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

of a noble, began to blaspheme against the suffering of Pan Skshetuski, and then rushed upon him with a sabre; with moderation, in truth unusual to his age, the lieutenant had used his weapon only to ward off the aggressor. Finally the old man ended his story thus⁠—

“And since, as your Highness knows, up to my seventieth year lying has not stained my lips, nor will it while I live, I could not under oath change one word in my story.”

The prince knew that Zatsvilikhovski’s words were equal to gold, and besides he knew Lashch too well. He gave no answer then; he merely took a pen and began to write. When he had finished he looked at the commander. “Justice will be meted out to you,” said he.

The commander opened his mouth and wished to speak, but somehow the words did not come to him; he merely put his hand on his hip, bowed, and went out proudly from the room.

“Jelenski,” said the prince, “you will give this letter to Pan Skshetuski.”

Volodyovski, who had not left the lieutenant, was astonished somewhat at seeing the messenger come in, for he was sure that they would have to appear at once before the prince. The messenger left the letter and went out in silence. When he had read it Skshetuski handed the letter to his friend. “Read!” said he.

Volodyovski glanced at it, and shouted: “Promotion to the head of the regiment!” And seizing Skshetuski by the neck, he kissed him on both cheeks.

A full lieutenant in the hussar regiment was almost a military dignitary. The captain of that one in which Skshetuski served was the prince himself, and the titular lieutenant was Pan Sufchinski, of Senchi, a man already old and out of service. Skshetuski had long performed the active duties of both offices⁠—a condition of service often found in regiments like his, in which the first two places were not infrequently merely titular offices. Captain in the royal regiment was the king himself; in that of the primate, the primate. The lieutenant and captain in both were high dignitaries of the court. They were actually commanded by deputies, who on this account were called in ordinary speech colonels and lieutenants. Such an actual lieutenant or colonel was Skshetuski. But between the actual filling of the office, between the dignity accorded in current speech and the real one, there was still a great difference. In the present instance, by virtue of his appointment, Skshetuski became one of the first officers of the prince.

But while his friends were overflowing with joy, congratulating him on his new honor, his face did not change for a moment, but remained just the same, severe and stone-like; for there were not offices nor dignities in the world that could brighten it. He rose, however, and went to thank the prince.

Meanwhile little Volodyovski walked up and down in his quarters rubbing his hands. “Well, well,” he said, “appointed lieutenant in the hussar squadron in youthful years. I think this has happened to no one before.”

“If God would only return his happiness!” said Zagloba.

“That is it, that is it. Did you see that he did not quiver?”

“He would prefer resigning,” said Pan Longin.

“Gentlemen,” sighed Zagloba, “what wonder! I would give these five fingers of mine for her, though I captured a banner with them.”

“Sure enough.”

“But Pan Sufchinski must be dead,” remarked Volodyovski.

“He is surely dead.”

“Who will take the lieutenancy then? The banneret is a stripling, and performs the duties only since the battle at Konstantinoff.”

This question remained unanswered; but the colonel himself, Skshetuski, brought the answer to it when he returned.

“My dear sir,” said he to Pan Podbipienta, “the prince has appointed you lieutenant.”

“Oh, my God, my God!” groaned Pan Longin, placing his hands together as if in prayer.

“He might as well have appointed his Livonian mare,” muttered Zagloba.

“Well, and the scouting-party?” asked Volodyovski,

“We shall go without delay,” answered Skshetuski.

“Has the prince given orders to take many troops?”

“One Cossack and one Wallachian squadron, five hundred men altogether.”

“Hallo! that is an expedition, not a party. If that is the case, it is time for us to take the road.”

“To the road, to the road!” repeated Zagloba. “Maybe God will help us to get some tidings.”

Two hours later, precisely at sunset, the four friends rode out from Cholganski Kamen toward the south. About the same time Lashch left the camp with his men. A multitude of knights from different regiments witnessed his departure, not sparing shouts and sneers. The officers crowded around Pan Kushel, who told the reason why the commander was dismissed, and how it happened.

“I delivered the order of the prince,” said Kushel; “and you may believe it was a perilous mission, gentlemen, for when he read it he began to bellow like a bullock when branded with iron. He was rushing at me with a sword⁠—a wonder he didn’t hit me; but it appears that he saw Pan Koritski’s Germans surrounding his quarters, and my dragoons with spears in their hands. Then he began to shout: ‘All right! all right! I’ll go away, since they drive me off. I’ll go to Prince Dominik, who will receive me thankfully. I will not,’ said he, ‘serve with minstrels; but as I am Lashch, I will have vengeance, as I am Lashch; and from that sneak,’ said he, ‘I must have satisfaction!’ I thought he would stifle from venom; he slashed the table from rage time after time. And I tell you, gentlemen, that I am not sure some evil will not come on Skshetuski, for there is no trifling with the commander. He is a stubborn and proud man, who has never yet allowed an offence to pass. He is daring, and a dignitary besides.”

“What can touch Skshetuski under the protection of the prince?” asked one of the officers. “The commander, though ready for everything, will be wary of such a hand.”

Meanwhile the lieutenant, knowing nothing of the vows which the commander had made against him, withdrew at the