Anusia saw the suffering of her companion, and understood the cause; for the old sword-bearer had detailed the whole history to her previously. Since she had a kind heart, she came up to Panna Billevich, and throwing her arms around her neck, said—
“Olenka, you are writhing from pain in this house.”
Olenka at first did not wish to speak; then her whole body trembled like an aspen leaf, and at last a terrible, despairing cry burst from her bosom. Seizing Anusia’s hand convulsively, she rested her bright head on that maiden’s shoulder; sobbing now tore her as a whirlwind tears a thicket.
Anusia had to wait long before it passed; at last she whispered when Olenka was pacified somewhat, “Let us pray for him.”
Olenka covered her eyes with both hands. “I—cannot,” said she, with an effort.
After a while, gathering back feverishly the hair which had fallen on her forehead, she began to speak with a gasping voice—
“You see—I cannot—You are happy; your Babinich is honorable, famous, before God and the country. You are happy; I am not free even to pray—Here, everywhere, is the blood of people, and here are burned ruins. If at least he had not betrayed the country, if he had not undertaken to sell the king! I had forgiven everything before, in Kyedani; for I thought—for I loved him with my whole heart. But now I cannot—O merciful God! I cannot! I could wish not to live myself, and that he were not living.”
“It is permitted to pray for every soul,” said Anusia; “for God is more merciful than men, and knows reasons which often men do not know.”
When she had said this, Anusia knelt down to pray, and Olenka threw herself on the floor in the form of a cross, and lay thus till daybreak.
Next morning the news thundered through the neighborhood that Pan Billevich was in Lauda. At that news all who were living came forth with greeting. Therefore out of the neighboring forests issued decrepit old men, and women with small children. For two years no one had sowed any seed, no one had ploughed any land. The villages were partly burned and were deserted. The people lived in the forests. Men in the vigor of life had gone with Volodyovski or to various parties; only youths watched and guarded the remnant of cattle, and guarded well, but under cover of the wilderness.
They greeted the sword-bearer then as a savior, with a great cry of joy; for to those simple people it seemed that if the sword-bearer had come and the “lady” was returning to the ancient nest, then there must be an end to war and disasters. In fact, they began at once to return to the villages, and to drive out the half-wild cattle from the deepest forest enclosures.
The Swedes, it is true, were not far away, defended by intrenchments in Ponyevyej; but in presence of Billevich’s forces and other neighboring parties which might be summoned in case of need, less attention was paid to them.
Pan Tomash even intended to attack Ponyevyej, so as to clear out the whole district; but he was waiting for more men to rally to his banner, and waiting especially till guns were brought to his infantry. These guns the Domasheviches had secreted in considerable number in the forest; meanwhile he examined the neighborhood, passing from village to village.
But that was a gloomy review at Vodokty. The mansion was burned, and half the village; Mitruny in like manner; Volmontovichi of the Butryms, which Kmita had burned in his time, and which had been rebuilt after the fire, by a marvellous chance was untouched; but Drojeykani and Mozgi of the Domasheviches was burned to the ground; Patsuneli was half consumed, and Morezi altogether. Goshchuni experienced the harshest fate; for half the people were cut to pieces, and all the men to boys of a few years had their hands cut off by command of Colonel Rossa.
So terribly had war trampled those neighborhoods! such were the results of the treason of Yanush Radzivill!
But before Billevich had finished his review and stationed his infantry, fresh tidings came, at once joyful and terrible, which rang with thousandfold echo from cottage to cottage.
Yurek Billevich, who had gone with a few tens of horses on a reconnoissance to Ponyevyej and had seized some Swedes, was the first to learn of the battle at Prostki. Then every report brought more details, so wondrous that they resembled a fable.
Pan Gosyevski, it was said, had routed Count Waldeck, Israel, and Prince Boguslav. The army was cut to pieces, the leaders in captivity. All Prussia was blazing in one conflagration.
A few weeks later the mouths of men began to repeat one terrible name—the name of Babinich.
Babinich, said they, was the main cause of the victory at Prostki. Babinich cut down with his own hand and captured Prince Boguslav. The next news was: “Babinich is burning Electoral Prussia, is advancing like death toward Jmud, slaying, leaving behind only earth and sky.”
Then came the end: “Babinich has burned Taurogi. Sakovich has fled before him, and is hiding in forests.” The last event had happened too near to remain long in doubt. In fact, the news was verified perfectly.
Anusia during the whole time that news was arriving lived as if dazed; she laughed and wept in turn, stamped her feet when no one believed, and repeated to everyone, whether that one would listen or not—
“I know Pan Babinich. He brought me from Zamost to Pan Sapyeha. He is the greatest warrior in the world. I do not know whether Pan Charnyetski is his equal. He is the man who serving under Sapyeha crushed Boguslav utterly in the first campaign. He—I am sure that it is no other—conquered him at Prostki. Yes, he can finish Sakovich and ten like Sakovich; and he will sweep out the Swedes in a month from all Jmud.”
In fact, her assurances began to be justified speedily. There was not the least doubt that the terrible warrior called
