers, and most likely no one of them will die his own death, but from arrows of Pagans or in bonds—this one today, that tomorrow. Each man on these frontiers has lost someone, and we make merry lest God might think that we murmur at our service. That is it. It is proper to dance. Laugh, young lady! show your eyes, for I think that you hate me!”
Zosia did not raise her eyes, it is true; but she began to raise the corners of her mouth, and two dimples were formed in her rosy cheeks.
“Do you love me a little bit?” asked he.
And Zosia, in a still lower voice, said, “Yes; but—”
When he heard this. Pan Adam started up, and seizing Zosia’s hands, began to cover them with kisses, and cry—
“Lost! No use in talking; I love you to death! I don’t want anyone but you, my dearest beauty! Oh, save me, how I love you! In the morning I’ll fall at your mother’s feet. What?—in the morning! I’ll fall tonight, so as to be sure that you are mine!”
A tremendous roar of musketry outside the window drowned Zosia’s answer. The delighted soldiers were firing, as a vivat for Basia; the windowpanes rattled, the walls trembled. The dignified Naviragh was frightened a third time; the two learned Anardrats were frightened; but Zagloba, standing near, began to pacify them.
“With the Poles,” said he to them, “there is never rejoicing without outcry and clamor.”
In truth, it came out that all were just waiting for that firing from muskets to revel in the highest degree. The usual ceremony of nobles began now to give way to the wildness of the steppe. Music thundered again; dances burst out anew, like a storm; eyes were flashing and fiery; mist rose from the forelocks. Even the oldest went into the dance; loud shouts were heard every moment; and they drank and frolicked—drank healths from Basia’s slipper; fired from pistols at Eva’s boot-heels. Hreptyoff shouted and roared and sang till daybreak, so that the beasts in the neighboring wilds hid from fear in the deepest thickets.
Since that was almost on the eve of a terrible war with the Turkish power, and over all these people terror and destruction were hanging, the dignified Naviragh wondered beyond measure at those Polish soldiers, and the two learned Anardrats wondered no less.
