These then surrounded the laughing Pan Andrei. Kokosinski raised the eared bowl and intoned:—
“Drink with us, dear host of ours,
Dear host of ours!
With us thou mightst drink to the grave,
Drink to the grave!”
Others repeated the chorus; then Kokosinski gave Kmita the eared bowl, and Zend gave Kokosinski a goblet.
Kmita raised high the eared bowl and shouted, “Health to my maiden!”
“Vivat! vivat!” cried all voices, till the windowpanes began to rattle in their leaden fittings. “Vivat! the mourning will pass, the wedding will come!”
They began to pour forth questions: “But how does she look? Hei! Yendrus,9 is she very pretty, or such as you pictured her? Is there another like her in Orsha?”
“In Orsha?” cried Kmita. “In comparison with her you might stop chimneys with our Orsha girls! A hundred thunders! there’s not another such in the world.”
“That’s the kind we wanted for you,” answered Ranitski. “Well, when is the wedding to be?”
“The minute the mourning is over.”
“Oh, fie on the mourning! Children are not born black, but white.”
“When the wedding comes, there will be no mourning. Hurry, Yendrus!”
“Hurry, Yendrus!” all began to exclaim at once.
“The little bannerets of Orsha are crying in heaven for the earth,” said Kokosinski.
“Don’t make the poor little things wait!”
“Mighty lords,” added Rekuts-Leliva, with a thin voice, “at the wedding we’ll drink ourselves drunk as fools.”
“My dear lambs,” said Kmita, “pardon me, or, speaking more correctly, go to a hundred devils, let me look around in my own house.”
“Nonsense!” answered Uhlik. “Tomorrow the inspection, but now all to the table; there is a pair of demijohns there yet with big bellies.”
“We have already made inspection for you. This Lyubich is a golden apple,” said Ranitski.
“A good stable!” cried Zend; “there are two ponies, two splendid hussar horses, a pair of Jmud horses, and a pair of Kalmuks—all in pairs, like eyes in the head. We will look at the mares and colts tomorrow.”
Here Zend neighed like a horse; they wondered at his perfect imitation, and laughed.
“Is there such good order here?” asked Kmita, rejoiced.
“And how the cellar looks!” piped Rekuts; “resinous kegs and mouldy jugs stand like squadrons in ranks.”
“Praise be to God for that! let us sit down at the table.”
“To the table! to the table!”
They had barely taken their places and filled their cups when Ranitski sprang up again: “To the health of the Under-chamberlain Billevich!”
“Stupid!” answered Kmita, “how is that? You are drinking the health of a dead man.”
“Stupid!” repeated the others. “The health of the master!”
“Your health!”
“May we get good in these chambers!”
Kmita cast his eyes involuntarily along the dining-hall, and he saw on the larch wood walls, blackened by age, a row of stern eyes fixed on him. Those eyes were gazing out of the old portraits of the Billeviches, hanging low, within two ells of the floor, for the wall was low. Above the portraits in a long unbroken row were fixed skulls of the aurochs, of stags, of elks, crowned with their antlers: some, blackened, were evidently very old; others were shining with whiteness. All four walls were ornamented with them.
“The hunting must be splendid, for I see abundance of wild beasts,” said Kmita.
“We will go tomorrow or the day after. We must learn the neighborhood,” answered Kokosinski. “Happy are you, Yendrus, to have a place to shelter your head!”
“Not like us,” groaned Ranitski.
“Let us drink for our solace,” said Rekuts.
“No, not for our solace,” answered Kulvyets-Hippocentaurus, “but once more to the health of Yendrus, our beloved captain. It is he, my mighty lords, who has given here in Lyubich an asylum to us poor exiles without a roof above our heads.”
“He speaks justly,” cried a number of voices; “Kulvyets is not so stupid as he seems.”
“Hard is our lot,” piped Rekuts. “Our whole hope is that you will not drive us poor orphans out through your gates.”
“Give us peace,” said Kmita; “what is mine is yours.”
With that all rose from their places and began to take him by the shoulders. Tears of tenderness flowed over those stern drunken faces.
“In you is all our hope, Yendrus,” cried Kokosinski, “Let us sleep even on pea straw; drive us not forth.”
“Give us peace,” repeated Kmita.
“Drive us not forth; as it is, we have been driven—we nobles and men of family,” said Uhlik, plaintively.
“To a hundred fiends with you, who is driving you out? Eat, drink! What the devil do you want?”
“Do not deny us,” said Ranitski, on whose face spots came out as on the skin of a leopard. “Do not deny us, Andrei, or we are lost altogether.”
Here he began to stammer, put his finger to his forehead as if straining his wit, and suddenly said, looking with sheepish eyes on those present, “Unless fortune changes.”
And all blurted out at once in chorus, “Of course it will change.”
“And we will yet pay for our wrongs.”
“And come to fortune.”
“And to office.”
“God bless the innocent! Our prosperity!”
“Your health!” cried Pan Andrei.
“Your words are holy, Yendrus,” said Kokosinski, placing his chubby face before Kmita. “God grant us improvement of fortune!”
Healths began to go around, and tufts to steam. All were talking, one interrupting the other; and each heard only himself, with the exception of Rekuts, who dropped his head on his breast and slumbered. Kokosinski began to sing, “She bound the flax in bundles,” noting which Uhlik took a flageolet from his bosom and accompanied him.
Ranitski, a great fencer, fenced with his naked hand against an unseen opponent, repeating in an undertone, “You thus, I thus; you cut, I strike—one, two, three, check!”
The gigantic Kulvyets-Hippocentaurus stared fixedly for some time at Ranitski; at last he waved his hand and said: “You’re a fool! Strike your best, but still you can’t hold your own before Kmita with a sabre.”
“For no one can stand before him; but try
