“What happens to you will happen to me, I wish no other fate than the fate which comes to you.”
Here Zagloba broke his silence, and turning to Basia, said, “If the Turks capture you, whether you wish it or not, your fate will be different from Michael’s. Ha! After the Cossacks, the Swedes, the Northerners, and the Brandenburg kennel—the Turk! I said to Olshovski, the vice-chancellor, ‘Do not bring Doroshenko to despair, for only from necessity did he turn to the Turk.’ Well, and what? They would not listen to me. They sent Hanenko against Doroshenko, and now Doroshenko, willing or unwilling, must crawl into the throat of the Turk, and, besides, lead him against us. You remember, Michael, that I forewarned Olshovski in your presence.”
“You must have forewarned him some other time, for I do not remember that it was in my presence,” said the little knight, “But what you say of Doroshenko is holy truth, for the hetman holds the same views; they say even that he has letters from Doroshenko written in that sense precisely. But as matters are, so they are; it is enough that it is too late now to negotiate. You have quick wit, however, and I should like to hear your opinion. Am I to take Basia to Hreptyoff, or is it better to leave her here? I must add too that the place is a terrible desert. It was always a wretched spot, but during twenty years so many Cossack parties and so many chambuls have passed through it, that I know not whether I shall find two beams fastened together. There is a world of ravines there, grown over with thickets, hiding-places, deep caves, and every kind of secret den in which robbers hide themselves by hundreds, not to mention those who come from Wallachia.”
“Robbers, in view of such a force, are a trifle,” said Zagloba. “Chambuls too are a trifle; for if strong ones march up, there will be a noise about them; and if they are small, you will rub them out.”
“Well, now!” cried Basia; “is not the whole matter a trifle? Robbers are a trifle; chambuls are a trifle. With such a force Michael will defend me from all the power of the Crimea.”
“Do not interrupt me in deliberation,” said Zagloba; “if you do, I’ll decide against you.”
Basia put both palms on her mouth quickly, and dropped her head on her shoulder, feigning to fear Zagloba terribly, and though he knew that the dear woman was jesting, still her action pleased him; therefore he put his old hand on her bright head and said, “Have no fear; I will comfort you in this matter.”
Basia kissed his hand straightway, for in truth much depended on his advice, which was so infallible that no one was ever led astray by it; he thrust both hands behind his belt, and glancing quickly with his seeing eye now on one, now on the other, said suddenly, “But there is no posterity here, none at all; how is that?” Here he thrust out his under-lip.
“The will of God, nothing more,” said Pan Michael, dropping his eyes.
“The will of God, nothing more,” said Basia, dropping her eyes.