Pan Andrei could not believe his own eyes, and for some time he suspected the noble of being sent by some Prussian or Swedish commandant of purpose to lead him with the chambul into ambush. Had Gosyevski come a second time to Prussia? It was impossible not to believe. The handwriting was Volodyovski’s, the arms Volodyovski’s, and Pan Andrei remembered the noble too. Then he inquired where Gosyevski was, and to what point he intended to go.
The noble was rather dull. It was not for him to know whither the hetman was marching; he knew only that he was two days distant, and that the Lauda squadron was with him. Charnyetski had borrowed it for a while, but had sent it back long ago, and now it was marching under lead of the hetman. “They say,” concluded the noble, “that we must go to Prussia, and the soldiers are greatly delighted. But our work is to obey and to strike.”
Kmita, when he had heard the narrative, did not hesitate long. He turned his chambul, went with forced marches to the hetman, and after two days fell late at night into the arms of Volodyovski, who, pressing him, said at once—
“Count Waldeck and Prince Boguslav are in Prostki, making intrenchments to secure themselves with a fortified camp. We shall march on them.”
“Today?” asked Kmita.
“Tomorrow before daybreak—that is, in two or three hours.”
Here they embraced each other again. “Something tells me that God will give him into our hands!” exclaimed Kmita, with emotion. “And I think so too.”
“I have made a vow to fast till death on the day in which I meet him.”
“The protection of God will not fail you,” said Volodyovski. “I shall not be envious, either, if this lot falls to you, for your wrong is greater. Yendrek, let me look at you! You have grown perfectly black from the weather; but you have acquitted yourself. The whole division looks with the greatest esteem on your labor. Nothing behind you but ruins and corpses! You are a born soldier; and it would go hard with Zagloba himself, were he here, to invent in self-praise deeds better than those you have done.”
“But where is Zagloba?”
“He remained with Sapyeha; for he fell into weeping and despair after Kovalski.”
“Then has Kovalski fallen?”
Volodyovski pressed his lips. “Do you know who killed him?”
“Whence should I know? Tell me!”
“Prince Boguslav!”
Kmita turned in his place, as if thrust with a point, and began to draw in air with a hiss; at last he gritted his teeth, and casting himself on the bench, rested his head on his palms in silence.
Volodyovski clapped his hands, and ordered the attendant to bring drink; then he sat near Kmita, filled a cup for him, and began—
“Ron Kovalski died such a cavalier’s death that God grant any man of us to die no worse. It is enough to inform you that Karl Gustav himself after the battle celebrated his funeral, and a whole regiment of the guards fired a salute over his coffin.”
“If only not at those hands, at those hellish hands!” exclaimed Kmita.
“Yes, at the hands of Boguslav; we know that from hussars who with their own eyes saw the sad end.”
“Were you not there then?”
“In battle places are not chosen, but a man stands where he is ordered. If I had been there, either I should not be here now, or Boguslav would not be making trenches at Prostki.”
“Tell me how it all happened. It will only increase the anger.”
Pan Michael drank, wiped his yellow mustaches, and began:—
“Of a certainty you are not lacking in narratives of the Warsaw battle, for everyone is speaking of it; therefore I shall not dwell on it too long. Our gracious lord—God give him health and long years! for under another king the country would have perished amid disasters—has shown himself a famous leader. Had there been such obedience as there was command, had we been worthy of the king, the chroniclers would have to describe a new Polish victory at Warsaw equal to those at Grünwald and Berestechko. Speaking briefly, on the first day we beat the Swedes; on the second, fortune inclined now to one, now to the other, but still we were uppermost. At that time the Lithuanian hussars, in which Kovalski served under Prince Polubinski, a great soldier, went to the attack. When they were passing I saw them as I see you this moment, for I was with the Lauda men on a height near the intrenchments. They were twelve hundred strong—men and horses such as the world had not seen. They passed twenty rods distant from our flank; and I tell you that the earth trembled under them. We saw the Brandenburg infantry planting their pikes in the ground in a hurry, to meet the first onrush. Then began firing from muskets, till the smoke covered them entirely. We looked. The hussars had given rein to their horses. O God, what a sweep! They fell into the smoke—disappeared! My soldiers began to shout, ‘They will break them, they will break them!’ For a while the hussars were invisible; then something thundered, and there was a sound as if in a thousand forges men were beating anvils with hammers. We look. Jesus! Mary! The elector’s men are lying like stones on a street, like wheat through which a tempest has passed; and the hussars far away beyond, their streamers glittering. They are bearing down on the Swedes! They struck cavalry; the cavalry were down like a pavement! They struck a second regiment; they left that like a pavement! There was a roar, cannon were thundering; we saw them when the wind bore the smoke aside. They were smashing Swedish infantry. Everything was fleeing, rolling, opening; they went on as if over a highway. They had passed almost through
