“And I fear only this,—of course not for myself, but for you,—that we shall see them too often. Do you think that the chambuls are bound strictly to come through Rashkoff and Mohiloff? They can come directly from the East, from the steppes, or by the Moldavian side of the Dniester, and enter the boundaries of the Commonwealth wherever they wish, even in the hills beyond Hreptyoff, unless it is reported widely that I am living in Hreptyoff; then they will keep aside, for they know me of old.”
“But don’t they know Michael, or won’t they avoid him?”
“They will avoid him unless they come with great power, which may happen. But he will go to look for them himself.”
“I am sure of that. But is it a real desert in Hreptyoff? The place is not so far away!”
“It could not be more real. That region was never thickly settled, even in time of my youth. I went from farm to farm, from village to village, from town to town. I knew everything, was everywhere. I remember when Ushytsa was what is called a fortified town. Pan Konyetspolski, the father, made me starosta there; but after that came the invasion of the ruffians, and all went to ruin. When we went there for Princess Helena, it was a desert; and after that chambuls passed through it twenty times. Pan Sobieski has snatched it again from the Cossacks and the Tartars, as a morsel from the mouth of a dog. There are only a few people there now, but robbers are living in the ravines.”
Here Zagloba began to look at the neighborhood and nod his head, remembering old times. “My God!” said he, “when we were going for Helena, it seemed to me that old age was behind my girdle; and now I think that I was young then, for nearly twenty-four years have passed. Michael was a milksop at that time, and had not many more hairs on his lip than I have on my fist. And this region stands in my memory as if the time were yesterday. Only these groves and pine woods have grown in places deserted by tillers of the land.”
In fact, just beyond Kitaigrod they entered dense pine woods with which at that time the region was covered for the greater part. Here and there, however, especially around Studyenitsa, were open fields; and then they saw the Dniester and a country stretching forward from that side of the river to the heights, touching the horizon on the Moldavian side. Deep ravines, the abodes of wild beasts and wild men, intercepted their road; these ravines were at times narrow and precipitous, at times wider, with sides gently sloping and covered with thick brush. Mellehovich’s Tartars sank into them carefully; and when the rear of the convoy was on the lofty brink, the van was already, as it were, under the earth. It came frequently to Basia and Zagloba to leave the carriage; for though Pan Michael had cleared the road in some sort, these passages were dangerous. At the bottom of the ravine springs were flowing, or swift rivulets were rushing, which in spring were swollen with water from the snow of the steppes. Though the sun still warmed the pine woods and steppes powerfully, a harsh cold was hidden in those stone gorges, and seized travellers on a sudden. Pine-trees covered the rocky sides and towered on the banks, gloomy and dark, as if desiring to screen that sunken interior from the golden rays of the sun; but in places the edges were broken, trees thrown in wild disorder upon one another, branches twisted and broken into heaps, entirely dried or covered with red leaves and spines.
“What has happened to this forest?” asked Basia of Zagloba.
“In places there may be old fellings made by the former inhabitants against the horde, or by the ruffians against our troops; again in places the Moldavian whirlwinds rush through the woods; in these whirlwinds, as old people say, vampires, or real devils, fight battles.”
“But has your grace ever seen devils fighting?”