But the entrance of Basia arrested the attention of the throngs more than all. There were surely many women of more distinction in Kamenyets, but none whose husband was covered with more military glory. They had heard also in Kamenyets of Pani Volodyovski herself, as of a valiant lady who feared not to dwell on a watchtower in the Wilderness among wild people, who went on expeditions with her husband, and who, when carried away by a Tartar, had been able to overcome him and escape safely from his robber hands. Her fame, therefore, was immense. But those who did not know her, and had not seen her hitherto, imagined that she must be some giantess, breaking horseshoes and crushing armor. What was their astonishment when they saw a small, rosy, half childlike face!
“Is that Pani Volodyovski herself, or only her little daughter?” asked people in the crowds. “Herself,” answered those who knew her. Then admiration seized citizens, women, priests, the army. They looked with no less wonder on the invincible garrison of Hreptyoff, on the dragoons, among whom Pan Adam rode calmly, smiling with wandering eyes, and on the terrible faces of the bandits turned into Hungarian infantry. But there marched with Basia a few hundred men who were worthy of praise, soldiers by trade; courage came therefore to the townspeople. “That is no common power; they will look boldly into the eyes of the Turks,” cried the people in the crowd. Some of the citizens, and even of the soldiers, especially in the regiment of Bishop Trebitski, which regiment had come recently to Kamenyets, thought that Pan Michael himself was in the retinue, therefore they raised cries—
“Long live Pan Volodyovski!”
“Long live our defender! The most famous cavalier!”
“Vivat Volodyovski! vivat!”
Basia listened, and her heart rose; for nothing can be dearer to a woman than the fame of her husband, especially when it is sounding in the mouths of people in a great city. “There are so many knights here,” thought Basia, “and still they do not shout to any but my Michael.” And she wanted to shout herself in the chorus, “Vivat Volodyovski!” but Zagloba told her that she should bear herself like a person of distinction, and bow on both sides, as queens do when they are entering a capital. And he, too, saluted, now with his cap, now with his hand; and when acquaintances began to cry “vivat” in his honor, he answered to the crowds—
“Gracious gentlemen, he who endured Zbaraj will hold out in Kamenyets!”
According to Pan Michael’s instructions, the retinue went to the newly built cloister of the Dominican nuns. The little knight had his own house in Kamenyets; but since the cloister was in a retired place which cannonballs could hardly reach, he preferred to place his dear Basia there, all the more since he expected a good reception as a benefactor of the cloister. In fact, the abbess, Mother Victoria, the daughter of Stefan Pototski, voevoda of Bratslav, received Basia with open arms. From the embraces of the abbess she went at once to others, and greatly beloved ones—to those of her aunt, Pani Makovetski, whom she had not seen for some years. Both women wept; and Pan Makovetski, whose favorite Basia had always been, wept too. Barely had they dried these tears of tenderness when in rushed Krysia Ketling, and new greetings began; then Basia was surrounded by the nuns and noble women, known and unknown—Pani Bogush, Pani Stanislavski, Pani Kalinovski, Pani Hotsimirski, Pani Humyetski, the wife of the banneret of Podolia, a great cavalier. Some, like Pani Bogush, inquired about their husbands; others asked what Basia thought of the Turkish invasion, and whether, in her opinion, Kamenyets would hold out. Basia saw with great delight that they looked on her as having some military authority, and expected consolation from her lips. Therefore she was not niggardly in giving.
“No one says,” replied she, “that we cannot hold out against the Turks. Michael will be here today or tomorrow, at furthest in a couple of days; and when he occupies himself with the defences, you ladies may sleep quietly. Besides, the fortress is tremendously strong; in this matter, thank God, I have some knowledge.”
The confidence of Basia poured consolation into the hearts of the women; they were reassured specially by the promise of Pan Michael’s arrival. Indeed, his name was so respected that, though it was evening, officers of the place began to come at once with greetings to Basia. After the first salutations, each inquired when the little knight would come, and if really he intended to shut himself up in Kamenyets. Basia received only Major Kvasibrotski, who led the infantry of the Bishop of Krakow; the secretary, Revuski, who succeeded Pan Lanchynski, or rather, occupied his place, was at the head of the regiment, and Ketling. The doors were not open to others that day, for the lady was road-weary, and, besides, she had to occupy herself with Pan Adam. That unfortunate young man had fallen from his horse before the very cloister, and was carried to a cell in unconsciousness. They sent at once for the doctor, the same who had cured Basia at Hreptyoff. The doctor declared that there was a serious disease of the brain, and gave little hope of Pan Adam’s recovery.
Basia, Pan Mushalski, and Zagloba talked
