On the Field of Glory

Meanwhile the blows became quicker and quicker; at last they were lightning-like.

The spectators saw clearly that Tachevski was gaining more confidence. He was calm, but he sprang around like a wild-cat and his eyes shot out ominous flashes.

"It is bad!" thought Stanislav.

That moment a cry was heard. Mateush's sabre fell. He raised both hands to his head and dropped to the earth, his face in one instant being blood-covered.

At sight of that the three younger brothers bellowed like bulls, and in the twinkle of an eye rushed with rage at Tachevski, not intending, of course, to attack him together, but because each wished to be first in avenging Mateush.

And they perhaps would have swept Tachevski apart on their sabres if Stanislav, springing in to assist him, had not cried with all the power in his bosom, -

"Shame! Away! Murderers, not nobles! Shame! Away! or you must deal with me, murderers! Away!" And he slashed at the brothers till they came to their senses. But at this time Mateush had risen on his hands and turned toward them a face which was as if a mask made of blood had just covered it. Yan, seizing him by the armpits, seated him on the snow. Lukash hurried also to give him assistance.

But Tachevski pushed up to Marek, who was gritting his teeth, and repeated in a quick voice, as if fearing lest the common attack might repeat itself, -

"If you please! If you please!"

And the sabres were clanking a second time ominously. But with Marek, who was as much stronger than his enemy as he was less dexterous, Tachevski had short work. Marek used his great sabre like a flail, so that Yatsek at the third blow struck his right shoulder-blade, cut through the bone, and disarmed him.

Now Lukash and Yan understood that a very ugly task was before them, and that the slender young man was a wasp in reality, – a wasp which it would have been wise not to irritate. But with increased passion, they stood now against him to a struggle which ended as badly for them as it had for their elders. Lukash, cut through his cheek to the gums, fell with impetus, and, besides, struck a stone which the deep snow had hidden; while from Yan, the most dexterous of the brothers, his sabre, together with one of his fingers, fell to the ground at the end of some minutes.

Yatsek, without a scratch, gazed at his work, as it were, with astonishment, and those sparks which a moment before had been glittering in his eyeballs began now to quench gradually. With his left hand he straightened his cap, which during the struggle had slipped somewhat over his right ear, then he removed it, breathed deeply once and a second time, turned to the cross, and said, half to himself and half to Stanislav, -

"God knows that I am innocent."

"Now it is my turn," said Stanislav. "But you are panting, perhaps you would rest; meanwhile I will put their cloaks on my comrades, lest this damp cold may chill them ere help comes."

"Help is near," said Tachevski. "Over there in the mist is a sleigh sent by Father Voynovski, and he himself is at my house. Permit me. I will go for the sleigh in which those gentlemen will feel easier than here on this snow field."

And he started while Stanislav went to cover the Bukoyemskis who were sitting arm to arm in the snow, except Yan, the least wounded. Yan on his knees was in front of Mateush, holding up his own right hand lest blood might flow from the finger stump too freely; in his left he held snow with which he was washing the face of his brother.

"How are ye?" asked Stanislav.

"Ah, he has bitten us, the son of a such a one!" said Lukash, and he spat blood abundantly; "but we will avenge ourselves."

"I cannot move my arm at all, for he cut the bone," added Marek. "Eh, the dog! Eh!"

"And Mateush is cut over the brows!" called out Yan; "the wound should be covered with bread and spider-web but I will staunch the blood with snow for the present."

"If my eyes were not filled with blood," said Mateush, "I would-"

But he could not finish since blood loss had weakened him, and he was interrupted by Lukash who had been borne away suddenly by anger.

"But he is cunning, the dog blood! He stings like a gnat, though he looks like a maiden."

"It is just that cunning," said Yan, "which I cannot pardon."

Further conversation was interrupted by the snorting of horses. The sleigh appeared in the haze dimly, and next it was there at the side of the brothers. Out of the sleigh sprang Tachevski, who commanded the driver to step down and help them.

The man looked at the Bukoyemskis, took in the whole case with a glance, and said not a word, but on his face was reflected, as it seemed, disappointment, and, turning toward the horses, he crossed himself. Then the three men fell to raising the wounded. The brothers protested against the assistance of Yatsek, but he stopped them.

"If ye gentlemen had wounded me, would ye leave me unassisted? This is the service of a noble which one may not meet with neglect or refusal."

They were silent, for he won them by these words-somewhat, and after a while they were lying upon straw in the broad sleigh more comfortably, and soon they were warmer.

"Whither shall I go?" asked the driver.

"Wait. Thou wilt take still another," answered Stanislav, and turning to Yatsek, he said to him, -

"Well, gracious sir, it is our time!"

"Oh, it is better to drop this," said Yatsek, regarding him with a look almost friendly. "That God there knows why this has happened, and you took my part when these gentlemen together attacked me. Why should you and I fight a duel?"

"We must and will fight," replied Stanislav, coldly. "You have insulted me, and, even if you had not, my name is in question at present-do you understand? Though I were to lose life, though this were to be my last hour-we must fight."

"Let it be so! but against my will," said Tachevski.

And they began. Stanislav, had more skill than the brothers, but he was weaker than any of them. It was clear that he had been taught by better masters, and that his practice had not been confined to inns and markets. He pressed forward quickly, he parried with readiness and knowledge. Yatsek, in whose heart there was no hatred, and who would have stopped at the lesson given the Bukoyemskis, began to praise him.

"With you," said he, "the work is quite different. Your hand was trained by no common swordsman."

"Too bad that you did not train it!" said Stanislav.

And he was doubly rejoiced, first at the praise, and then because he had given answer, for only the most famed among swordsmen could let himself speak in time of a duel, and polite conversation was considered moreover as the acme of courtesy. All this increased Stanislav in his own eyes. Hence he pressed forward again with good feeling. But after some fresh blows he was forced to acknowledge in spirit that Tachevski surpassed him. Yatsek defended himself as it seemed with unwillingness but very easily, and in general he acted as though engaged not in fighting, but in fencing for exercise. Clearly, he wished to convince himself as to what Stanislav knew, and as to how much better he was than the brothers, and when he had done this with accuracy he felt at last sure of his own case.

Stanislav noted this also, hence delight left him, and he struck with more passion. Tachevski then twisted himself as if he had had enough of amusement, gave the "feigned" blow, pressed on and sprang aside after a moment.

"Thou hast got it!" said he.

Stanislav felt, as it were, a cold sting in the arm, but he answered, -

"Go on. That is nothing!"

And he cut again, that same moment the point of Yatsek's sabre laid his lower lip open and cut the skin under it. Yatsek sprang aside now a second time.

"Thou art bleeding!" said he.

"That is nothing!"

"Glory to God if 'tis nothing! But I have had plenty, and here is my hand for you. You have acted like a genuine cavalier."

Stanislav greatly roused, but pleased also at these words, stood for a moment, as if undecided whether to make peace or fight longer. At last he sheathed his sabre and gave his hand then to Yatsek.

"Let it be so. In truth, as it seems, I am bleeding."

He touched his chin with his left hand and looked at the blood with much wonder. It had colored his palm and his fingers abundantly.

"Hold snow on the wound to keep it from swelling," said Yatsek, "and go to the sleigh now."

So speaking he took Stanislav by the arm and conducted him to the Bukoyemskis, who looked at him silently, somewhat astonished, but also confounded. Yatsek roused real respect in them, not only as a master with the sabre, but as a man of "lofty manners," such manners precisely as they themselves needed.

So after a while this inquiry was made of Stanislav by Mateush, -

"How is it with thee, O Stashko?"

"Well. I might go on foot," was the answer, "but I choose the sleigh, the journey will be quicker."

Yatsek sat toward them sidewise, and cried to the driver, -

"To Vyrambki."

"Whither?" asked Stanislav.

"To my house. You will not have much comfort, but it is difficult otherwise. At Pan Gideon's you would frighten the women, and Father Voynovski is at my house. He dresses wounds to perfection and he will care for you. You can send for your horses, and then do what may please you. I will ask the priest also to go to Pan Gideon and tell him with caution what has happened." Here Yatsek fell to thinking and soon after he added, -

"Oho! the trouble has not come yet, but now we shall see it. God knows that you, gentlemen, insisted on this duel."

"True! we insisted," said Stanislav. "I will declare that and these gentlemen also will testify."

"I will testify, though my shoulder pains terribly," said Marek, groaning. "Oi! but you have given us a holiday. May the bullets strike you!"

It was not far to Vyrambki. Soon they entered the enclosure, and met the priest wading in snow, for he, alarmed about what might happen, could not stay in the house any longer, and had set out to meet them.

Yatsek sprang from the sleigh when he saw him. Father Voynovski pushed forward quickly to meet him, and saw his friend sound and uninjured.

"Well," cried he, "what has happened?"

"I bring you these gentlemen," said Yatsek.

The face of the old man grew bright for a moment, but became serious straightway, when he saw the Bukoyemskis and Stanislav blood-bedaubed.

"All five!" cried he, clasping his hands.

"There are five!"

"An offence against heaven! Gentlemen, how is it with you?" asked he, turning to the wounded men.

They touched their caps to him, except Marek, who, since the cutting of his shoulder-blade, could move neither his left nor his right hand. He merely groaned, saying, -

"He has peppered us well. We cannot deny it."

"That is nothing," said the others.

"We hope in God that it is nothing," answered Father Voynovski. "Come to the house now as quickly as possible! I will care for you this minute. Move on with the sleigh," said he.

And then he himself followed promptly with Yatsek. But after a while he stopped on the roadway. Joy shone, in his face again. He embraced Yatsek's neck on a sudden.

"Let me press thee, O Yatsek," cried he. "Thou hast brought in a sleigh load of enemies, like so many wheat sheaves."

Yatsek kissed his hand then, and answered, -

"They would have it so, my benefactor."

The priest put his hand on the head of the young man again, as if wishing to bless him, but all at once he restrained himself, because gladness in this case was not befitting his habit, so he looked more severe, and continued, -

"Think not that I praise thee. It was thy luck that they themselves wished this, but still, it is a scandal."

They drove into the courtyard. Yatsek sprang to the sleigh so that he might, with the driver and the single house-servant, help out the wounded men. But they stepped out themselves, except Marek, whose arms they supported and soon they were all in Yatsek's dwelling. Straw had been spread there already, and even Yatsek's own bed had been covered with a white, slightly worn horse skin. At the head a felt roll served as pillow. On the table near the window was bread kneaded with spider-web, excellent for blood stopping. There were also choice balsams which the priest had for healing.

The old man took off his soutane and went to dressing the wounds with the skill of a veteran who had seen thousands of wounded men, and who from long practice knew how to handle wounds better than many a surgeon. His work went on quickly, for, except Marek, the men had suffered slightly.

Marek's shoulder-blade needed considerably longer work, but when at last it was dressed the priest wiped his bloody hands, and then rested.

"Well," said he, "thanks to the Lord Jesus, it has passed without grievous accident. This also is certain, that you feel better, gentlemen, all of you."

"One would like a drink!" said Mateush.

"It would not hurt! Give command, Yatsek, to bring water."

Mateush rose up on the straw. "How water?" asked he in a voice of emotion.

Marek, who was lying face downward on Yatsek's bed groaning, called out quickly, -

"The revered father must wash his hands, of course."

Hereupon Yatsek looked with real despair at the priest, who laughed and then added, -

"They are soldiers! Wine is permitted, but in small quantity."

Yatsek drew him by the sleeve to the alcove.

"Benefactor," whispered he, "what can I do? The pantry is empty, and so is the cellar. Time after time I must tighten my girdle. What can I give them?"

"There is something here, there is something!" said the old man. "When leaving home I made arrangements, and brought a little with me. Should that not suffice I will get more at the brewery in Yedlina-for myself, of course, for myself. Command to give them one glass at the moment to calm them after the encounter."

When he heard this Yatsek set to work quickly, and soon the Bukoyemskis were comforting one another. Their good feeling for Yatsek increased every moment.

"We fought, for that happens to every man," said Mateush, "but right away I thought thee a dignified cavalier."

"Not true; it was I who thought so first," put in Lukash.

"Thou think? Hast thou ever been able to think?"

"I think just now that thou art a blockhead, so I am able to think, – but my mouth pains me."

Thus they were quarrelling already. But that moment a mounted man darkened the window.

"Some one has come!" exclaimed Father Voynovski.

Yatsek went to see who it was, and returned quickly, with troubled visage.

"Pan Gideon has sent a man," said he, "with notice that he is waiting for us at dinner."

"Let him eat it alone!" replied Yan Bukoyemski.

"What shall we say to him?" inquired Yatsek, looking at Father Voynovski.

"Tell him the truth," said the old man-"but better, I will tell it myself."

He went out to the messenger.

"Tell Pan Gideon," said he, "that neither Pan Tsyprianovitch nor the Bukoyemskis can come, for they have been wounded in a duel to which they challenged Pan Tachevski; but do not forget to tell him that they are not badly wounded. Now hurry!"

The man rushed away with every foot which his horse had, and the priest fell to quieting Yatsek, who was greatly excited. He did not fear to meet five men in battle, but he feared greatly Pan Gideon, and still more what Panna Anulka would say and would think of him.

"Well, it has happened," continued the priest, "but let them learn at the earliest that it was not through thy fault."

"Will you testify, gentlemen?" inquired Yatsek, turning to the wounded men.

"Though we are dry, we will testify," answered Mateush.

Still, Yatsek's alarm increased more and more, and soon after, when a sleigh with Pan Gideon and Pan Grothus stopped at the porch, the heart died in him utterly. He sprang out, however, to greet and bow down to the knees of Pan Gideon; but the latter did not even glance at Yatsek, just as though he had not seen the man, and with a gloomy stern face he strode into the chamber. He inclined to the priest with respect but with coldness, for since the day that the old man had reproached him from the altar for excessive severity toward peasants, the stubborn old noble was unable to forgive him; so now, after that cold salute, he turned to the wounded men straightway, and gazed at them a moment.

"Gracious gentlemen," said he, "after what has just happened, I should not pass the threshold of this building, be sure of that, did I not wish to show how cruelly I am wounded by that wrong which you have suffered. See how my hospitality has ended! See how in my house my rescuers have been recompensed. But I say this, that whoso has wronged you has wronged me, whoso has spilt your blood has done worse than spill mine, for the man who challenged you under my roof has insulted me-"

Here Mateush interrupted him suddenly, -

"We challenged him, not he us!"

"That is true, gracious benefactor," said Stanislav. "There is no blame to this cavalier in all that has happened, but to us, for which we beg your grace's pardon submissively."

"It would have been well for the judge to examine the witnesses before he passed sentence," said Father Voynovski, with seriousness.

Lukash, too, wished to say something, but since his cheek was cut to the gum and his gum to the teeth, the pain was acute when his chin moved, so he only put his palm on the plaster which was drying, and said with one side of his mouth, -

"May the devils take the sentence and my jaw with it also."

Pan Gideon was confused in some measure by these voices, still, he had no thought of yielding. On the contrary, he looked around with stern glance, as if wishing in that way to express silent blame for defenders of Yatsek.

"It is not for me to offer pardon to my rescuers. No blame touches you, gentlemen. On the contrary, I know and understand all this matter, for I see that you were insulted on purpose. Indeed, that same jealousy, which on a dying horse failed to ride living wolves down, increased later on the desire for vengeance. I was not alone in seeing how that 'cavalier,' whom you defend so magnanimously, gave occasion and did everything from the earliest moment of meeting to force you to that action. But the fault is mine more than any man's, since I was mild with him, and did not tell the man to find for himself at a fair or a dram shop more fitting society."

When Yatsek heard this his face grew as pale as linen. As to the priest, the blood rose to his forehead.

"He was challenged! What was he to do? Be ashamed of yourself!" exclaimed Father Voynovski.

But Pan Gideon looked down at him and answered, -

"Those are worldly questions, in which the laity are as experienced, and more so, than the clergy, but I will answer your question, so that no one here should accuse me of injustice. 'What was he to do?' As a younger to an older man, as a guest to his host, as a man who ate my bread so many times when he had none of his own to eat, he should first of all have informed me of the question. And I with my dignity of a host would have settled it, and not have let matters come to this: that my rescuers, and such worthy gentlemen, are lying here in their own blood on straw in this hut as in a hog pen."

"You would have thought me a coward!" cried Yatsek, trembling as in a fever.

Pan Gideon did not answer a word, and feigned, as he had from the first, not to see him. Instead of answering he turned then to Stanislav, and continued, -

"I, with Pan Grothus the starosta, will go to your father in Yedlinka this instant, to express our condolence. I doubt not that he will accept my hospitality, hence I invite you with your comrades here present to return to my mansion. I also remind you that you are here by chance merely, and that at the moment you are really my guests, to whom I wish with all my heart to show gratitude. Your father, Pan Tsyprianovitch, cannot visit the man who has wounded you, and under my roof you will have greater comfort, and will not die of hunger, which might happen very easily in this place."

Stanislav was troubled greatly and delayed for a while to give answer, both out of regard for Yatsek, and because that, being a very decent young man, he was concerned about propriety; meanwhile his lip and chin, which had swollen beneath the plaster, deformed him very sensibly.

"We have felt neither hunger nor thirst here," said he, "as has been shown already; but in truth we are guests of your grace, and my father, not knowing how things have happened, might hesitate to come to us. But how am I to appear before those ladies, your grace's relatives, with a face which could rouse only abhorrence?"

Then his face twisted, for his lip pained him from long speaking, and his features, in fact, were not beautiful at the moment.

"Be not troubled. Those ladies feel disgust, but not toward your wounds, after the healing of which your former good-looks will return to you. Three sleighs will come here with servants immediately, and in my house good beds are waiting. Meanwhile, farewell, since it is time for me and Pan Grothus to set out for Yedlinka-With the forehead!"

And he bowed once to the five nobles. To Father Voynovski he bowed specially, but he made no inclination whatever to Yatsek. When near the door the priest approached him.

"You have too little justice and too little tenderness," said he.

"I acknowledge sins only at confession," retorted Pan Gideon, and he passed through the doorway. After him went the starosta, Pan Grothus.

Yatsek had been a whole hour as if tortured. His face changed, and at moments he knew not whether to fall at the feet of Pan Gideon with a prayer for forgiveness, or spring at his throat and avenge the humiliation through which he was passing. But he remembered that he was in his own house, that before him was standing the guardian of Panna Anulka; hence, as the two men walked out he moved after them, not giving an account to himself of his action, but because of custom which commanded to conduct guests, and in some kind of blind hope that perhaps even at parting the stubborn Pan Gideon would bow to him. But this hope failed him also; only Pan Grothus, a kindly man, as was evident, and of good wit pressed his hand at the entrance, and whispered, "Despair not, his first rage will pass, cavalier, and all will arrange itself."

Yatsek did not think thus, and he would have been sure that his case was lost utterly had he known that Pan Gideon, though indignant, feigned anger far more than he felt it.

Stanislav and the Bukoyemskis were his rescuers, but Yatsek had not killed them, and a duel of itself was too common to rouse such unmerciful hatred. But Pan Gideon, from the moment that the starosta had told him how aged men marry and sometimes have children, looked with other eyes upon Panna Anulka. That which perhaps had never occurred to him earlier, seemed all at once possible and also alluring. At thought of the charms of that maiden, marvellous as a rose, the soul warmed in him, and still more powerfully did pride play in the old noble. So then, the race of Pangovski might flourish afresh and bloom up again; and besides, born from such a patrician as Panna Anulka, not only related to all the great houses in the Commonwealth, but herself the last sprout of a race from whose wealth rose in greater part the Sobieskis, Jolkievskis, Daniloviches, and many others. There was a whirl in Pan Gideon's brain at the thought of this, and he felt that not only he but the Commonwealth was concerned in Pangovskis of that kind. So straightway fear rose in him lest it should happen that the lady might love some one else, and give her hand to another man. One more important than himself in that region, he had not discovered; there were younger men, however. But who? Pan Stanislav? Yes! He was young, of good looks, very rich, but noble in the third generation, descended from ennobled Armenians. That such a homo novus should indeed strive for Panna Anulka could not find place in the head of Pan Gideon in any shape. It was laughable to think of the Bukoyemskis, though good nobles and claiming kindred with Saint Peter. There remained then Tachevski alone, a real "Lazarus," it is true, as poor as a church mouse, but from an ancient stock of great knights; from Tachevo who had the Kovala escutcheon, one of whom was a real giant, and had taken part in the dreadful defeat of the Germans at Tannenberg; he had been famous not only in the Commonwealth but at foreign courts also. Only a Tachevski could compare with the Sieninskis. Besides, he was young, daring, handsome, and melancholy; this last often moves the heart in a woman. He was also at home in Belchantska, and seemed a friend, nay, a brother to the lady. Hence, Pan Gideon fell now to recalling various cases, as, for instance, disputes and poutings among the young people, then their reconciliations and friendship, then various words and glances, sadness and rejoicing in common, and laughter. Things which a short time before he had thought scarcely worthy of notice seemed now suspicious. Yes! danger could threaten only from that side. The old noble thought, also, that Panna Anulka might, in part at least, be the cause of the duel, and he was terrified. Hence, to anticipate the danger, he tried to present to the young lady in the strongest light possible, all the dishonor of Yatsek's late action, and to rouse in her due anger; and then by feigning greater rage than he felt, or than the case called for, to burn all the bridges between his own mansion and Vyrambki, and, when he had humiliated Yatsek without mercy, to close the doors of the house to him forever.

And he was reaching his object. Yatsek walked back from the porch, took a seat at the table, thrust his fingers through his hair, supported his elbows, and was as silent as if pain had taken speech from him. Father Voynovski approached and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Yatsus, suffer what thou must," said he, "but a foot of thine should never enter that mansion hereafter."

"It never will," replied Yatsek, in a dull voice.

"But yield not to pain. Remember who thou art."

The young man set his teeth.

"I remember, but for that very reason pain burns me!"

"No one here applauds Pan Gideon for his action," said Stanislav. "It is one thing to censure, and another to trample a man's honor."

Hereupon the Bukoyemskis were moving, and Mateush, whom speech troubled least, added promptly, -

"Under his roof I will say nothing, but when I recover and meet him on the road, or at a neighbor's, I will tell him to kiss a dog's snout that same minute."

"O, yei!" said Marek. "To insult such a cavalier! The hour will come when that will not be forgiven him."

Meanwhile three sleighs with sofas and three servants, besides drivers, appeared to convey the wounded men to Belchantska. Because of regard for the expected arrival of Pan Serafin, Yatsek dared not detain them, and because also of this: that they were really the guests of Pan Gideon. As to the men, they would not have remained after hearing of Yatsek's great poverty lest they might burden him. They took farewell and gave thanks for his hospitality with a heartiness as great as if there had never been a quarrel between them.

But when Stanislav was taking his seat in the last sleigh Yatsek sprang forward on a sudden, -

"I will go with you," said he. "I cannot endure to do otherwise! I cannot endure! Before Pan Gideon returns I must-for the last time-"

Father Voynovski, since he knew Yatsek, knew that words would be useless; still, he drew him aside and began to expostulate, -

"Yatsek! O Yatsek! a woman again. God grant that a still greater wrong may not meet thee. O Yatsek, remember the words of Ecclesiastes: 'In a thousand I found one man, among all I found not one woman.' Take pity on thyself and remember this."

But these words were as peas against a battlement. In a moment Yatsek was sitting in the sleigh at the side of Stanislav, and they started.

Meanwhile the east wind had broken the mist and driven it to the wilderness; then the bright sun from a blue sky looked at them.