With Fire and Sword. Henryk Sienkiewicz

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      "Don't say that, for you will leave here to-morrow, and to-morrow forget me."

      "That will not be. My love is such that to the end of life I can love no one else."

      The face of the princess grew scarlet; her breast began to heave. She wished to answer, but her lips merely trembled. Then Pan Yan continued,--

      "But you will forget me in the presence of that handsome Cossack, who will accompany your singing on a balalaika."

      "Never, never!" whispered the maiden. "But beware of him; he is a terrible man."

      "What is one Cossack to me? Even if the whole Saitch were behind him, I should dare everything for your sake. You are for me like a jewel without price,--you are my world. But tell me, have you the same feeling for me?"

      A low "Yes" sounded like music of paradise in the ears of Pan Yan, and that moment it seemed to him as if ten hearts, at least, were beating in his breast; in his eyes all things grew bright, as if a ray of sunlight had come to the world; he felt an unknown power within himself, as if he had wings on his shoulders.

      During supper Bogun's face, which was greatly changed and pale, glared several times. The lieutenant, however, possessing the affection of Helena, cared not for his rival. "The devil take him!" thought he. "Let him not get in my way; if he does, I'll rub him out."

      But his mind was not on Bogun. He felt Helena sitting so near that he almost touched her shoulder with his own; he saw the blush which never left her face, from which warmth went forth; he saw her swelling bosom, and her eyes, now drooping and covered with their lids, now flashing like a pair of stars,--for Helena, though cowed by the old princess and living in orphanhood, sadness, and fear, was still of the Ukraine and hot-blooded. The moment a warm ray of love fell on her she bloomed like a flower, and was roused at once to new and unknown life. Happiness with courage gleamed in her eyes, and those impulses struggling with her maiden timidity painted her face with the beautiful colors of the rose.

      Pan Yan was almost beside himself. He drank deeply, but the mead had no effect on him; he was already drunk from love. He saw no one at the table save her who sat at his side. He saw not how Bogun grew paler each moment, and, touching the hilt of his dagger, gave no ear to Pan Longin, who for the third time told of his ancestor Stoveiko, nor to Kurtsevich, who told about his expedition for "Turkish goods."

      All drank except Bogun; and the best example was given by the old princess, who raised a goblet, now to the health of her guests, now to the health of Vishnyevetski, now to the health of the hospodar Lupul. There was talk, too, of blind Vassily and his former knightly deeds, of his unlucky campaign and his present insanity, which Simeon, the eldest, explained as follows:--

      "Just think! the smallest bit of anything in the eye prevents sight; why should not great drops of pitch reaching the brain cause madness?"

      "Oh, it is a very delicate organ," said Pan Longin.

      At this moment the old princess noticed the changed face of Bogun.

      "What is the matter, my falcon?"

      "My soul is suffering, mother," said he, gloomily; "but a Cossack word is not smoke. I will endure."

      "Hold out, my son; there will be a feast."

      Supper came to an end, but mead was poured into the goblets unsparingly. Cossacks called to the dance came, therefore, with greater readiness. The balalaikas and drums, to which the drowsy attendants were to dance, began to sound. Later on, the young princes dropped into the prisyadka. The old princess, putting her hands on her sides, began to keep time with her foot and hum. Pan Yan, seeing this, took Helena to the dance. When he embraced her with his arm it seemed to him that he was drawing part of heaven toward his breast. In the whirl of the dance her long tresses swept around his neck, as if she wished to bind him to herself forever. He did not restrain himself; and when he saw that no one was looking, he bent and kissed her lips with all his might.

      Late at night, when alone with Longin in their sleeping-room, the lieutenant, instead of going to rest, sat on the wooden bedstead and began: "You will go to Lubni tomorrow with another man."

      Podbipienta, who had just finished his prayers, opened wide his eyes and asked: "How is that? Are you going to stay here?"

      "I shall not stay, but my heart will remain, and only the dulcis recordatio will go with me. You see in me a great change, since from tender desires I am scarcely able to listen to a thing."

      "Then you have fallen in love with the princess?"

      "Nothing else, as true as I am alive before you. Sleep flees from my lids, and I want nothing but sighs, from which I am ready to vanish into vapor. I tell you this, because, having a tender heart famishing for love, you will easily understand my torture."

      Pan Longin began to sigh, in token that he understood the torments of love, and after a time he inquired mournfully: "Maybe you have also made a vow of celibacy?"

      "Your inquiry is pointless, for if all made such vows the genus humanum would soon be at an end."

      The entrance of a servant interrupted further conversation. It was an old Tartar, with quick black eyes and a face as wrinkled as a dried apple. After he came in he cast a significant look at Pan Yan and asked,--

      "Don't you wish for something? Perhaps a cup of mead before going to bed?"

      "No, 'tis not necessary."

      The Tartar approached Skshetuski and muttered: "I have a word from the young princess for you."

      "Then be my gift-giver! You may speak before this knight, for he knows everything."

      The Tartar took a ribbon from his sleeve, saying, "The lady has sent you this scarf, with a message that she loves you with her whole soul."

      The lieutenant seized the scarf, kissed it with ecstasy, and pressed it to his bosom. After he had become calmer, he asked: "What did the princess tell you to say?"

      "That she loved you with her whole soul."

      "Here is a thaler for your message. She said, then, that she loved me?"

      "Yes."

      "Here is another thaler for you. May God bless her, for she is most dear to me. Tell her, too--But wait, I'll write to her. Bring me ink, pen, and paper."

      "What?" asked the Tartar.

      "Ink, pen, and paper."

      "We have none in the house. In the time of Prince Vassily we had, and afterward when the young princes learned to write from the monk; but that is a long time ago."

      Pan Yan clasped his hands. "Haven't you ink and pen?" asked he of Podbipienta.

      The Lithuanian opened his hands and raised his eyes to heaven.

      "Well, plague take it!" said the lieutenant; "what can I do?"

      The Tartar had squatted before the fire. "What is the use of writing?" said he, gathering up the coals. "The young lady has gone to sleep. And what you would write to her now, you can tell her in the morning."

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