Ian never forgot the impression this made upon him. Later on, he grew more callous, saw and heard so many horrors, proved the Kaiser's army capable of anything. But the thought that Zosia's sister, a girl who had grown up at Ruvno and served his mother as maid before her marriage, had been assassinated in cold blood made his own boil. He was not a man to use many words. He made no effort to express the thoughts and feelings that rose in him. He did not speak for some time. Then he turned to his mother.
"You women must go to Moscow at once," he said. "God knows, they may soon be here at the rate they are coming on."
He spoke in a tone of authority he rarely used with her. She went to the window and looked into her beloved rose garden, soon to be cut into trenches and trampled by soldiers' feet. But on that morning it was a beautiful spot, fair with the work and art of many generations of skilled gardeners and gentle mistresses. A peacock spread his tail in the sun; Ian's two favorite dogs whined to him to go out to them; the air was very sweet with the odor of roses and pine needles. A big red butterfly floated past her into the room. She could scarcely believe that only a few miles away war raged; and yet, here was Zosia sobbing her heart out, here stood the Jewish messenger, who had come to say that the dead woman's husband and children were on their way to Ruvno as refugees, leaving all they possessed behind them, traveling on foot, with unspeakable bitterness and grief in their hearts.
She turned to her son, smiling a little. They lived very near to one another and she loved him better than anything in the world, better than she had loved his father, for whom she suffered such pain.
"And you?" she asked.
"I shall volunteer," he answered simply.
He had not consciously thought about it before. The words came without his knowing exactly why. He knew that Russia had plenty of men without him; he bore that country no love, having had to suffer many humiliations from her since his babyhood. Every day he had to fight Russian malevolence in some shape or form. But he knew that the troops now speeding to stop the Prussian advance were on the right side. He remembered Roman's words: "The only deuced thing that matters is to stop Prussianism from spreading."
His mother gave him a frightened look, bit her lip, and said nothing.
"You're right, my child," said Father Constantine, who, dust-cloak and all, was sitting in a chair several times too big for him. In his hand he held one of the many packets Zosia had prepared for his journey. He had forgotten about them. His old heart was filled with a terrible, helpless anger against the human beasts who had brought such death into the country.
The Countess put her hands on Ian's shoulder and kissed him, standing on tip-toe to reach his honest, sunburnt face.