The weight of sadness became so great
that it was too heavy even for the shoulders of this giant.
that it was too heavy even for the shoulders of this giant.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v23 - Sha to Sta
"
"Disgusting to hear him! " cried the Lithuanian, thrusting his
fingers in his ears.
"Let disputes rest," said Skshetuski seriously.
think about this question. "
"Better let us
"In God's name," said the starosta, who had listened hitherto
with astonishment to Zagloba: "this is a great question, but we
can decide nothing without the prince. This is no place for dis-
cussion. You are in service and obliged to obey orders. The
prince must be in his quarters: let us go to him and see what
he will say to your offer. "
"I agree to that," answered Zagloba; and hope shone in his
face. "Let us go as quickly as possible. "
They went out and crossed the square, on which already the
balls were falling from the Cossack trenches. The troops were at
the ramparts, which at a distance looked like booths at a fair, so
overhung were they with many-colored clothing and sheepskin
coats, packed with wagons, fragments of tents, and every kind
of object which might become a shelter against the shots which
at times ceased neither day nor night. And now above those
rags hung a long bluish line of smoke, and behind them ranks of
prostrate red and yellow soldiers, working hard against the near-
est trenches of the enemy. The square itself was like a ruin:
the level space was cut up with spades, or trampled by horses; it
was not made green by a single grass-blade. Here and there
were mounds of earth freshly raised by the digging of walls and
graves; here and there lay fragments of broken wagons, cannon,
barrels, or piles of bones, gnawed and whitening before the sun.
Bodies of horses were nowhere visible, for each one was removed
immediately as food for the soldiers; but everywhere were piles.
## p. 13414 (#228) ##########################################
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
13414
of iron, mostly cannon-balls, red from rust, which fell every day
on that piece of land. Grievous war and hunger were evident
at every step. On their way our knights met greater or smaller
groups of soldiers,- some carrying wounded or dead, others hur-
rying to the ramparts to relieve their overworked comrades.
The faces of all were black, sunken, overgrown with beard; their
fierce eyes were inflamed, their clothing faded and torn; many
had filthy rags on their heads in place of caps or helmets; their
weapons were broken. Involuntarily came the question, What will
happen a week or two later to that handful hitherto victorious?
"Look, gentlemen," said the starosta: "it is time to give
notice to the King. "
"Want is showing its teeth like a dog," said the little knight.
"What will happen when we have eaten the horses? " asked
Skshetuski.
-
Thus conversing, they reached the tents of the prince, situated
at the right side of the rampart, before which were a few mounted
messengers to carry orders through the camp. Their horses, fed
with dried and ground horse-flesh and excited by continual fire,
reared restively, unable to stand in one place. This was the case
too with all the cavalry horses, which in going against the enemy
seemed like a herd of griffins or centaurs going rather by air
than by land.
"Is the prince in the tent? " asked the starosta of one of the
horsemen.
not.
"Yes, with Pan Pshiyemski," answered the orderly.
The starosta entered first without announcing himself, but the
four knights remained outside. After a while the canvas opened,
and Pshiyemski thrust out his head. "The prince is anxious to
see you," said he.
Zagloba entered the tent in good humor, for he hoped the
prince would not expose his best knights to certain death; but
he was mistaken, for they had not yet bowed when he said:
"The starosta has told me of your readiness to issue from
the camp, and I accept your good-will. Too much cannot be
sacrificed for the country. "
"We have only come for permission to try," said Skshetuski,
"since your Highness is the steward of our blood. "
"Then you want to go together? "
"Your Highness," said Zagloba, "they want to go, but I do
God is my witness that I have not come here to praise
-
## p. 13415 (#229) ##########################################
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
13415
myself or to make mention of my services; and if I do mention
them, I do so lest some one might suppose that I am afraid.
Pan Skshetuski, Volodyovski, and Podbipienta of Myshekishki,
are great knights; but Burlai, who fell by my hand (not to speak
of other exploits), was also a famous warrior, equal to Burdabut,
Bogun, and the three heads of the janissaries. I mean to say by
this that in knightly deeds I am not behind others. But heroism
is one thing, and madness another. We have no wings, and we
cannot go by land; that is certain. "
"You will not go, then? " said the prince.
"I have said that I do not wish to go, but I have not said
that I will not go. Since God has punished me with their
company, I must remain in it till death. If we should be hard
pressed, the sabre of Zagloba will be of service yet; but I know
not why death should be put upon us four, and I hope that your
Highness will avert it from us by not permitting this mad under-
taking. "
"You are a good comrade," answered the prince, "and it is
honorable on your part not to wish to leave your friends; but you
are mistaken in your confidence in me, for I accept your offer. "
"The dog is dead! " muttered Zagloba, and his hands dropped.
At that moment Firlei, castellan of Belsk, entered the tent.
"Your Highness, my people have seized a Cossack, who says that
they are preparing an assault for to-night. "
"I have received information too," answered the prince. "All
is ready, only let our people hurry with the ramparts. "
«< They are nearly finished. "
"That is well! We will occupy them in the evening. " Then
he turned to the four knights. "It is best to try after the storm,
if the night is dark. "
"How is that? " asked Firlei: "are you preparing a sally? "
"The sally in its own order, I will lead it myself; but now
we are talking about something else. These gentlemen under-
take to creep through the enemy and inform the King of our
condition. "
――――
The castellan was astonished, opened his eyes, and looked at
the knights in succession. The prince smiled with delight He
had this vanity,- he loved to have his soldiers admired.
"In God's name! " said the castellan: "there are such hearts
then in the world? As God lives, I will not dissuade you from
the daring deed. "
## p. 13416 (#230) ##########################################
13416
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
Zagloba was purple from rage; but he said nothing, he only
puffed like a bear.
The prince thought awhile, then said:-
"I do not wish, however, to spend your blood in vain, and I
am not willing that all four should go together. One will go
first; if the enemy kill him, they will not delay in boasting of
it, as they have once already boasted of the death of my servant
whom they seized at Lvoff. If they kill the first, the second will
go; afterward in case of necessity the third and the fourth. But
perhaps the first will pass through; in such an event I do not
wish to expose the others to a useless death. "
"Your Highness—» interrupted Skshetuski.
"This is my will and command," said Yeremi with emphasis.
"To bring you to agreement, I say that he shall go first who
offered himself first. "
"It was I! " cried Pan Longin with a beaming face.
"To-night, after the storm, if it is dark," added the prince.
"I will give no letters to the King: you will tell what you have
seen, merely take a signet-ring as credential. ”
Podbipienta took the signet-ring and bowed to the prince, who
caught him by the temples and held him awhile with his two
hands; then he kissed him several times on the forehead, and
Isaid in a voice of emotion:
―
―――
"You are as near to my heart as a brother. May the God
of Hosts and our Queen of Angels carry you through, warrior of
the Lord! Amen! "
"Amen! " repeated Sobieski, the castellan of Belsk, and Pan
Pshiyemski.
The prince had tears in his eyes, for he was a real father to
the knights. Others wept, and a quiver of enthusiasm shook the
body of Pan Podbipienta. A flame passed through his bones;
and rejoiced to its depth was his soul, pure, obedient, and heroic,
with the hope of coming sacrifice.
"History will write of you! " cried the castellan.
"Non nobis, non nobis, sed nomini tuo, Domine, da gloriam "
(Not to us, not to us, but to thy name, O Lord, give the glory),
said the prince.
The knights issued from the tent.
"Tfu! something has seized me by the throat and holds me,"
said Zagloba; "and it is as bitter in my mouth as wormwood,
and there they are firing continually. Oh, if the thunders would
## p. 13417 (#231) ##########################################
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
·
13417
fire you away! " said he, pointing to the smoking trenches of the
Cossacks. "Oh, it is hard to live in this world! Pan Longin,
are you really going out? May the angels guard you! If the
plague would choke those ruffians! "
"I must take farewell of you," said Podbipienta.
"How is that? Where are you going? " asked Zagloba.
"To the priest Mukhovetski,- to confess, my brother. I must
cleanse my sinful soul. "
Pan Longin hastened to the castle; the others returned to the
ramparts. Skshetuski and Volodyovski were silent, but Zagloba
said:
"Something holds me by the throat. I did not think to be
sorrowful, but that is the worthiest man in the world. If any
one contradicts me, I'll give it to him in the face. O my God,
my God! I thought the castellan of Belsk would restrain the
prince, but he beat the drums still more. The hangman brought
that heretic! 'History,' he says, 'will write of you. ' Let it
write of him, but not on the skin of Pan Longin. And why
doesn't he go out himself? He has six toes on his feet, like
every Calvinist, and he can walk better. I tell you, gentlemen,
that it is getting worse and worse on earth, and Jabkovski is a
true prophet when he says that the end of the world is near.
Let us sit down awhile at the ramparts, and then go to the
castle, so as to console ourselves with the company of our friend
till evening at least. "
But Pan Longin, after confession and communion, spent the
whole time in prayer. He made his first appearance at the storm
in the evening,- which was one of the most awful, for the Cos-
sacks had struck just when the troops were transporting their
cannon and wagons to the newly raised ramparts. For a time
it seemed that the slender forces of the Poles would fall before
the onrush of two hundred thousand foes. The Polish battalions
had become so intermingled with the enemy that they could not
distinguish their own, and three times they closed in this fashion.
Hmelnitski exerted all his power; for the Khan and his own
colonels had told him that this must be the last storm, and that
henceforth they would only harass the besieged with hunger.
But after three hours, all attacks were repulsed with such terri-
ble losses that according to later reports, forty thousand of the
enemy had fallen.
One thing is certain,- after the battle a whole
bundle of flags was thrown at the feet of the prince; and this was
## p. 13418 (#232) ##########################################
13418
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
really the last great assault, after which followed more difficult
times of digging under the ramparts, capturing wagons, continual
firing, suffering, and famine.
Immediately after the storm the soldiers, ready to drop from
weariness, were led by the tireless Yeremi in a sally, which ended
in a new defeat for the enemy. Quiet then soothed the tabor
and the camp.
The night was warm but cloudy. Four black forms pushed
themselves quietly and carefully to the eastern edge of the ram-
parts. They were Pan Longin, Zagloba, Skshetuski, and Volo-
dyovski.
"Guard your pistols well, to keep the powder dry," whis-
pered Pan Yan. "Two battalions will be ready all night. If you
fire, we will spring to the rescue. "
"Nothing to be seen, even if you strain your eyes out! "
whispered Zagloba.
"That is better," answered Pan Longin.
"Be quiet! " interrupted Volodyovski: "I hear something. "
"That is only the groan of a dying man,— nothing! "
"If you can only reach the oak grove. "
"O my God! my God! " sighed Zagloba, trembling as if in
a fever.
« "In three hours it will be daylight. "
"It is time! " said Pan Longin.
"Time! time! >>>> repeated Skshetuski in a stifled voice.
with God! "
« Go
"With God, with God! "
"Farewell, brothers, and forgive me if I have offended any of
you in anything. "
"You offend? O God! " cried Zagloba, throwing himself into
his arms.
Skshetuski and Volodyovski embraced him in turn. The
moment came. Suppressed gulping shook the breasts of these
knights. One alone, Pan Longin, was calm, though full of emo-
tion. "Farewell! " he repeated once more; and approaching the
edge of the rampart, he dropped into the ditch, and soon appeared
as a black figure on the opposite bank. Once more he beckoned
farewell to his comrades, and vanished in the gloom.
Between the road to Zalostsitse and the highway from Vish-
nyovets grew an oak grove, interspersed with narrow openings.
Beyond and joining with it was an old pine forest, thick and
## p. 13419 (#233) ##########################################
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
13419
large, extending north of Zalostsitse. Podbipienta had determined
to reach that grove. The road was very perilous, for to reach
the oaks it was necessary to pass along the entire flank of the
Cossack tabor; but Pan Longin selected it on purpose, for it was
just around the camp that most people were moving during the
whole night, and the guards gave least attention to passers-by.
Besides, all other roads, valleys, thickets, and narrow places were
beset by guards who rode around continually; by essauls, sot-
niks, and even Hmelnitski himself. A passage through the mead-
ows and along the Gnyezna was not to be dreamt of, for the
Cossack horse-herders were watching there from dusk till day-
light with their herds.
The night was gloomy, cloudy, and so dark that at ten paces
not only could a man not be seen, but not even a tree. This
circumstance was favorable for Pan Longin; though on the other
hand he was obliged to go very slowly and carefully, so as not
to fall into any of the pits or ditches occupying the whole.
expanse of the battle-field, and dug by Polish and Cossack hands.
In this fashion he made his way to the second Polish rampart,
which had been abandoned just before evening, and had passed
through the ditch. He stopped and listened; the trenches were
empty. The sally made by Yeremi after the storm had pushed
the Cossacks out; who either fell, or took refuge in the tabor.
A multitude of bodies were lying on the slopes and summits
of these mounds. Pan Longin stumbled against bodies every
moment, stepped over them, and passed on.
a low groan or sigh announced that some
was living yet.
From time to time
one of the prostrate
Beyond the ramparts there was a broad expanse stretching to
another trench made before the arrival of Yeremi, also covered
with corpses; but some tens of steps farther on were those earth
shelters, like stacks of hay in the darkness. But they were
empty. Everywhere the deepest silence reigned,-nowhere a fire
or a man; no one on that former square but the prostrate.
Pan Longin began the prayer for the souls of the dead, and
went on. The sounds of the Polish camp, which followed him
to the second rampart, grew fainter and fainter, melting in the
distance, till at last they ceased altogether. Pan Longin stopped.
and looked around for the last time. He could see almost
nothing, for in the camp there was no light; but one window in
the castle glimmered weakly as a a star which the clouds now
## p. 13420 (#234) ##########################################
13420
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
expose and now conceal, or like a glow-worm which shines and
darkens in turn.
"My brothers, shall I see you again in this life? " thought
Pan Longin; and sadness pressed him down like a tremendous
stone. He was barely able to breathe. There, where that pale
light was trembling, are his people; there are brother hearts,—
Prince Yeremi, Pan Yan, Volodyovski, Zagloba, the priest Mukho-
vetski; there they love him and would gladly defend him. But
here is night, with desolation, darkness, corpses; under his feet
choruses of ghosts; farther on, the blood-devouring tabor of
sworn, pitiless enemies.
The weight of sadness became so great
that it was too heavy even for the shoulders of this giant. His
soul began to waver within him.
In the darkness pale Alarm flew upon him, and began to
whisper in his ear, "You will not pass, it is impossible! Return;
there is still time! Fire the pistol, and a whole battalion will
rush to your aid. Through those tabors, through that savage-
ness, nothing will pass. "
That starving camp, covered every day with balls, full of
death and the odor of corpses, appeared at that moment to Pan
Longin a calm, peaceful, safe haven. His friends there would
not think ill of him if he returned. He would tell them that the
deed passed human power; and they would not go themselves,
would not send another,- would wait further for the mercy of
God and the coming of the King. But if Skshetuski should go
and perish! "In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!
These are temptations of Satan," thought Pan Longin. "I am
ready for death, and nothing worse can meet me. And this is
Satan terrifying a weak soul with desolation, corpses, and dark-
ness; for he makes use of all means. " Will the knight return,
cover himself with shame, suffer in reputation, disgrace his name,
not save the army, renounce the crown of heaven? Never! And
he moved on, stretching out his hands before him.
Now a
murmur reached him again; not from the Polish
camp, however, but from the opposite side, still indefinite, but
as it were deep and terrible, like the growling of a bear giving
sudden answer in a dark forest. Disquiet had now left Pan
Longin's soul; sadness had ceased, and changed into a mere
sweet remembrance of those near to him. At last, as if answer-
ing that menace coming up from the tabor, he repeated once
more in spirit, "But still I will go. "
## p. 13421 (#235) ##########################################
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
13421
-
After a certain time he found himself on that battle-field
where on the first day of the storm the prince's cavalry had
defeated the Cossacks and janissaries. The road here was more
even, fewer pits, ditches, shelters, and no corpses; for those who
had fallen in the earlier struggles had been buried by the Cos-
sacks. It was also somewhat clearer, for the ground was not cov-
ered with various obstacles. The land inclined gradually toward
the north. But Pan Longin turned immediately to the flank, wish-
ing to push through between the western pond and the tabor.
He went quickly now, without hindrance, and it seemed to
him already that he was reaching the line of the tabor, when
some new sound caught his attention. He halted at once, and
after waiting a quarter of an hour heard the tramp and breath-
ing of horses. "Cossack patrols! " thought he. The voices of
men reached his ears. He sprang aside with all speed, and
searching with his foot for the first depression in the ground,
fell to the earth and stretched out motionless, holding his pistol
in one hand and his sword in the other.
The riders approached still nearer, and at last were abreast of
him. It was so dark he could not count them; but he heard
every word of their conversation.
"It is hard for them, but hard for us too," said some sleepy
voice. "And how many good men of ours have bitten the dust! "
"O Lord! " said another voice, "they say the King is not far.
What will become of us? "
"The Khan got angry with our father; and the Tartars
threaten to take us, if there will be no other prisoners. "
"And in the pastures they fight with our men. Father has
forbidden us to go to the Tartar camp, for whoever goes there
is lost. "
"They say there are disguised Poles among the market-men.
I wish this war had never begun. "
"It is worse this time than before. "
"The King is not far away, with the Polish forces. That is
the worst!
>>
"Ha, ha! You would be sleeping in the Saitch at this hour;
now you have got to push around in the dark like a vampire. "
"There must be vampires here, for the horses are snorting. "
The voices receded gradually, and at last were silent. Pan
Longin rose and went on.
## p. 13422 (#236) ##########################################
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
13422
A rain fine as mist began to fall. It grew still darker. On
the left side of Pan Longin gleamed at the distance of two fur-
longs a small light; after that a second, a third, and a tenth.
Then he knew he was on the line of the tabor. The lights were
far apart and weak. It was evident that all were sleeping, and
only here and there might they be drinking or preparing food
for the morrow.
"Thank God that I am out after the storm and the sally,"
said Pan Longin to himself. "They must be mortally weary. "
He had scarcely thought this when he heard again in the dis-
tance the tramp of horses,-another patrol was coming But the
ground in this place was more broken; therefore it was easier
to hide. The patrol passed so near that the guards almost rode
over Pan Longin. Fortunately the horses, accustomed to pass
among prostrate bodies, were not frightened. Pan Longin went
on.
In the space of a thousand yards he met two more patrols.
It was evident that the whole circle occupied by the tabor was
guarded like the apple of the eye. But Pan Longin rejoiced in
spirit that he was not meeting infantry outposts, who are gener-
ally placed before camps to give warning to mounted patrols.
But his joy was of short duration. Scarcely had he advanced
another furlong of the road when some dark figure shifted before
him not more than twenty yards distant. Though unterrified,
he felt a slight tremor along his spine. It was too late to with-
draw and go around. The form moved; evidently it had seen
him. A moment of hesitation followed, short as the twinkle of
an eye.
Then a suppressed voice called:-
"Vassil, is that you? "
"I," said Pan Longin, quietly.
"Have you gorailka? "
"I have. "
"Give me some. "
Pan Longin approached.
"Why are you so tall? " asked the voice, in tones of terror.
Something rustled in the darkness. A scream of "Lor-! "
smothered the instant it was begun, came from the mouth of the
picket; then was heard the crash as it were of broken bones,
heavy breathing, and one figure fell quietly to the earth. Pan
Longin moved on.
## p. 13423 (#237) ##########################################
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
13423
But he did not pass along the same line, for it was evidently
a line of pickets; he turned therefore a little nearer to the tabor,
wishing to go between the pickets and the line of wagons. If
there was not another line of pickets, Pan Longin could meet in
that space only those who went out from camp to relieve those
on duty. Mounted patrols had no duty here.
After a time it became evident that there was no second line
of pickets. But the tabor was not farther than two bow-shots;
and wonderful! it seemed to grow nearer continually, though he
tried to go at an equal distance from the line of wagons.
It was evident too that not all were asleep in the tabor. At
the fires smoldering here and there, sitting figures were visible.
In one place the fire was greater,- so large indeed that it
almost reached Pan Longin with its light, and he was forced to
draw back toward the pickets so as not to pass through the line
of illumination. From the distance he distinguished, hanging on
cross-sticks near the fire, oxen which the butchers were skinning.
Disputing groups of men looked on. A few were playing quietly
on pipes for the butchers. It was that part of the camp occu-
pied by the herdsmen. The more distant rows of wagons were
surrounded by darkness.
But the line of the tabor lighted by the smoldering fires again
appeared as if nearer to Pan Longin. In the beginning he had
it only on his right hand; suddenly he saw that he had it in
front of him. Then he halted and meditated what to do. He
was surrounded. The tabor, the Tartar camp, and the camps.
of the mob, encircled all Zbaraj like a ring. Inside this ring,
sentries were standing and mounted guards moving, that no one
might pass through.
The position of Pan Longin was terrible. He had now the
choice either to go through between the wagons or seek another
exit between the Cossacks and the Tartars. Otherwise he would
have to wander till daylight along that rim, unless he wished to
return to Zbaraj; but even in the latter case he might fall into
the hands of the mounted patrol. He understood, however, that
the very nature of the ground did not permit that one wagon
should stand close to another. There had to be intervals in the
rows, and considerable ones. Such intervals were necessary for
communication, for an open road, for necessary travel. He deter-
mined to look for such a passage, and with that object ap-
proached still nearer to the wagons. The gleam of fires burning
## p. 13424 (#238) ##########################################
13424
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
here and there might betray him; but on the other hand they
were useful, for without them he could see neither the wagons
nor the road between them.
After a quarter of an hour he found a road, and recognized
it easily, for it looked like a black belt between the wagons.
There was no fire on it; there could be no Cossacks there, since
the cavalry had to pass that way. Pan Longin put himself on
his knees and hands, and began to crawl to that dark throat like
a snake to a hole.
A quarter of an hour passed,-half an hour; he crawled con-
tinually, praying at the same time, commending his body and
soul to the protection of the heavenly powers. He thought that
perhaps the fate of all Zbaraj was depending on him then, could
he pass that throat; he prayed therefore not for himself alone,
but for those who at that moment in the trenches were praying
for him.
On both sides of him all was silent,— no man moved, no
horse snorted, no dog barked; and Pan Longin went through.
The bushes and thickets looked dark before him; behind them
was the oak grove; behind the oak grove the pine woods, all the
way to Toporoff; beyond the pine woods, the King, salvation, and
glory, service before God and man. What was the cutting of
three heads in comparison with this deed, for which something
was needed beyond an iron hand? Pan Longin felt the differ-
ence, but pride stirred not that clean heart; it was only moved
like that of a child with tears of thankfulness.
Then he rose and passed on. Beyond the wagons there were
either no pickets, or few easily avoided. Now heavier rain began
to fall, pattering on the bushes and drowning the noise of his
steps. Pan Longin then gave freedom to his long legs, and
walked like a giant, trampling the bushes; every step was like five
of a common man,-the wagons every moment farther, the oak
grove every moment nearer and salvation every moment nearer.
Here are the oaks. Night beneath them is as black as under
the ground; but that is better. A gentle breeze sprang up; the
oaks murmured lightly,- you would have said they were mutter-
ing a prayer: "O great God, good God, guard this knight, for he
is thy servant, and a faithful son of the land on which we have
grown up for thy glory! "
About seven miles and a half divided Pan Longin from the
Polish camp.
Sweat poured from his forehead, for the air was
## p. 13425 (#239) ##########################################
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
13425
sultry, as if gathering for a storm; but he went on, caring noth-
ing for the storm, for the angels were singing in his heart. The
oaks became thinner. The first field is surely near. The oaks
rustle more loudly, as if wishing to say, "Wait: you were safe
among us. " But the knight has no time, and he enters the open
field. Only one oak stands on it, and that in the centre; but it
is larger than the others. Pan Longin moves toward that oak.
>>
All at once, when he was a few yards from the spreading
branches of the giant, about a dozen figures push out and ap-
proach him with wolf-springs: "Who are you? who are you?
Their language is unknown; their heads are covered with some-
thing pointed. They are the Tartar horse-herders, who have
taken refuge from the rain. At that moment red lightning
flashed through the field, revealing the oak, the wild figures of
the Tartars, and the enormous noble. A terrible cry shook the
air, and the battle began in a moment.
The Tartars rushed on Pan Longin like wolves on a deer, and
seized him with sinewy hands; but he only shook himself, and all
the assailants fell from him as ripe fruit from a tree. Then the
terrible double-handed sword gritted in the scabbard; and then
were heard groans, howls, calls for aid, the whistle of the sword,
the groans of the wounded, the neighing and the frightened
horses, the clatter of broken Tartar swords. The silent field
roared with all the wild sounds that can possibly find place in
the throats of men.
The Tartars rushed on him repeatedly in a crowd; but he put
his back to the oak, and in front covered himself with the whirl-
wind of his sword, and slashed awfully. Bodies lay dark under
his feet; the others fell back, impelled by panic terror. "A div!
a div! " howled they wildly.
The howling was not without an answer. Half an hour had
not passed when the whole field swarmed with footmen and
horsemen. Cossacks ran up, and Tartars also with poles and
bows and pieces of burning pitch-pine. Excited questions began
to fly from mouth to mouth. "What is it? what has happened? "
"A div! " answered the Tartars. "A div! " repeated the crowd.
"A Pole! A div! Take him alive, alive! "
Pan Longin fired twice from his pistols, but those reports
could not be heard by his comrades in the Polish camp. Now
the crowd approached him in a half-circle. He was standing in
the shade, gigantic, supported by the tree, and he waited with
XXIII-840
## p. 13426 (#240) ##########################################
13426
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
sword in hand. The crowd came nearer, nearer. At last the
voice of command shouted, "Seize him! "
They rushed ahead. The cries were stopped. Those who
could not push on gave light to the assailants. A whirl of men
gathered and turned under the tree. Only groans came out of
that whirl, and for a long time it was impossible to distinguish
anything. At last a scream of terror was wrested from the
assailants. The crowd broke in a moment. Under the tree
remained Pan Longin, and at his feet a crowd of bodies still
quivering in agony.
"Ropes! ropes! " thundered a voice.
The horsemen ran for the ropes, and brought them in the
twinkle of an eye. Then a number of strong men seized the
two ends of a long rope, endeavoring to fasten Pan Longin to
the tree; but he cut with his sword, and the men fell on the
ground on both sides. Then the Tartars tried, with the same
result.
Seeing that too many men in the crowd interfere with one
another, a number of the boldest Nogais advanced once more,
wishing absolutely to seize the enormous man alive; but he
tore them as a wild boar tears resolute dogs. The oak, which
had grown together from two great trees, guarded in its central
depression the knight; whoever approached him from the front
within the length of his sword perished without uttering a groan.
The superhuman power of Pan Longin seemed to increase with
each moment. Seeing this, the enraged hordes drove away the
Cossacks, and around were heard the wild cries, "Bows! bows! "
At the sight of the bows, and of the arrows poured out at
the feet of his enemies from their quivers, Pan Longin saw that
the moment of death was at hand, and he began the litany to
the Most Holy Lady.
It became still. The crowds restrained their breath, waiting
for what would happen. The first arrow whistled, as Pan Longin
was saying, "Mother of the Redeemer! " and it scratched his tem-
ple. Another arrow whistled as he was saying, "O glorious
Lady," and it stuck in his shoulder. The words of the litany
mingled with the whistling of arrows; and when Pan Longin had
said "Morning Star," arrows were standing in his shoulders,
in his side, in his legs.
"Disgusting to hear him! " cried the Lithuanian, thrusting his
fingers in his ears.
"Let disputes rest," said Skshetuski seriously.
think about this question. "
"Better let us
"In God's name," said the starosta, who had listened hitherto
with astonishment to Zagloba: "this is a great question, but we
can decide nothing without the prince. This is no place for dis-
cussion. You are in service and obliged to obey orders. The
prince must be in his quarters: let us go to him and see what
he will say to your offer. "
"I agree to that," answered Zagloba; and hope shone in his
face. "Let us go as quickly as possible. "
They went out and crossed the square, on which already the
balls were falling from the Cossack trenches. The troops were at
the ramparts, which at a distance looked like booths at a fair, so
overhung were they with many-colored clothing and sheepskin
coats, packed with wagons, fragments of tents, and every kind
of object which might become a shelter against the shots which
at times ceased neither day nor night. And now above those
rags hung a long bluish line of smoke, and behind them ranks of
prostrate red and yellow soldiers, working hard against the near-
est trenches of the enemy. The square itself was like a ruin:
the level space was cut up with spades, or trampled by horses; it
was not made green by a single grass-blade. Here and there
were mounds of earth freshly raised by the digging of walls and
graves; here and there lay fragments of broken wagons, cannon,
barrels, or piles of bones, gnawed and whitening before the sun.
Bodies of horses were nowhere visible, for each one was removed
immediately as food for the soldiers; but everywhere were piles.
## p. 13414 (#228) ##########################################
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
13414
of iron, mostly cannon-balls, red from rust, which fell every day
on that piece of land. Grievous war and hunger were evident
at every step. On their way our knights met greater or smaller
groups of soldiers,- some carrying wounded or dead, others hur-
rying to the ramparts to relieve their overworked comrades.
The faces of all were black, sunken, overgrown with beard; their
fierce eyes were inflamed, their clothing faded and torn; many
had filthy rags on their heads in place of caps or helmets; their
weapons were broken. Involuntarily came the question, What will
happen a week or two later to that handful hitherto victorious?
"Look, gentlemen," said the starosta: "it is time to give
notice to the King. "
"Want is showing its teeth like a dog," said the little knight.
"What will happen when we have eaten the horses? " asked
Skshetuski.
-
Thus conversing, they reached the tents of the prince, situated
at the right side of the rampart, before which were a few mounted
messengers to carry orders through the camp. Their horses, fed
with dried and ground horse-flesh and excited by continual fire,
reared restively, unable to stand in one place. This was the case
too with all the cavalry horses, which in going against the enemy
seemed like a herd of griffins or centaurs going rather by air
than by land.
"Is the prince in the tent? " asked the starosta of one of the
horsemen.
not.
"Yes, with Pan Pshiyemski," answered the orderly.
The starosta entered first without announcing himself, but the
four knights remained outside. After a while the canvas opened,
and Pshiyemski thrust out his head. "The prince is anxious to
see you," said he.
Zagloba entered the tent in good humor, for he hoped the
prince would not expose his best knights to certain death; but
he was mistaken, for they had not yet bowed when he said:
"The starosta has told me of your readiness to issue from
the camp, and I accept your good-will. Too much cannot be
sacrificed for the country. "
"We have only come for permission to try," said Skshetuski,
"since your Highness is the steward of our blood. "
"Then you want to go together? "
"Your Highness," said Zagloba, "they want to go, but I do
God is my witness that I have not come here to praise
-
## p. 13415 (#229) ##########################################
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
13415
myself or to make mention of my services; and if I do mention
them, I do so lest some one might suppose that I am afraid.
Pan Skshetuski, Volodyovski, and Podbipienta of Myshekishki,
are great knights; but Burlai, who fell by my hand (not to speak
of other exploits), was also a famous warrior, equal to Burdabut,
Bogun, and the three heads of the janissaries. I mean to say by
this that in knightly deeds I am not behind others. But heroism
is one thing, and madness another. We have no wings, and we
cannot go by land; that is certain. "
"You will not go, then? " said the prince.
"I have said that I do not wish to go, but I have not said
that I will not go. Since God has punished me with their
company, I must remain in it till death. If we should be hard
pressed, the sabre of Zagloba will be of service yet; but I know
not why death should be put upon us four, and I hope that your
Highness will avert it from us by not permitting this mad under-
taking. "
"You are a good comrade," answered the prince, "and it is
honorable on your part not to wish to leave your friends; but you
are mistaken in your confidence in me, for I accept your offer. "
"The dog is dead! " muttered Zagloba, and his hands dropped.
At that moment Firlei, castellan of Belsk, entered the tent.
"Your Highness, my people have seized a Cossack, who says that
they are preparing an assault for to-night. "
"I have received information too," answered the prince. "All
is ready, only let our people hurry with the ramparts. "
«< They are nearly finished. "
"That is well! We will occupy them in the evening. " Then
he turned to the four knights. "It is best to try after the storm,
if the night is dark. "
"How is that? " asked Firlei: "are you preparing a sally? "
"The sally in its own order, I will lead it myself; but now
we are talking about something else. These gentlemen under-
take to creep through the enemy and inform the King of our
condition. "
――――
The castellan was astonished, opened his eyes, and looked at
the knights in succession. The prince smiled with delight He
had this vanity,- he loved to have his soldiers admired.
"In God's name! " said the castellan: "there are such hearts
then in the world? As God lives, I will not dissuade you from
the daring deed. "
## p. 13416 (#230) ##########################################
13416
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
Zagloba was purple from rage; but he said nothing, he only
puffed like a bear.
The prince thought awhile, then said:-
"I do not wish, however, to spend your blood in vain, and I
am not willing that all four should go together. One will go
first; if the enemy kill him, they will not delay in boasting of
it, as they have once already boasted of the death of my servant
whom they seized at Lvoff. If they kill the first, the second will
go; afterward in case of necessity the third and the fourth. But
perhaps the first will pass through; in such an event I do not
wish to expose the others to a useless death. "
"Your Highness—» interrupted Skshetuski.
"This is my will and command," said Yeremi with emphasis.
"To bring you to agreement, I say that he shall go first who
offered himself first. "
"It was I! " cried Pan Longin with a beaming face.
"To-night, after the storm, if it is dark," added the prince.
"I will give no letters to the King: you will tell what you have
seen, merely take a signet-ring as credential. ”
Podbipienta took the signet-ring and bowed to the prince, who
caught him by the temples and held him awhile with his two
hands; then he kissed him several times on the forehead, and
Isaid in a voice of emotion:
―
―――
"You are as near to my heart as a brother. May the God
of Hosts and our Queen of Angels carry you through, warrior of
the Lord! Amen! "
"Amen! " repeated Sobieski, the castellan of Belsk, and Pan
Pshiyemski.
The prince had tears in his eyes, for he was a real father to
the knights. Others wept, and a quiver of enthusiasm shook the
body of Pan Podbipienta. A flame passed through his bones;
and rejoiced to its depth was his soul, pure, obedient, and heroic,
with the hope of coming sacrifice.
"History will write of you! " cried the castellan.
"Non nobis, non nobis, sed nomini tuo, Domine, da gloriam "
(Not to us, not to us, but to thy name, O Lord, give the glory),
said the prince.
The knights issued from the tent.
"Tfu! something has seized me by the throat and holds me,"
said Zagloba; "and it is as bitter in my mouth as wormwood,
and there they are firing continually. Oh, if the thunders would
## p. 13417 (#231) ##########################################
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
·
13417
fire you away! " said he, pointing to the smoking trenches of the
Cossacks. "Oh, it is hard to live in this world! Pan Longin,
are you really going out? May the angels guard you! If the
plague would choke those ruffians! "
"I must take farewell of you," said Podbipienta.
"How is that? Where are you going? " asked Zagloba.
"To the priest Mukhovetski,- to confess, my brother. I must
cleanse my sinful soul. "
Pan Longin hastened to the castle; the others returned to the
ramparts. Skshetuski and Volodyovski were silent, but Zagloba
said:
"Something holds me by the throat. I did not think to be
sorrowful, but that is the worthiest man in the world. If any
one contradicts me, I'll give it to him in the face. O my God,
my God! I thought the castellan of Belsk would restrain the
prince, but he beat the drums still more. The hangman brought
that heretic! 'History,' he says, 'will write of you. ' Let it
write of him, but not on the skin of Pan Longin. And why
doesn't he go out himself? He has six toes on his feet, like
every Calvinist, and he can walk better. I tell you, gentlemen,
that it is getting worse and worse on earth, and Jabkovski is a
true prophet when he says that the end of the world is near.
Let us sit down awhile at the ramparts, and then go to the
castle, so as to console ourselves with the company of our friend
till evening at least. "
But Pan Longin, after confession and communion, spent the
whole time in prayer. He made his first appearance at the storm
in the evening,- which was one of the most awful, for the Cos-
sacks had struck just when the troops were transporting their
cannon and wagons to the newly raised ramparts. For a time
it seemed that the slender forces of the Poles would fall before
the onrush of two hundred thousand foes. The Polish battalions
had become so intermingled with the enemy that they could not
distinguish their own, and three times they closed in this fashion.
Hmelnitski exerted all his power; for the Khan and his own
colonels had told him that this must be the last storm, and that
henceforth they would only harass the besieged with hunger.
But after three hours, all attacks were repulsed with such terri-
ble losses that according to later reports, forty thousand of the
enemy had fallen.
One thing is certain,- after the battle a whole
bundle of flags was thrown at the feet of the prince; and this was
## p. 13418 (#232) ##########################################
13418
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
really the last great assault, after which followed more difficult
times of digging under the ramparts, capturing wagons, continual
firing, suffering, and famine.
Immediately after the storm the soldiers, ready to drop from
weariness, were led by the tireless Yeremi in a sally, which ended
in a new defeat for the enemy. Quiet then soothed the tabor
and the camp.
The night was warm but cloudy. Four black forms pushed
themselves quietly and carefully to the eastern edge of the ram-
parts. They were Pan Longin, Zagloba, Skshetuski, and Volo-
dyovski.
"Guard your pistols well, to keep the powder dry," whis-
pered Pan Yan. "Two battalions will be ready all night. If you
fire, we will spring to the rescue. "
"Nothing to be seen, even if you strain your eyes out! "
whispered Zagloba.
"That is better," answered Pan Longin.
"Be quiet! " interrupted Volodyovski: "I hear something. "
"That is only the groan of a dying man,— nothing! "
"If you can only reach the oak grove. "
"O my God! my God! " sighed Zagloba, trembling as if in
a fever.
« "In three hours it will be daylight. "
"It is time! " said Pan Longin.
"Time! time! >>>> repeated Skshetuski in a stifled voice.
with God! "
« Go
"With God, with God! "
"Farewell, brothers, and forgive me if I have offended any of
you in anything. "
"You offend? O God! " cried Zagloba, throwing himself into
his arms.
Skshetuski and Volodyovski embraced him in turn. The
moment came. Suppressed gulping shook the breasts of these
knights. One alone, Pan Longin, was calm, though full of emo-
tion. "Farewell! " he repeated once more; and approaching the
edge of the rampart, he dropped into the ditch, and soon appeared
as a black figure on the opposite bank. Once more he beckoned
farewell to his comrades, and vanished in the gloom.
Between the road to Zalostsitse and the highway from Vish-
nyovets grew an oak grove, interspersed with narrow openings.
Beyond and joining with it was an old pine forest, thick and
## p. 13419 (#233) ##########################################
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
13419
large, extending north of Zalostsitse. Podbipienta had determined
to reach that grove. The road was very perilous, for to reach
the oaks it was necessary to pass along the entire flank of the
Cossack tabor; but Pan Longin selected it on purpose, for it was
just around the camp that most people were moving during the
whole night, and the guards gave least attention to passers-by.
Besides, all other roads, valleys, thickets, and narrow places were
beset by guards who rode around continually; by essauls, sot-
niks, and even Hmelnitski himself. A passage through the mead-
ows and along the Gnyezna was not to be dreamt of, for the
Cossack horse-herders were watching there from dusk till day-
light with their herds.
The night was gloomy, cloudy, and so dark that at ten paces
not only could a man not be seen, but not even a tree. This
circumstance was favorable for Pan Longin; though on the other
hand he was obliged to go very slowly and carefully, so as not
to fall into any of the pits or ditches occupying the whole.
expanse of the battle-field, and dug by Polish and Cossack hands.
In this fashion he made his way to the second Polish rampart,
which had been abandoned just before evening, and had passed
through the ditch. He stopped and listened; the trenches were
empty. The sally made by Yeremi after the storm had pushed
the Cossacks out; who either fell, or took refuge in the tabor.
A multitude of bodies were lying on the slopes and summits
of these mounds. Pan Longin stumbled against bodies every
moment, stepped over them, and passed on.
a low groan or sigh announced that some
was living yet.
From time to time
one of the prostrate
Beyond the ramparts there was a broad expanse stretching to
another trench made before the arrival of Yeremi, also covered
with corpses; but some tens of steps farther on were those earth
shelters, like stacks of hay in the darkness. But they were
empty. Everywhere the deepest silence reigned,-nowhere a fire
or a man; no one on that former square but the prostrate.
Pan Longin began the prayer for the souls of the dead, and
went on. The sounds of the Polish camp, which followed him
to the second rampart, grew fainter and fainter, melting in the
distance, till at last they ceased altogether. Pan Longin stopped.
and looked around for the last time. He could see almost
nothing, for in the camp there was no light; but one window in
the castle glimmered weakly as a a star which the clouds now
## p. 13420 (#234) ##########################################
13420
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
expose and now conceal, or like a glow-worm which shines and
darkens in turn.
"My brothers, shall I see you again in this life? " thought
Pan Longin; and sadness pressed him down like a tremendous
stone. He was barely able to breathe. There, where that pale
light was trembling, are his people; there are brother hearts,—
Prince Yeremi, Pan Yan, Volodyovski, Zagloba, the priest Mukho-
vetski; there they love him and would gladly defend him. But
here is night, with desolation, darkness, corpses; under his feet
choruses of ghosts; farther on, the blood-devouring tabor of
sworn, pitiless enemies.
The weight of sadness became so great
that it was too heavy even for the shoulders of this giant. His
soul began to waver within him.
In the darkness pale Alarm flew upon him, and began to
whisper in his ear, "You will not pass, it is impossible! Return;
there is still time! Fire the pistol, and a whole battalion will
rush to your aid. Through those tabors, through that savage-
ness, nothing will pass. "
That starving camp, covered every day with balls, full of
death and the odor of corpses, appeared at that moment to Pan
Longin a calm, peaceful, safe haven. His friends there would
not think ill of him if he returned. He would tell them that the
deed passed human power; and they would not go themselves,
would not send another,- would wait further for the mercy of
God and the coming of the King. But if Skshetuski should go
and perish! "In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!
These are temptations of Satan," thought Pan Longin. "I am
ready for death, and nothing worse can meet me. And this is
Satan terrifying a weak soul with desolation, corpses, and dark-
ness; for he makes use of all means. " Will the knight return,
cover himself with shame, suffer in reputation, disgrace his name,
not save the army, renounce the crown of heaven? Never! And
he moved on, stretching out his hands before him.
Now a
murmur reached him again; not from the Polish
camp, however, but from the opposite side, still indefinite, but
as it were deep and terrible, like the growling of a bear giving
sudden answer in a dark forest. Disquiet had now left Pan
Longin's soul; sadness had ceased, and changed into a mere
sweet remembrance of those near to him. At last, as if answer-
ing that menace coming up from the tabor, he repeated once
more in spirit, "But still I will go. "
## p. 13421 (#235) ##########################################
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
13421
-
After a certain time he found himself on that battle-field
where on the first day of the storm the prince's cavalry had
defeated the Cossacks and janissaries. The road here was more
even, fewer pits, ditches, shelters, and no corpses; for those who
had fallen in the earlier struggles had been buried by the Cos-
sacks. It was also somewhat clearer, for the ground was not cov-
ered with various obstacles. The land inclined gradually toward
the north. But Pan Longin turned immediately to the flank, wish-
ing to push through between the western pond and the tabor.
He went quickly now, without hindrance, and it seemed to
him already that he was reaching the line of the tabor, when
some new sound caught his attention. He halted at once, and
after waiting a quarter of an hour heard the tramp and breath-
ing of horses. "Cossack patrols! " thought he. The voices of
men reached his ears. He sprang aside with all speed, and
searching with his foot for the first depression in the ground,
fell to the earth and stretched out motionless, holding his pistol
in one hand and his sword in the other.
The riders approached still nearer, and at last were abreast of
him. It was so dark he could not count them; but he heard
every word of their conversation.
"It is hard for them, but hard for us too," said some sleepy
voice. "And how many good men of ours have bitten the dust! "
"O Lord! " said another voice, "they say the King is not far.
What will become of us? "
"The Khan got angry with our father; and the Tartars
threaten to take us, if there will be no other prisoners. "
"And in the pastures they fight with our men. Father has
forbidden us to go to the Tartar camp, for whoever goes there
is lost. "
"They say there are disguised Poles among the market-men.
I wish this war had never begun. "
"It is worse this time than before. "
"The King is not far away, with the Polish forces. That is
the worst!
>>
"Ha, ha! You would be sleeping in the Saitch at this hour;
now you have got to push around in the dark like a vampire. "
"There must be vampires here, for the horses are snorting. "
The voices receded gradually, and at last were silent. Pan
Longin rose and went on.
## p. 13422 (#236) ##########################################
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
13422
A rain fine as mist began to fall. It grew still darker. On
the left side of Pan Longin gleamed at the distance of two fur-
longs a small light; after that a second, a third, and a tenth.
Then he knew he was on the line of the tabor. The lights were
far apart and weak. It was evident that all were sleeping, and
only here and there might they be drinking or preparing food
for the morrow.
"Thank God that I am out after the storm and the sally,"
said Pan Longin to himself. "They must be mortally weary. "
He had scarcely thought this when he heard again in the dis-
tance the tramp of horses,-another patrol was coming But the
ground in this place was more broken; therefore it was easier
to hide. The patrol passed so near that the guards almost rode
over Pan Longin. Fortunately the horses, accustomed to pass
among prostrate bodies, were not frightened. Pan Longin went
on.
In the space of a thousand yards he met two more patrols.
It was evident that the whole circle occupied by the tabor was
guarded like the apple of the eye. But Pan Longin rejoiced in
spirit that he was not meeting infantry outposts, who are gener-
ally placed before camps to give warning to mounted patrols.
But his joy was of short duration. Scarcely had he advanced
another furlong of the road when some dark figure shifted before
him not more than twenty yards distant. Though unterrified,
he felt a slight tremor along his spine. It was too late to with-
draw and go around. The form moved; evidently it had seen
him. A moment of hesitation followed, short as the twinkle of
an eye.
Then a suppressed voice called:-
"Vassil, is that you? "
"I," said Pan Longin, quietly.
"Have you gorailka? "
"I have. "
"Give me some. "
Pan Longin approached.
"Why are you so tall? " asked the voice, in tones of terror.
Something rustled in the darkness. A scream of "Lor-! "
smothered the instant it was begun, came from the mouth of the
picket; then was heard the crash as it were of broken bones,
heavy breathing, and one figure fell quietly to the earth. Pan
Longin moved on.
## p. 13423 (#237) ##########################################
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
13423
But he did not pass along the same line, for it was evidently
a line of pickets; he turned therefore a little nearer to the tabor,
wishing to go between the pickets and the line of wagons. If
there was not another line of pickets, Pan Longin could meet in
that space only those who went out from camp to relieve those
on duty. Mounted patrols had no duty here.
After a time it became evident that there was no second line
of pickets. But the tabor was not farther than two bow-shots;
and wonderful! it seemed to grow nearer continually, though he
tried to go at an equal distance from the line of wagons.
It was evident too that not all were asleep in the tabor. At
the fires smoldering here and there, sitting figures were visible.
In one place the fire was greater,- so large indeed that it
almost reached Pan Longin with its light, and he was forced to
draw back toward the pickets so as not to pass through the line
of illumination. From the distance he distinguished, hanging on
cross-sticks near the fire, oxen which the butchers were skinning.
Disputing groups of men looked on. A few were playing quietly
on pipes for the butchers. It was that part of the camp occu-
pied by the herdsmen. The more distant rows of wagons were
surrounded by darkness.
But the line of the tabor lighted by the smoldering fires again
appeared as if nearer to Pan Longin. In the beginning he had
it only on his right hand; suddenly he saw that he had it in
front of him. Then he halted and meditated what to do. He
was surrounded. The tabor, the Tartar camp, and the camps.
of the mob, encircled all Zbaraj like a ring. Inside this ring,
sentries were standing and mounted guards moving, that no one
might pass through.
The position of Pan Longin was terrible. He had now the
choice either to go through between the wagons or seek another
exit between the Cossacks and the Tartars. Otherwise he would
have to wander till daylight along that rim, unless he wished to
return to Zbaraj; but even in the latter case he might fall into
the hands of the mounted patrol. He understood, however, that
the very nature of the ground did not permit that one wagon
should stand close to another. There had to be intervals in the
rows, and considerable ones. Such intervals were necessary for
communication, for an open road, for necessary travel. He deter-
mined to look for such a passage, and with that object ap-
proached still nearer to the wagons. The gleam of fires burning
## p. 13424 (#238) ##########################################
13424
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
here and there might betray him; but on the other hand they
were useful, for without them he could see neither the wagons
nor the road between them.
After a quarter of an hour he found a road, and recognized
it easily, for it looked like a black belt between the wagons.
There was no fire on it; there could be no Cossacks there, since
the cavalry had to pass that way. Pan Longin put himself on
his knees and hands, and began to crawl to that dark throat like
a snake to a hole.
A quarter of an hour passed,-half an hour; he crawled con-
tinually, praying at the same time, commending his body and
soul to the protection of the heavenly powers. He thought that
perhaps the fate of all Zbaraj was depending on him then, could
he pass that throat; he prayed therefore not for himself alone,
but for those who at that moment in the trenches were praying
for him.
On both sides of him all was silent,— no man moved, no
horse snorted, no dog barked; and Pan Longin went through.
The bushes and thickets looked dark before him; behind them
was the oak grove; behind the oak grove the pine woods, all the
way to Toporoff; beyond the pine woods, the King, salvation, and
glory, service before God and man. What was the cutting of
three heads in comparison with this deed, for which something
was needed beyond an iron hand? Pan Longin felt the differ-
ence, but pride stirred not that clean heart; it was only moved
like that of a child with tears of thankfulness.
Then he rose and passed on. Beyond the wagons there were
either no pickets, or few easily avoided. Now heavier rain began
to fall, pattering on the bushes and drowning the noise of his
steps. Pan Longin then gave freedom to his long legs, and
walked like a giant, trampling the bushes; every step was like five
of a common man,-the wagons every moment farther, the oak
grove every moment nearer and salvation every moment nearer.
Here are the oaks. Night beneath them is as black as under
the ground; but that is better. A gentle breeze sprang up; the
oaks murmured lightly,- you would have said they were mutter-
ing a prayer: "O great God, good God, guard this knight, for he
is thy servant, and a faithful son of the land on which we have
grown up for thy glory! "
About seven miles and a half divided Pan Longin from the
Polish camp.
Sweat poured from his forehead, for the air was
## p. 13425 (#239) ##########################################
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
13425
sultry, as if gathering for a storm; but he went on, caring noth-
ing for the storm, for the angels were singing in his heart. The
oaks became thinner. The first field is surely near. The oaks
rustle more loudly, as if wishing to say, "Wait: you were safe
among us. " But the knight has no time, and he enters the open
field. Only one oak stands on it, and that in the centre; but it
is larger than the others. Pan Longin moves toward that oak.
>>
All at once, when he was a few yards from the spreading
branches of the giant, about a dozen figures push out and ap-
proach him with wolf-springs: "Who are you? who are you?
Their language is unknown; their heads are covered with some-
thing pointed. They are the Tartar horse-herders, who have
taken refuge from the rain. At that moment red lightning
flashed through the field, revealing the oak, the wild figures of
the Tartars, and the enormous noble. A terrible cry shook the
air, and the battle began in a moment.
The Tartars rushed on Pan Longin like wolves on a deer, and
seized him with sinewy hands; but he only shook himself, and all
the assailants fell from him as ripe fruit from a tree. Then the
terrible double-handed sword gritted in the scabbard; and then
were heard groans, howls, calls for aid, the whistle of the sword,
the groans of the wounded, the neighing and the frightened
horses, the clatter of broken Tartar swords. The silent field
roared with all the wild sounds that can possibly find place in
the throats of men.
The Tartars rushed on him repeatedly in a crowd; but he put
his back to the oak, and in front covered himself with the whirl-
wind of his sword, and slashed awfully. Bodies lay dark under
his feet; the others fell back, impelled by panic terror. "A div!
a div! " howled they wildly.
The howling was not without an answer. Half an hour had
not passed when the whole field swarmed with footmen and
horsemen. Cossacks ran up, and Tartars also with poles and
bows and pieces of burning pitch-pine. Excited questions began
to fly from mouth to mouth. "What is it? what has happened? "
"A div! " answered the Tartars. "A div! " repeated the crowd.
"A Pole! A div! Take him alive, alive! "
Pan Longin fired twice from his pistols, but those reports
could not be heard by his comrades in the Polish camp. Now
the crowd approached him in a half-circle. He was standing in
the shade, gigantic, supported by the tree, and he waited with
XXIII-840
## p. 13426 (#240) ##########################################
13426
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
sword in hand. The crowd came nearer, nearer. At last the
voice of command shouted, "Seize him! "
They rushed ahead. The cries were stopped. Those who
could not push on gave light to the assailants. A whirl of men
gathered and turned under the tree. Only groans came out of
that whirl, and for a long time it was impossible to distinguish
anything. At last a scream of terror was wrested from the
assailants. The crowd broke in a moment. Under the tree
remained Pan Longin, and at his feet a crowd of bodies still
quivering in agony.
"Ropes! ropes! " thundered a voice.
The horsemen ran for the ropes, and brought them in the
twinkle of an eye. Then a number of strong men seized the
two ends of a long rope, endeavoring to fasten Pan Longin to
the tree; but he cut with his sword, and the men fell on the
ground on both sides. Then the Tartars tried, with the same
result.
Seeing that too many men in the crowd interfere with one
another, a number of the boldest Nogais advanced once more,
wishing absolutely to seize the enormous man alive; but he
tore them as a wild boar tears resolute dogs. The oak, which
had grown together from two great trees, guarded in its central
depression the knight; whoever approached him from the front
within the length of his sword perished without uttering a groan.
The superhuman power of Pan Longin seemed to increase with
each moment. Seeing this, the enraged hordes drove away the
Cossacks, and around were heard the wild cries, "Bows! bows! "
At the sight of the bows, and of the arrows poured out at
the feet of his enemies from their quivers, Pan Longin saw that
the moment of death was at hand, and he began the litany to
the Most Holy Lady.
It became still. The crowds restrained their breath, waiting
for what would happen. The first arrow whistled, as Pan Longin
was saying, "Mother of the Redeemer! " and it scratched his tem-
ple. Another arrow whistled as he was saying, "O glorious
Lady," and it stuck in his shoulder. The words of the litany
mingled with the whistling of arrows; and when Pan Longin had
said "Morning Star," arrows were standing in his shoulders,
in his side, in his legs.
