Basia looked at her once and a second time, suddenly threw her arms around her neck, pressed her rosy lips to her cheek, and began to say quickly, “Oh, Krysia, I shall sob! Say quickly that you are only talking to the wind; I shall sob, as God is in heaven, I shall!”
CHAPTER XVIII.
After his interview with Zagloba, Ketling went to Pan Michael’s sister, whom he informed that because of urgent affairs he must remain in the city, and perhaps too before his final journey he would go for some weeks to Courland; therefore he would not be able in person to entertain her in his suburban house longer. But he implored her to consider that house as her residence in the same way as hitherto, and to occupy it with her husband and Pan Michael during the coming election. Pani Makovetski consented, for in the opposite event the house would become empty, and bring profit to no one.
After that conversation Ketling vanished, and showed himself no more either in the inn, or later in the neighborhood of Mokotov, when Pan Michael’s sister returned to the suburbs with the young ladies. Krysia alone felt that absence; Zagloba was occupied wholly with the coming election; while Basia and Pani Makovetski had taken the sudden decision of Krysia to heart so much that they could think of nothing else.
Still, Pani Makovetski did not even try to dissuade Krysia; for in those times opposition to such undertakings seemed to people an injury and an offence to God. Zagloba alone, in spite of all his piety, would have had the courage to protest, had it concerned him in any way; but since it did not, he sat quietly, and he was content in spirit that affairs had arranged themselves so that Krysia retired from between Pan Michael and the haiduk. Now Zagloba was convinced of the successful accomplishment of his most secret desires, and gave himself with all freedom to the labors of the election; he visited the nobles who had come to the capital, or he spent the time in conversations with the vice-chancellor, with whom he fell in love at last, becoming his trusted assistant. After each such conversation he returned home a more zealous partisan of the “Pole,” and a more determined enemy of foreigners. Accommodating himself to the instructions of the vice-chancellor, he remained quietly in that condition so far, but not a day passed that he did not win some one for the secret candidate, and that happened which usually happens in such cases,—he pushed himself forward so far that that candidacy became the second object in his life, at the side of the union of Basia and Pan Michael. Meanwhile they were nearer and nearer the election.
Spring had already freed the waters from ice; breezes warm and strong had begun to blow; under the breath of these breezes the trees were sprinkled with buds, and flocks of swallows were hovering around, to spring out at any moment, as simple people think, from the ocean of winter into the bright sunlight. Guests began to come to the election, with the swallows and other birds of passage. First of all came merchants, to whom a rich harvest of profit was indicated, in a place where more than half a million of people were to assemble, counting magnates with their forces, nobles, servants, and the army. Englishmen, Hollanders, Germans, Russians, Tartars, Turks, Armenians, and even Persians came, bringing stuffs, linen, damask, brocades, furs, jewels, perfumes, and sweetmeats. Booths were erected on the streets and outside the city, and in them was every kind of merchandise. Some “bazaars” were placed even in suburban villages; for it was known that the inns of the capital could not receive one tenth of the electors, and that an enormous majority of them would be encamped outside the walls, as was the case always during time of election. Finally, the nobles began to assemble so numerously, in such throngs, that if they had come in like numbers to the threatened boundaries of the Commonwealth, the foot of any enemy would never have crossed them.
Reports went around that the election would be a stormy one, for the whole country was divided between three chief candidates,—Condé, the Princes of Neuberg and of Lorraine. It was said that each party would endeavor to seat its own candidate, even by force. Alarm seized hearts; spirits were inflamed with partisan rancor. Some prophesied civil war; and these forebodings found faith, in view of the gigantic military legions with which the magnates had surrounded themselves. They arrived early, so as to have time for intrigues of all kinds. When the Commonwealth was in peril, when the enemy was putting the keen edge to its throat, neither king nor hetman could bring more than a wretched handful of troops against him; but now in spite of laws and enactments, the Radzivills alone came with an army numbering between ten and twenty thousand men. The Patses had behind them an almost equivalent force; the powerful Pototskis were coming with no smaller strength; other “kinglets” of Poland, Lithuania, and Russia were coming with forces but slightly inferior. “When wilt thou sail in, O battered ship of my country?” repeated the vice-chancellor, more and more frequently; but he himself had selfish objects in his heart. The magnates, with few exceptions, corrupted to the marrow of their bones, were thinking only of themselves and the greatness of their houses, and were ready at any moment to rouse the tempest of civil war.
The throng of nobles increased daily; and it was evident that when, after the Diet, the election itself would begin, they would surpass even the greatest force of the magnates. But these throngs were incompetent to bring the ship of the Commonwealth into calm waters successfully, for their heads were sunk in darkness and ignorance, and their hearts were for the greater part corrupted. The election therefore gave promise of being prodigious, and no one foresaw that it would end only shabbily, for except Zagloba, even those who worked for the “Pole” could not foresee to what a degree the stupidity of the nobles and the intrigues of the magnates would aid them; not many had hope to carry through such a candidate as Prince Michael. But Zagloba swam in that sea like a fish in water. From the beginning of the Diet he dwelt in the city continually, and was at Ketling’s house only when he yearned for his haiduk; but as Basia had lost much joyfulness by reason of Krysia’s resolve, Zagloba took her sometimes to the city to let her amuse herself and rejoice her eyes with the sight of the shops.
They went out usually in the morning; and Zagloba brought her back not infrequently late in the evening. On the road and in the city itself the heart of the maiden was rejoiced at sight of the merchandise, the strange people, the many-colored crowds, the splendid troops. Then her eyes would gleam like two coals, her head turn as if on a pivot; she could not gaze sufficiently, nor look around enough, and overwhelmed the old man with questions by the thousand. He answered gladly, for in this way he showed his experience and learning. More than once a gallant company of military surrounded the equipage in which they were riding; the knighthood admired Basia’s beauty greatly, her quick wit and resolution, and Zagloba always told them the story of the Tartar, slain with duck-shot, so as to sink them completely in amazement and delight.
A certain time Zagloba and Basia were coming home very late; for the review of Pan Felix Pototski’s troops had detained them all day. The night was clear and warm; white mists were hanging over the fields. Zagloba, though always watchful, since in such a concourse of serving-men and soldiers it was necessary to pay careful attention not to strike upon outlaws, had fallen soundly asleep; the driver was dozing also; Basia alone was not sleeping, for through her head were moving thousands of thoughts and pictures. Suddenly the tramp of a number of horses came to her ears. Pulling Zagloba by the sleeve, she said,—