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

Was it seldom that we went with them for Turkish booty? Isn’t it true, Princes? We sailed upon the sea with them, ate bread and salt with them, drank and caroused, and now we are their enemies.”

The princess looked quickly at Bogun. The thought flashed through her mind that perhaps Bogun intended to join the rebellion, and came to tamper with her sons.

“And what do you think of doing?” inquired she.

“I, mother? Well, it is hard to strike our own, but it is demanded.”

“That is what we will do,” said Simeon.

“Hmelnitski is a traitor!” added the young Nikolai.

“Death to traitors!” said Bogun.

“Let the hangman light their way,” added Zagloba.

Bogun began to speak again: “So it is in this world. He who today is your friend is tomorrow a Judas. It is impossible to trust anyone.”

“Except good people,” said the princess.

“True, you can believe good people; therefore I believe and love you; for you are good people, not traitors.”

There was something so strange in the voice of the leader that in a moment deep silence reigned. Zagloba looked at the princess, and blinked with his sound eye; but the princess fixed her glance on Bogun.

He spoke on: “War does not give life to men, but death; therefore I wanted to see you once more before going to the field. And you would mourn over me, for you are my friends from the heart, are you not?”

“We are, as God is our aid. From childhood we have known you.”

“You are our brother,” added Simeon.

“You are princes, you are nobles, and you did not despise the Cossack; you took him to your house and promised him the maiden, your relative, for you knew that for the Cossack there was neither life nor existence without her; so you had mercy on the Cossack.”

“There is nothing to talk about,” said the princess, hurriedly.

“But there is, mother, something to talk about; for you are my benefactress, and I have asked of this noble, my friend, to make me his son and give me his escutcheon, so that you may not be ashamed to give your relative to a Cossack. Pan Zagloba has agreed to this, and we shall seek the permission of the Diet, and when the war is over will go to the Grand Hetman, who is kind to me. He can assist. He too acquired nobility for Krechovski.”

“God give you aid!” said the princess.

“You are sincere people, and I thank you. But before the war I should like to hear once more from your lips that you give me the maiden, and that you will keep your word. The word of a noble is not smoke, and you are a princess.”

Bogun spoke with a slow and solemn voice, but at the same time in his speech there vibrated, as it were, a threat declaring that there must be consent to what he demanded.

The old princess looked at her sons; they looked at her, and for a moment silence continued. Suddenly the falcon, sitting on her perch by the wall, began to make a noise, though it was long before daylight; others followed her. The great eagle woke, shook his wings, and began to scream. The pitch-pine burned low; it was growing gloomy and dark in the room.

“Nikolai, put wood on the fire!” said the old princess.

The young prince threw on more wood.

“Well, do you consent?” inquired Bogun.

“We must ask Helena.”

“Let her speak for herself; you speak for yourselves. Do you promise?”

“We promise,” said the mother.

“We promise,” said the sons.

Bogun stood up suddenly, and turning to Zagloba, said with a clear voice⁠—

“My friend Zagloba, ask for the maiden too; maybe they will give her to you.”

“What do you mean, Cossack? Are you drunk?” cried the princess.

Bogun, in place of an answer, took out Skshetuski’s letter, and turning to Zagloba, said: “Read!”

Zagloba took the letter, and began to read it in the midst of deep silence. When he had finished, Bogun crossed his arms on his breast.

“To whom then do you give the girl?” asked he.

“Bogun!”

The voice of the Cossack became like the hiss of a serpent: “Traitors, murderers, faith-breakers, Judases!”

“Sons, to your sabres!” screamed the princess.

The princes sprang like lightning to the walls, and seized their arms.

“Quiet, gentlemen, quiet!” began Zagloba.

But before he had finished speaking, Bogun drew a pistol from his belt and fired.

“Jesus!” groaned Prince Simeon. Advancing a step, he began to beat the air with his hands, and fell heavily on the floor.

“People, to the rescue!” screamed the princess, in despair.

But that moment, in the yard and from the side of the garden, were heard other volleys. The windows and the doors flew open with a crash, and several tens of Cossacks rushed into the room.

“Destruction!” thundered wild voices.

The alarm-bell was tolled on the square. The birds in the room began to scream. Uproar, firing, and shouts took the place of the recent quiet of a drowsy house.

The old princess threw herself, howling like a wolf, on the body of Simeon, shuddering in the last convulsions; but soon two Cossacks seized her by the hair and drew her aside. Meanwhile Nikolai, driven to the corner of the room, defended himself with fury and the boldness of a lion.

“Aside!” cried Bogun suddenly, to the Cossacks around him. “Aside!” repeated he, with a thundering voice.

The Cossacks withdrew. They thought that he wished to save the life of the young man. But Bogun himself, with sabre in hand, rushed on the prince.

Now began a terrible hand-to-hand struggle, on which the princess, whose hair was grasped by four iron hands, looked with glaring eyes and open mouth. The young prince hurled himself like a storm on the Cossack, who, retreating slowly, led him out into the middle of the room. Then suddenly stooping, he parried a powerful blow, and from defence changed to attack.

The Cossacks, holding their breath, let their sabres hang, and motionless, as if fastened to the floor, followed with their eyes the course of the conflict. Only the breathing and panting of the