With Fire and Sword Henryk Sienkiewicz (different e readers .TXT) 📖

she; “we have not seen each other for a long time.”

“Oh, Panna Anna,” answered Pan Michael, in sadness, “much water has flowed past since then. We meet again in unpleasant times, and not all of us.”

“True, not all! So many knights have fallen.” Here Anusia sighed; then continued, after a time: “And we are not the same in number; for Panna Senyntovna has married, and Princess Barbara has remained with the wife of the voevoda of Vilna.”

“And she is going to marry, of course.”

“No, she is not thinking much of that. But why do you ask?”

Having said this, Anusia closed her dark eyes till two thin lines were left, and looked sideways from under her lashes at the knight.

“Oh, through goodwill for the family,” answered Pan Michael.

“Oh, that is proper,” answered Anusia, “for Pan Michael has a great friend in Princess Barbara. More than once she inquired; ‘Where is that knight who in the tournament at Lubni took off most Turkish heads, for which I gave him a reward? What is he doing? Is he still alive, and does he remember us?’ ”

Pan Michael raised his eyes in thankfulness to Anusia; first he was comforted, and then he observed that Anusia had improved beyond measure.

“Did Princess Barbara really say that?”

“As true as life; and she remembered, too, how you were riding over the ditch for her when you fell into the water.”

“And where is the wife of the voevoda of Vilna now?”

“She was with us in Brest, and a week ago went to Belsk; from there she will go to Warsaw.”

Pan Volodyovski looked at Anusia a second time, and could not restrain himself: “But Panna Anusia has attained such beauty that one’s eyes ache in looking at her.”

The girl smiled thankfully. “Pan Michael only says this to capture me.”

“I wanted to do so in my time,” said he, shrugging his shoulders. “God knows I tried to, but failed; and now I wish well to Pan Podbipienta, for he was more fortunate.”

“And where is Pan Podbipienta?” inquired Anusia, dropping her eyes.

“In Zamost, with Skshetuski. He has become lieutenant in the squadron, and must attend to service; but if he knew whom he could see here, as God is in heaven he would have taken leave and come with long steps. He is a great knight, and deserving of every love.”

“And in war⁠—he met no accident?”

“It seems to me that you wish to ask, not about that, but about the three heads that he wanted to cut off.”

“I do not believe that he really wanted to do that.”

“But you would better, for without that there will be nothing. And he is not slow in looking for a chance, either. At Makhnovka, when we went to examine the places where he had struggled in the throng of battle, the prince himself went with us; and I tell you I have seen many a fight, but such execution I shall not see again while I live. When he puts on your scarf for battle, he does awful things. He will find his three heads: be at rest on that point.”

“May each find what he seeks!” said Anusia, with a sigh.

Then Volodyovski sighed, raised his eyes, and looked suddenly toward one corner of the room. From that corner peered a visage, angry, excited, and entirely unknown to him, armed with a gigantic nose, and mustaches great as two bushes on a tavern-sign, which moved quickly, as if from pent-up passion. One might be terrified at that nose, those eyes and mustaches; but little Volodyovski was by no means timid; therefore he only wondered, and turning to Anusia asked⁠—

“What sort of figure is that over there in the corner, which looks at me as if it wished to swallow me whole, and moves its mustaches just like an old tomcat at prayers?”

“What?” said Anusia, showing her white teeth; “that’s Pan Kharlamp.”

“What sort of Pagan is he?”

“He is no Pagan at all, but a light-horse captain in the squadron of the voevoda of Vilna, who is escorting us to Warsaw, and has to wait for the voevoda there. Let Pan Michael not come in his way, for he is a dreadful man-eater.”

“I see that, I see that. But if he is a man-eater, there are others fatter than I. Why should he whet his teeth at me instead of them?”

“Because⁠—” said Anusia; and she laughed quietly.

“Because?”

“Because he is in love with me, and has told me that he will cut to pieces every man who approaches me; and now, believe me, it is only out of regard for the prince and princess that he restrains himself. Were it not for them, he would pick a quarrel with you at once.”

“Here you’ve got it,” said Volodyovski, merrily. “That’s how it is, Panna Anna. It was not for nothing, I see, that we sang, ‘Tartars carry captive prisoners, you seize captive hearts.’ You remember, I suppose? You cannot move, you know, without making someone fall in love with you.”

“Such is my misfortune,” answered Anusia, dropping her eyes.

“Ah, Panna Anna is a Pharisee; and what will Pan Longin say to this?”

“How am I to blame if this Pan Kharlamp pursues me? I can’t endure him, and I don’t want to look at him.”

“But see to it that blood is not shed on your account. Podbipienta is so mild that you could heal a wound with him, but in love affairs it is dangerous to joke with him.”

“If he cuts Kharlamp’s ears off, I shall be glad.”

When she had said this, Anusia whizzed off like a top, and tripped to the other side of the room to Carboni, the physician of the princess, to whom she began to whisper something with animation, and then converse; but the Italian fastened his eyes on the ceiling, as if carried away by ecstasy.

Meanwhile Zagloba approached Volodyovski, and began in merry mood to wink his one sound eye. “Pan Michael,” he asked, “what sort of crested lark is