Though Zagloba received the news of Ketling’s departure with astonishment, still no suspicion came into his head; for it was easy to admit that Charles II. had remembered the services which the Ketlings had rendered the throne in time of disturbance, and that he wished to show his gratitude to the last descendant of the family. It would seem even most wonderful were he to act otherwise. Besides, Ketling showed Zagloba certain letters from beyond the sea, and convinced him decisively. In its way that journey endangered all the old noble’s plans, and he was thinking with alarm of the future. Judging by his letter, Volodyovski might return any day.
“The winds have blown away in the steppes the remnant of his grief,” thought Zagloba. “He will come back more daring than when he departed; and because some devil is drawing him more powerfully to Krysia, he is ready to propose to her straightway. And then,—then Krysia will say yes (for how could she say no to such a cavalier, and, besides, the brother of Pani Makovetski?), and my poor, dearest haiduk will be on the ice.”
But Zagloba, with the persistence special to old people, determined at all costs to marry Basia to the little knight. Neither the arguments of Pan Yan, nor those which at intervals he used on himself, had serious effect. At times he promised mentally, it is true, not to interfere again in anything; but he returned afterward involuntarily with greater persistence to the thought of uniting this pair. He meditated for whole days how to effect this; he formed plans, he framed stratagems. And he went so far that when it seemed to him that he had hit upon the means, he cried out straightway, as if the affair were over, “May God bless you!”
But now Zagloba saw before him almost the ruin of his wishes. There remained nothing more to him but to abandon all his efforts and leave the future to God’s will; for the shadow of hope that before his departure Ketling would take some decisive step with reference to Krysia could not remain long in Zagloba’s head. It was only from sorrow and curiosity, therefore, that he determined to inquire of the young knight touching the time of his going, as well as what he intended to do before leaving the Commonwealth.
Having invited Ketling to a conversation, Zagloba said with a greatly grieved face, “A difficult case! Each man knows best what he ought to do, and I will not ask you to stay; but I should like to know at least something about your return.”
“Can I tell what is waiting for me there, where I am going?” answered Ketling,—“what questions and what adventures? I will return sometime, if I can. I will stay there for good if I must.”
“You will find that your heart will draw you back to us.”
“God grant that my grave will be nowhere else but in the land which gave me all that it could give!”
“Ah, you see in other countries a foreigner is a stepchild all his life; but our mother opens her arms to you at once, and cherishes you as her own son.”
“Truth, a great truth. Ei! if only I could— For everything in the old country may come to me, but happiness will not come.”