The sleigh dashed on like a whirlwind. The day was bright, frosty; the snow sparkled as if someone were scattering sparks on it. From the white roofs of the cottages, which were like piles of snow, rosy smoke curled in high columns. Flocks of crows from among the leafless trees by the roadside flew before the sleighs with shrill cawing.
About eighty rods from Vodokty they came out on a broad road into dark pinewoods which stood gloomy, hoary, and silent as if sleeping under the thick snow-bunches. The trees flitted before the eye, appeared to be fleeing to some place in the rear of the sleigh; but the sleigh flew on, every moment swiftly, more swiftly, as if the horses had wings. From such driving the head turns, and ecstasy seizes one; it seized Panna Aleksandra. She leaned back, closed her eyes, and yielded completely to the impetus. She felt a sweet powerlessness, and it seemed to her that that boyar of Orsha had taken her by violence: that he is rushing away like a whirlwind, and she growing weak has no strength to oppose or to cry—and they are flying, flying each moment more swiftly. Olenka feels that arms are embracing her; then on her cheek as it were a hot burning stamp. Her eyes will not open, as if in a dream; and they fly, fly.
An inquiring voice first roused the sleeping lady: “Do you love me?”
She opened her eyes. “As my own soul.”
“And I for life and death.”
Again the sable cap of Kmita bent over the marten-skin cap of Olenka. She knew not herself which gave her more delight—the kisses or the magic ride.
And they flew farther, but always through pinewoods, through pinewoods. Trees fled to the rear in whole regiments. The snow was wheezing, the horses snorting; but the man and the maiden were happy.
“I would ride to the end of the world in this way,” cried Kmita.
“What are we doing? This is a sin!” whispered Olenka.
“What sin? Let us commit it again.”
“Impossible! Mitruny is not far.”
“Far or near, ’tis all one!”
And Kmita rose in the sleigh, stretched his arms upward, and began to shout as if in a full breast he could not find place for his joy: “Hei-ha! hei-ha!”
“Hei-hop! hoop-ha!” answered the comrades from the sleighs behind.
“Why do you shout so?” asked the lady.
“Oh, so, from delight! And shout you as well!”
“Hei-ha!” was heard the resonant, thin alto voice.
“O thou, my queen! I fall at thy feet.”
“The company will laugh.”
After the ecstasy a noisy joyousness seized them, as wild as the driving was wild. Kmita began to sing—
“Look thou, my girl! look through the door,
To the rich fields!
Oh, knights from the pinewoods are coming, my mother,
Oh, that’s my fate!
Look not, my daughter! cover thy eyes,
With thy white hands,
For thy heart will spring out of thy bosom
With them to the war.”
“Who taught you such lovely songs?” asked Panna Aleksandra.
“War, Olenka. In the camp we sang them to one another to drive away sadness.”
Further conversation was interrupted by a loud calling from the rear sleighs: “Stop! stop! Hei there—stop!”
Pan Andrei turned around in anger, wondering how it came to the heads of his comrades to call and stop him. He saw a few tens of steps from the sleigh a horseman approaching at full speed of the horse.
“As God lives, that is my sergeant Soroka; what can have happened?” said Pan Andrei.
That moment the sergeant coming up, reined his horse on his haunches, and began to speak with a panting voice: “Captain!—”
“What is the matter, Soroka?”
“Upita is on fire; they are fighting!”
“Jesus Mary!” screamed Olenka.
“Have no fear!—Who is fighting?”
“The soldiers with the townspeople. There is a fire on the square! The townspeople are enraged, and they have sent to Ponyevyej for a garrison. But I galloped here to your grace. I can barely draw breath.”
During this conversation the sleighs behind caught up; Kokosinski, Ranitski, Kulvyets-Hippocentaurus, Uhlik, Rekuts, and Zend, springing out on the snow, surrounded the speakers with a circle.
“What is the matter?” asked Kmita.
“The townspeople would not give supplies for horses or men, because there was no order for it; the soldiers began to take by force. We besieged the mayor and those who barricaded themselves in the square. Firing was begun, and we burned two houses; at present there is terrible violence, and ringing of bells—”
Kmita’s eyes gleamed with wrath.
“We must go to the rescue!” shouted Kokosinski.
“The rabble are oppressing the army!” cried Ranitski, whose whole face was covered at once with red, white, and dark spots. “Check, check! mighty lords!”
Zend laughed exactly as a screech-owl hoots, till the horses were frightened; and Rekuts raised his eyes and piped, “Strike, whoso believes in God! smoke out the ruffians!”
“Be silent!” roared Kmita, till the woods echoed, and Zend, who stood nearest, staggered like a drunken man. “There is no need of you there, no need of slashing! Sit all of you in two sleighs, leave me the third. Drive back to Lyubich; wait there unless I send for succor.”
“How is that?” asked Ranitski, opposing.
But Pan Andrei laid a hand on his throat, and his eyes gleamed more terribly. “Not a breath out of you!” said he, threateningly.
They were silent; evidently they feared him, though usually on such familiar footing.
“Go back, Olenka, to Vodokty,” said Kmita, “or go for your Aunt Kulvyets to Mitruny. Well, our party was not a success. But it will be quieter there soon; only a few heads will fly off. Be in good health and at rest; I shall be quick to return.”
Having said this, he kissed her hand, and wrapped her in the wolfskin; then he took his seat in the other sleigh, and cried to the driver, “To Upita!”
V
A number of days passed, and Kmita did not return; but three men of Lauda came to Vodokty with complaints to the lady. Pakosh Gashtovt from Patsuneli came—the same who was entertaining at his house Pan Volodyovski.
