“Gracious gentlemen, he who endured Zbaraj will hold out in Kamenyets!”
According to Pan Michael’s instructions, the retinue went to the newly built cloister of the Dominican nuns. The little knight had his own house in Kamenyets; but since the cloister was in a retired place which cannon-balls could hardly reach, he preferred to place his dear Basia there, all the more since he expected a good reception as a benefactor of the cloister. In fact, the abbess, Mother Victoria, the daughter of Stefan Pototski, voevoda of Bratslav, received Basia with open arms. From the embraces of the abbess she went at once to others, and greatly beloved ones,—to those of her aunt, Pani Makovetski, whom she had not seen for some years. Both women wept; and Pan Makovetski, whose favorite Basia had always been, wept too. Barely had they dried these tears of tenderness when in rushed Krysia Ketling, and new greetings began; then Basia was surrounded by the nuns and noble women, known and unknown,—Pani Bogush, Pani Stanislavski, Pani Kalinovski, Pani Hotsimirski, Pani Humyetski, the wife of the banneret of Podolia, a great cavalier. Some, like Pani Bogush, inquired about their husbands; others asked what Basia thought of the Turkish invasion, and whether, in her opinion, Kamenyets would hold out. Basia saw with great delight that they looked on her as having some military authority, and expected consolation from her lips. Therefore she was not niggardly in giving.
“No one says,” replied she, “that we cannot hold out against the Turks. Michael will be here to-day or to-morrow, at furthest in a couple of days; and when he occupies himself with the defences, you ladies may sleep quietly. Besides, the fortress is tremendously strong; in this matter, thank God, I have some knowledge.”
The confidence of Basia poured consolation into the hearts of the women; they were reassured specially by the promise of Pan Michael’s arrival. Indeed, his name was so respected that, though it was evening, officers of the place began to come at once with greetings to Basia. After the first salutations, each inquired when the little knight would come, and if really he intended to shut himself up in Kamenyets. Basia received only Major Kvasibrotski, who led the infantry of the Bishop of Cracow; the secretary, Revuski, who succeeded Pan Lanchynski, or rather, occupied his place, was at the head of the regiment, and Ketling. The doors were not open to others that day, for the lady was road-weary, and, besides, she had to occupy herself with Pan Adam. That unfortunate young man had fallen from his horse before the very cloister, and was carried to a cell in unconsciousness. They sent at once for the doctor, the same who had cured Basia at Hreptyoff. The doctor declared that there was a serious disease of the brain, and gave little hope of Pan Adam’s recovery.
Basia, Pan Mushalski, and Zagloba talked till late in the evening about that event, and pondered over the unhappy lot of the knight.
“The doctor told me,” said Zagloba, “that if he recovers and is bled copiously, his mind will not be disturbed, and he will bear misfortune with a lighter heart.”
“There is no consolation for him now,” said Basia.
“Often it would be better for a man not to have memory,” remarked Pan Mushalski; “but even animals are not free from it.”
Here the old man called the famous bowman to account for that remark.
“If you had no memory you couldn’t go to confession,” said he; “and you would be the same as a Lutheran, deserving hell-fire. Father Kaminski has warned you already against blasphemy; but say the Lord’s prayer to a wolf, and the wolf would rather be eating a sheep.”