He began to pray earnestly and to appease his conscience, which repeated, “Again corpses against thee, and not corpses of Swedes.”
“O God, be merciful!” answered Kmita. “I am going to my king; there my service will begin.”
XXXII
Jendzian had no intention of passing a night at “The Mandrake,” for from Vansosh to Shchuchyn was not far—he wanted merely to give rest to his horses, especially to those drawing the loaded wagons. Therefore, when Kmita let him travel farther, Jendzian lost no time, and entered Shchuchyn late in the evening. Having announced himself to the sentries, he took his place on the square; for the houses were occupied by soldiers, who even then were not all able to find lodgings. Shchuchyn passed for a town, but was not one in reality; for it had not yet even walls, a town hall, courts of justice, or the college of monks, founded in the time of King Yan III. It had a few houses, but a greater number of cabins than houses, and was called a town, because it was built in a quadrangular form with a marketplace in the centre, slightly less swampy than the pond at which the paltry little place was situated.
Jendzian slept under his warm wolfskin till morning, and then went straight to Pan Volodyovski, who, as he had not seen him for an age, received him with gladness and took him at once to Pan Yan and Zagloba. Jendzian shed tears at sight of his former master, whom he had served faithfully so many years; and with whom he had passed through so many adventures and worked himself finally to fortune. Without shame of his former service, Jendzian began to kiss the hands of Pan Yan and repeat with emotion—
“My master, my master, in what times do we meet again!”
Then all began in a chorus to complain of the times; at last Zagloba said—
“But you, Jendzian, are always in the bosom of fortune, and as I see have come out a lord. Did I not prophesy that if you were not hanged you would have fortune? What is going on with you now?”
“My master, why hang me, when I have done nothing against God, nothing against the law? I have served faithfully; and if I have betrayed any man, he was an enemy—which I consider a special service. And if I destroyed a scoundrel here and there by stratagem, as some one of the rebels, or that witch—do you remember, my master?—that is not a sin; but even if it were a sin, it is my master’s, not mine, for it was from you that I learned stratagems.”
“Oh, that cannot be! See what he wants!” said Zagloba. “If you wish me to howl for your sins after death, give me their fruit during life. You are using alone all that wealth which you gained with the Cossacks, and alone you will be turned to roast bacon in hell.”
“God is merciful, my master, though it is untrue that I use wealth for myself alone; for first I beggared our wicked neighbors with lawsuits, and took care of my parents, who are living now quietly in Jendziane, without any disputes—for the Yavorskis have gone off with packs to beg, and I, at a distance, am earning my living as I can.”
“Then you are not living in Jendziane?” asked Pan Yan.
“In Jendziane my parents live as of old, but I am living in Vansosh, and I cannot complain, for God has blessed me. But when I heard that all you gentlemen were in Shchuchyn, I could not sit still, for I thought to myself, ‘Surely it is time to move again!’ There is going to be war, let it come!”
“Own up,” said Zagloba, “the Swedes frightened you out of Vansosh?”
“There are no Swedes yet in Vidzka, though small parties appear, and cautiously, for the peasants are terribly hostile.”
“That is good news for me,” said Volodyovski, “for yesterday I sent a party purposely to get an informant concerning the Swedes, for I did not know whether it was possible to stay in Shchuchyn with safety; surely that party conducted you hither?”
“That party? Me? I have conducted it, or rather I have brought it, for there is not even one man of that party who can sit on a horse alone.”
“What do you say? What has happened?” inquired Volodyovski.
“They are terribly beaten!” explained Jendzian.
“Who beat them?”
“Pan Kmita.”
The Skshetuskis and Zagloba sprang up from the benches, one interrupting the other in questioning—
“Pan Kmita? But what was he doing here? Has the prince himself come already? Well! Tell right away what has happened.”
Pan Volodyovski rushed out of the room to see with his eyes, to verify the extent of the misfortune, and to look at the men; therefore Jendzian said—
“Why should I tell? Better wait till Pan Volodyovski comes back; for it is more his affair, and it is a pity to move the mouth twice to repeat the same story.”
“Did you see Kmita with your own eyes?” asked Zagloba.
“As I see you, my master!”
“And spoke with him?”
“Why should I not speak with him, when we met at ‘The Mandrake’ not far from here? I was resting my horses, and he had stopped for the night. An hour would have been short for our talk. I complained of the Swedes, and he complained also of the Swedes—”
“Of the Swedes? He complained also?” asked Pan Yan.
“As of devils, though he was going among them.”
“Had he many troops?”
“He had no troops, only a few attendants; true, they were armed, and had such snouts that even those men who slaughtered the Holy Innocents at Herod’s command had not rougher or viler. He gave himself out as a small noble in pigskin boots, and said that he went with horses to the fairs. But though he had a number of horses, his story
