“See, my jewel, I have brought you fellow soldiers with whom I fought in the last war.”
“It is for me no small honor,” answered Panna Billevich, “to receive in my house such worthy cavaliers, of whose virtue and excellent qualities I have heard from their commander, Pan Kmita.”
When she had said this she took her skirt with the tips of her fingers, and raising it slightly, courtesied with unusual dignity. Kmita bit his lips, but at the same time he was flushed, since his maiden had spoken with such spirit.
The worthy cavaliers continuing to shuffle their feet, all nudged at the same moment Pan Kokosinski: “Well, begin!”
Kokosinski moved forward one step, cleared his throat, and began as follows: “Serene great mighty lady, under-chamberlain’s daughter—”
“Chief-hunter’s daughter,” corrected Kmita.
“Serene great mighty lady, chief-hunter’s daughter, but to us right merciful benefactress,” repeated Kokosinski—“pardon, your ladyship, if I have erred in the title—”
“A harmless mistake,” replied Panna Aleksandra, “and it lessens in no wise such an eloquent cavalier—”
“Serene great mighty lady, chief-hunter’s daughter, benefactress, and our right merciful lady, I know not what becomes me in the name of all Orsha to celebrate more—the extraordinary beauty and virtue of your ladyship, our benefactress, or the unspeakable happiness of the captain and our fellow-soldier, Pan Kmita; for though I were to approach the clouds, though I were to reach the clouds themselves—I say, the clouds—”
“But come down out of those clouds!” cried Kmita.
With that the cavaliers burst into one enormous laugh; but all at once remembering the command of Kmita, they seized their mustaches with their hands.
Kokosinski was confused in the highest degree. He grew purple, and said, “Do the greeting yourselves, pagans, since you confuse me.”
Panna Aleksandra took again, with the tips of her fingers, her skirt. “I could not follow you gentlemen in eloquence,” said she, “but I know that I am unworthy of those homages which you give me in the name of all Orsha.”
And again she made a courtesy with exceeding dignity, and it was somehow out of place for the Orsha roisterers in the presence of that courtly maiden. They strove to exhibit themselves as men of politeness, but it did not become them. Therefore they began to pull their mustaches, to mutter and handle their sabres, till Kmita said—
“We have come here as if in a carnival, with the thought to take you with us and drive to Mitruny through the forest, as was the arrangement yesterday. The snow-road is firm, and God has given frosty weather.”
“I have already sent Aunt Kulvyets to Mitruny to prepare dinner. But now, gentlemen, wait just a little till I put on something warm.”
Then she turned and went out.
Kmita sprang to his comrades. “Well, my dear lambs, isn’t she a princess? Now, Kokosinski, you said that she had saddled me, and why were you as a little boy before her? Where have you seen her like?”
“There was no call to interrupt me; though I do not deny that I did not expect to address such a person.”
“The late under-chamberlain,” said Kmita, “lived with her most of the time in Kyedani, at the court of the prince voevoda, or lived with the Hleboviches; and there she acquired those high manners. But her beauty—what of that? You cannot let your breath go yet.”
“We have appeared as fools,” said Ranitski, in anger; “but the biggest fool was Kokosinski.”
“Traitor! why punch me with your elbow? You should have appeared yourself, with your spotted mouth.”
“Harmony, lambs, harmony!” said Kmita; “I will let you admire, but not wrangle.”
“I would spring into the fire for her,” said Rekuts. “Hew me down, Yendrus, but I’ll not deny that.”
Kmita did not think of cutting down; he was satisfied, twisted his mustache, and gazed on his comrades with triumph. Now Panna Aleksandra entered, wearing a marten-skin cap, under which her bright face appeared still brighter. They went out on the porch.
“Then shall we ride in this sleigh?” asked the lady, pointing to the silvery bear. “I have not seen a more beautiful sleigh in my life.”
“I know not who has used it hitherto, for it was captured. It suits me very well, for on my shield is a lady on a bear. There are other Kmitas who have banners on their shield, but they are descended from Filon Kmita of Charnobil; he was not of the same house from which the great Kmitas are descended.”
“And when did you capture this bear sleigh?”
“Lately, in this war. We poor exiles who have fallen away from fortune have only what war gives us in plunder. But as I serve that lady faithfully, she has rewarded me.”
“May God grant a better; for war rewards one, but presses tears from the whole dear fatherland.”
“God and the hetmans will change that.”
Meanwhile Kmita wrapped Panna Aleksandra in the beautiful sleigh robe of white cloth lined with white wolfskin; then taking his own seat, he cried to the driver, “Move on!” and the horses sprang forward at a run.
The cold wind struck their faces with its rush; they were silent, therefore, and nothing was heard save the wheezing of frozen snow under the runners, the snorting of the horses, their tramp, and the cry of the driver.
At last Pan Andrei bent toward Olenka. “Is it pleasant for you?”
“Pleasant,” answered she, raising her sleeve and holding it to her mouth to ward off
