“He will not go to the Crimea,” said Pan Bogush, “for if he had had the wish, he could have done so already; he met no hindrance.”
“On the contrary,” added Nyenashinyets, “I believe now that he will entice back all those traitorous captains to the Commonwealth again.”
“Pan Novoveski,” said Zagloba, suddenly, “if you had known that he was the son of Tugai Bey, perhaps then—perhaps so—what?”
“I should have commanded to give him, instead of three hundred, three thousand blows. May the thunderbolts shatter me if I would not have done so! Gracious gentlemen, it is a wonder to me that he, being Tugai Bey’s whelp, did not run off to the Crimea, It must be that he discovered this only recently; for when with me he knew nothing about it. This is a wonder to me, I tell you it is; but for God’s sake, do not trust him. I know him, gentlemen, longer than you do; and I will tell you only this much: the devil is not so slippery, a mad dog is not so irritable, a wolf is less malignant and cruel, than that man. He will pour tallow under the skins of you all yet.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Mushalski. “We have seen him in action at Kalnik, at Uman, at Bratslav, and in a hundred other emergencies.”
“He will not forget his own; he will have vengeance,” said Novoveski.
“But today he slew Azba’s ravagers. What are you telling us?”
Meanwhile Basia was all on fire, that history of Mellehovich occupied her so much; but she was anxious that the end should be worthy of the beginning; therefore, shaking Eva Novoveski, she whispered in her ear, “But you loved him, Eva? Own up; don’t deny! You loved him. You love him yet, do you not? I am sure you do. Be outspoken with me. In whom can you confide, if not in me, a woman? There is almost royal blood in him. The hetman will get him, not one, but ten naturalizations. Pan Novoveski will not oppose. Undoubtedly Azya himself loves you yet. I know already; I know, I know. Never fear. He has confidence in me. I will put the question to him at once. He will tell me without torture. You loved him terribly; you love him yet, do you not?”
Eva was as if dazed. When Azya showed his inclination to her the first time, she was almost a child; after that she did not see him for a number of years, and had ceased to think of him. There remained with her the remembrance of him as a passionate stripling, who was half comrade to her brother, and half serving-lad. But now she saw him again; he stood before her a handsome hero and fierce as a falcon, a famous warrior, and, besides, the son of a foreign, it is true, but princely, stock. Therefore young Azya seemed to her altogether different; therefore the sight of him stunned her, and at the time dazzled and charmed her. Memories of him appeared before her as in a dream. Her heart could not love the young man in one moment, but in one moment she felt in it an agreeable readiness to love him.
Basia, unable to question her to the end, took her, with Zosia Boski, to an alcove, and began again to insist, “Eva, tell me quickly, awfully quickly, do you love him?”
A flame beat into the face of Eva. She was a dark-haired and dark-eyed maiden, with hot blood; and that blood flew to her cheeks at any mention of love.
“Eva,” repeated Basia, for the tenth time, “do you love him?”
“I do not know,” answered Eva, after a moment’s hesitation.
“But you don’t deny? Oho! I know. Do not hesitate. I told Michael first that I loved him—no harm! and it was well. You must have loved each other terribly this long time. Ha! I understand now. It is from yearning for you that he has always been so gloomy; he went around like a wolf. The poor soldier withered away almost. What passed between you? Tell me.”
“He told me in the storehouse that he loved me,” whispered Eva.
“In the storehouse! What then?”
“Then he caught me and began to kiss me,” continued she, in a still lower voice.
“Maybe I don’t know him, that Mellehovich! And what did you do?”
“I was afraid to scream.”
“Afraid to scream! Zosia, do you hear that? When was your loving found out?”
“Father came in, and struck him on the spot with a hatchet; then he whipped me, and gave orders to flog him so severely that he was a fortnight in bed.”
Here Eva began to cry, partly from sorrow, and partly from confusion. At sight of this, the dark-blue eyes of the sensitive Zosia filled with tears, then Basia began to comfort Eva, “All will be well, my head on that! And I will harness Michael into the work, and Pan Zagloba. I will persuade them, never fear. Against the wit of Pan Zagloba nothing can stand; you do not know him. Don’t cry, Eva dear, it is time for supper.”
Mellehovich was not at supper. He was sitting in his own room, warming at the fire gorailka and mead, which he poured into a smaller cup afterward and drank, eating at the same time dry biscuits. Pan Bogush came to him late in the evening to talk over news.
The Tartar seated him at once on a chair lined with sheepskin, and placing before him a pitcher of hot drink, inquired, “But does Pan Novoveski still wish to make me his slave?”
“There is no longer any talk of that,” answered the under-stolnik of Novgrod, “Pan Nyenashinyets might claim you first; but he cares nothing for you, since his sister is already either dead, or does not wish any change in her fate. Pan Novoveski did not know who you were
