When they stopped in front of the house at Vodokty, Panna Aleksandra was frightened as she saw them through the window, they were so much like robbers. Each one had a different outfit: some were in helmets taken from the enemy; others in Cossack caps, in hoods and Polish caps; some in faded overcoats, others in sheepskin coats; their arms were guns, spears, bows, battle-axes; their horses, poor and worn, were covered with trappings, Polish, Russian, or Turkish.
Olenka was set at rest only when Pan Andrei, gladsome and lively as ever, entered the room and rushed straight to her hands with incredible quickness.
And she, though resolved in advance to receive him with dignity and coldness, was still unable to master the joy which his coming had caused her. Feminine cunning too may have played a certain part, for it was necessary to tell Pan Andrei about turning his comrades out of doors; therefore the clever girl wished to incline him first to her side. And in addition he greeted her so sincerely, so lovingly that the remnant of her offended feeling melted like snow before a blaze.
“He loves me! there is no doubt about that,” thought she.
And he said: “I so longed for you that I was ready to burn all Upita if I could only fly to you the sooner. May the frost pinch them, the basswood barks!”
“I too was uneasy lest it might come to a battle there. Praise be to God that you have returned!”
“And such a battle! The soldiers had begun to pull around the basswood barks a little—”
“But you quieted them?”
“This minute I will tell you how it all happened, my jewel; only let me rest a little, for I am wearied. Ei! it is warm here. It is delightful in this Vodokty, just as in paradise. A man would be glad to sit here all his life, look in those beautiful eyes, and never go away—But it would do no harm, either, to drink something warm, for there is terrible frost outside.”
“Right away I will have wine heated, with eggs, and bring it myself.”
“And give my gallows’ birds some little keg of gorailka, and give command to let them into the stable, so that they may warm themselves a little even from the breath of the cattle. They have coats lined with wind, and are terribly chilled.”
“I will spare nothing on them, for they are your soldiers.”
While speaking she smiled, so that it grew bright in Kmita’s eyes, and she slipped out as quietly as a cat to have everything prepared in the servants’ hall.
Kmita walked up and down in the room, rubbing the top of his head, then twirling his young mustache, thinking how to tell her of what had been done in Upita.
“The pure truth must be told,” muttered he; “there is no help for it, though the company may laugh because I am here in leading-strings.” And again he walked, and again he pushed the foretop on his forehead; at last he grew impatient that the maiden was so long in returning.
Meanwhile a boy brought in a light, bowed to the girdle, and went out. Directly after the charming lady of the house entered, bringing with both hands a shining tin tray, and on it a small pot, from which rose the fragrant steam of heated Hungarian, and a goblet of cut glass with the escutcheon of the Kmitas. Old Billevich got this goblet in his time from Andrei’s father, when at his house as a guest.
Pan Andrei when he saw the lady sprang toward her. “Hei!” cried he, “both hands are full, you will not escape me.”
He bent over the tray, and she drew back her head, which was defended only by the steam which rose from the pot. “Traitor! desist, or I will drop the drink.”
But he feared not the threat; afterward he cried, “As God is in heaven, from such delight a man might lose his wits!”
“Then you lost your wit long ago. Sit down.”
He sat down obediently; she poured the drink into the goblet.
“Tell me how you sentenced the guilty in Upita.”
“In Upita? Like Solomon!”
“Praise to God for that! It is on my heart that all in this region should esteem you as a steady and just man. How was it then?”
Kmita took a good draught of the drink, drew breath, and began—
“I must tell from the beginning. It was thus: The townspeople with the mayor spoke of an order for provisions from the grand hetman or the under-treasurer. ‘You gentlemen,’ said they to the soldiers, ‘are volunteers, and you cannot levy contributions. We will give you quarters for nothing, and provisions we will give when it is shown that we shall be paid.’ ”
“Were they right, or were they not?”
“They were right according to law; but the soldiers had sabres, and in old fashion whoever has a sabre has the best argument. They said then to the basswood barks, ‘We will write orders on your skins immediately.’ And straightway there rose a tumult. The mayor and the people barricaded themselves in the street, and my men attacked them; it did not pass without firing. The soldiers, poor fellows, burned a couple of barns to frighten the people,
