"But ye, do ye know anything?"

"Be quiet!" said the priest. "Be sure I shall not leave the letter unanswered. Still, to drop revenge is a Christian and a Catholic action."

"Oh but! Even you, father, s.n.a.t.c.hed for a sabre the first moment."

"Because I carried a sabre too long. _Mea Culpa!_ Still, as I have said, this fact comes in also. Pan Gideon is old, he has only one arm; iron rules are not in place here. And I tell you, gentlemen, that for this very reason I am disgusted to the last degree with this raging old fellow who makes use of his impunity so unjustly."

"Still, it will be too narrow for him in our neighborhood," said Yan Bukoyemski. "Our heads for this: that not a living foot will go under that roof of his."

"Meanwhile an answer is needed," said Father Voynovski, "and immediately."

For a time yet they considered as to who should write,--Yatsek, at whom the letter was aimed, or the priest to whom it was directed. Yatsek settled the question by saying,--

"For me that whole house and all people in it are as if dead, and it is well for them that in my soul this is settled."

"It is well that the bridges are burnt!" said the priest; as he sought pen and paper.

"It is well that the bridges are burnt," repeated Yan Bukoyemski, "but it would be better that the mansion rose in smoke! This was our way in the Ukraine: when some strange man came in and knew not how to live with us, we cut him to pieces and up in smoke went his property."

No one turned attention to these words save Pan Serafin, who waved his hands with impatience, and answered,--

"You, gentlemen, came in here from the Ukraine, I, from Lvoff, and Pan Gideon from Pomorani; according to your wit Pan Tachevski might count us all as intruders; but know this, that the Commonwealth is a great mansion occupied by a family of n.o.bles, and a n.o.ble is at home in every corner."

Silence followed, except that from the alcove came the squeaking of a pen and words in an undertone which the priest was dictating to himself. Yatsek rested his forehead on his palms and sat motionless for some time; all at once he straightened himself, looked at those present, and said,--

"There is something in this beyond my understanding."

"We do not understand, either," added Lukash, "but if thou wilt pour out more mead we will drink it."

Yatsek poured into the gla.s.ses mechanically, following at the same time the course of his own thoughts.

"Pan Gideon," said he, "might be offended because the duel began at his mansion, though such things happen everywhere; but now he knows that I did not challenge, he knows that he offended me under my own roof unjustly, he knows that with you I am now in agreement, and that I shall not appear at his house again,--still he pursues me, still he is trying to trample me."

"True, there is some kind of special animosity in this," said Pan Serafin.

"Ha! then there is as you think something in it?"

"In what?" asked the priest, who had come out with a letter now written, and heard the last sentence.

"In this special hatred against me."

The priest looked at a shelf on which among other books was the Holy Bible, and said,--

"That which I will say to thee now I said long ago: there is a woman in it." Here he turned to those present. "Have I repeated to you, gentlemen, what Ecclesiastes says about woman?"

But he could not finish, for Yatsek sprang up as if burnt by living fire. He thrust his fingers through his hair and almost screamed, for immense pain had seized him.

"Still more do I fail to understand; for if any one in the world--if to any one in the world--if there be any one of such kind--then with my whole soul--"

But he could not say a word more, for the pain in his heart had gripped his throat as if in a vice of iron, and rose to his eyes as two bitter, burning tears, which flowed down his cheeks. The priest understood him then perfectly.

"My Yatsek," advised he, "better burn out the wound, even with awful pain than let it fester. For this reason I do not spare thee. I, in my time, was a soldier of this world, and understand many things. I know that regret and remembrance, no matter how far a man travels, drag like dogs after him, and howl in the night-time. They give him no chance to sleep because of this howling. What must he do then? Kill those dogs straightway. Thou at this moment feelest that thou wouldst have given all thy blood over there; for which reason it seems to thee so marvellous and terrible that from that side alone vengeance pursues thee. The thing seems to thee impossible; but it is possible--for if thou hast wounded the pride and self-love of a woman, if she thought that thou wouldst whine and thou hast not whined when she beat thee, and thou didst not fawn in her presence, but hast tugged at thy chain and hast broken it, know that she will never and never forgive thee, and her hatred, more raging than that of any man living, will always pursue thee. Against this there is only one refuge: crush the love, even on thy own heart, and hurl it, like a broken bow, far from thee--that is thy one refuge!"

Again there was a moment of silence. Pan Serafin nodded, confirming the priest, and, as a man of experience, he admired all the wisdom of his statement.

"It is true," added Yatsek, "that I have tugged at the chain, and have broken it. So it is not Pan Gideon who pursues me!"

"I know what I should do," said Lukash, on a sudden.

"Tell, do not hide!" cried the other two.

"Do ye know what the hare said?"

"What hare? Art thou drunk?"

"Why that hare at the boundary ridge."

And, evidently encouraged, he stood up, put his hand on his hip and began to sing:

"A hare was just sitting for pleasure, Just sitting at the boundary ridge.

But the hunters did not see him, Did not know That he was sitting lamenting And making his will At the boundary ridge."

Here he turned to his brothers and asked them,--

"Do ye know the will made by that hare at the boundary ridge?"

"We know, but it is pleasant to hear it repeated."

"Then listen.

"Kiss me all ye hors.e.m.e.n and hunters, Kiss me at the boundary ridge.

"This is what I would write to all at Belchantska if I were in Yatsek's position; and if he does not write it, may the first Janissary disembowel me if I do not write it in my own name and yours to Pan Gideon."

"Oh, as G.o.d is dear to me, that is a capital idea!" cried Yan, much delighted.

"It is to the point and full of fancy!"

"Let Yatsek write that!"

"No," said the priest, made impatient by the talk of the brothers. "I am writing, not Yatsek, and it would not become me to take your words."

Here he turned to Pan Serafin and Stanislav and Yatsek. "The task was difficult, for I had to twist the horns of his malice and not abandon politeness, and also to show him that we understood whence the sting came. Listen, therefore, and if any one of you gentlemen has made a nice judgment I beg you to criticise this letter." And he began,--

"Great mighty benefactor, and to me very dear Sir and Brother."