Now the night became darker. Fortunately snow was lying in the forest, and on the white ground she could distinguish the dark trunks of trees, see the lower limbs and avoid them. But Basia had to ride more slowly; therefore that terror of unclean powers fell on her soul again—that terror which in the beginning of the night had chilled her blood as if with ice.
“But if I see gleaming eyes low down,” said she to her frightened soul, “that’s nothing! it will be a wolf; but if at the height of a man—” At that moment, she cried aloud, “In the name of the Father, Son—”
Was that, perhaps, a wildcat sitting on a limb? It is sufficient that Basia saw clearly a pair of gleaming eyes, at the height of a man.
From fear, her eyes were covered with a mist; but when she looked again there was nothing to be seen, and nothing heard beyond a rustle among the branches, but her heart beat as loudly as if it would burst open her bosom.
And she rode farther; long, long, she rode, sighing for the light of day; but the night stretched out beyond measure. Soon after, a river barred her road again. Basia was already far enough beyond Yampol, on the bank of the Rosava; but without knowledge of where she was, she thought merely that if she continued to push forward to the north, she would soon meet a new river. She thought too that the night must be near its end; for the cold increased sensibly, the fog fell away, and stars appeared again, but dimmer, beaming with uncertain light.
At length darkness began to pale. Trunks of trees, branches, twigs, grew more visible. Perfect silence reigned in the forest—the dawn had come.
After a certain time Basia could distinguish the color of the horses. At last in the east, among the branches of the trees, a bright streak appeared—the day was there, a clear day.
Basia felt weariness immeasurable. Her mouth opened in continual yawning, and her eyes closed soon after; she slept soundly but a short time, for a branch, against which her head came, roused her. Happily the horses were going very slowly, nipping moss by the way; hence the blow was so slight that it caused her no harm. The sun had risen, and was pale; its beautiful rays broke through leafless branches. At sight of this, consolation entered Basia’s heart; she had left between her and pursuit so many steppes, mountains, ravines, and a whole night.
“If those from Yampol, or Mohiloff, do not seize me, others will not come up,” said she to herself.
She reckoned on this too—that in the beginning of her flight she had gone by a rocky road, therefore hoofs could leave no traces. But doubt began to seize her again. The Lithuanian Tartars will find tracks even on stones, and will pursue stubbornly, unless their horses fall dead; this last supposition was most likely. It was sufficient for Basia to look at her own beasts; their sides had fallen in, their heads were drooping, their eyes dim. While moving along, they dropped their heads to the ground time after time, to seize moss, or nip in passing red leaves withering here and there on the low oak bushes. It must be too that fever was tormenting Basia, for at all crossings she drank eagerly.
Nevertheless, when she came out on an open plain between two forests, she urged the wearied horses forward at a gallop, and went at that pace to the next forest.
After she had passed that forest she came to a second plain, still wider and more broken; behind hills at a distance of a mile or more smoke was rising, as straight as a pine-tree, toward the sky. That was the first inhabited place that Basia had met; for that country, excepting the riverbank itself, was a desert, or rather had been turned into a desert, not only in consequence of Tartar attacks, but by reason of continuous Polish-Cossack wars. After the last campaign of Pan Charnetski, to whom Busha fell a victim, the small towns came to be wretched settlements, the villages were overgrown with young forests; but after Charnetski, there were so many expeditions, so many battles, so many slaughters, down to the most recent times, in which the great Sobieski had wrested those regions from the enemy. Life had begun to increase; but that one tract through which Basia was fleeing was specially empty—only robbers had taken refuge there, but even they had been well-nigh exterminated by the commands at Rashkoff, Yampol, and Hreptyoff.
Basia’s first thought at sight of this smoke was to ride toward it, find a house or even a hut, or if nothing more, a simple fire, warm herself and gain strength. But soon it occurred to her that in those regions it was safer to meet a pack of wolves than to meet men; men there were more merciless and savage than wild beasts. Nay, it behooved her to urge forward her horses, and pass that forest haunt of men with all speed, for only death could await her in that place.
At the very edge of the opposite forest Basia saw a small stack of hay; so, paying no attention to anything, she stopped at it to feed her horses. They ate greedily, thrusting their heads at once to their ears in the hay, and drawing out great bunches of it. Unfortunately their bits hindered them greatly; but Basia could not unbridle them, reasoning correctly in this way:—
“Where smoke is there must be a house; as there is a stack here, they must have horses there on which they could follow me—therefore I must be ready.”
She spent, however, about an hour at the stack, so that the horses ate fairly well; and she herself ate some seeds. She then moved on, and when she had travelled a number of furlongs, all at once
