“My gracious lady, or better, my beloved Krysia! Hear me without alarm, for I am not some Scythian or Tartar, or a wild beast, but a friend, who, though not very happy himself, still desires your happiness. It has come out that you and Ketling love each other; Panna Basia in just anger threw it in my eyes. I do not deny that I rushed out of this house in a rage and flew to seek vengeance on Ketling. Whoso loses his all is more easily borne away by vengeance; and I, as God is dear to me, loved you terribly and not merely as a man never married loves a maiden. For if I had been married and the Lord God had given me an only son or a daughter, and had taken them afterward, I should not have mourned over them, I think, as I mourned over you.”
Here Pan Michael’s voice failed for a moment, but he recovered quickly; and after his mustache had quivered a number of times, he continued, “Sorrow is sorrow; but there is no help. That Ketling fell in love with you is not a wonder. Who would not fall in love with you? And that you fell in love with him, that is my fate; there is no reason either to wonder at that, for what comparison is there between Ketling and me? In the field he will say himself that I am not the worse man; but that is another matter. The Lord God gave beauty to one, withheld it from the other, but rewarded him with reflection. So when the wind on the road blew around me, and my first rage had passed, conscience said straightway, Why punish them? Why shed the blood of a friend? They fell in love, that was God’s will. The oldest people say that against the heart the command of a hetman is nothing. It was the will of God that they fell in love; but that they did not betray, is their honesty. If Ketling even had known of your promise to me, maybe I should have called to him, ‘Quench!’ but he did not know of it. What was his fault? Nothing. And your fault? Nothing. He wished to depart; you wished to go to God. My fate is to blame, my fate only; for the finger of God is to be seen now in this, that I remain in loneliness. But I have conquered myself; I have conquered!”
Pan Michael stopped again and began to breathe quickly, like a man who, after long diving in water, has come out to the air; then he took Krysia’s hand. “So to love,” said he, “as to wish all for one’s self, is not an exploit. ‘The hearts are breaking in all three of us,’ thought I; ‘better let one suffer and give relief to the other two.’ Krysia, God give you happiness with Ketling! Amen. God give you, Krysia, happiness with Ketling! It pains me a little, but that is nothing—God give you—that is nothing—I have conquered myself!”
The soldier said, “that is nothing,” but his teeth gritted, and his breath began to hiss through them. From the other end of the room, the sobbing of Basia was heard.
“Ketling, come here, brother!” cried Volodyovski.
Ketling approached, knelt down, opened his arms, and in silence, with the greatest respect and love, embraced Krysia’s knees.
But Pan Michael continued in a broken voice, “Press his head. He has had his suffering too, poor fellow. God bless you and him! You will not go to the cloister. I prefer that you should bless me rather than have reason to curse me. The Lord God is above me, though it is hard for me now.”
Basia, not able to endure longer, rushed out of the room, seeing which, Pan Michael turned to Makovetski and his sister. “Go to the other chamber,” said he, “and leave them; I too will go somewhere, for I will kneel down and commend myself to the Lord Jesus.” And he went out.
Halfway down the corridor he met Basia, at the staircase, on the very same place where, borne away by anger, she had divulged the secret of Krysia and Ketling, But this time Basia stood leaning against the wall, choking from sobs.
At sight of this Pan Michael was touched at his own fate; he had restrained himself up to that moment as best he was able, but then the bonds of sorrow gave way, and tears burst from his eyes in a torrent. “Why do you weep?” cried he, pitifully.