"Since you make the inquiry--"

"But we first, and according to seniority," said the Bukoyemskis. "We will not withdraw from that. We have settled it, and will cut down any man who interferes with us."

Yatsek looked quickly at the brothers, and in one moment divined, as he thought, the arrangement, and he paled somewhat.

"So that is it!" said he again to Stanislav; "thou hast hirelings, and art standing behind them. By my faith the method seems certain, and very safe, but whether it is n.o.ble and knightly is another point. In what a company do I find myself?"

On hearing this opinion which disgraced him, Stanislav, though he had a mild spirit by nature, felt the blood rush to his visage. The veins swelled on his forehead, lightning flashed from his eyes, his teeth were gritting terribly, and he grasped the hilt of his sabre.

"Come out! Come out this instant!" cried he in a voice choked with anger.

Sabres flashed; it was bright in the chamber, for light fell on the steel blades from a torch in the chimney. But three of the Bukoyemskis sprang between the opponents and stood in a line there, the fourth caught Stanislav by the shoulders.

"By the dear G.o.d, restrain thyself, Stashko! We are ahead of thee!"

"We are ahead of thee!" cried the three others.

"Unhand me!" screamed Stanislav, hoa.r.s.ely.

"We are ahead!"

"Unhand me!"

"Hold Stashko, ye, and I will settle with this man while ye are holding him," shouted Mateush; and seizing Yatsek he dragged him aside to begin at him straightway, but Yatsek with presence of mind pulled himself free of Mateush, and sheathed his sword, saying,--

"I choose the man who is to fight first and the time. So I tell you to-morrow, and in Vyrambki, not here."

"Oh thou wilt not sneak away from us! Now! now!"

But Yatsek crossed his arms on his breast. "Ha, if ye wish without fighting to kill me under the roof of our host, let me know it."

At this rage seized the brothers; they stamped the floor with their boot-heels, pulled their mustaches, and panted like wild bears. But since they feared infamy no man of them had the daring to rush at Tachevski.

"To-morrow, I tell you! Say to Pan Gideon that ye are going to visit me, and inquire for the road to Vyrambki. Beyond the brook stands a crucifix since the time of the pestilence. There I will wait for you at midday to-morrow, and there, with G.o.d's help I will finish you!"

He uttered the last words as if with sorrow, then he opened the door and walked out of the chamber. In the yard the dogs ran around Yatsek, and knowing him well, fondled up to him. He turned without thinking toward the posts near the windows, as if looking for his horse there; then, remembering that that horse was no longer alive, he sighed, and, feeling the cool breath of air, repeated in spirit,--

"The wind is blowing always in the eyes of the poor man. I will walk home."

Meanwhile, Stanislav was wringing his hands from fierce pain and anger, while saying to the Bukoyemskis, with terrible bitterness,--

"Who asked you to do this? My worst enemy could not have hurt me more than have you with your service."

They pitied him immensely, and fell to embracing him, one after the other.

"Stashko," said Mateush. "They sent us a decanter for the night; give thyself comfort for G.o.d's sake."

CHAPTER III

The world was still gray when Father Voynovski was clattering along through deep snow with a lantern to the doves, partridges, and rabbits which he kept in his granary in a special enclosure. A tame fox with bells on her neck followed his footsteps; at his side went a Spitz dog and a porcupine. Winter sleep did not deaden the latter in the warm room of the priest's house. The beasts and their master, when they had crossed the yard slowly, stopped under the out-jutting straw eaves of the granary, from which long icicles were hanging. The lantern swayed, the key was heard in the lock, the bolt whined, the door squeaked louder than the key, and the old man went in with his animals. After a while he took his seat on a block, placed his lantern on a second block, and put between his knees a linen bag holding grain and also cabbage leaves. He began then to yawn aloud and to empty the bag on the floor there in front of him.

Before he had finished three rabbits advanced from dark corners jumping toward him; next were seen the eyes of doves, glittering and bead-like in the light of the lantern; then rust-colored partridges, moving their heads on lithe necks as they came on in close company. Being the most resolute, the pigeons fell straightway to hammering the floor with their bills, while the partridges moved with more caution, looking now at the falling grain, now at the priest, and now at the she fox; with her they had been acquainted a long time, since, taken as chicks the past summer and reared from being little, they saw the beast daily.

The priest kept on throwing grain, muttering morning prayer as he did so: "_Pater noster, qui es in coelis, sanctificetur nomen_--" Here he stopped and turned to the fox, and she, while touching his side, trembled as if a fever were shaking her.

"Ah, the skin on thee trembles as soon as thou seest them. It is the same every day. Learn to keep down thy inborn appet.i.te, for thou hast good food at all seasons and sufferest no hunger. Where did I stop?"

Here he closed his eyes as if waiting for an answer, and since he did not have it he began at the first words: "_Pater noster, qui es in coelis, sanctificetur nomen Tuum, adveniat regnum Tuum_."

And again he halted.

"Ah, thou art squirming," said he, putting his hand on the back of the she fox. "There is such a vile nature in thee, that not only must thou eat, but commit murder also. Catch her, Filus, by the tail, and bite her if she does any injury--_Adveniat regnum Tuum_--Oh such a daughter!

Thou wouldst say, I know, that men are glad too, to eat partridges; but know this, that a man gives them peace during fast days, while in thee the soul of that vile Luther is sitting, for thou wouldst eat meat on good Friday--_Fiat voluntas Tua_--_Trus! trus! trus!_--_sicut in coelo_--here are both one with the other!--_et in terra_." And thus speaking he threw the cabbage and then the grain, scolding the doves somewhat that, though spring was not near yet, they walked around one another frequently, cooing and strutting.

At last, when he had emptied the bag he rose, raised the lantern, and was preparing to go, when Yatsek appeared on the threshold.

"Ah, Yatsus!" cried the priest, "art thou here--what art thou doing so early?"

Yatsek kissed the priest's hand, and answered,--

"I have come to confession, my benefactor, and at early ma.s.s I should like to approach the Lord's table."

"To confession? That is well, but what has so urged thee? Tell, but right off, for this is not without reason."

"I will tell truly. I must fight a duel this day, and since in fighting with five men an accident is more likely than with one, I should like to clear my soul of offences."

"With five men? G.o.d's wounds! But what didst thou do to them?"

"It is just this: that I did nothing. They sought a quarrel, and they have challenged me."

"Who are they?"

"The Bukoyemskis, who are foresters, and Tsyprianovitch from Yedlinka."

"I know them. Come to the house and tell how it happened."

They went out of the granary, but when half-way to the house the priest stopped on a sudden, looked into Tachevski's eyes quickly, and said,--

"Hear me, Yatsek, there is a woman in this quarrel."

The other smiled; with some melancholy.

"There is, and there is not," said he, "for really, she is the question, but she is innocent."

"Ah, ha! innocent! they are all innocent. But dost thou know what Ecclesiastes says of women?"