With Fire and Sword by Henryk Sienkiewicz (big ebook reader .txt) 📕

“You would like to get a keepsake from other hands than mine, but you will not get it; for if it is not too crowded for you there, it is too high.”

The blow was well directed and double, for in the first place it turned the sarcasm to the low stature of the knight, and in the second to his passion for Princess Barbara Zbaraska. Pan Volodyovski fell in love first with the elder sister Anna; but when she was betrothed he recovered from his pain and in silence made an offering of his heart to Barbara, thinking that no one suspected it. When therefore he heard this from Anusia, though he was a champion of the first degree both with sword and tongue, he was so confused that he forgot his speech and muttered something wide of the mark⁠—

“You are aiming high too, as high indeed as the head of Pan Podbipienta.”

“He is in truth higher than you in arms and in manners,” said the resolute girl. “Thank you for reminding me!” Then she called to the Lithuanian: “Will you come this way? I wish to have my knight too, and I do not know that I could bind my scarf on a braver breast than yours.”

Pan Podbipienta stared as if uncertain whether he heard correctly; finally he cast himself on his knees, so that the floor trembled.

“My benefactress!”

Anusia fastened the scarf, and then her little hands disappeared entirely under the blond mustaches of Pan Longin. There was heard only the sound of kissing and muttering, hearing which Volodyovski said to Lieutenant Migurski, “One would swear that a bear had broken into a beehive and was eating the honey.” Then he went away with a certain anger, for he felt Anusia’s sting, and moreover he had been in love with her in his time.

But the prince had already begun to take farewell of the princess, and an hour later the court set out for Turoff, and the army for the Pripet.

During the night at the crossing, while they were building rafts to carry over the cannon, and the hussars were doing the work, Pan Longin said to Skshetuski⁠—

“Look here, brother, a misfortune!”

“What has happened?” asked the lieutenant.

“Why, the news from the Ukraine!”

“What news?”

“The Zaporojians tell me that Tugai Bey has gone with the horde to the Crimea.”

“Well, what of that? You will not cry over that, I suppose.”

“But, my brother, you told me⁠—and you were right, were you not?⁠—that I could not count Cossacks’ heads, and if the Tartars are gone where am I to get the three Pagan heads? Where should I look for them? and oh, how much I need them!”

Skshetuski, though suffering himself, laughed, and answered: “I understand what the matter is, for I saw how you were made a knight today.”

“That is true. Why hide it longer? I have fallen in love, brother⁠—fallen in love. That is the misfortune.”

“Don’t torment yourself. I do not believe that Tugai Bey has gone, and besides you will meet as many Pagans as there are mosquitoes over our heads.”

In fact, whole clouds of mosquitoes swept over the horses and men; for the troops went into a country of impassable morasses, swampy forests, soft meadows, rivers, creeks, and streams⁠—into an empty, gloomy land, one howling wilderness, concerning the inhabitants of which it was said in those times⁠—

“Nobleman Nakedness (Holota11)
Gave with his daughter
Two kegs of wagon grease,
One wreath of mushrooms,
One jar of mud-fish,
And one ridge of swamp.”

In this swamp, however, there grew not only mushrooms, but, in spite of the above sarcasm, great lordly fortunes. But at this time the prince’s men, who, for the greater part had been reared on the lofty dry steppes of the Trans-Dnieper, could not believe their own eyes. True, there were swamps in their country and forests in places, but here the whole region seemed to be one swamp. The nights were clear and bright. As far as the eye could see by the light of the moon not two yards of dry ground were visible. Only tufts of earth looked black above the water, the trees appeared to grow out of the water, water spattered from under the feet of the horses, water sprinkled the wheels of the wagons and the cannon.

Vurtsel fell into despair: “A wonderful march!” said he; “near Chernigoff we were in danger from fire, and now water is drowning us.”

Indeed the earth, in contradiction to its nature, did not give a firm support to the foot, but bent and trembled as if wishing to open and swallow those who moved upon it.

The troops were four days passing the Pripet; then they had to cross almost every day rivers and streams flowing through shaky ground. And nowhere was there a bridge. All the people crossed in boats. After a few days fog and rain began. The men did their utmost to get out of those enchanted regions at last, and the prince urged and pushed them on. The soldiers, seeing too that he did not spare himself⁠—he was on horseback from dawn till dark, leading the army and overseeing its advance, directing everything in person⁠—did not dare to murmur, though really they labored beyond their strength. To toil from morning till night and in the water was the common lot of all. The horses began to lose their hoofs; many of the artillery horses died, so that the infantry and Volodyovski’s dragoons drew cannon themselves. The picked regiments, such as Skshetuski’s and Zatsvilikhovski’s hussars, and the armored regiments took their axes to make roads. It was a famous march, in cold and water and hunger, in which the will of the leader and the ardor of the soldiers broke through every barrier. No one hitherto had dared to lead an army through that country during the high water of spring. Happily the march was not interrupted by any accident. The people were peaceable and without thought of rebellion;