“Even if he were, it is all one to me.”
“God grant you to meet! But I am troubled because you say that they are not with the hetman, for with such soldiers victory would be easier.”
“There is someone there who is worth them all.”
“Who is he?”
“Pan Babinich from Vityebsk. Have you heard of him?”
“Not a word; which is a wonder to me.”
Anusia began to relate the history of her departure from Zamost, and everything that happened on the road. Babinich grew in her narrative to such a mighty hero that the sword-bearer was at a loss to know who he was.
“I know all Lithuania,” said he. “There are houses, it is true, with similar names, such as Babonaubek, Babill, Babinovski, Babinski, and Babiski. Babinich I have not heard, and I think it must be an assumed name; for many who are in parties take such names, so that their property and relatives may not suffer from the enemy. Hm! Babinich! He is some fiery cavalier, since he was able to settle Zamoyski in that fashion.”
“Oh, how fiery!” cried Anusia.
The old man fell into good humor. “How is that?” asked he, stopping before Anusia and putting his hands on his hips.
“If I tell you, you’ll suppose God knows what.”
“God preserve me, I will suppose nothing.”
“Barely had we come out of Zamost when Pan Babinich told me that someone else had occupied his heart, and though he received no rent, still he did not think of changing the tenant.”
“And do you believe that?”
“Of course I believe it,” answered Anusia, with great vivacity; “he must be in love to his ears, since after so long a time—since—since—”
“Oh, there is some ‘since he would not,’ ” said the old man, laughing.
“But I say that,” repeated Anusia, stamping her foot, “since—Well, we shall soon hear of him.”
“God grant it!”
“And I will tell you why. As often as Pan Babinich mentioned Prince Boguslav, his face grew white, and his teeth squeaked like doors.”
“He will be our friend!” said the sword-bearer,
“Certainly! And we will flee to him, if he shows himself.”
“If I could escape from this place, I would have my own party, and you would see that war is no novelty to me either, and that this old hand is good for something yet.”
“Go under command of Pan Babinich.”
“You have a great wish to go under his command.”
They chatted yet for a long time in this fashion, and always more joyously; so that Olenka, forgetting her grief, became notably more cheerful, and Anusia began at last to laugh loudly at the sword-bearer. She was well rested; for at the last halting-place in Rossyeni she had slept soundly; she left them then only late in the evening.
“She is gold, not a maiden!” said Billevich, after she had gone.
“A sincere sort of heart, and I think we shall soon come to confidence,” answered Olenka.
“But you looked at her frowningly at first.”
“For I thought that she was someone sent here. Do I know anything surely? I fear everyone in Taurogi.”
“She sent? Perhaps by good spirits! But she is as full of tricks as a weasel. If I were younger I don’t know to what it might come; even as it is a man is still desirous.”
Olenka was delighted, and placing her hands on her knees, she put her head on one side, mimicking Anusia, and looking askance at her uncle.
“So, dear uncle! you wish to bake an aunt for me out of that flour?”
“Oh, be quiet, be quiet!” said the sword-bearer.
But he laughed and began to twist his mustache with his whole hand; after a time he added—
“Still she roused such a staid woman as you; I am certain that great friendship will spring up between you.”
In truth, Pan Tomash was not deceived, for in no long time a very lively friendship was formed between the maidens; and it grew more and more, perhaps just for this reason—that the two were complete opposites. One had dignity in her spirit, depths of feeling, invincible will, and reason; the other, with a good heart and purity of thought, was a tufted lark. One, with her calm face, bright tresses, and an unspeakable repose and charm in her slender form, was like an ancient Psyche; the other, a real brunette, reminded one rather of an ignis fatuus, which in the night hours entices people into pathless places and laughs at their vexation. The officers in Taurogi, who looked at both every day, were seized with the desire to kiss Olenka’s feet, but Anusia’s lips.
Kettling, having the soul of a Scottish mountaineer, hence full of melancholy, revered and adored Olenka; but from the first glance he could not endure Anusia, who paid him in kind, making up for her losses on Braun and others, not excepting the sword-bearer of Rossyeni himself.
Olenka soon won great influence over her friend, who with perfect sincerity of heart said to Pan Tomash—
“She can say more in two words than I in a whole day.”
But the dignified lady could not cure her vain friend of one defect, coquetry; for let Anusia only hear the rattle of spurs in the corridor, immediately she would pretend that she had forgotten something, that she wanted to see if there were tidings from Sapyeha; would rush into the corridor, fly like a whirlwind, and coming up against an officer, cry out—
“Oh, how you frightened me!”
Then a conversation would begin, intermingled with twisting of her skirts, glancing from under her brows, and various artful looks, through the aid of which the hardest heart may be conquered.
This coquetry Olenka took ill of her, all the more that Anusia after a few days confessed to a secret love for Babinich. They discussed this among themselves more than once.
“Others beg like minstrels,” said Anusia; “but this dragon chose to look at his Tartars rather than at me, and he never spoke otherwise than in command—‘Come out, my lady! eat, my lady! drink, my lady!’ And if he had been rude at the same
