"_Tatulu, Tatulu!_"[64] He evidently loved her better than anything else,
for he put his hand softly on her head, while from his face disappeared
all trace of deadly grudge and anger; only sadness remained.

In the meantime Zbyszko recovered his composure, and now said:

"How is it? Do you wish to oppose God's will?"

To this Jurand replied:

"If it be God's will, then you will get her; but I cannot give you my
consent. Bah! I would be glad to do it, but I cannot."

Having said this, he arose, took Danusia in his arms, and went toward the
door. When Zbyszko tried to detain him, he stopped for a moment and said:

"I will not be angry with you if you render her knightly services; but do
not ask me any questions, because I cannot tell you anything."

And he went out.

CHAPTER III.

The next day Jurand did not avoid Zbyszko at all; and he did not prevent
him from performing for Danusia, during the journey, those different
services which, being her knight, he was obliged to render her. On the
contrary, Zbyszko noticed that the gloomy _Pan_ of Spychow looked at him
kindly, as if he were regretting that he had been obliged to refuse his
request. The young _wlodyka_ tried several times to have some
conversation with him. After they started from Krakow, there were plenty
of opportunities during the journey, because both accompanied the
princess on horseback; but as soon as Zbyszko endeavored to learn
something about the secret difficulties separating him from Danusia, the
conversation was suddenly ended.

Jurand's face became gloomy, and he looked at Zbyszko uneasily as if he
were afraid he would betray himself.

Zbyszko thought that perhaps the princess knew what the obstacle was; so
having an opportunity to speak to her privately, he inquired; but she
could not tell him anything.

"Certainly there is some secret," she said. "Jurand himself told me that;
but he begged me not to question him further, because he not only did not
wish to tell what it was, but he could not. Surely he must be bound by
some oath, as so often happens among the knights. But God will help us
and everything will turn out well."

"Without Danusia I will be as unhappy as a chained dog or a bear in a
ditch," answered Zbyszko. "There will be neither joy nor pleasure,
nothing but sorrow and sighing; I will go against the Tartars with Prince
Witold and may they kill me there. But first I must accompany uncle to
Bogdaniec, and then tear from German heads the peacock's tufts as I
promised. Perhaps the Germans will kill me; and I prefer such a death
rather than to live and see some one else take Danusia."

The princess looked at him with her kind blue eyes, and asked him, with a
certain degree of astonishment:

"Then you would permit it?"

"I? As long I have breath in my nostrils, it will not happen, unless my
hand be paralyzed, and I be unable to hold my axe!"

"Then you see!"

"Bah! But how can I take her against her father's will?"

To this the princess said, as to herself:

"Does it not happen that way sometimes?"

Then to Zbyszko:

"God's will is stronger than a father's will. What did Jurand say to you?
He said to me 'If it be God's will, then he will get her.'"

"He said the same to me!" exclaimed Zbyszko.

"Do you not see?"

"It is my only consolation, gracious lady."

"I will help you, and you can be sure of Danusia's constancy. Only
yesterday I said to her: 'Danusia, will you always love Zbyszko?' And she
answered: 'I will be Zbyszko's and no one else's.' She is still a green
berry, but when she promises anything, she keeps her word, because she is
the daughter of a knight. Her mother was like her."

"Thank God!" said Zbyszko.

"Only remember to be faithful to her also; man is inconstant; he promises
to love one faithfully, and afterward he promises another."

"May Lord Jesus punish me if I prove such!" exclaimed Zbyszko
energetically.

"Well, remember then. And after you have conveyed your uncle to
Bogdaniec, come to our court; there will be some opportunity then for you
to win your spurs; then we will see what can be done. In the meanwhile
Danusia will mature, and she will feel God's will; although she loves you
very much even now, it is not the same love a woman feels. Perhaps Jurand
will give his consent, because I see he likes you. You can go to Spychow
and from there can go with Jurand against the Germans; it may happen that
you will render him some great service and thus gain his affection."

"Gracious princess, I have thought the same; but with your sanction it
will be easier."

This conversation cheered Zbyszko. Meanwhile at the first baiting place,
old Macko became worse, and it was necessary to remain until he became
better. The good princess, Anna Danuta, left him all the medicine she had
with her; but she was obliged to continue her journey; therefore both
_wlodykas_ of Bogdaniec bid those belonging to the Mazovian court
farewell. Zbyszko prostrated himself at the princess' feet, then at
Danusia's; he promised her once more to be faithful and to meet her soon
at Ciechanow or at Warszawa; finally he seized her in his strong arms,
and having lifted her, he repeated with a voice full of emotion:

"Remember me, my sweetest flower! Remember me, my little golden fish!"

Danusia embraced him as though he were a beloved brother, put her little
cheek to his face and wept copiously.

"I do not want to go to Ciechanow without Zbyszko; I do not want to go to
Ciechanow!"

Jurand saw her grief, but he was not angry. On the contrary, he bid the
young man good-bye kindly; and after he had mounted, he turned toward him
once more, and said:

"God be with you; do not bear ill will toward me."

"How can I feel ill will toward you; you are Danusia's father!" answered
Zbyszko cordially; then he bent to his stirrup, and the old man shook
hands with him, and said:

"May God help you in everything! Understand?"

Then he rode away. But Zbyszko understood that in his last words, he
wished him success; and when he went back to the wagon on which Macko was
lying, he said:

"Do you know I believe he is willing; but something hinders him from
giving his consent. You were in Spychow and you have good common sense,
try to guess what it is."

But Macko was too ill. The fever increased so much toward evening, that
he became delirious. Therefore instead of answering Zbyszko, he looked at
him as if he were astonished; then he asked:

"Why do they ring the bells?"

Zbyszko was frightened. He feared that if the sick man heard the sound of
bells, it was a sign that death would soon come. He feared also that the
old man might die without a priest and without confession, and therefore
go, if not to hell, then at least for long centuries to purgatory;
therefore he determined to resume their journey, in order to reach, as
soon as possible, some parish in which Macko could receive the last
sacraments.

Consequently they started and traveled during the night. Zbyszko sat in
the wagon on the hay, beside the sick man and watched him till day-break.
From time to time he gave him wine to drink. Macko drank it eagerly,
because it relieved him greatly. After the second quart he recovered from
his delirium; and after the third, he fell asleep; he slept so well that
Zbyszko bent toward him from time to time, to ascertain if he was still
alive.

Until the time of his imprisonment in Krakow, he did not realize how
dearly he loved this uncle who replaced, for him, father and mother. But
now he realized it very well; and he felt that after his uncle's death,
life would be very lonesome for him, alone, without relatives, except the
abbot who held Bogdaniec in pledge, without friends and without anyone to
help him. The thought came to him that if Macko died, it would be one
more reason for vengeance on the Germans, by whose means he had nearly
lost his head, by whom all his forefathers had been killed, also
Danusia's mother and many other innocent people, whom he knew or about
whom he had heard from his acquaintances--and he began to say to himself:

"In this whole kingdom, there is no man who has not suffered some wrong
from them, and who would not like to avenge those wrongs." Here he
remembered the Germans with whom he fought at Wilno, and he knew that
even the Tartars were less cruel.

The coming dawn interrupted his thoughts. The day was bright but cold.
Evidently Macko felt better, because he was breathing more regularly and
more quietly. He did not awaken until the sun was quite warm; then he
opened his eyes and said:

"I am better. Where are we?"

"We are approaching Olkusk. You know, where they dig silver."

"If one could get that which is in the earth, then one could rebuild
Bogdaniec!"

"I see you are better," answered Zbyszko laughing. "Hej! it would be
enough even for a stone castle! We will go to the _fara_,[65] because
there the priests will offer us hospitality and you will be able to make
your confession. Everything is in God's hands; but it is better to have
one's conscience clear."

"I am a sinner and will willingly repent," answered Macko. "I dreamed
last night that the devils were taking my skin off. They were talking
German. Thanks be to God that I am better. Have you slept any?"

"How could I sleep, when I was watching you?"

"Then lie down for a while. When we arrive, I will awaken you."

"I cannot sleep!"

"What prevents you?"

Zbyszko looked at his uncle and said:

"What else can it be, if not love? I have pain in my heart; but I will
ride on horseback for a while, that will help me."

He got down from the wagon, and mounted the horse, which his servant
brought for him; meanwhile, Macko touched his sore side; but he was
evidently thinking about something else and not about his illness,
because he tossed his head, smacked his lips and finally said:

"I wonder and wonder, and I cannot wonder enough, why you are so eager
for love, because your father was not that way, and neither am I."

But Zbyszko, instead of answering, stretched himself on the saddle, put
his hands on his hips, gave his head a toss and sang:

  "I cried the whole night, cried in the morning,
  Where have you been, my sweet girl, my darling!
  It will not help me, if I mourn for thee,
  Because I am quite sure, you will not see me."

"Hej!"

This "hej" resounded in the forest, reverberated against the trunks of
the trees, finally reëchoed in the far distance and then was lost in the
thickets.

Again Macko felt his side, in which the German spearhead had lodged and
said, moaning a little:

"Formerly the people were wiser!"

Then he became thoughtful, as if recollecting the old times; and he
added:

"Although even then some of them were stupid also."

But, in the meantime, they emerged from the forest, behind which they
perceived the miners' sheds, and further walls, built by King Kazimierz,
and the tower of the _fara_ erected by Wladyslaw Lokietek.

The canon of the _fara_ beard Macko's confession and offered them
hospitality; they remained there over night, and started the next
morning. Beyond Olkusk, they turned toward Szlonsk,[66] and on its
boundaries, they proposed to ride toward Wielkopolska. The road was laid
out through a large forest, in which there was heard toward sunset, the
roaring of the urus and of the bison, and during the night the eyes of
wolves were seen shining behind the thick hazelnut trees. But the
greatest danger which threatened the traveler on this road, was from the
German and Germanized knights of Szlonsk, whose castles were erected here
and there near the boundaries. It is true, that because of the war with
the Opolczyk, Naderspraw, whom the Silesians were helping against King
Wladyslaw, the majority of these castles had been destroyed by Polish
hands; it was necessary, however, to be watchful, and especially after
sunset, and to have one's weapons ready.

They were riding so quietly, however, that Zbyszko found the journey
tedious; when they were about one day's journey from Bogdaniec, they
heard the snorting and trampling of horses behind them.

"Some people are following us," said Zbyszko.

Macko, who was awake, looked at the stars and answered like an
experienced traveler:

"Day-break is near. Robbers do not attack toward the end of the night."

Zbyszko stopped the wagon; however, placed the men across the road,
facing the advancing horses, and waited.

In fact, after a certain time he perceived in the dusk, several horsemen.
One of them was riding ahead, and it was evident that he did not wish to
hide, because he was singing. Zbyszko could not hear the words of the
song; but the gay "hoc! hoc!" with which the stranger ended each refrain,
reached his ears.

"Our people!" he said to himself.

After a while he shouted, however:

"Stop!"

"And you sit down!" answered a joyous voice.

"Who are you?"

"And you?"

"Why do you follow us?"

"And why do you obstruct the road?"

"Answer, our crossbows are bent."

"And ours,--thrust out,--aimed!"

"Answer like a man, otherwise woe to you!"

To this a merry song was given, as an answer to Zbyszko.

  "One misery with another
  They are dancing on the crossway.
      Hoc! Hoc! Hoc!
  What use have they of dancing?
  It's a good thing, anyhow.
      Hoc! Hoc! Hoc!"

Zbyszko was amazed at hearing such an answer; meantime, the song stopped
and the same voice asked:

"And how is the old man Macko? Does he still breathe?"

Macko rose in the wagon and said:

"For God's sake, they are some of our people!"

Zbyszko rushed forward.

"Who asks about Macko?"

"A neighbor. Zych of Zgorzelice. I have looked for you for a week and
inquired about you from all on the road."

"_Rety!_[67] Uncle! Zych of Zgorzelice is here!" shouted Zbyszko.

They began to greet each other joyfully because Zych was really their
neighbor, and also a good man of whom everybody was very fond on account
of his mirth.

"Well, how are you?" asked he, shaking hands with Macko. "Still _hoc_, or
no more _hoc_!"[68]

"Hej, no more _hoc_!" answered Macko. "But I see you gladly. Gracious
God, it is as if I were already in Bogdaniec."

"What is the matter with you; I heard that the Germans had wounded you?"

"They did, dog-brothers! I A head of a spear stuck between my ribs."

"You see!" said Zbyszko, "everybody advises the grease of a bear. As soon
as we reach Bogdaniec, I will go with an axe to the _barcie_."[69]

"Perhaps Jagienka has some."

"What Jagienka? Your wife's name was Malgochna," said Macko.

"O! Malgochna is no more! It will be three years on St. Michael's day
since Malgochna was buried in the priests' field. She was a sturdy woman;
may the Lord make his face shine upon her soul! Jagienka is exactly like
her, only younger."

  "Behind a ravine, there is a mount,
  As was mother, such is daughter.
      Hoc! Hoc!"

"I told Malgochna not to climb the pine tree because she was no longer
young. But she would climb it. The branch broke; she fell and was badly
hurt; within three days, she died."

"Lord, make your face shine upon her soul!" said Macko. "I remember, I
remember! When she was angry, the farm boys used to hide in the hay. But
she was clever. So she fell from a pine tree!"

"She fell down like a cone. Do you know, after the funeral I was so
stupefied with grief, that for three days they could not arouse me. They
thought I was dead. Afterward, I wept for a long time. But Jagienka is
also clever. She takes care of everything."

"I can scarcely remember her. She was not as large as the helve of an axe
when I went away. She could pass under a horse without touching its body.
Bah! that is a long time ago, and she must have grown."

"She was fifteen the day of St. Agnes; but I have not seen her for more
than a year."

"Why have you not seen her? Where have you been?"

"To the war. I do not need to stay home; Jagienka takes care of
everything."

Macko, although ill, began to listen attentively when the war was
mentioned, and asked:

"Perhaps you were with _Kniaz_ Witold at Worskla?"

"Yes, I was there," answered Zych of Zgorzelice gaily. "Well, the Lord
God did not send him good luck; we were dreadfully defeated by Edyga.
First they killed our horses. A Tartar will not attack you openly like a
Christian knight, but throws his arrows from afar. You attack him and he
flees, and then again throws his arrows. What can you do with such a man?
In our army the knights boasted and said: 'We do not need to lower our
spears, nor draw our swords; we will crush the vermin under our horses'
feet.' So they boasted; but when the arrows began to twange, it grew dark
they were so numerous, and the battle was soon over. Hardly one out of
ten survived. Will you believe it? More than half of the army were slain;
seventy Lithuanian and Russian princes lay dead on the battlefield; and
one could not count in two weeks' time, the _bojars_ and other courtiers,
whom they call _otroks_, that were killed."

"I heard about it," interrupted Macko. "Many of our knights perished
also."

"Bah! even ten Knights of the Cross were killed, because they were
obliged to serve in Witold's army. Many of our people perished, because
they, you know, never run away. _Kniaz_ Witold had the greatest
confidence in our knights and he wanted a guard of them round him during
the battle, exclusively Poles. Hi! Hi! Great havoc was made among them;
but he was not touched! _Pan_ Spytko of Mielsztyn was killed, also the
sword bearer, Bernat, Judge Mikolaj, Prokop, Przeclaw, Dobrogost, Jasko
of Lazewice, Pilik Mazur, Warsz of Michow, _Wojewoda_ Socha, Jasko of
Dombrowa, Pietrko of Miloslaw, Szczepiecki, Oderski and Tomko Lagoda. Who
can enumerate all of them! Some of them had been hit with so many arrows,
that after death they looked like porcupines; it was awful to look at
them!"

Here he laughed as if he were telling a most amusing story, and at once
he began to sing:

  "You have learned what is a Tartar,
  When he beat you and flew afar!"

"Well, and what then?" asked Zbyszko.

"Then the grand duke escaped; but he was as courageous as he usually is.
The more you press him, the farther he jumps, like a hazelnut stick. We
rushed to the Tavanian ford to defend those crossing over. There were
with us a few knights from Poland. The second day, Edyga came with a
swarm of Tartars; but he could not do a thing. Hej! When he wanted to
pass the ford, we fought him so hard he could not do it. We killed and
caught many of them. I myself caught five Tartars, and I sent them to
Zgorzelice. You will see what dogheads they have."

"In Krakow, they say that the war may reach Poland also."

"Do they think Edyga is a fool! He knows well what kind of knights we
have; and he also knows that the greatest knights remained home, because
the queen was not pleased when Witold began the war on his own authority.
Ej, he is cunning, that old Edyga! He understood at Tavania that the
prince's army had increased and had gone far beyond the tenth-land!"

"But you returned?"

"Yes, I returned. There is nothing to do there. In Krakow I heard about
you, and that you had started a little ahead of me."

Here he turned to Zbyszko:

"Hej! my lord, the last time I saw you, you were a small boy; and now,
although there is no light, I suppose you are large like an urus. And you
had your crossbows ready! One can see you have been in the war."

"War has nurtured me since childhood. Let my uncle tell you if I am
lacking in experience."

"It is not necessary for your uncle to tell me anything; in Krakow, I saw
the _Pan_ of Taczew who told me about you. But I understand that the
Mazur does not want to give you his daughter. I have nothing against you;
but I like you. You will forget about that one when you see my Jagienka.
She is a wonder!"

"I shall not forget, even if I see ten such as your Jagna."

"She will get the estate of Moczydoly for her dowry. Many will ask me for
Jagna, do not fear?"

Zbyszko wanted to answer: "But not I!" But Zych of Zgorzelice began to
sing:

  "I will bend to your knees
  And you for that, will give me the girl,
    Give me the girl!"

"You are always happy and singing," said Macko.

"Well, and what do the blessed do in heaven."

"They sing."

"Well, then! And the damned cry. I prefer to go to those who sing rather
than to those who cry; and St. Peter will say thus: 'We must let him into
paradise; otherwise he will sing in hell, and that will not be right.'
Look, the day breaks!"

In fact, daylight was coming. After awhile they arrived at a large glade.
By the lake covering the greater part of the glade, some people were
fishing; but seeing the armed men, they left their nets and immediately
seized their picks and staffs and stood ready for battle.

"They thought we were robbers," said Zych, laughing. "Hej, fishermen! To
whom do you belong?"

They stood for a while silently, looking distrustfully; but finally one
of them having recognized that they were knights, answered:

"To the _ksiondz_, the abbot of Tulcza."

"Our relative," said Macko, "the same who holds Bogdaniec in pledge.
These must be his forests; but he must have purchased them a short time
ago."

"He did not buy them," answered Zych. "He was fighting about them with
Wilk of Brzozowa and it seems that the abbot defeated Wilk. A year ago
they were going to fight on horseback with spears and long swords for
this part of the forest; but I do not know how it ended because I went
away."

"Well, we are relatives," said Macko, "he will not quarrel with us."

"Perhaps; he is a chivalrous abbot who knows how to wear a helmet; but he
is pious and he sings the mass beautifully. Don't you remember? When he
shouts at mass, the swallows nested under the ceiling, fall from their
nests. In that way God's glory increases."

"Certainly I remember! At ten steps he could blow the candles at the
altar out. Has he been in Bogdaniec?"

"Yes, he was there. He settled five peasants on the land. He has also
been at my house at Zgorzelice, because, as you know, he baptized
Jagienka, of whom he is very fond and calls her little daughter."

"God will bless him if he be willing to leave me the peasants," said
Macko.

"_Owa!_ what will five peasants amount to! Then Jagienka will ask him and
he will not refuse her."

Here the conversation stopped for a while, because over the dark forest
and from the pink down, the bright sun had risen and lighted the
environs. The knights greeted it with the customary: "May it be blessed!"
and then having made the sign of the cross, they began their morning
prayers.

Zych finished first and said to his companions:

"I hope to see you well soon. Hej! you have both changed. You, Macko,
must regain your health. Jagienka will take care of you, because there is
no woman in your house. One can see that you have a piece of iron between
your ribs."

Here he turned toward Zbyszko:

"Show yourself also. Well, mighty God! I remember you when you were small
and used to climb on the colts by the help of their tails; and now, what
a knight! The face looks like that of a little lord; but the body like
that of a sturdy man. Such can wrestle even with a bear."

"A bear is nothing for him!" said Macko. "He was younger than he is
to-day, when that Fryzjan called him a beardless youth; and he resenting
it, immediately pulled out the Fryzjan's mustaches."

"I know," interrupted Zych, "and you fought afterward, and captured their
retinue. _Pan_ of Taczew told me all about it:"

  "There came a German very proud,
  He was buried with sore snout;
      Hoc! Hoc!"

Zbyszko wondered at Zych's long thin figure, at his thin face with its
enormous nose and at his laughing round eyes.

"O!" said he, "with such a neighbor there will be no sadness, if God only
restore my uncle's health."

"It is good to have a joyful neighbor, because with a jolly fellow there
will be no quarrel," answered Zych. "Now listen to what I tell you. You
have been away from home a long time, and you will not find much comfort
in Bogdaniec. I do not say in the farming, because the abbot has taken
care of that; he dug up a large piece of the forest and settled new
peasants. But as he went there very often, you will find the larder
empty; even in the house, there is hardly a bench or a bunch of straw to
sleep on; and a sick man needs some comforts. You had better come with me
to Zgorzelice. I will be glad to have you stay a month or two. During
that time, Jagienka will take care of Bogdaniec. Rely on her and do not
bother yourselves with anything. Zbyszko can go there, from time to time,
to inspect the farming; I will bring the abbot to Zgorzelice, and you can
settle your account with him. The girl will take good care of you, as of
a father, and during illness, a woman's care is the best. Well, my dear
friends, will you do as I ask you?"

"We know that you are a good man and you always were," answered Macko
with emotion; "but don't you see, if I must die on account of this wound,
I prefer to die in my own home. Then when one is home, although he is
old, he can inquire about different things, can inspect and do many other
things. If God order me to go to the other world, well, then I cannot
help it! I cannot escape it even with better care. As for inconvenience,
we are accustomed to that at the war. Even a bunch of straw is pleasant
to that one who, during several years, has slept on the bare ground. But
I thank you for your kind heart and if I be not able to show you my
gratitude, God will permit Zbyszko to do it."

Zych of Zgorzelice, who was noted for his kind heart and readiness to
oblige, began to insist: but Macko was firm: "If I must die, it will be
better to die in my own courtyard!"

He had longed to see Bogdaniec for several years, therefore now, when he
was so near it, he must go there, even if it were his last night. God was
merciful, having permitted him who was so ill, to reach here.

He brushed away the tears gathered under his eyelids, with his hand,
looked around and said:

"If these are the woods of Wilk of Bizozowa we will be home this
afternoon."

"They do not belong to Wilk of Bizozowa any longer; but to the abbot,"
said Zych.

Macko smiled and said after awhile:

"If they belong to the abbot, then sometime, they may belong to us."

"Bah! awhile ago you were talking about death," said Zych joyfully, "and
now you wish to outlive the abbot."

"No, I will not outlive him; but Zbyszko may."

Further conversation was interrupted by the sound of horns in the forest.
Zych stopped his horse and began to listen.

"Somebody is hunting," said he. "Wait."

"Perhaps it is the abbot. It would be pleasant to meet him here."

"Keep quiet!"

Here he turned to his retinue.

"Stop!"

They halted. The horns resounded nearer, and soon afterward the baying of
dogs was heard.

"Stop!" repeated Zych. "They are coming toward us."

Zbyszko jumped from his horse and began to shout:

"Give me the crossbow! The beast may attack us! Hasten! Hasten!"

Having seized the crossbow from the servant's hands, he rested it against
the ground, pressed it against his abdomen, bent, stretched his back like
a bow, and having seized the string with the fingers of both hands, he
pulled it on to the iron hook; then placed an arrow and sprang into the
woods.

"He stretched it without a crank!" whispered Zych, astonished at such
great strength.

"Ho, he is a strong boy!" answered Macko, proudly.

Meanwhile, the sound of horns and the barking of dogs stole nearer; all
at once, at the right side of the forest, a heavy trampling resounded,
accompanied by the crackling of broken branches and bushes--then out of
the thicket rushed an old bearded urus, with his gigantic head lowered,
with bloody eyes and panting tongue, breathless and terrible. Coming to a
small ravine, he leaped it, but fell on his forelegs; but immediately he
arose, and a few seconds later he would have disappeared in the thicket
on the other side of the road, when the string of the crossbow twanged,
the whistling of the arrow resounded, the beast reared, turned, roared
dreadfully and fell on the ground as if he were struck by a thunderbolt.

Zbyszko leaped from behind a tree, again stretched the crossbow, and
approached the bull who was pawing the ground with his hind feet.

But having glanced at it, he turned quietly toward the retinue, and began
to shout from afar:

"I hit him so hard that he is severely wounded!"

"You are a strong boy!" said Zych, riding toward him, "with one arrow
only!"

"Bah, it was near, and the speed was great. Come and see; not only the
iron, but even the shaft has disappeared under the left shoulder bone."

"The huntsmen must be near; they will claim the beast."

"I will not give it to them!" answered Zbyszko. "It was killed on the
road, and the road is not private property."

"But if it belong to the abbot?"

"Well, then he may have it."

Meanwhile, several dogs came out of the forest. Having perceived the
animal, they rushed on him.

"Soon the huntsmen will appear," said Zych. "Look! There they are, but
they do not see the beast yet. Stop! Stop! Here, here! Killed! Killed!"

Then he became silent, and sheltered his eyes with one hand; after a
while, he said:

"For God's sake! what has happened? Have I become blind, or does it only
seem so to me?"

"There is some one on a piebald horse in the front," said Zbyszko.

Then Zych exclaimed at once:

"Dear Jesus! It must be Jagienka!"

And he began to shout:

"Jagna! Jagna!"

Then he rushed forward; but before he could make his horse gallop,
Zbyszko perceived a most wonderful spectacle; he beheld a girl sitting
like a man, on a swift piebald horse, rushing toward them; she had a
crossbow in one hand and a boar-spear on her shoulders. Her floating hair
was full of hop strobiles; her face was bright like the dawn. Her shirt
was opened on the bosom, and she wore a _serdak_.[70] Having reached
them, she reined in her horse; for a while, her face expressed surprise,
hesitation, joy; finally, being scarcely able to believe her own eyes,
she began to cry in a childish voice:

"_Tatulo_,[71] _tatus_[71] dearest!"

In the twinkling of an eye, she jumped from her horse, and Zych
dismounted also to welcome her; she threw her arms around his neck. Fora
long time, Zbyszko heard only the sounds of kisses and these two words:
"_Tatulo!_ Jagula! _Tatulo!_ Jagula!" repeated in a joyful outburst.

Both retinues now approached, and Macko arrived also; they continued to
repeat: "_Tatulo!_ Jagula!" and still kissed each other. Finally Jagienka
asked:

"Then you decided to return from the war? Are you well?"

"From the war. Why should I not be well? And you? And the boys? Are they
well also? Yes, otherwise you would not run in the forest. But, my girl,
what are you doing here?"

"Don't you see that I am hunting?" answered Jagienka, laughing.

"In somebody else's woods?"

"The abbot gave me permission. He even sent me experienced huntsmen and a
pack of hounds."

Here she turned to the servants:

"Chase the dogs away, they will tear the skin!"

Then to Zych:

"Oj, how glad I am to see you!" And they again kissed each other. When
they were through, Jagna said:

"We are far from home; we followed the beast. I am sure it must be more
than ten miles; the horses are exhausted. What a large urus! Did you
notice? He must have at least three of my arrows in him; the last one
killed him."

"He was killed by the last, but it was not yours; this knight killed
him."

Jagienka threw her hair back and looked at Zbyszko sharply, but not very
friendly.

"Do you know who he is?" asked Zych.

"I do not know."

"No wonder you do not recognize him, because he has grown. Perhaps you
will recognize old Macko of Bogdaniec?"

"For God's sake! is that Macko of Bogdaniec?" exclaimed Jagienka.

Having approached the wagon, she kissed Macko's hand.

"It is you?"

"Yes, it is I; but I am obliged to ride in the wagon, because the Germans
wounded me."

"What Germans? The war was with the Tartars?"

"There was a war with the Tartars, but we were not in that war; we fought
in the war in Lithuania, Zbyszko and I."

"Where is Zbyszko?"

"Then you did not recognize Zbyszko?" said Macko smiling.

"Is that man Zbyszko?" exclaimed the girl, looking again at the young
knight.

"Yes, it is he."

"You must give him a kiss, because he is an old acquaintance of yours,"
said Zych, mirthfully.

Jagienka turned gaily toward Zbyszko; but suddenly she retreated, and
having covered her eyes with her hand, she said:

"I am bashful."

"But we have known each other since we were children," said Zbyszko.

"Aha! we know each other well. I remember when you made us a visit with
Macko about eight years ago, and my _matula_[72] gave us some nuts with
honey; you being the elder, struck me with your fist and then ate all the
nuts yourself."

"He will not act like that now!" said Macko. "He has been with _Kniaz_
Witold, and with the court in Krakow, and he has learned courtly
manners."

But Jagienka was now thinking about something else; turning toward
Zbyszko, she asked:

"Then you killed the urus?"

"Yes."

"We must see where the arrow is."

"You cannot see it; it disappeared under the shoulder bone."

"Be quiet; do not dispute," said Zych. "We all saw him shoot the urus,
and we saw something still better; he bent the bow without a crank."

Jagienka looked at Zbyszko for the third time, but now with astonishment.

"You bent the crossbow without a crank?"

Zbyszko, detecting some doubt in her voice, rested the crossbow on the
ground, and bent it in the twinkling of an eye; then wishing to show that
he was familiar with knightly manners, he kneeled on one knee and handed
the bow to Jagienka. But the girl, instead of taking it from him,
suddenly blushed--she did not know why herself, and began to fasten the
shirt, which, during the swift riding, had become opened on her bosom.

CHAPTER IV.

The next day after their arrival at Bogdaniec, Macko and Zbyszko began to
look around their old home; they soon realized that Zych of Zgorzelice
was right when he told them that at first they would be uncomfortable.

With the farming they could get along quite well. There were several
fields cultivated by the peasants whom the abbot had settled there.
Formerly there had been much cultivated land in Bogdaniec; but after the
battle at Plowce[73] where the family Grady perished, there was a
scarcity of working hands; and after the invasion of the Germans from
Szlonsk and after the war of Nalenczs with Grzymalits, the formerly rich
fields became overgrown with trees. Macko could not help it. In vain he
tried for several years to bring farmers from Krzesnia and rent the land
to them; they refused to come, preferring to remain on their own strips
of land rather than to cultivate some one else's. His offer however
attracted some shelterless men; in the different wars, he captured
several slaves whom he married and settled in the houses; and in that way
he populated the village. But it was hard work for him; therefore as soon
as he had an opportunity, Macko pledged the whole of Bogdaniec, thinking
that it would be easier for the powerful abbot to settle the land with
peasants, and that the war would bring to him and to Zbyszko some people
and money. In fact, the abbot was energetic. He had increased the working
force of Bogdaniec with five peasant families; he increased the stock of
cattle and horses; then he built a barn, a stable and a cow house. But as
he did not live in Bogdaniec, he did not repair the house. Macko, who had
hoped to find the _grodek_ surrounded with a ditch and hedge when he
returned, found everything just as he had left it, with this difference
only, that the walls were more crooked and seemed to be lower, because
they had settled deeper in the earth.

The house contained an enormous hall, two large rooms with alcoves, and a
kitchen. In the rooms there were windows made of bladders; and in the
centre of each room, there was a fireplace made of lime, and the smoke
escaped through a hole in the ceiling. From the ceilings now blackened
from smoke, during former times used to hang the hams of boars, bears and
deer, rumps of roes, sides of beef and rolls of sausages. But now the
hooks were empty as well as the shelves fastened to the walls, on which
they used to put the tin and earthen dishes. The walls beneath the
shelves were no longer empty, however, because Zbyszko had ordered his
servants to hang helmets, cuirasses, long swords and short swords on
them; and further along boar-spears and forks, caparisons and saddles.
The smoke blackened the weapons, and it was necessary to clean them very
often. But Macko, who was careful, ordered the servants to put the costly
clothes in the alcove in which his bed stood.

In the front rooms there stood near the windows, pine tables and benches
of the same, on which the lords used to sit during the meals, with all
their servants. People accustomed to war were easily satisfied; but in
Bogdaniec there was neither bread nor flour and no dishes. The peasants
brought what they could; Macko expected that the neighbors, as was then
customary, would help him; and he was not mistaken, at least as far as
Zych of Zgorzelice was concerned.

The second day, when the old _wlodyka_ was sitting on a log in front of
the house, delighted with the bright autumn day, Jagienka came, riding a
black horse; she dismounted and approached Macko, out of breath on
account of fast riding, and rosy as an apple; she said:

"May you be blessed! _Tatulo_ sent me to inquire about your health."

"I am no worse," answered Macko; "and at least I have slept in my own
house."

"But you cannot be comfortable at all, and a sick person needs some
care."

"We are hardened people. It is true that at first there was no comfort;
but we were not hungry. We ordered an ox and two sheep killed, so there
is plenty of meat. The women brought some flour and eggs; the worst is
that we have no dishes."

"Well, I ordered my servants to load two wagons. On one there are two
beds and dishes, and on the other different provisions. There are some
cakes and flour, some salt pork and dried mushrooms; there is a barrel of
beer and one of mead; in fact a little of everything we had in the
house."

Macko, who was grateful for this kindness, caressed Jagienka's head, and
said:

"May God reward your father and you. When our housekeeping improves, we
will return the provisions."

"How clever you are! We are not like the Germans, who take back what they
give."

"Well, so much more may God reward you. Your father told us what a good
housekeeper you are, and that you had taken care of Zgorzelice the whole
year?"

"Yes! If you need anything else, send somebody; but send some one who
will know what is needed, because a stupid servant never knows what he
has been sent for."

Here Jagienka began to look round, and Macko having noticed it, smiled
and asked:

"For whom are you looking?"

"I am looking for no one!"

"I will send Zbyszko to thank you and your father. Do you like Zbyszko?"

"I have not looked at him."

"Then look at him now, because he is just coming."

In fact Zbyszko was coming from the stable. He was dressed in a reindeer
jacket and round felt cap like those worn under the helmets; his hair was
without a net, cut evenly over his eyebrows and hung in golden curls on
his shoulders; he walked swiftly, having noticed the girl; he was tall
and graceful, looking like the shield-bearer of a rich nobleman.

Jagienka turned toward Macko as if to show that she came only to see him;
but Zbyszko welcomed her joyfully, and having taken hold of her hand,
raised it to his mouth, notwithstanding her resistance.

"Why do you kiss my hand?" asked she. "Am I a priest?"

"Such is the custom; you must not resist."

"Even if he had kissed both your hands," said Macko, "it would not be
enough for all that you have brought us."

"What have you brought?" asked Zbyszko, looking around the court-yard;
but he did not see anything except the black horse tied to the post.

"The wagons have not come yet; but they will soon be here," answered
Jagienka.

Macko began to enumerate what she had brought; but when he mentioned the
two beds, Zbyszko said:

"I am satisfied to sleep on the urus' skin; but I thank you because you
thought about me also."

"It was not I; it was _Tatulo_," answered the girl, blushing. "If you
prefer to sleep on the skin, you can do it."

"I prefer to sleep on what I can. Sometimes after a battle, I slept with
a dead Krzyzak instead of a pillow under my head."

"You do not mean to tell me that you have ever killed a Krzyzak? I am
sure you have not."

Zbyszko, instead of answering, began to laugh. But Macko exclaimed:

"For heaven's sake, girl, you do not know him yet! He has never done
anything else, but kill the Germans. He can fight with an axe, a spear or
with any weapon; and when he sees a German from afar, one must tie him
with a rope, or else he will rush against him. In Krakow he wanted to
kill the envoy, Lichtenstein, and for that he barely escaped execution.
Such a man! I will tell you also about the two Fryzes, from whom we took
their retinues and so much rich booty, that one could redeem Bogdaniec
with half of it."

Here Macko began to tell about his duel with the Fryzjans; also about
other adventures which had happened to them, and about the deeds they had
performed. How they had fought from behind the walls and in the open
fields, with the greatest knights living in foreign lands; how they had
fought Germans, Frenchmen, Englishmen and Burgundians. He also told her
what they had seen! They had seen German castles of red brick, Lithuanian
wooden _grodzce_[74] and churches, more beautiful than one could see
around Bogdaniec; also large cities and the dreadful wilderness in which
during the nights Lithuanian gods cried, and many different, marvelous
things; and everywhere, in any fight, Zbyszko was victorious, so that
even the greatest knights were astonished at him.

Jagienka, who was sitting on the log beside Macko, listened with open
mouth to that narrative, tossing her head and looking at the young knight
with increasing admiration and amazement. Finally when Macko was through,
she sighed and said:

"I am sorry I was not born a boy!"

But Zbyszko, who during the narration had been looking at her
attentively, evidently was thinking about something else, because he
suddenly said:

"What a beautiful girl you are now!"

Jagienka answered, half in displeasure and half in sadness:

"You have seen many more beautiful than I am."

But Zbyszko could truly answer her that he had not seen many as pretty as
she, because Jagienka was beaming with health, youth and strength. The
old abbot used to say that she looked like a pine tree. Everything was
beautiful in her; a slender figure, a broad bosom that looked as if it
were cut out of marble, a red mouth, and intelligent blue eyes. She was
also dressed with more care than when in the forest with the hunting
party. Around her neck she had a necklace of red beads; she wore a fur
jacket opened in front and covered with green cloth, a homespun skirt and
new boots. Even old Macko noticed this beautiful attire, and having
looked at her for a moment, asked:

"Why are you dressed as if you were going to church?"

But instead of answering, she exclaimed:

"The wagons are coming!"

In fact the wagons now appeared and she sprang toward them, followed by
Zbyszko. The unloading lasted quite a long time to the great satisfaction
of Macko who looked at everything, and praised Jagienka all the time. It
was dusk when the girl started home. While she was getting ready to mount
her horse, Zbyszko suddenly caught her, and before she was able to say a
word, lifted her into the saddle. Then she blushed like the dawn and
turning her head toward him, said with emotion in her voice:

"What a strong boy you are!"

But he, not having noticed her confusion nor her blushes because it was
dark, laughed and said:

"Are you not afraid of wild beasts? It is night!"

"There is a boar-spear in the wagon. Give it to me."

Zbyszko went to the wagon, took the boar-spear and handed it to Jagienka;
then he said:

"Be in good health!"

"Be in good health!" she answered.

"May God reward you! To-morrow, or the day after, I will be in Zgorzelice
to thank Zych and you for your kindness."

"Come! You will be welcome!"

Having touched her horse, she disappeared among the bushes growing on the
sides of the road.

Zbyszko returned to his uncle.

"You must go inside."

But Macko answered, without moving from the log:

"Hej! I what a girl! I She made the court-yard brighter!"

"That is true!"

There was a moment of silence. Macko seemed to be thinking about
something while looking at the stars; then he said, as if he were
speaking to himself:

"She is pretty and a good housekeeper, although she is not more than
fifteen years old."

"Yes!" answered Zbyszko. "Therefore old Zych loves her dearly."

"And he said that the estate of Moczydoly will be her dowry; and there on
the pastures is a herd of mares with many colts."

"Are there not a great many marshes in the Moczydlowski estate?"

"Yes; but in those marshes there are plenty of beavers."

There was silence again. Macko looked intently at Zbyszko for a while,
and finally he asked, "About what are you thinking?"

"Seeing Jagienka reminded me of Danusia, and something pricked me in the
heart."

"Let us go into the house," answered the old _wlodyka_. "It is getting
late."

Having risen with difficulty, he leaned on Zbyszko, who conducted him to
the alcove.

The next day Zbyszko went to Zgorzelice, because Macko urged him. He also
insisted that he take two servants with him for ostentation, and that he
dress in his best clothes, to show respect and gratitude to Zych. Zbyszko
did as he was asked and went attired as if for a wedding, in his _jaka_
made of white satin, bordered with gold fringe and embroidered with gold
griffins. Zych received him with open arms, with joy and with singing; as
for Jagienka, when she entered, she stopped as if she were rooted to the
ground and almost dropped the bucket of wine which she was carrying; she
thought that a son of some king had arrived. She became timid and sat
silently, rubbing her eyes from time to time as if she would like to
awaken from a dream. The inexperienced Zbyszko thought that, for some
reason unknown to him, she did not wish to talk to him; therefore he
conversed only with Zych, praising his munificence and admiring the house
at Zgorzelice, which in fact was quite different from that in Bogdaniec.

Everywhere comfort and wealth were evident. In the rooms there were
windows with panes made of horn, cut in thin slices and polished so that
it was as transparent as glass. Instead of fireplaces in the centre,
there were large chimneys in the corners. The floors were made of larch
tree planks, while on the walls were hung suits of armor and many
polished dishes, also silver spoons. Here and there were costly rugs
brought from the wars. Under the tables there were enormous urus' skins.
Zych showed his riches willingly, saying that it was Jagienka's
household. He conducted Zbyszko to the alcove, fragrant with rosin and
peppermint, in which were hanging from the ceiling, large bunches of wolf
skins, fox skins, beaver skins and marten skins. He showed to him the
provisions of cheese, honey, wax, barrels of flour, pails of dried bread,
hemp and dried mushrooms. Then he went with him to the granaries, barns,
stables, cow houses, and to the sheds filled with plenty of hunting
implements and nets. Zbyszko was so dazzled by all this wealth that
during supper, he could not refrain from admiration.

"What a pleasure to live in Zgorzelice!" exclaimed he.

"In Moczydoly, there is almost the same wealth," answered Zych. "Do you
remember Moczydoly? It is not far from Bogdaniec. Formerly our
forefathers quarreled about the boundaries and challenged each other; but
I shall not quarrel."

Here he filled Zbyszko's goblet with mead and said:

"Perhaps you would like to sing?"

"No," answered Zbyszko; "but I shall listen to you with pleasure."

"Zgorzelice will belong to the young bears."

"What do you mean by 'young bears?'"

"Why, Jagienka's brothers."

"Hej! they will not have to suck their paws during the winter."

"No; but Jagienka will also have plenty in Moczydoly."

"That is true!"

"Why don't you eat and drink? Jagienka, pour for him and for me."

"I am drinking and eating as much as I can."

"Ungird your belt; then you will be able to eat and drink more. What a
beautiful girdle you have! Yon must have taken rich booty in Lithuania!"

"We cannot complain," answered Zbyszko, gladly seizing the opportunity to
explain that the heirs of Bogdaniec were no longer _wlodykas_. "A part of
our booty, we sold in Krakow and received forty silver _grzywiens_ for
it."

"You don't say so! Why, one can buy an estate for that."

"Yes. There was one Milanese armor which my uncle, expecting to die, sold
for a good price."

"I know! Well, it is worth while to go to Lithuania. I wanted to go there
also; but I was afraid."

"Of what? Of the Knights of the Cross?"

"Ej, who would be afraid of Germans? I was afraid of those heathenish
gods or devils. It seems there are plenty of them in the woods."

"They do not have any other place for shelter, because their temples have
been burned. Formerly they were well-to-do; but now they live on
mushrooms and ants."

"Did you see them?"

"No, I did not see any myself; but I heard of people who had seen them.
Sometimes one of them sticks out a hairy paw from behind a tree and
shakes it, begging for something."

"Macko told me the same," answered Jagienka.

"Yes! He told me about it on the road," said Zych. "Well, no wonder! In
our country also, although it has been a Christian country for a long
time, one can hear laughter in the marshes; and although the priests
scold about it in the churches, it is always good policy to put a dish
filled with something to eat, for the little devils; otherwise they will
scratch on the walls so much that one can hardly sleep. Jagienka, my
dearest! put a dish at the threshold."

Jagienka took an earthen porringer full of noodles and cheese, and placed
it at the threshold. Zych said:

"The priests scold! But the Lord Jesus will not be angry about a dish of
noodles; and a god, as soon as his hunger is satisfied, will protect one
from fire and from thieves."

Then he turned to Zbyszko:

"But will you not ungird yourself and sing a little?"

"You had better sing, or perhaps _Panna_[75] Jagienka will sing."

"We will sing by turns," exclaimed Zych. "We have a servant who will
accompany us on a wooden fife. Call the boy!"

They called the servant who sat down on the bench and put the fife to his
mouth, waiting to learn whom he was to accompany.

None of them wanted to be first. Finally Zych told Jagienka to begin;
therefore Jagienka, although bashful because Zbyszko was present, rose
from the bench and having put her hands under her apron, began:

  "If I only could get
  The wings like a birdie,
  I would fly quickly
  To my dearest Jasiek."

Zbyszko opened his eyes wide; then he jumped up and shouted:

"Where did you learn that song?"

Jagienka looked at him astonished.

"Everybody sings that. What is the matter with you?"

Zych thinking that Zbyszko was a little intoxicated, turned his jovial
face toward him and said:

"Ungird! It will relieve you!"

But Zbyszko stood for a while with astonishment on his face; then, having
recovered from his emotion, said to Jagienka:

"Excuse me, I suddenly remembered something. Sing further."

"Perhaps it makes you sad?"

"Ej, not at all!" he answered, with a quivering voice. "I could listen to
it the whole night."

Then he sat down, covered his face with his hand, and listened.

Jagienka sang another couplet; but when she finished, she noticed a big
tear rolling down Zbyszko's fingers.

Then she sat down beside him, and began to touch him with her elbow.

"What is the matter with you? I do not want to make you cry. Tell me what
is the matter with you?"

"Nothing! Nothing!" answered Zbyszko, sighing. "I could tell you much.
But it is over. I feel merry now."

"Perhaps you would like to have some sweet wine?"

"Good girl!" exclaimed Zych. "Call him 'Zbyszko,' and you call her
'Jagienka.' You have known each other since you were children."

Then he turned toward his daughter:

"Do not mind because he struck you when you were children. He will not do
it now."

"I will not!" answered Zbyszko, mirthfully. "If she wishes, she may beat
me now for it."

Then Jagienka, wishing to cheer him up, began to play that she was
striking him with her little fist.

"Give us some wine!" shouted the merry _Pan_ of Zgorzelice.

Jagienka sprang to the closet and brought out a jug of wine, two
beautiful silver goblets, engraved by a silversmith of Wroclaw[76] and a
couple of cheese.

Zych, being a little intoxicated, began to hug the jug and said to it as
if he were talking to his daughter:

"Oj, my dear girl! What shall I do, poor man, when they take you from
Zgorzelice; what shall I do?"

"And you must give her up soon!" said Zbyszko.

Zych began to laugh.

"Chy! Chy! The girl is only fifteen; but she is already fond of boys!
When she sees one of them, she begins immediately to rub knee with knee!"

"_Tatusiu_[77] if you don't stop, I will leave you," said Jagienka.

"Don't go! It's better with you here." Then he continued to say to
Zbyszko:

"Two of them visit us. One of them is young Wilk, the son of old Wilk of
Bizozowa; the other is Cztan[78] of Rogow. If they meet you here, they
will gnash their teeth, as they do at each other."

"Owa!" said Zbyszko. Then he turned to Jagienka and asked:

"Which do you prefer?"

"Neither of them."

"Wilk is a great boy," said Zych.

"Let him go in another direction!"

"And Cztan?"

Jagienka began to laugh:

"Cztan," said she, turning toward Zbyszko, "he has hair on his face like
a goat; one can hardly see his eyes; and he has as much grease on him as
a bear."

Zbyszko now touched his head with his hand as if he had just remembered
something important, and said:

"I must ask you for one thing more; have you any bear's grease? I want to
use it for medicine for my uncle; and I could not find any in Bogdaniec."

"We used to have some," answered Jagienka; "but the boys have used some
to grease their bows, and the dogs have eaten the rest."

"Is there none left?"

"Not a bit!"

"Well, then, I must find some in the forest."

"Have a hunting party for bears; there are plenty of them; and if you
want some hunting implements, we will lend you some."

"I cannot wait. I will go some night to a _barcie_."

"Take a few men with you."

"No, I shall not do that, for they will frighten the beast."

"But you will take a crossbow!"

"What can I do with a crossbow during the night? There is no moon now! I
will take a fork and a strong axe, and I will go alone to-morrow."

Jagienka was silent for awhile; but great uneasiness was reflected on her
face.

"Last year," said she, "the huntsman, Bezduch, was killed by a bear. It
is dangerous, because as soon as the bear sees a man near the _barcie_,
he immediately stands up on his hind feet."

"If he ran away, I could not get him," answered Zbyszko.

At that moment Zych who had been dozing, suddenly awakened and began to
sing:

  "Thou Kuba, of toil
  I Maciek of pleasure,
  Go then in the morning with the yoke in the field,
  While I amuse myself with Kasia."

Then he said to Zbyszko:

"You know? There are two of them, Wilk of Brzozowa and Cztan of Rogow;
and you?"

But Jagienka being afraid that Zych would say too much, swiftly
approached Zbyszko, and began to inquire:

"When are you going? To-morrow?"

"To-morrow after sunset."

"And to which _barcie_?"

"To ours in Bogdaniec, not far from your boundaries, near the marshes of
Radzikow. They tell me it is very easy to get a bear there."

CHAPTER V.

Zbyszko went for the bear as he proposed, because Macko became worse. At
first when he reached Bogdaniec, he was sustained by joy and the first
cares about the house; but on the third day, the fever returned, and the
pain was so great that he was obliged to go to bed. Zbyszko went to the
_barcie_ during the day, and while there he perceived that there were the
footprints of a bear in the mud. He spoke to the beehive keeper, Wawrek,
who slept in a shed not far away, with his two faithful Podhalan[79]
dogs; but he intended to return to the village on account of the cold.

They destroyed the shed, and Wawrek took the dogs with him. But first
they smeared the trees here and there with honey, so that the smell of it
would attract the animal. Zbyszko returned home and began to prepare for
the expedition. He dressed himself in a warm reindeer jacket without
sleeves; on the top of his head, he put a bonnet made of iron wire;
finally he took a strong fork and a steel axe. Before sunset he had taken
his position; and having made the sign of the cross, he sat down and
waited.

The red beams of the setting sun were still shining between the branches
of the gigantic pines. In the tops of the trees, the crows were flying,
croaking and beating the air with their wings; here and there the hares
were leaping toward the water, making a noise on the dried leaves; some
times a swift marten passed by. In the thickets, the chirping of the
birds was at first heard--but gradually ceased.

After sunset the noises of the forest began. Immediately a pack of boars
passed near Zbyszko with a great bustle and snorting; then elks galloped
in a long row, each holding his head on the tail of the one in front of
him. The dried branches crackled under their feet and the forest
resounded; but on they rushed toward the marshes where during the night,
they were cool and safe. Finally the twilight was reflected on the sky,
and the tops of the pine trees illuminated by it seemed to burn, as if on
fire; then little by little everything began to be quieted. The forest
was still. Dusk was rising from earth toward the gleaming twilight, which
began finally to grow fainter, then gloomy, blacker and then was
quenched.

"Now, everything will be quiet, until the wolves begin to howl," thought
Zbyszko.

He regretted that he had not taken his crossbow, because he could easily
have killed a boar or an elk. In the meanwhile, from the marshes came
muffled sounds similar to heavy panting and whistling. Zbyszko looked
toward that marsh with some apprehension, because the peasant, Radzik,
who used to live here in an earth-hut, disappeared with his whole family,
as if devoured by the earth. Some people said they were seized by
robbers; but there were others who saw some strange footprints, neither
human nor of beasts, round the cabin. The people shook their heads very
much about that, and they even spoke about bringing a priest from
Krzesnia, to bless the hut. But they did not do it because nobody was
willing to live in that hut, which from that time, had an evil
reputation. It is true that the beehive keeper, Wawrek, did not pay any
attention to these reports.

Zbyszko being armed with the fork and axe, was not afraid of the wild
beasts; but he thought with some uneasiness about the evil forces, and he
was glad when that noise stopped.

The last reverberation ceased, and there was complete silence. The wind
stopped blowing and there was not even the usual whispering in the tops
of the pine trees. From time to time, a pine cone fell, making quite a
noise amidst the deep silence; but in general, everything was so quiet
that Zbyszko heard his own respirations.

Thus he sat quietly for a long time, thinking first about the bear, and
then about Danusia. He recollected how he seized her in his arms when
bidding the princess farewell, and how she cried; he remembered her fair
head and bright face, her wreaths of bachelor buttons, her singing, her
red shoes with long tips, and finally everything that happened from the
moment he first saw her. Such a longing to see her, filled his heart,
that he forgot that he was in the forest waiting for the bear; instead of
that he began to talk to himself:

"I will go to see you, because I cannot live without you."

He felt that he must go to Mazowsze; that if he remained in Bogdaniec, he
would become good for nothing. He recollected Jurand and his strange
opposition; then he thought that it was even more necessary he should go,
and learn what that obstacle was, and if a challenge to combat could not
remove it. Finally it seemed to him that Danusia stretched her bands
toward him and cried:

"Come, Zbyszku! Come!" How could he refuse?

He was not sleeping, but he saw her as distinctly as in a dream. There
she was, riding beside the princess, thrumming on her little lute,
humming and thinking of him. Thinking that she would soon see him, and
perhaps looking back.

Hero Zbyszko aroused himself and listened, because he heard a rustling
behind him. Then he grasped the fork in his hand more tightly, stretched
his neck and listened again.

The rustling approached and then it became very distinct. Under some
careful foot, the dried branches were crackling, the fallen leaves were
rustling. Something was coming.

From time to time the rustling ceased, as if the beast halted beneath the
trees; then there was such quietude that Zbyszko's ears began to ring;
then again slow, careful steps were heard. That approach was so cautious
that Zbyszko was surprised.

"I am sure 'the old'[80] must be afraid of the dogs which were here in
the shed," said he to himself; "but it may be a wolf that has scented
me."

Now the footsteps were no longer heard. Zbyszko, however, was sure that
something had stopped twenty or thirty feet behind him.

He turned around once or twice; but although he could see the trunks of
the trees quite well, he could not perceive anything else. He was obliged
to wait.

He waited so long, that he was surprised a second time.

"A bear would not come here to stop under the _barcie_; and a wolf would
not wait until morning."

Suddenly a shiver ran through his body as he thought:

"Suppose it is something dreadful that comes from the marshes and is
trying to surprise me from the rear! Suppose the slippery arms of a
drowned man seize me, or the green eyes of a ghost look into my face;
suppose a blue head on spider's legs comes out from behind the tree and
begins to laugh!"

He felt his hair begin to rise under his iron bonnet.

But after a while, a rustling sounded in front of him, more distinct this
time than formerly. Zbyszko breathed more freely; he thought that the
same "wonder" had gone around him, and now approached from the front; but
he preferred that. He seized his fork firmly, arose quietly and waited.

Now he noticed over his head the rustling of the pine trees, and he felt
the wind blow in his face, coming from the marsh, and he smelt the bear.

There was not the slightest doubt that a _mys_[81] was coming!

Zbyszko was afraid no longer, and having bent his head, he strained to
the utmost his hearing and his sight. Heavy, distinct steps were coming;
the smell grew stronger; soon the snore and groaning were heard.

"I hope there are not two of them!" thought Zbyszko.

But at that moment, he perceived in front of him the large, dark form of
the animal, which was walking in the same direction from which the wind
was blowing, and could not get the scent of him; its attention was also
attracted by the smell of the honey on the trees.

"Come, uncle!" exclaimed Zbyszko, coming out from beneath the pine tree.

The bear roared shortly as if frightened by an unexpected apparition; but
he was too near to seek safety in flight; therefore, in a moment he
reared and separated his forelegs as if for a hug. This was exactly what
Zbyszko was waiting for; he gathered himself together, jumped like
lightning and with all the strength of his powerful arms and of his
weight, he drove the fork into the animal's chest.

The whole forest resounded now with the fearful roaring. The bear seized
the fork with his paws, and tried to pull it out, but the incisions made
by the points were too deep; therefore, feeling the pain, he roared still
more fearfully. Wishing to reach Zbyszko, he leaned on the fork and thus
drove it into his body still further. Zbyszko, not knowing that the
points had entered so deeply, held on to the handle. The man and the
animal began to struggle. The forest again resounded with the roaring in
which wrath and despair were mingled.

Zbyszko could not use his axe until after he could drive the sharpened
end of the fork into the ground. The bear having seized the handle, was
shaking it as well as Zbyszko, and notwithstanding the pain caused by
every movement of the points imbedded in his breast, he would not let it
be "underpropped." In this way the terrible struggle continued, and
Zbyszko finally felt that his strength would soon be exhausted. If he
fell, then he would be lost; therefore, he gathered all his strength,
strained his arms to the utmost, set his feet firmly and bent his back
like a bow, so as not to be thrown backward; and in his enthusiasm he
repeated through set teeth:

"You or I will die!"

Such anger filled him that he really preferred at that moment to die,
rather than to let the beast go. Finally his foot caught in the root of a
tree; he tottered and would have fallen, if at that moment a dark figure
had not appeared before him, and another fork "underpropped" the beast;
and in the meanwhile, a voice shouted near his ear:

"Use your axe!"

Zbyszko, being excited by the fight, did not wonder even for a moment
from whence came the unexpected help; but he seized the axe and cut with
all his might. The fork cracked, broken by the weight and by the last
convulsion of the beast, as it fell. There was a long silence broken only
by Zbyszko's loud respirations. But after a while, he lifted his head,
looked at the form standing beside him and was afraid, thinking that it
might not be a man.

"Who are you?" asked he, with uneasiness.

"Jagienka!" answered a thin, womanly voice.

Zbyszko became dumb from astonishment; he could not believe his own eyes.
But his doubts did not last long, because Jagienka's voice again
resounded:

"I will build a fire."

Immediately the clatter of a fire steel against a flint sounded and the
sparks began to fall; by their glittering light, Zbyszko beheld the white
forehead, the dark eyebrows and the red lips of the girl who was blowing
on the tinder which began to burn. Not until then did he realize that she
had come to the forest to help him, and that without her aid, he would
have perished. He felt such gratitude toward her, that he impulsively
seized her around the waist and kissed her on both cheeks.

The tinder and the steel fell to the ground.

"Let me be!" she began to repeat in a muffled voice; but she allowed him
to kiss her and even, as if by accident, touched Zbyszko's lips with her
mouth. He released her and said:

"May God reward you. I do not know what would have happened without your
help."

Then Jagienka, while searching for the tinder and fire steel, began to
excuse herself:

"I was worried about you, because Bezduch also went with a fork and an
axe, but the bear tore him to pieces. If you met with such a misfortune,
Macko would be very desolate, and he hardly breathes now. So I took a
fork and came."

"Then it was you whom I heard there behind the pines?"

"Yes."

"And I thought it was an evil spirit."

"I was very much frightened, because it is dangerous to be without fire
here around the Radzikowski marshes."

"Then why did you not speak to me?"

"Because I was afraid you would send me away."

Having said this, she again began to strike sparks from the steel, and
put on the tinder a bundle of hemp which began to burn.

"I have two resinous pieces of wood," said she; "you bring some dried
branches quickly, and we will soon have a fire."

In fact, after a while a bright fire was burning, and lighted the
enormous, brown body of the bear which was lying in a pool of blood.

"Hej, a dreadful beast!" said Zbyszko, boastfully.

"You split his head entirely open! O, Jesus!"

Then she leaned over and felt of the bear's body, to ascertain whether
the beast was fat; then she arose with a bright face, and said:

"There will be plenty of grease for two years."

"But the fork is broken, look!"

"That is too bad; what shall I tell them at home?"

"About what?"

"_Tatus_ would not let me come into the forest, therefore I was obliged
to wait until everybody had retired."

After a moment she added:

"You must not tell that I was here, because they will laugh at me."

"But I will go with you to your house, because I am afraid the wolves
will attack you, and you have no fork."

"Very well!"

Thus they sat talking for a while beside the bright fire, looking like
two young forest creatures.

Zbyszko looked at the girl's pretty face, lighted by the flames, and said
with involuntary admiration:

"There is not another girl in this world as brave as you are. You ought
to go to the war!"

She looked into his face and then she answered, almost sadly:

"I know; but you must not laugh at me."

CHAPTER VI.

Jagienka herself melted a large pot of bear's grease. Macko drank the
first quart willingly, because it was fresh, and smelt good. Jagienka put
the rest of it in a pot. Macko's hope increased; he was sure he would be
cured.

"That is what I needed," said he. "When all parts inside of me become
greasy, then that dog's splinter will slip out."

But the next quarts did not taste as well as the first; but he continued
to drink it and Jagienka encouraged him, saying:

"You will get well. Zbilud of Ostrog had the links of a coat of mail
driven into his neck; but they slipped out because he drank grease. But
when your wound opens, you must put some grease of a beaver on it."

"Have you some?"

"Yes, we have. But if it be necessary to have it fresh, we will go with
Zbyszko and get a beaver. Meanwhile it would not do any harm, if you
promised something to some saint, who is the patron for wounds."

"I was thinking about that, but I do not know to whom I should make the
promise. Saint George is the patron of knights; he protects the warrior
from any accident and always gives him victory, and it is said that
sometimes he fights personally for the one who is right. But a saint who
fights willingly, does not heal willingly; and for that, there must be
another saint with whom he would not want to interfere. It is known that
every saint has his specialty. But they will not interfere with one
another; because that would cause quarrels, and it is not proper to fight
in heaven. There are Kosma and Damian to whom all doctors pray, that
illness may exist; otherwise the doctors would not have anything to eat.
There is Saint Apolonia for the teeth and Saint Liborius for stone; but
they will not do for me. The abbot, when he comes, will tell me whom I
must ask. Every _clericus_ does not know all celestial secrets and
everyone of them is not familiar with such things, but the abbot is."

"Suppose you make a vow to the Lord Jesus himself?"

"Of course he is over all of them. But suppose your father had injured my
servant, and I went to Krakow to complain to the king; what would the
king tell me? He would say thus: 'I am monarch over all the country, and
you complain to me about one of your peasants! Do you not have my
officials in your part of the country; why did you not go to the
castellan?' So the Lord Jesus is the ruler over the whole universe; but
for smaller affairs, he employs the saints."

"Then I will tell you what to do," said Zbyszko, who entered just now;
"make a vow to our late queen, that if she intercede for you, you will
make a pilgrimage to Krakow. Why should you search after strange saints,
when we have our own lady, who is better than they?"

"Bah! if I only knew that she would intercede for wounds!"

"No matter! There is no saint who would dare to show her an angry face;
or if he dared, Lord God would punish him for it, because she was not an
ordinary woman, but a Polish queen."

"Who converted the last heathen country to the Christian faith! That is
right," said Macko. "She must have a high place in God's council and
surely none would dare to oppose her. Therefore I will do as you say."

This advice pleased Jagienka, who admired Zbyszko's common sense very
much. That same evening, Macko made a vow and drank with still greater
hope, the bear's grease. But after a week, he began to lose hope. He said
that the grease was fermenting in his stomach, and that a lump was
growing on his side near the last rib. At the end of ten days Macko was
worse, and the lump grew larger and became inflamed. The sick man again
had fever and began to make preparations for death.

But one night he awakened Zbyszko, and said:

"Light a piece of resinous wood; there is something the matter with me,
but I do not know what."

Zbyszko jumped up and lighted a piece of pine wood.

"What is it?"

"What is it! Something has pierced the lump on my side. It must be the
head of the spear! I had hold of it, but I cannot pull it out."

"It must be the spearhead! Nothing else. Grasp it well and pull."

Macko began to turn and to twist with pain; but he pushed his fingers
deeper and deeper, until he seized a hard substance which finally he
pulled out.

"O, Jesus!"

"Have you pulled it out?" asked Zbyszko.

"Yes. I am in a cold perspiration all over; but I have it; look!"

Having said this, he showed to Zbyszko a long splinter, which had
separated from the spear and remained in his body for several months.

"Glory be to God and to Queen Jadwiga! Now you will get well."

"Perhaps; I am better, but it pains me greatly," said Macko, pressing the
wound from which blood and pus began to flow. "Jagienka said that now I
ought to dress the wound with the grease of a beaver."

"We will go to-morrow and get a beaver."

Macko felt considerably better the next day. He slept till morning, and
when he awoke, immediately asked for something to eat. He would not even
look at the bear's grease; but they cooked twenty eggs for him. He ate
them voraciously, also a big loaf of bread, and drank about four quarts
of beer; then he demanded that they call Zych, because he felt jovial.

Zbyszko sent one of the Turks, given to him by Zawisza, after Zych who
mounted a horse and came in the afternoon when the young people were
ready to go to the Odstajny lake to catch a beaver. At first there was
plenty of laughter and singing, while they drank mead; but afterward the
old _wlodykas_ began to talk about the children, each praising his own.

"What a man Zbyszko is!" said Macko; "there is no other like him in the
world. He is brave and as agile as a wild-cat. Do you know that when they
conducted him to the scaffold in Krakow, all the girls standing at the
windows were crying, and such girls;--daughters of knights and of
castellans, and also the beautiful townswomen."

"They may be beautiful and the daughters of castellans, but they are not
better than my Jagienka!" answered Zych of Zgorzelice.

"Did I say they were better? It will be difficult to find a better girl
than Jagienka."

"I do not say anything against Zbyszko either; he can stretch a crossbow
without a crank."

"He can underprop a bear also. Did you see how he cut the bear? He cut
the head and one paw off."

"He cut the head off, but he did not underprop it alone. Jagienka helped
him."

"Did she? He did not tell me about that."

"Because he promised her not to tell anyone. The girl was ashamed because
she went into the forest alone at night. She told me all about it; she
never hides the truth. Frankly speaking, I was not pleased because who
knows what might have happened. I wanted to scold her, but she said, 'If
I be not able to preserve my wreath myself, how can you preserve it, you
_tatulu_; but do not fear, Zbyszko knows what knightly honor is.'"

"That is true. They have gone alone to-day also."

"They will be back in the evening. But during the night, the devil is
worse and the girl does not feel ashamed because of the darkness."

Macko thought for a while; then he said as if to himself:

"But they are fond of each other."

"Bah! it is a pity he made a vow to another!"

"That is, as you know, a knightly custom. They consider the one who has
no lady, a churl. He also made a vow to capture some peacocks' tufts, and
those he must get because he swore by his knightly honor; he must also
challenge Lichtenstein; but from the other vows, the abbot can release
him."

"The abbot is coming soon."

"Do you expect him?" asked Macko; then he said again: "And what does such
a vow amount to; Jurand told him positively that he could not give the
girl to him! I do not know whether he had promised her to some one else,
or whether he had destined her for God."

"Have I told you that the abbot loves Jagienka as much as if she were his
own? The last time I saw him he said: 'I have no relations except those
from my mother's side; and they will receive nothing from me.'"

Here Macko looked at Zych suspiciously and after awhile he answered:

"Would you wrong us?"

"Jagienka will get Moczydoly," said Zych evasively.

"Immediately?"

"Immediately. I would not give it to another; but I will do it for her."

"Half of Bogdaniec belongs to Zbyszko, and if God restore my health, I
will improve the estate. Do you love Zbyszko?"

Zych began to wink and said:

"When anybody mentions Zbyszko's name in the presence of Jagienka, she
immediately turns away."

"And when you mention another?"

"When I mention another, she only laughs and says: 'What then?'"

"Well, do you not see. God will help us and Zbyszko will forget about the
other girl. I am old and I will forget also. Will you have some more
mead?"

"Yes, I will."

"Well, the abbot is a wise man! You know that some of the abbots are
laymen; but this abbot, although he does not sit among the friars, is a
priest just the same; and a priest can always give better advice than an
ordinary man, because he knows how to read, and he communes with the Holy
Ghost. I am glad that Jagienka is going to have the estate of Moczydoly.
As for me, as soon as the Lord Jesus restores my health, I will try to
induce some of the peasants living on the estate of Wilk of Brzozowa, to
settle on my land. I will offer them more land, I have plenty of it in
Bogdaniec. They can come if they wish to, for they are free. In time, I
will build a _grodek_ in Bogdaniec, a worthy castle of oaks with a ditch
around it. Let Zbyszko and Jagienka hunt together. I think we shall soon
have snow. They will become accustomed to each other, and the boy will
forget that other girl. Let them be together. Speak frankly; would you
give Jagienka to him or not?"

"I would. Did we not decide a long time ago that they should marry, and
that Moczydoly and Bogdaniec would be our grandchildren's?"

"_Grady!_" exclaimed Macko, joyfully. "God will bless us and their
children will be as numerous as hail. The abbot shall baptize them."

"If he will only be quick enough!" exclaimed Zych. "I have not seen you
so jolly as you are to-day for a long time."

"Because I am glad in my heart. Do not fear about Zbyszko. Yesterday when
Jagienka mounted her horse, the wind blew. I asked Zbyszko then: 'Did you
see?' and his eyes shone. I have also noticed that although at first they
did not speak much to each other, now when they go together, they are
continually turning their heads toward each other, and they talk--talk!
Have some more mead?"

"Yes, I will."

"To Zbyszko and Jagienka's health!"

CHAPTER VII.

The old _wlodyka_ was not mistaken when he said that Zbyszko and Jagienka
were fond of each other, and even that they longed for each other.
Jagienka pretending that she wanted to visit the sick Macko, went very
often to Bogdaniec, either alone or with her father. Zbyszko also went
often to Zgorzelice. In that way, after a few days a familiarity and
friendship originated between them. They grew fond of each other and
talked about everything that interested them. There was much mutual
admiration in that friendship also. The young and handsome Zbyszko, who
had already distinguished himself in the war, had participated in
tournaments and had been in the presence of kings, was considered by the
girl, when she compared him with Cztan of Rogow or Wilk of Brzozowa, a
true courtly knight and almost a prince; as for him, he was astonished at
the great beauty of the girl. He was loyal to Danusia; but very often
when he looked suddenly at Jagienka, either in the forest or at home, he
said involuntarily to himself: "Hej! what a girl!" When, helping her to
mount her horse, he felt her elastic flesh under his hands, disquietude
filled him and he shivered, and a torpor began to steal over him.

Jagienka, although naturally proud, inclined to raillery, and even
aggressive, grew more and more gentle with him, often looking in his eyes
to discover how she could please him; he understood her affection; he was
grateful for it and he liked to be with her more and more. Finally,
especially after Macko began to drink the bear's grease, they saw each
other almost every day; when the splinter came out of the wound, they
went together to get some fresh beaver's grease, necessary for the
healing of the wound.

They took their crossbows, mounted their horses and went first to
Moczydoly, destined for Jagienka's dowry, then to the edge of the forest,
where they entrusted the horses to a servant and went on foot, because it
was impossible to pass through the thicket on horseback. While walking,
Jagienka pointed to the large meadow covered with reeds and to the blue
ribbon of forest and said:

"Those woods belong to Cztan of Rogow."

"The same man who would like to take you?"

She began to laugh:

"He would if he could!"

"You can defend yourself very easily, having for your defence the
Wilk[82] who, as I understand, gnashes his teeth at Cztan. I wonder that
they have not challenged each other to fight until death."

"They have not because _tatulo_ before he went to the war said to them:
'If you fight about Jagienka I do not want to see you any more.' How
could they fight then? When they are in Zgorzelice they scowl at each
other; but afterward they drink together in an inn in Krzesnia until they
are drunk."

"Stupid boys!"

"Why?"

"Because while Zych was away one of them should have taken you by force.
What could Zych do, if when he returned he had found you with a baby on
your lap?"

At this Jagienka's blue eyes flashed immediately.

"Do you think I would let them take me? Have we not people in Zgorzelice,
and do I not know how to manage a crossbow or a boar-spear? Let them try!
I would chase them back home and even attack them in Rogow or Brzozowa.
Father knew very well that he could go to the war and leave me home
alone."

Speaking thus, she frowned, and shook the crossbow threateningly, so that
Zbyszko began to laugh, and said:

"You ought to have been a knight and not a girl."

She becoming calmer, answered:

"Cztan guarded me from Wilk and Wilk from Cztan. Then I was also under
the abbot's tutelage, and it is well for everyone to let the abbot
alone."

"Owa!" answered Zbyszko. "They are all afraid of the abbot! But I, may
Saint George help me to speak the truth to you, I would neither be afraid
of the abbot, nor of your peasants, nor of yourself; I would take you!"

At this Jagienka stopped on the spot, and fixing her eyes on Zbyszko,
asked in a strange, soft, low voice:

"You would take me?"

Then her lips parted and blushing like the dawn, she waited for his
answer.

But he evidently was only thinking what he would do, were he in Cztan or
Wilk's position; because after a while, he shook his golden hair and said
further:

"A girl must marry and not fight with the boys. Unless you have a third
one, you must choose one of these two."

"You must not tell me that," answered the girl, sadly.

"Why not? I have been away from home for a long time, therefore I do not
know whether there is somebody around Zgorzelice, of whom you are fond or
not."

"Hej!" answered Jagienka. "Let it be!"

They walked along silently, trying to make their way through the thicket
which was now much denser because the bushes and the trees were covered
with wild hop vines. Zbyszko walked first, tearing down the green vines,
and breaking the branches here and there; Jagienka followed him with a
crossbow on her shoulder, looking like a hunting goddess.

"Beyond that thicket," said she, "there is a deep brook; but I know where
the ford is."

"I have long boots on, reaching above my knees; we can cross it,"
answered Zbyszko.

Shortly afterward, they reached the brook. Jagienka being familiar with
the Moczydlowski forests, very easily found the ford; but the water was
deeper than usual, the little brook being swollen by the rains. Then
Zbyszko without asking her permission, seized the girl in his arms.

"I can cross by myself," said Jagienka.

"Put your arms around my neck!" answered Zbyszko.

He walked slowly through the water, while the girl nestled to him.
Finally when they were near the other shore, she said:

"Zbyszku!"

"What?"

"I care neither for Cztan, nor for Wilk."

As he placed her on the shore, he answered excitedly:

"May God give you the best I He will not be wronged."

The Odstajny lake was not far away now. Jagienka walking in front, turned
from time to time, and putting a finger on her lips, ordered Zbyszko to
be silent. They were walking amidst the osiers and gray willows, on low,
damp ground. From the left side, were heard the voices of birds, and
Zbyszko was surprised at that, because it was time for the birds to
migrate.

"We are near a morass which is never frozen," whispered Jagienka; "the
ducks pass the winter there; even in the lake the water freezes only near
the shores. See how it is steaming."

Zbyszko looked through the willows and noticed in front of him, something
like a bank of fog; it was the Odstajny lake.

Jagienka again put a finger to her lips, and after a while they reached
the lake. The girl climbed on an old willow and bent over the water.
Zbyszko followed her example; and for a long time they remained quiet,
seeing nothing in front of them, on account of the fog; hearing nothing
but the mournful puling of lapwings. Finally the wind blew, rustled the
osiers and the yellow leaves of the willows, and disclosed the waters of
the lake which were slightly ruffled by the wind.

"Do you see anything?" whispered Zbyszko.

"No. Keep quiet!"

After a while, the wind ceased and complete silence followed. Then on the
surface of the lake appeared one head, then another; finally near them a
big beaver entered the water from the shore, carrying in his mouth a
newly cut branch, and began to swim amidst the duck-weed and marigold
holding his mouth out of the water and pushing the branch before him.
Zbyszko lying on the trunk beneath Jagienka, noticed that her elbow moved
quietly and that her head was bent forward; evidently she had aimed at
the animal which, not suspecting any danger, was swimming close by,
toward the clear water.

Finally the string of the crossbow twanged and at the same moment
Jagienka cried:

"I hit him! I hit him!"

Zbyszko instantly climbed higher and looked through the thicket toward
the water; the beaver plunged into the water, then reappeared on the
surface, turning somersets.

"I hit him hard! He will soon be quiet!" said Jagienka.

The movements of the animal grew slower, and then before one had time
sufficient to recite one "_Ave Maria_," he was floating on his back on
the surface of the water.

"I will go and get him," said Zbyszko.

"No, do not go. Here, near the shore, there is, deep slime. Anyone who
does not know how to manage, will surely drown."

"Then how will we get him?"

"He will be in Bogdaniec this evening, do not worry about that; now we
must go home."

"You hit him hard!"

"Bah! It is not the first one!"

"Other girls are afraid to even look at a crossbow; but with you, one can
go to the forest all his life."

Jagienka smiled at such praise, but she did not answer; they returned the
same way they came. Zbyszko asked her about the beavers and she told him
how many of them there were in Moczydoly, and how many in Zgorzelice.

Suddenly she struck her hip with her hand and exclaimed:

"Well, I left my arrows on the willow. Wait!"

Before he could say that he would return for them, she jumped back like a
roe and disappeared. Zbyszko waited and waited; at last he began to
wonder what detained her so long.

"She must have lost the arrows and is searching for them," he said to
himself; "but I will go and see whether anything has happened to her."

He had hardly started to return before the girl appeared with her bow in
her hand, her face smiling and blushing, and with the beaver on her
shoulders.

"For God's sake!" cried Zbyszko, "how did you get him?"

"How? I went into the water, that is all! It is nothing new for me; but I
did not want you to go, because the mud drags anyone down who does not
know how to swim in it."

"And I waited here like a fool! You are a sly girl."

"Well, could I undress before you?"

"Bah! If I had followed you, then I would have seen a wonder!"

"Be silent!"

"I was just starting, so help me God!"

"Be silent!"

After a while, wishing to turn the conversation, she said:

"Wring my tress; it makes my back wet."

Zbyszko caught the tress in one hand and began to wring with the other,
saying:

"The best way will be to unbraid it, then the wind will soon dry it."

But she did not wish to do that on account of the thicket through which
they were obliged to make their way. Zbyszko now put the beaver on his
shoulders. Jagienka walking in front of him, said:

"Now Macko will soon be well, because there is no better medicine for a
wound than the grease of a bear inside, and the grease of a beaver
outside. In about two weeks, he will be able to ride a horse."

"May God grant that!" answered Zbyszko. "I am waiting for it as for
salvation, because I cannot leave the sick man, and it is hard for me to
stay here."

"Why is it hard for you to stay here?" she asked him.

"Has Zych told you nothing about Danusia?"

"He did tell me something. I know that she covered you with her veil. I
know that! He told me also that every knight makes some vow, to serve his
lady. But he said that such a vow did not amount to anything; that some
of the knights were married, but they served their ladies just the same.
But Danusia, Zbyszko; tell me about her!"

Having come very close to him, she began to look at his face with great
anxiety; he did not pay any attention to her frightened voice and looks,
but said:

"She is my lady, and at the same time she is my sweetest love. I have not
spoken about her to anybody; but I am going to tell you, because we have
been acquainted since we were children. I will follow her beyond the
tenth river and beyond the tenth sea, to the Germans and to the Tartars,
because there is no other girl like her. Let my uncle remain in
Bogdaniec, and I will go to her. What do I care about Bogdaniec, the
household, the herds, or the abbot's wealth, without her! I will mount my
horse and I will go, so help me God; I will fulfill that which I promised
her, or I will die."

"I did not know," answered Jagienka, in a hollow voice.

Zbyszko began to tell her about all that had happened; how he had met
Danusia in Tyniec; how he had made a vow to her; about everything that
happened afterward; about his imprisonment, and how Danusia rescued him;
about Jurand's refusal, their farewell and his loneliness; finally about
his joy, because as soon as Macko became well, he would go to his beloved
girl. His story was interrupted at last by the sight of the servant with
the horses, waiting on the edge of the forest.

Jagienka immediately mounted her horse and began to bid Zbyszko good-bye.

"Let the servant follow you with the beaver; I am going to Zgorzelice."

"Then you will not go to Bogdaniec? Zych is there."

"No. _Tatulo_ said he would return and told me to go home."

"Well, may God reward you for the beaver."

"With God."

Then Jagienka was alone. Going home through the heaths, she looked back
for a while after Zbyszko; when he disappeared beyond the trees, she
covered her eyes with her hands as if sheltering them from the sunlight.
But soon large tears began to flow down her cheeks and drop one after
another on the horse's mane.

CHAPTER VIII.

After the conversation with Zbyszko, Jagienka did not appear in Bogdaniec
for three days; but on the third day she hurried in with the news that
the abbot had arrived at Zgorzelice. Macko received the news with
emotion. It is true he had money enough to pay the amount for which the
estate was pledged, and he calculated that he would have enough to induce
settlers to come, to buy herds and to make other improvements; but in the
whole transaction, much depended on the disposition of the rich relation,
who, for instance, could take or leave the peasants settled by him on the
land, and in that way increase or diminish the value of the estate.

Therefore Macko asked Jagienka about the abbot; how he was; if he was in
a good humor or gloomy; what he had said about them; when he was coming
to Bogdaniec? She gave him sensible answers, trying to encourage and
tranquillize him in every respect.

She said that the abbot was in good health and gay; that he was
accompanied by a considerable retinue in which, besides the armed
servants, there were several seminarists and _rybalts_; that he sang with
Zych and that he listened gladly not only to the spiritual but to the
worldly songs also. She had noticed also that he asked carefully about
Macko, and that he listened eagerly to Zych's narration of Zbyszko's
adventure in Krakow.

"You know best what you ought to do," finally the clever girl said; "but
I think that Zbyszko ought to go immediately and greet his elder
relative, and not wait until the abbot comes to Bogdaniec."

Macko liked the advice; therefore he called Zbyszko and said to him:

"Dress yourself beautifully; then go and bow to the abbot, and pay him
respect; perhaps he will take a fancy to you."

Then he turned to Jagienka:

"I would not be surprised if you were stupid, because you are a woman;
but I am astonished to find that you have such good sense. Tell me then,
the best way to receive the abbot when he comes here."

"As for food, he will tell you himself what he wishes to have; he likes
to feast well, but if there be a great deal of saffron in the food, he
will eat anything."

Macko hearing this, said:

"How can I get saffron for him!"

"I brought some," said Jagienka.

"Give us more such girls!" exclaimed the overjoyed Macko. "She is pretty,
a good housekeeper, intelligent and good-hearted! Hej! if I were only
younger I would take her immediately!"

Here Jagienka glanced at Zbyszko, and having sighed slightly, she said
further:

"I brought also the dice, the goblet and the cloth, because after his
meal, the abbot likes to play dice."

"He had the same habit formerly, and he used to get very angry."

"He gets angry sometimes now; then he throws the goblet on the ground and
rushes from the room into the fields. Then he comes back smiling, and
laughs at his anger. You know him! If one does not contradict him, you
cannot find a better man in the world."

"And who would contradict him; is he not wiser and mightier than others?"

Thus they talked while Zbyszko was dressing in the alcove. Finally he
came out, looking so beautiful that he dazzled Jagienka, as much as he
did the first time he went to Zgorzelice in his white _jaka_. She
regretted that this handsome knight was not hers, and that he was in love
with another girl.

Macko was pleased because he thought that the abbot could not help liking
Zbyszko and would be more lenient during their business transaction. He
was so much pleased with this idea, that he determined to go also.

"Order the servants to prepare a wagon," said he to Zbyszko. "If I could
travel from Krakow to Bogdaniec with an iron in my side, surely I can go
now to Zgorzelice."

"If you only will not faint," said Jagienka.

"Ej! I will be all right, because I feel stronger already. And even if I
faint, the abbot will see that I hastened to meet him, and will be more
generous."

"I prefer your health to his generosity!" said Zbyszko.

But Macko was persistent and started for Zgorzelice. On the road he
moaned a little, but he continued to give Zbyszko advice; he told him how
to act in Zgorzelice, and especially recommended him to be obedient and
humble in the presence of their mighty relative, who never would suffer
the slightest opposition.

When they came to Zgorzelice, they found Zych and the abbot sitting in
front of the house, looking at the beautiful country, and drinking wine.
Behind them, near the wall, sat six men of the abbot's retinue; two of
them were _rybalts_; one was a pilgrim, who could easily be distinguished
by his curved stick and dark mantle; the others looked like seminarists
because their heads were shaved, but they wore lay clothing, girdles of
ox leather, and swords.

When Zych perceived Macko coming in the wagon, he rushed toward him; but
the abbot, evidently remembering his spiritual dignity, remained seated,
and began to say something to his seminarists. Zbyszko and Zych conducted
the sick Macko toward the house.

"I am not well yet," said Macko, kissing the abbot's hand, "but I came to
bow to you, my benefactor; to thank you for your care of Bogdaniec, and
to beg you for a benediction, which is most necessary for a sinful man."

"I heard you were better," said the abbot, placing his hand on Macko's
head; "and that you had promised to go to the grave of our late queen."

"Not knowing which saint's protection to ask for, I made a vow to her."

"You did well!" said the abbot, enthusiastically; "she is better than all
the others, if one only dare beseech her!"

In a moment his face became flushed with anger, his cheeks filled with
blood, his eyes began to sparkle.

They were so used to his impetuosity, that Zych began to laugh and
exclaimed:

"Strike, who believes in God!"

As for the abbot, he puffed loudly, and looked at those present; then
laughed suddenly, and having looked at Zbyszko, he asked:

"Is that your nephew and my relation?"

Zbyszko bent and kissed his hand.

"I saw him when he was a small boy; I did not recognize him," said the
abbot. "Show yourself!" And he began to look at him from head to foot,
and finally said:

"He is too handsome! It is a girl, not a knight!"

"To this Macko replied:

"That girl used to go to dancing parties with the Germans; but those who
took her, fell down and did not rise again."

"And he can stretch a crossbow without a crank!" exclaimed Jagienka.

The abbot turned toward her:

"Ah! Are you here?"

She blushed so much that her neck and ears became red, and answered:

"I saw him do it."

"Look out then, that he does not shoot you, because you will be obliged
to nurse yourself for a long time."

At this the _rybalts_, the pilgrim and the seminarists broke out with
great laughter, which confused Jagienka still more; the abbot took pity
on her, and having raised his arm, he showed her his enormous sleeve, and
said:

"Hide here, my dear girl!"

Meanwhile Zych assisted Macko to the bench and ordered some wine for him.
Jagienka went to get it. The abbot turned to Zbyszko and began to talk
thus:

"Enough of joking! I compared you to a girl, not to humiliate you, but to
praise your beauty, of which many girls would be proud. But I know that
you are a man! I have heard about your deeds at Wilno, about the Fryzes,
and about Krakow. Zych has told me all about it, understand!"

Here he began to look intently into Zbyszko's eyes, and after a while he
said:

"If you have promised three peacocks' tufts, then search for them! It is
praiseworthy and pleasing to God to persecute the foes of our nation.
But, if you have promised something else, I will release you from the
vow."

"Hej!" said Zbyszko; "when a man promises something in his soul to the
Lord Jesus, who has the power to release him?"

Macko looked with fear at the abbot; but evidently he was in an excellent
humor, because instead of becoming angry, he threatened Zbyszko with his
finger and said:

"How clever you are! But you must be careful that you do not meet the
same fate that the German, Beyhard, did."

"What happened to him?" asked Zych.

"They burned him on a pile."

"What for?"

"Because he used to say that a layman could understand God's secrets as
well as the clergy."

"They punished him severely!"

"But righteously!" shouted the abbot, "because he had blasphemed against
the Holy Ghost. What do you think? Is a layman able to interpret any of
God's secrets?"

"He cannot by any means!" exclaimed the wandering seminarists, together.

"Keep quiet, you _shpilmen_!" said the abbot; "you are not ecclesiastics,
although your heads are shaved."

"We are not '_shpilmen_,' but courtiers of Your Grace," answered one of
them, looking toward a large bucket from which the smell of hops and malt
was filling the air.

"Look! He is talking from a barrel!" exclaimed the abbot. "Hej, you
shaggy one! Why do you look at the bucket? You will not find any Latin at
the bottom of that."

"I am not looking for Latin, but for beer; but I cannot find any."

The abbot turned toward Zbyszko, who was looking with astonishment at
such courtiers as these, and said:

"They are _clerici scholares_;[83] but every one of them prefers to throw
his books aside, and taking his lute, wander through the world. I shelter
and nourish them; what else can I do? They are good for nothing, but they
know how to sing and they are familiar with God's service; therefore I
have some benefit out of them in my church, and in case of need, they
will defend me, because some of them are fierce fellows! This pilgrim
says that he was in the Holy Land; but I have asked him in vain about
some of the seas and countries; he does not know even the name of the
Greek emperor nor in what city he lives."

"I did know," said the pilgrim, in a hoarse voice; "but the fever I
caught at the Danube, shook everything out of me."

"What surprises me most is, that they wear swords, being wandering
seminarists," said Zbyszko.

"They are allowed to wear them," said the abbot, "because they have not
received orders yet; and there is no occasion for anyone to wonder
because I wear a sword even though I am an abbot. A year ago I challenged
Wilk of Brzozowa to fight for the forests which you passed; but he did
not appear."

"How could he fight with one of the clergy?" interrupted Zych.

At this the abbot became angry, struck the table with his fist, and
exclaimed:

"When I wear armor, then I am not a priest, but a nobleman! He did not
come because he preferred to have his servants attack me in Tulcza. That
is why I wear a sword: _Omnes leges, omniaque iura vim vi repellere
cunctisque sese defensare permittunt!_ That is why I gave them their
swords."

Hearing the Latin, Zych, Macko and Zbyszko became silent and bent their
heads before the abbot's wisdom, because they did not understand a word
of it; as for the abbot, he looked very angry for a while, and then he
said:

"Who knows but what he will attack me even here?"

"Owa! Let him come!" exclaimed the wandering seminarists, seizing the
hilts of their swords.

"I would like to have him attack me! I am longing for a fight."

"He will not do that," said Zych. "It is more likely that he will come to
bow to you. He gave up the forests, and now he is anxious about his son.
You know! But he can wait a long time!"

Meanwhile the abbot became quieted and said:

"I saw young Wilk drinking with Cztan of Rogow in an inn in Krzesnia.
They did not recognize us at once, because it was dark; they were talking
about Jagienka."

Here he turned to Zbyszko:

"And about you, too."

"What do they want from me?"

"They do not want anything from you; but they do not like it that there
is a third young man near Zgorzelice. Cztan said to Wilk: 'After I tan
his skin, he will not be so smooth.' And Wilk said: 'Perhaps he will be
afraid of us; if not, I will break his bones!' Then they assured each
other that you would be afraid of them."

Hearing this Macko looked at Zych, and Zych looked at him; their faces
expressed great cunning and joy. Neither of them was sure whether the
abbot had really heard such a conversation, or whether he was only saying
this to excite Zbyszko; but they both knew, and Macko especially, that
there was no better way to incite Zbyszko to try to win Jagienka.

The abbot added deliberately:

"It is true, they are fierce fellows!"

Zbyszko did not show any excitement; but he asked in a strange tone that
did not sound like his voice:

"To-morrow is Sunday?"

"Yes, Sunday."

"You will go to church?"

"Yes!"

"Where? to Krzesnia?"

"That is the nearest!"

"Well, all right then!"

CHAPTER IX.

Zybszko, having joined Zych and Jagienka, who were accompanying the abbot
and his retinue to Krzesnia, rode with them, because he wanted to show
the abbot that he was afraid neither of Wilk of Brzozowa, nor of Cztan of
Rogow. He was again surprised at Jagienka's beauty. He had often seen her
in Zgorzelice and Bogdaniec, dressed beautifully; but never had she
looked as she did now when going to church. Her cloak was made of red
broadcloth, lined with ermine; she wore red gloves, and on her head was a
little hood embroidered with gold, from beneath which two braids fell
down on her shoulders. She was not sitting on the horse astride, but on a
high saddle which had an arm and a little bench for her feet, which
scarcely showed from beneath her long skirt. Zych permitted the girl to
dress in a sheepskin overcoat and high-legged boots when at home, but
required that for church she should be dressed not like the daughter of a
poor _wlodyczka_,[84] but like the _panna_ of a mighty nobleman. Two
boys, dressed like pages, conducted her horse. Four servants were riding
behind with the abbot's seminarists, who were armed with swords and
carried their lutes. Zbyszko admired all the retinue, but especially
Jagienka, who looked like a picture. The abbot, who was dressed in a red
cloak, having enormous sleeves, resembled a traveling prince. The most
modest dress was worn by Zych, who requiring magnificent display for the
others, for himself cared only for singing and joy.

Zych, Zbyszko, Jagienka and the abbot rode together. At first the abbot
ordered his _shpilmen_ to sing some church songs; afterward, when he was
tired of their songs, he began to talk with Zbyszko, who smiled at his
enormous sword, which was as large as a two-handed German sword.

"I see," said he gravely, "that you wonder at my sword; the synod permits
a clergyman to wear a sword during a journey, and I am traveling. When
the holy father forbade the ecclesiastics to wear swords and red dresses,
most assuredly he meant the men of low birth, because God intended that
noblemen should wear arms; and he who would dare to take this right from
a nobleman, would oppose His eternal will."

"I saw the Mazovian Prince Henryk, when he fought in the lists," said
Zbyszko.

"We do not censure him, because he fought," answered the abbot, raising
his finger, "but because he married and married unhappily; _fornicarium_
and _bibulam_ had taken _mulierem_, whom _Bachum_ since she was young
_adorabat_, and besides that she was _adultera_, from whom no one could
expect any good." He stopped his horse and began to expound with still
greater gravity:

"Whoever wishes to marry, or to choose _uxorem_ must ascertain if she is
pious, moral, a good housekeeper and cleanly. This is recommended not
only by the fathers of the church, but also by a certain pagan sage,
called Seneca. And how can you know whether you have chosen well, if you
do not know the nest from which you take your life companion? Because
another sage has said: _Pomus nam cadit absque arbore._ As is the ox, so
is the skin; as is the mother, so is the girl. Prom which you, a sinner,
must draw this moral,--that you must look for your wife not far away, but
near; because if you get a bad one, you will cry as did the philosopher,
when his quarrelsome wife poured _aquam sordidam_ on his head."

"_In saecula saeculorum_, amen!" exclaimed in unison the wandering
seminarists, who when responding to the abbot, did not always answer
properly.

They were all listening very attentively to the abbot's words, admiring
his eloquence and his knowledge of the Scriptures; he apparently did not
speak directly to Zbyszko; but on the contrary, he turned more toward
Zych and Jagienka, as if he wished to edify them. But evidently Jagienka
understood what he was trying to do, because from beneath her long
eyelashes, she looked at Zbyszko, who frowned and dropped his head as if
he were seriously thinking about what the abbot had said.

After this the retinue moved on silently; but when they came near
Krzesnia, the abbot touched his girdle and then turned it so that he
could seize the hilt of his sword more easily, and said:

"I am sure that old Wilk of Brzozowa will come with a good retinue."

"Perhaps," replied Zych, "but I heard that he was not well."

"One of my seminarists heard that he intends to attack us in front of the
inn after the service is over."

"He will not do that without a challenge, and especially after holy
mass."

"May God, bring him to reason. I do not seek a quarrel with anybody and I
bear my wrongs patiently."

Here he looked at the _shpilmen_, and said:

"Do not draw your swords, and remember that you are spiritual servants;
but if they attack us first, then strike them!"

Zbyszko, while riding beside Jagienka, said to her:

"I am sure that in Krzesnia we will meet young Wilk and Cztan. Show me
them from afar, so that I may know them."

"Very well, Zbyszku," answered Jagienka.

"Do they not meet you before the service and after the service? What do
they do then?"

"They serve me."

"They will not serve you now, understand?" And she answered again, almost
with humility:

"Very well, Zbyszku."

Further conversation was interrupted by the sound of the wooden knockers,
there being no bells in Krzesnia. After a few moments they arrived at the
church. From the crowd in front, waiting for mass, young Wilk and Cztan
of Rogow came forward immediately; but Zbyszko jumped from his horse, and
before they could reach her, seized Jagienka and lifted her down from her
horse; then he took her by the hand, and looking at them threateningly,
conducted her to the church.

In the vestibule of the church, they were again disappointed. Both rushed
to the font of holy water, plunged their hands in, and then stretched
them toward the girl. But Zbyszko did the same, and she touched his
fingers; then having made the sign of the cross, she entered the church
with him. Then not only young Wilk, but Cztan of Rogow also,
notwithstanding his stupidity, understood that this had been done
purposely, and both were very angry. Wilk rushed out of the vestibule and
ran like a madman, not knowing where he was going. Cztan rushed after
him, although not knowing why.

They stopped at the corner of the inclosure where there were some large
stones ready for the foundation of the tower which was to be built in
Krzesnia. Then, Wilk wishing to assuage the wrath which raged in his
breast, seized one of these stones, and began to shake it; Cztan seeing
him do this, seized it also, and both began to roll it toward the church
gate.

The people looked at them with amazement, thinking that they had made
some vow, and that in this way they wished to contribute to the building
of the tower. This effort gave them relief and they came to their senses;
then they stood, pale from their exertion, puffing and looking at each
other.

Cztan of Rogow was the first to break the silence.

"What now?" asked he.

"What?" answered Wilk.

"Shall we attack him immediately?"

"How can we do that in the church?"

"Not in the church, but after mass."

"He is with Zych and the abbot. And have you forgotten that Zych said
that if there were a fight, he would refuse to let either of us visit at
Zgorzelice. But for that, I would have broken your ribs long ago."

"Or I, yours!" answered Cztan, clinching his powerful fists.

And their eyes began to sparkle threateningly; but soon they both
realized that now, more than ever, they needed to have a good
understanding. They often fought together; but after each fight, they
always became reconciled, because although they were divided by their
love for Jagienka, they could not live without each other. Now they had a
common foe and they understood that the enemy was a dangerous one.

After a while Cztan asked:

"What shall we do? Shall we send him a challenge?"

Wilk, although he was wiser, did not know what to do. Fortunately the
knockers resounded to notify the people that mass would begin. When he
heard them he said:

"What shall we do? Go to church now and after that, we will do whatever
pleases God."

Cztan of Rogow was pleased with this answer.

"Perhaps the Lord Jesus will send us an inspiration," said he.

"And will bless us," added Wilk.

"According to justice."

They went to church, and having listened devoutly to the mass, they grew
more hopeful. They did not lose their temper after mass, when Jagienka
again accepted holy water from Zbyszko. In the church-yard they bowed to
Zych, to Jagienka and even to the abbot, although he was an enemy of Wilk
of Brzozowa. They scowled at Zbyszko, but did not attempt to touch him,
although their hearts were throbbing with grief, anger and jealousy;
never before had Jagienka seemed to them to be as beautiful as she was
then. When the brilliant retinue moved on and when from afar they heard
the merry song of the ambulant seminarists, Cztan began to wipe the
perspiration from his hairy cheeks and to snort like a horse; as for
Wilk, he said, gnashing his teeth:

"To the inn! To the inn! Woe to me!" Afterward remembering what had
relieved them before, they again seized the stone and rolled it back to
its former place.

Zbyszko rode beside Jagienka, listening to the abbot's _shpilmen_ singing
merry songs; but when they had traveled five or six furlongs, he suddenly
reined in his horse, and said:

"Oh! I intended to pay for a mass to be said for uncle's health and I
forgot it; I must return."

"Do not go back!" exclaimed Jagienka; "we will send from Zgorzelice."

"No, I will return, and you must not wait for me. With God!"

"With God," said the abbot. "Go!" And his face brightened; when Zbyszko
disappeared, he touched Zych with his elbow and said:

"Do you understand?"

"What?"

"He will surely fight in Krzesnia with Wilk and Cztan; but I wished for
it and I am glad."

"They are dreadful boys! If they wound him, then what of it?"

"What of it? If he fight for Jagienka, then how can he afterward think
about that other girl, Jurandowna? From this time, Jagienka will be his
lady, not the other girl; and I wish it because he is my relative and I
like him."

"Bah! What about his vow?"

"I will give him absolution in the twinkling of an eye! Have you not
heard that I promised to absolve him?"

"Your head is wise about everything," answered Zych.

The abbot was pleased with this praise; then he approached nearer
Jagienka and asked:

"Why are you so sad?"

She leaned on the saddle, seized the abbot's hand and lifted it to her
mouth:

"Godfather, could you not send your _shpilmen_ to Krzesnia?"

"What for? They will get drunk in the inn--that's all."

"But they may prevent a quarrel."

The abbot looked into her eyes and then said sharply:

"Let them even kill him."

"Then they must kill me also!" exclaimed Jagienka.

The bitterness which had accumulated in her bosom since that conversation
about Danusia with Zbyszko, mingled with grief, now gushed forth in a
stream of tears. Seeing this, the abbot encircled her with his arm,
almost covering her with his enormous sleeve, and began to talk:

"Do not be afraid, my dear little girl. They may quarrel, but the other
boys are noblemen; they will attack him only in a chivalrous manner; they
will call him up on the field, and then he can manage for himself, even
if he be obliged to fight with both of them at once. As for Jurandowna,
about whom you have heard, I will tell you this: there is no wood growing
for a bed for the other girl."

"If he prefers the other girl, then I do not care about him," answered
Jagienka, through her tears.

"Then why do you, weep?"

"Because I am afraid for him."

"Woman's sense!" said the abbot, laughing.

Then having bent toward Jagienka's ear, he said:

"You must remember, dear girl, that even if he take you, he will be
obliged to fight just the same; a nobleman must be a knight." Here he
bent still closer and added:

"And he will take you, and before long, as God is in heaven!"

"I do not know about that!" answered Jagienka.

But she began to smile through her tears, and to look at the abbot as if
she wished to ask him how he knew it.

Meanwhile, Zbyszko having returned to Krzesnia, went directly to the
priest, because he really wished to have a mass read for Macko's health;
after having settled about that, he went to the inn, where he expected to
find young Wilk of Brzozowa, and Cztan of Rogow.

He found both of them there, and also many other people, noblemen,
farmers and a few "madcap fellows" showing different German tricks. At
first he could not recognize anybody, because the windows of the inn
being made of ox bladders, did not let in a good light; but when the
servant put some resinous wood on the fire, he noticed in the corner
behind the beer buckets, Cztan's hairy cheeks, and Wilk's furious face.

Then he walked slowly toward them, pushing aside the people; when he
reached them, he struck the table so heavily with his fist that the noise
resounded throughout the whole inn.

They arose immediately and began to turn their girdles; but before they
could grasp the hilts of their swords, Zbyszko threw down a glove, and
speaking through his nose, as the knights used to speak while
challenging, he said these words which were unexpected by everybody:

"If either of you, or any other knightly person here present, deny that
the most beautiful and most virtuous girl in the world is _Panna_ Danuta
Jurandowna of Spychow, that one I will challenge to combat, on horseback
or on foot, until the first kneeling, or until the last breath."

Wilk and Cztan were astonished as much as the abbot would have been, had
he heard Zbyszko's words; and for a while they could not say a word. Who
was this _panna_? They cared about Jagienka and not about her; and if
this youth did not care for Jagienka, then what did he wish? Why had he
made them angry in the church-yard? What did he return for, and why did
he wish to quarrel with them? These questions produced such confusion in
their minds, that they opened their mouths widely and stared at Zbyszko
as if he were not a man, but some German wonder.

But the more intelligent Wilk, who was a little familiar with chivalrous
customs and knew that often a knight served one lady, but married
another, thought that this must be a similar case, and that he must seize
the opportunity, to defend Jagienka.

Therefore he came out from behind the table, and coming close to Zbyszko,
asked threateningly:

"Then, you dog-brother, you mean to say that Jagienka Zychowna is not the
most beautiful girl in the world?"

Cztan followed him; and the people surrounded them, because they
understood that it would not end in words.

CHAPTER X.

When Jagienka reached home, she immediately sent a servant to Krzesnia to
learn whether there had been a fight in the inn, or whether there had
been a challenge. But the servant having received a _skojec_,[85] began
to drink with the priest's servants, and did not hasten. Another servant
who had been sent to Bogdaniec to inform Macko that the abbot was going
to pay him a visit, returned, having fulfilled the commission and
reported that he had seen Zbyszko playing dice with the old man. This
partly soothed Jagienka, because knowing by experience how dexterous
Zbyszko was, she was not so much afraid about a regular duel, as she was
about some unexpected accident in the inn. She wanted to accompany the
abbot to Bogdaniec, but he was not willing. He wished to talk with Macko
about the pledge and about some other important business; and then he
wanted to go there toward night. Having learned that Zbyszko had returned
home safe, he became very jovial and ordered his wandering seminarists to
sing and shout. They obeyed him so well that the forest resounded with
the noise, and in Bogdaniec, the farmers came out from their houses, and
looked to see whether there was a fire or an invasion of the enemy. The
pilgrim riding ahead, quieted them by telling them that a high
ecclesiastical dignitary was coming; therefore when they saw the abbot,
they bowed to him, and some of them even made the sign of the cross on
their chests; he seeing how they respected him, rode along with joyful
pride, pleased with the world and full of kindness toward the people.

Macko and Zbyszko having heard the singing, came to the gate to meet him.
Some of the seminarists had been in Bogdaniec before with the abbot; but
others of them having joined the retinue lately, had never seen it until
now. They were disappointed when they saw the miserable house which could
not be compared with the large mansion in Zgorzelice. But they were
reassured when they saw the smoke coming out from the thatched roof of
the house; and they were greatly pleased when upon entering the room,
they smelt saffron and different kinds of meats, and noticed two tables
full of tin dishes, empty as yet, but enormous. On the smaller table
which was prepared for the abbot, shone a silver dish and also a
beautifully engraved silver cup, both taken with the other treasures from
the Fryzes.

Macko and Zbyszko invited them to the table immediately; but the abbot
who had eaten plentifully in Zgorzelice, refused because he had something
else on his mind. Since his arrival he had looked at Zbyszko attentively
and uneasily, as if he desired to see on him some traces of the fight;
but seeing the quiet face of the youth, he began to be impatient; finally
he was unable to restrain his curiosity any longer.

"Let us go into the chamber," said he, "to speak about the pledge. Do not
refuse me; that will make me angry!"

Here he turned to the seminarists and shouted:

"You keep quiet and do not listen at the door!"

Having said this, he opened the door to the chamber and entered, followed
by Zbyszko and Macko. As soon as they were seated on the chests, the
abbot turned toward the young knight:

"Did you go back to Krzesnia?" asked he.

"Yes, I was there."

"And what?"

"Well, I paid for a mass for my uncle's health, that's all."

The abbot moved on the chest impatiently.

"Ha!" thought he, "he did not meet Cztan and Wilk; perhaps they were not
there, and perhaps he did not look for them. I was mistaken."

But he was angry because he was mistaken, and because his plans had not
been realized; therefore immediately his face grew red and he began to
breathe loudly.

"Let us speak about the pledge!" said he. "Have you the money? If not,
then the estate is mine!"

Macko, who knew how to act with him, rose silently, opened the chest on
which he was sitting, and took out of it a bag of _grzywien_, evidently
prepared for this occasion, and said:

"We are poor people, but we have the money; we will pay what is right, as
it is written in the 'letter' which I signed with the mark of the holy
cross. If you want to be paid for the improvements, we will not quarrel
about that either; we will pay the amount you say, and we will bow to
you, our benefactor."

Having said this, he kneeled at the abbot's knee and Zbyszko did the
same. The abbot, who expected some quarrels and arguing, was very much
surprised at such a proceeding, and not very much pleased with it; he
wanted to dictate some conditions and he saw that he would have no
opportunity to do so.

Therefore returning the "letter" or rather the mortgage which Macko had
signed with a cross, he said:

"Why are you talking to me about an additional payment?"

"Because we do not want to receive any presents," answered Macko
cunningly, knowing well that the more he quarreled in that matter the
more he would get.

At this the abbot reddened with anger:

"Did you ever see such people? They do not wish to accept anything from a
relative! You have too much bread! I did not take waste land and I do not
return it waste; and if I want to give you this bag, I will do it!"

"You would not do that!" exclaimed Macko.

"I will not do it! Here is your pledge! Here is your money! I give it
because I want to, and had I even thrown it into the road, it would be
none of your affairs. You shall see if I will not do as I wish!"

Having said this, he seized the bag and threw it on the floor so hard
that it burst, and the money was scattered.

"May God reward you! May God reward you, father and benefactor!"
exclaimed Macko, who had been waiting for this; "I would not accept it
from anyone else, but from a relation and a spiritual father, I will
accept it."

The abbot looked threateningly at both of them, and finally he said:

"Although I am angry, I know what I am doing; therefore hold what you
have, because I assure you that you shall not have one _skojeo_ more."

"We did not expect even this."

"You know that Jagienka will inherit everything I have."

"The land also?" asked Macko, simply.

"The land also!" shouted the abbot.

At this Macko's face grew long, but he recovered himself and said:

"Ej, why should you think about death! May the Lord Jesus grant you a
hundred years or more of life, and an important bishopric soon."

"Certainly! Am I worse than others?" said the abbot.

"Not worse, but better!"

These words appeased the abbot, for his anger never lasted long.

"Well," said he, "you are my relations, and she is only my goddaughter;
but I love her, and Zych also. There is no better man in the world than
Zych and no better girl than Jagienka, also! Who can say anything against
them?"

He began to look angry, but Macko did not contradict; he quickly affirmed
that there was no worthier neighbor in the whole kingdom.

"And as for the girl," said he, "I could not love my own daughter any
more than I love her. With her help, I recovered my health and I shall
never forget it until my death."

"You will both be punished if you forget it," said the abbot, "and I will
curse you. But I do not wish to wrong you, therefore I have found a way
by which, what I will leave after my death, can belong to you and to
Jagienka; do you understand?"

"May God help us to realize that!" answered Macko. "Sweet Jesus! I would
go on foot to the grave of the queen in Krakow or to Lysa Gora[86] to bow
to the Holy Cross."

The abbot was very much pleased with such sincerity; he smiled and said:

"The girl is perfectly right to be particular in her choice, because she
is pretty, rich and of good family! Of what account are Cztan or Wilk,
when the son of a _wojewoda_ would not be too good for her! But if
somebody, as myself for instance, spoke in favor of any particular one,
then she would marry him, because she loves me and knows that I will
advise her well."

"The one whom you advise her to marry, will be very lucky," said Macko.

But the abbot turned to Zbyszko:

"What do you say to this?"

"Well, I think the same as my uncle does."

The face of the abbot became still more serene; he struck Zbyszko's
shoulder with his hand so hard that the blow resounded in the chamber,
and asked:

"Why did you not let Cztan or Wilk approach Jagienka at church?"

"Because I did not want them to think that I was afraid of them, and I