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

Jendzian. All is so arranged that now, when Helena may have lost her last hope and when she expects aid from no side, aid is at hand! Oh, cease your weeping, my daughter! Soon will joy come to you without measure! Oh, she will be grateful, clasp her hands, and return thanks!” Then she stood before the eyes of Zagloba as if living, and he was filled with emotion and lost altogether in thinking of what would happen in an hour.

Jendzian pulled him by the sleeve from behind. “My master!”

“Well!” said Zagloba, displeased that the course of his thoughts was interrupted.

“Did you not see a wolf spring across before us?”

“What of that?”

“But was it only a wolf?”

“Kiss him on the snout.”

At this moment Volodyovski reined in his horse. “Have we lost the road,” he asked, “for it should be here?”

“No, we have not,” answered Jendzian; “we are going as Bogun directed. I wish to God it were all over.”

“It will not be long, if we ride well.”

“I want to tell you another thing. When I am talking to the witch keep an eye on Cheremís; he must be a terribly nasty fellow, but shoots fearfully with his musket.”

“Oh, cavalry, don’t be afraid!”

They had barely gone some yards when the horses pricked up their ears and snorted. Jendzian’s skin began to creep at once; for he expected that at any moment the howling of vampires might be heard from the cliffs in the rocks, or some unknown and repulsive form would creep out. But it appeared that the horses snorted only because they were passing near the retreat of that wolf who had so disturbed the youth a little while before. Round about was silence; even the grasshoppers had ceased chirping, for the sun had already inclined to the other side of the sky. Jendzian made the sign of the cross and calmed himself.

Volodyovski held in his horse suddenly. “I see the ravine,” said he, “in the throat of which a rock is thrust, and in the rock there is a breach.”

“In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!” muttered Jendzian.

“After me!” commanded Pan Michael, turning his horse. Soon they were at the breach, and passed through as under a stone arch. Before them opened a deep ravine, thickly overgrown with bushes at the sides, widening in the distance to a broad half-circle⁠—a small plain, enclosed as it were by gigantic walls.

Jendzian began to shout as loud as the power in his breast permitted: “Bogun! Bogun! Witch, come out! Bogun! Bogun!”

They halted and remained for some time in silence; then the youth began to shout again: “Bogun! Bogun!”

From a distance came the barking of dogs.

“Bogun! Bogun!”

On the left rim of the ravine on which the ruddy and golden rays of the sun were falling the thick branches of the plum and wild-cherry trees began to rustle; and after a while there appeared, almost at the very source of the spring, a human form, which bending forward and covering its eyes with its hand looked carefully at the travellers.

“That’s Horpyna,” said Jendzian; and putting his palms around his mouth, he began to shout a third time: “Bogun! Bogun!”

Horpyna began to descend, bending back to keep her balance. She came on quickly, and after her rolled along a sort of dumpy little man with a long Turkish gun in his hand. Twigs broke under the weighty step of the witch; stones rolled from under them and rattled to the bottom of the ravine. Bent in that fashion, in the ruddy glare she seemed really some gigantic superhuman creature.

“Who are you?” called she in a loud voice, when she had reached the bottom.

“How are you, bass-viol!” said Jendzian, to whom his usual deliberation returned at the sight of human beings instead of spirits.

“You are Bogun’s servant? I know you, you fellow; but who are these?”

“Friends of Bogun.”

“Ah, she is a handsome witch,” muttered Pan Michael, under his mustaches.

“And what have you come for?”

“Here is the baton, the knife, and the ring for you⁠—you know what they mean?”

The giantess took them in her hands and began to examine them carefully; then she said⁠—

“They are the same! You have come for the princess?”

“Yes! Is she well?”

“She is. Why didn’t Bogun himself come?”

“Bogun is wounded.”

“Wounded? I saw that in the mill.”

“If you saw it, why do you ask? You lie, you bugle-horn!” said Jendzian, confidently.

The witch showed in a smile teeth white as the teeth of a wolf, and doubling her hand nudged Jendzian in the side: “You are a boy, you are a fellow, you are.”

“Be off!”

“You won’t give a kiss, will you? And when will you take the princess?”

“Right away; we will only rest the horses.”

“Well, take her! I will go with you.”

“What do you want to go for?”

“Death is fated for my brother; the Poles will impale him on a stake. I will go with you.”

Jendzian bent toward the saddle as if for easier conversation with the giantess, and his hand rested unobserved on the butt of a pistol.

“Cheremís! Cheremís!” said he, wishing to turn the attention of his comrades on the dwarf.

“Why do you call him? His tongue is cut out.”

“I am not calling him, I’m only admiring his beauty. You will not leave him⁠—he is your husband.”

“He is my dog!”

“And there are only two of you in the ravine?”

“Two⁠—the princess is the third.”

“That’s well. You will not leave him?”

“I will go with you,” said she.

“But I tell you that you will remain.”

There was something in the voice of the youth of such a character that the giantess turned on the spot with an alarmed face, for suspicion suddenly entered her mind.

“What do you mean?” asked she.

“This is what I mean!” answered Jendzian; and he thundered at her from the pistol so near that the smoke covered her completely for a moment.

Horpyna pushed back with open arms; her eyes protruded, a kind of unearthly yell rose out of her throat; she tottered and fell on her back, full length.

At the same