Here Charnyetski’s eyes flashed such lightnings that Vitovski withdrew without saying a word.
Meanwhile the squadrons had come within twenty paces of the bank, and stood in a long line parallel with the bed of the river. None of the officers or the soldiers had the slightest suspicion of what they were doing.
In a flash Charnyetski appeared like a thunderbolt before the front of the squadrons. There was fire in his face, lightning in his eyes. A sharp wind had raised the burka on his shoulders so that it was like strong wings: his horse sprang and reared, casting fire from his nostrils. The castellan dropped his sword on its pendant, took the cap from his head, and with hair erect shouted to his division,—
“Gentlemen! the enemy defends himself with this water, and jeers at us! He has sailed through the sea to crush our fatherland, and he thinks that we in defence of it cannot swim through this river!”
Here he hurled his cap to the earth, and seizing his sabre pointed with it to the swollen waters. Enthusiasm bore him away, for he stood in the saddle and shouted more mightily still,—
“To whom God, faith, fatherland, are all, follow me!”
And pressing the horse with the spurs so that the steed sprang as it were into space, he rushed into the river. The wave plashed around him; man and horse were hidden under water, but they rose in the twinkle of an eye.
“After my master!” cried Mihalko, the same who had covered himself with glory at Rudnik; and he sprang into the water.
“After me!” shouted Volodyovski, with a shrill but thin voice; and he sprang in before he had finished shouting.
“O Jesus! O Mary!” bellowed Zagloba, raising his horse for the leap.