He went past without even looking at her, or saying a word. Suddenly wild anger bore him away; bitterness rose in his breast; he turned, therefore, and stood before the innocent Basia with a face changed and full of derision. “Promise your hand to Ketling,” said he, hoarsely, “then cease to love him, trample on his heart, rend it, and go to the cloister!”
“Pan Michael!” cried Basia, in amazement.
“Enjoy yourself, taste kisses, and then go to repent! Would to God that you both were killed!”
That was too much for Basia. God alone knew how much she had wrestled with herself for this wish which she had given Pan Michael—that God might change Krysia’s heart—and in return an unjust condemnation had met her, derision, insult, just at the moment in which she would have given her blood to comfort the thankless man. Therefore her soul stormed up in her as quickly as a flame; her cheeks burned; her nostrils dilated; and without an instant’s thought, she cried, shaking her yellow hair—
“Know, sir, that I am not the one who is going to the cloister for Ketling!”
When she had said this, she sprang on the stairs and vanished from before the eyes of the knight. He stood there like a stone pillar; after a while he began to rub his eyes like a man who is waking from sleep.
Then he was thirsting for blood; he seized his sabre, and cried with a terrible voice, “Woe to the traitor!”
A quarter of an hour later Pan Michael was rushing toward Warsaw so swiftly that the wind was howling in his ears, and lumps of earth were flying in a shower from the hoofs of his horse.
XX
Pan Makovetski, with his wife and Zagloba, saw Pan Michael riding away, and alarm seized all hearts; therefore they asked one another with their eyes, “What has happened; where is he going?”
“Great God!” cried Pani Makovetski; “he will go to the Wilderness, and we shall never see him again in life!”
“Or to the cloister, like that crazy woman,” said Zagloba, in despair.
“Counsel is necessary here,” said Makovetski.
With that the door opened and Basia burst into the room like a whirlwind, excited, pale, with fingers in both her eyes; stamping in the middle of the floor, like a little child, she began to scream, “Rescue! save! Pan Michael has gone to kill Ketling! Whoso believes in God, let him fly to stop him! Rescue! rescue!”
“What is the matter, girl?” cried Zagloba, seizing her hands.
“Rescue! Pan Michael will kill Ketling! Through me blood will be shed, and Krysia will die, all through me!”
“Speak!” cried Zagloba, shaking her. “How do you know? Why is it through you?”
“Because I told him in anger that they love each other; that Krysia is going behind the grating for Ketling’s sake. Whoso believes in God, stop them! Go quickly; go all of you! Let us all go!”
Zagloba, not wont to lose time in such cases, rushed to the yard and gave command to bring the carriage out at once. Pani Makovetski wished to ask Basia about the astonishing news, for up to that moment she had not suspected the love between Krysia and Ketling; but Basia rushed after Zagloba to look to the harnessing of the horses. She helped to lead out the beasts and attach them to the carriage; at last, though bareheaded, she mounted the driver’s seat before the entrance, where two men were waiting and already dressed for the road.
“Come down!” said Zagloba to her.
“I will not come down! Take your seats; you must take your seats; if not, I will go alone!” So saying, she took the reins, and they, seeing that the stubbornness of the girl might cause a considerable delay, ceased to ask her to come down.
Meanwhile the servant ran up with a whip: and Pani Makovetski succeeded in bringing out a shuba and cap to Basia, for the day was cold. Then they moved on. Basia remained on the driver’s seat. Zagloba, wishing to speak with her, asked her to sit on the front seat; but she was unwilling, it may be through fear of being scolded. Zagloba therefore had to inquire from a distance, and she answered without turning her head.
“How do you know,” asked he, “that which you told your uncle about those two?”
“I know all.”
“Did Krysia tell you?”
“Krysia told me nothing.”
“Then maybe the Scot did?”
“No, but I know; and that is why he is going to England. He fooled everybody but me.”
“A wonderful thing!” said Zagloba.
“This is your work,” said Basia; “you should not have pushed them against each other.”
“Sit there in quiet, and do not thrust yourself into what does not belong to you,” answered Zagloba, who was struck to the quick because this reproach was made in presence of Makovetski. Therefore he added after a while, “I push anybody! I advise! Look at that! I like such suppositions.”
“Ah, ha! do you think you did not?” retorted the maiden.
They went forward in silence. Still, Zagloba could not free himself from the thought that Basia was right, and that he was in great part the cause of all that had happened. That thought grieved him not a little; and since the carriage jolted unmercifully, the old noble fell into the worst humor and did not spare himself reproaches.
“It would be the proper thing,” thought he, “for Michael and Ketling to cut off my ears in company. To make a man marry against his will is the same as to command him to ride with his face to a horse’s tail. That fly is right! If those men have a duel, Ketling’s blood will be on me. What kind of business have I begun in my old age! Tfu, to the Devil! Besides, they almost fooled me, for I barely guessed why
