Read Online Fire in the Steppe by Henryk Sienkiewicz, Jeremiah Curtin - Free Book Online
Authors: Henryk Sienkiewicz, Jeremiah Curtin
Ads: Link
one will raise an impediment."
"I give my word," said Pan Michael.
And they fell to talking of something else. Zagloba began to tell of the Diet, and how he had raised the question of excluding Prince Boguslav, and of the adventure with Ketling. Occasionally, however, he interrupted the narrative and buried himself in thoughts; they must have been cheerful, for from time to time he struck his knees with his palms, and repeated,—
"Ho! ho!"
But as he approached Mokotov, a certain disquiet appeared on his face. He turned suddenly to Pan Michael and said, "Your word is given, you remember, that no matter what happens to Ketling, you will stay a month with us."
"I gave it, and I will stay," said Pan Michael.
"Here is Ketling's house," cried Zagloba,—"a respectable place." Then he shouted to the driver, "Fire out of your whip! There will be a festival in this house to-day."
Loud cracks were heard from the whip. But the wagon had not entered the gate when a number of officers rushed from the ante-room, acquaintances of Pan Michael; among them also were old comrades from the days of Hmelnitski and young officers of recent times. Of the latter were Pan Vasilevski and Pan Novoveski,—youths yet, but fiery cavaliers who in years of boyhood had broken away from school and had been working at war for some years under Pan Michael. These the little knight loved beyond measure. Among the oldest was Pan Orlik of the shield Novin, with a skull stopped with gold, for a Swedish grenade had taken a piece of it on a time; and Pan Rushchyts, a half-wild knight of the steppes, an incomparable partisan, second in fame to Pan Michael alone; and a number of others. All, seeing the two men in the wagon, began to shout,—
"He is there! he is there! Zagloba has conquered! He is there!"
And rushing to the wagon, they seized the little knight in their arms and bore him to the entrance, repeating, "Welcome! dearest comrade, live for us! We have you; we won't let you go! Vivat Volodyovski, the first cavalier, the ornament of the whole army! To the steppe with us, brother! To the wild fields! There the wind will blow your grief away."
They let him out of their arms only at the entrance. He greeted them all, for he was greatly touched by that reception, and then he inquired at once, "How is Ketling? Is he alive yet?"
"Alive! alive!" answered they, in a chorus, and the mustaches of the old soldiers began to move with a strange smile. "Go to him, for he cannot stay lying down; he is waiting for you impatiently."
"I see that he is not so near death as Pan Zagloba said," answered the little knight.
Meanwhile they entered the ante-room and passed thence to a large chamber, in the middle of which stood a table with a feast on it; in one corner was a plank bed covered with white horse-skin, on which Ketling was lying.
"Oh, my friend!" said Pan Michael, hastening toward him.
"Michael!" cried Ketling, and springing to his feet as if in the fulness of strength, he seized the little knight in his embrace.
They pressed each other then so eagerly that Ketling raised Volodyovski, and Volodyovski Ketling.
"They commanded me to simulate sickness," said the Scot, "to feign death: but when I saw you, I could not hold out. I am as well as a fish, and no misfortune has met me. But it was a question of getting you out of the cloister. Forgive, Michael. We invented this ambush out of love for you."
"To the wild fields with us!" cried the knights, again; and they struck with their firm palms on their sabres till a terrible clatter was raised in the room.
But Pan Michael was astounded. For a time he was silent, then he began to look at all, especially at Zagloba. "Oh, traitors!" exclaimed he, at last, "I thought that Ketling was wounded unto death."
"How is that, Michael?" cried Zagloba. "You are angry because Ketling is well? You grudge him his health, and wish death to him? Has your heart become stone in such fashion that you would gladly see all of us
"I give my word," said Pan Michael.
And they fell to talking of something else. Zagloba began to tell of the Diet, and how he had raised the question of excluding Prince Boguslav, and of the adventure with Ketling. Occasionally, however, he interrupted the narrative and buried himself in thoughts; they must have been cheerful, for from time to time he struck his knees with his palms, and repeated,—
"Ho! ho!"
But as he approached Mokotov, a certain disquiet appeared on his face. He turned suddenly to Pan Michael and said, "Your word is given, you remember, that no matter what happens to Ketling, you will stay a month with us."
"I gave it, and I will stay," said Pan Michael.
"Here is Ketling's house," cried Zagloba,—"a respectable place." Then he shouted to the driver, "Fire out of your whip! There will be a festival in this house to-day."
Loud cracks were heard from the whip. But the wagon had not entered the gate when a number of officers rushed from the ante-room, acquaintances of Pan Michael; among them also were old comrades from the days of Hmelnitski and young officers of recent times. Of the latter were Pan Vasilevski and Pan Novoveski,—youths yet, but fiery cavaliers who in years of boyhood had broken away from school and had been working at war for some years under Pan Michael. These the little knight loved beyond measure. Among the oldest was Pan Orlik of the shield Novin, with a skull stopped with gold, for a Swedish grenade had taken a piece of it on a time; and Pan Rushchyts, a half-wild knight of the steppes, an incomparable partisan, second in fame to Pan Michael alone; and a number of others. All, seeing the two men in the wagon, began to shout,—
"He is there! he is there! Zagloba has conquered! He is there!"
And rushing to the wagon, they seized the little knight in their arms and bore him to the entrance, repeating, "Welcome! dearest comrade, live for us! We have you; we won't let you go! Vivat Volodyovski, the first cavalier, the ornament of the whole army! To the steppe with us, brother! To the wild fields! There the wind will blow your grief away."
They let him out of their arms only at the entrance. He greeted them all, for he was greatly touched by that reception, and then he inquired at once, "How is Ketling? Is he alive yet?"
"Alive! alive!" answered they, in a chorus, and the mustaches of the old soldiers began to move with a strange smile. "Go to him, for he cannot stay lying down; he is waiting for you impatiently."
"I see that he is not so near death as Pan Zagloba said," answered the little knight.
Meanwhile they entered the ante-room and passed thence to a large chamber, in the middle of which stood a table with a feast on it; in one corner was a plank bed covered with white horse-skin, on which Ketling was lying.
"Oh, my friend!" said Pan Michael, hastening toward him.
"Michael!" cried Ketling, and springing to his feet as if in the fulness of strength, he seized the little knight in his embrace.
They pressed each other then so eagerly that Ketling raised Volodyovski, and Volodyovski Ketling.
"They commanded me to simulate sickness," said the Scot, "to feign death: but when I saw you, I could not hold out. I am as well as a fish, and no misfortune has met me. But it was a question of getting you out of the cloister. Forgive, Michael. We invented this ambush out of love for you."
"To the wild fields with us!" cried the knights, again; and they struck with their firm palms on their sabres till a terrible clatter was raised in the room.
But Pan Michael was astounded. For a time he was silent, then he began to look at all, especially at Zagloba. "Oh, traitors!" exclaimed he, at last, "I thought that Ketling was wounded unto death."
"How is that, Michael?" cried Zagloba. "You are angry because Ketling is well? You grudge him his health, and wish death to him? Has your heart become stone in such fashion that you would gladly see all of us
Similar Books
