They entered the room, in which a big fire was burning in the chimney.

Steaming wine was on the table already. Skshetuski seized a gla.s.s eagerly.

"I've had nothing between my lips since yesterday," said he.

"You are terribly emaciated. It is clear that sorrow and toil have been gnawing you. But tell me about yourself, for I know of your affair. You think then of seeking the princess there among them?"

"Either her or death," answered the knight.

"You will more easily find death. How do you know that she may be there?"

"Because I have looked for her elsewhere."

"Where?"

"Along the Dniester as far as Yagorlik. I went with Armenian merchants, for there were indications that she was secreted there; I went everywhere, and now I am going to Kieff, since Bogun was to take her there."

Scarcely had the colonel mentioned the name of Bogun when the master of the chase seized himself by the head. "As G.o.d lives!" he cried, "I have not told you the most important of all. I heard that Bogun is killed."

Skshetuski grew pale. "How is that? Who told you?"

"That n.o.ble who saved the princess once, and who showed such bravery at Konstantinoff, told me. I met him when I was going to Zamost. We were pa.s.sing on the road. I merely inquired for the news, and he answered me that Bogun was killed. I asked: 'Who killed him?' 'I,' said he. Then we parted."

The flame which had flashed in the face of Skshetuski was suddenly quenched. "That n.o.ble!" said he; "it is impossible to believe him. No, no, he couldn't be in a condition to kill Bogun."

"And didn't you see him, Pan Yan, for I remember too that he told me he was going to you at Zamost?"

"I did not wait for him at Zamost. He must be now at Zbaraj. I was in a hurry to overtake the commission. I did not return from Kamenyets to Zbaraj, and I did not see him. G.o.d alone knows whether even that is true which he told me about her, which he as it were overheard while captive with Bogun,--that Bogun had hidden her beyond Yampol, and then intended to take her to Kieff for marriage. Perhaps this too is untrue, like everything Zagloba said."

"Why do you go then to Kieff?"

Skshetuski was silent; for a moment nothing was heard but the whistling and howling of the wind.

"For," said Kjetovski, placing his finger on his forehead, "if Bogun is not killed, you may fall into his hands with ease."

"I go to find him," answered Skshetuski, in a hollow voice.

"Why?"

"Let G.o.d's judgment be pa.s.sed between us."

"But he will not fight with you; he will simply bind you, take your life, or sell you to the Tartars."

"I am with the commissioners, in their suite."

"G.o.d grant that we bring our own lives out of this! What is the use of talking of the suite?"

"To whom life is heavy, the earth will be light."

"But have the fear of G.o.d before you, Yan! It is not a question here of death, for that avoids no man, but they can sell you to the Turkish galleys."

"Do you think that would be worse for me than the present?"

"I see that you are desperate, and trust not in the mercy of G.o.d."

"You are mistaken! I say that it is evil for me in the world, because it is; but long ago I was reconciled to the will of G.o.d. I do not beg, I do not groan, I do not curse. I do not beat my head against the wall; I merely desire to accomplish that which pertains to me while strength and life remain."

"But grief is devouring you like poison."

"G.o.d gave grief to devour, and he will send the cure when he wishes."

"I have no answer to such an argument," said Kjetovski. "In G.o.d is the only salvation; in him hope for us and the whole Commonwealth. The king went to Chenstokhova. He may obtain something from the Most Holy Lady; otherwise we shall all perish."

Silence followed, and from outside the window came only the constant "Who's there?" of the dragoons.

"True, true," said Kjetovski. "We all belong more to the dead than the living. People have forgotten to smile in this Commonwealth; they only groan like that wind in the chimney. I too have believed that happier times would come, till I went on this journey with others; but now I see that that was a barren hope. Ruin, war, hunger, murder, and nothing more,--nothing more."

Skshetuski was silent; the blaze of the fire lighted his stern, emaciated face. Finally he raised his head and said with a voice of dignity,--

"That is all temporal, which pa.s.ses away, vanishes, and leaves nothing behind."

"You speak like a monk," said Kjetovski.

Skshetuski made no answer; the wind only groaned each moment move sadly in the chimney.

CHAPTER L.

Next morning early the commissioners left Novoselki, and with them Skshetuski; but that was a tearful journey, in which at every stopping-place, in every village, they were threatened with death, and met with contempt, which was worse than death,--worse specially in this, that the commissioners bore in their own persons the dignity and majesty of the Commonwealth. Pan Kisel grew ill, so that at every lodging-place he was borne from the sleigh to the house. The chamberlain of Lvoff wept over his own disgrace and that of the country. Captain Bryshovski fell ill also from sleeplessness and toil.

Pan Yan therefore took his place, and led on farther that hapless suite amidst the pressure of crowds, insults, threats, skirmishes, and battles.

At Belgorod it seemed to the commissioners again that their last hour had come. The crowd had beaten the sick Bryshovski, were killing Pan Gnyazdovski; and only the arrival of the metropolitan for an interview with the voevoda put a stop to the intended slaughter. They did not wish to admit the commissioners into Kieff at all. Prince Chetvertinski returned, February 11, from Hmelnitski without an answer. The commissioners did not know what further to do or where to go. Their return was prevented by immense parties waiting only for the breaking of negotiations to kill the envoys. The mob became more and more insolent; the bridles of the dragoons' horses were seized, and the road stopped; stones, pieces of ice, and frozen lumps of snow were thrown into the sleigh of the voevoda. At Gvozdova, Skshetuski and Donyets had to fight a b.l.o.o.d.y battle in which they dispersed several hundred of the mob. The ensign of Novgrodek and Pan Smyarovski went with a new argument to persuade Hmelnitski to come to meet the commissioners at Kieff, but the voevoda had little hope that they would live to reach him. Meanwhile the commissioners in Khvastovo were forced to look with folded arms on the crowds killing prisoners of both s.e.xes and of every age. Some were drowned through holes in the ice, some were drenched with water poured over them in the frost, others stabbed with forks or whittled to death with knives. Eighteen of such days pa.s.sed before at last the answer came from Hmelnitski that he would not go to Kieff, but was waiting in Pereyaslav for the voevoda and the commissioners.

When they had crossed the Dnieper at Trypole and reached Voronkovo in the night, from which place it was only thirty miles to Pereyaslav, the unfortunate commissioners drew a breath of relief, thinking that their torment was over. Hmelnitski went out two miles and a half to meet them, wishing to show honor to the royal emba.s.sy, but how changed from those days in which he put himself forward as an injured man,--"quantum mutatus ab illo!" as Kisel justly wrote of him. He rode forth with a suite of hors.e.m.e.n, with his colonels and essauls, with martial music, under the standard, bunchuk, and crimson banner, like a sovereign prince.

The commissioners with their retinue halted at once; and Hmelnitski, riding up to the front sleigh, in which sat the voevoda, looked for a while at his venerable face, then raised his cap slightly and said,--

"With the forehead to you, Commissioners of the king, and to you, Voevoda. It had been better to commence treating with me long ago, when I was less and did not know my own power; but because the king has sent you to me, I receive you with thankful heart in my own land."

"Greetings to you, Hetman!" answered Kisel. "His Majesty the King has sent us to present his favor and mete out justice."

"I am thankful for the favor; but justice I have already meted out with this [and here he struck upon his sabre] on your necks, and I will mete out more of it if you do not give me satisfaction."

"You do not greet us very affably, Pan Hetman of the Zaporojians,--us, the envoys of the king."

"I will not speak in the cold; there will be a better time for that,"

replied Hmelnitski, dryly. "Let me into your sleigh, Kisel, for I wish to show you honor and ride with you."