"Why say unsavory?" asked Marek. "You do not think we brought it for
Yatsek to eat, do you?"

"I thank you from my soul for your good wishes," said Tachevski. "I
think that ye did not bring it to me to be stored away."

"It has grown a little green--it might be smoke-dried."

"Let a man bury it at once," said the priest with severity; "it is the
ear of a Christian in every case."

"In Kieff we have seen better treatment," growled out Mateush.

"Krepetski came hither undoubtedly," remarked Yatsek, "to make a new
attack on Anulka."

"He will not take her away from the king's palace," said the prudent
Pan Serafin, "but he did not come for that, if I think correctly. His
attack failed, so I suppose he only wanted to learn whether we know
that he arranged it, and if we have complained of him. Perhaps old
Krepetski did not know of his son's undertaking; but perhaps he did
know; if he did, then both must be greatly alarmed, and I am not at all
surprised that Martsian came here to investigate."

"Well," said Stanislav, laughing, "he has no luck with the Bukoyemskis,
indeed he has not."

"Let him go," said Tachevski. "To-day I am ready to forgive him."

The Bukoyemskis and Stanislav, who knew the stubbornness of the young
cavalier, looked at him with astonishment, and he, as if answering
them, added,--

"For Anulka will be mine immediately, and to-morrow I shall be a
Christian knight and defender of the faith, a man whose heart should be
free of all hate and personalities."

"God bless thee for that!" cried the priest.

                             CHAPTER XXVII

At last the long-wished-for day of his happiness came to Tachevski. In
Cracow a report had gone out among the citizens, and was repeated with
wonder, that in the army was a knight who would marry on one day and
mount his horse the day following. When the report went out also that
the king and queen would be at the marriage, crowds began from early
morning to assemble in the church and outside it. At length the crowd
was so great that the king's men had to bring order to the square so
that the marriage guests might have a free passage. Tachevski's
comrades assembled to a man; this they did out of good-will and
friendship, and also because it was dear to each one of them to be seen
in a company where the king himself would be present, and to belong, as
it were, to his private society. Many dignitaries appeared also, even
men who had never heard of Tachevski, for it was known that the queen
favored the marriage, and at the court much depended on her inclination
and favor.

To some of the lords it was not less wonderful than to the citizens
that the king should find time to be at the marriage of a simple
officer, while on that king's shoulders the fate of the whole world was
then resting, and day after day couriers from foreign lands were flying
in on foaming horses; hence some considered this as coming from the
kindness of the monarch and his wish to win the army, while others made
suppositions that there existed some near bond of kinship, difficult to
be acknowledged; others ridiculed these suppositions, stating justly
that in such a case the queen, who had so little condescension for the
failings of cavaliers that the king more than once had been forced to
make explanations, would not have been so anxious for the union of the
lovers.

People remembered little of the Sieninskis, so to avoid every calumny
and gossip the king declared that the Sobieskis owed much to that
family. Then people of society were concerned with Panna Anulka, and,
as is usual at courts, at one time they pitied, at another time they
were moved by her sufferings, and next they lauded her virtue and
comeliness. Reports of her beauty spread widely even among citizens,
but when at last they saw her no one was disappointed.

She came to the church with the queen, hence all glances went first to
that lofty lady whose charms were still brilliant, like the bright sun
before evening; but when they were turned to the bride, all men among
dignitaries, the military, the nobles, and citizens whispered, and even
loud voices were heard.

"Wonderful, wonderful! That man owes much to his eyes, who has beheld
once in life such a woman."

And this was true. Not always in those times was a maiden dressed in
white for her marriage, but the young ladies and the assistants arrayed
Anulka in white, for such was her wish, and that was the color of her
finest robe also. So in white, with a green wreath on her golden hair,
and with a face confused a trifle, and pale, with downcast eyes, she,
silent, and slender, looked like a snowy swan, or simply like a white
lily. Even Yatsek himself, to whom she seemed in some sort a new
person, was astonished at sight of her. "In God's name!" said he to
himself, "how can I approach her? She is a genuine queen, or entirely
an angel with whom it is sinful to speak unless kneeling." And he was
almost awestruck. But when at last he and she knelt side by side before
the altar, and heard the voice of Father Voynovski full of emotion, as
he began with the words: "I knew you both as little children," and
joined their hands with his stole, when he heard his own low voice: "I
take thee as wife," and the hymn, _Veni Creator_ burst forth a moment
later, it seemed to Yatsek that happiness would burst his bosom, and
that all the easier since he was not wearing his armor. He had loved
this woman from childhood, and he knew that he loved her, but now, for
the first time, he understood how he loved her without measure or
limit. And again he began to say to himself: I must die, for if a man
during life were to have so much happiness, what more could there be
for him in heaven? But he thought that before he died he must thank
God; and all at once there flew before the eyes of his soul Turkish
warriors in legions, beards, turbans, sashes, crooked sabres, horsetail
standards. So from his heart was rent the shout to God: "I will thank
to the full, to the full!" And he felt, that for those enemies of the
cross and the faith, he would become a destroying lion. That vision
lasted only one twinkle, then his breast was filled with a boundless
wave of love and rapture.

Meanwhile the ceremony was ended, the retinue moved to the dwelling
prepared for the young couple by Stanislav, and ornamented by his
comrades in the regiment. For one moment only could Yatsek press to his
heart the young Pani Tachevski, for straightway both ran to meet the
king and queen, who had come from the church to them. Two high
armchairs had been fixed for the royal pair at the table, so, after the
blessing, during which the young people knelt before majesty, Yatsek
begged the gracious lord and lady to the wedding feast, but the king
had to give a refusal.

"Dear comrade," said he, "I should be glad to talk with thee, and still
more with thee, my relative," here he turned to Pani Tachevski, "and
discuss the coming dowry. I will remain a moment and drink a health to
you, but I may not sit down, for I have so much on my head, that every
hour now is precious."

"We believe that!" cried a number of voices.

Tachevski seized the feet of the king, who took a filled goblet from
the table.

"Gracious gentlemen!" said he, "the health of the young couple!"

A shout was heard: "_Vivant! crescant, floreant!_" Then the king again
spoke,--

"Enjoy your happiness quickly," said he to Tachevski, "for it deserves
that, and it will not be long. Thou shouldst remain here a few days,
but then thou must follow on quickly for we shall not wait for thee."

"It is easier for her to hold out without thee, than Vienna without
us," said Pan Marek Matchynski, smiling at Yatsek.

"But Lyubomirski is shelling out the Turks there," said one of the
hussars.

"I have good news from our men," said the king. "This I have commanded
Matchynski to bring, to be read to you, and gladden the hearts of our
warriors. It is what the Duke of Lorraine, commander-in-chief for the
emperor, writes me of the battle near Presburg."

And he read somewhat slowly, for he read to the nobles in Polish, and
the letter was in the French language.

"'The emperor's cavalry advanced with effect and enthusiasm, but the
action was ended by the Poles who left no work to the Germans. I cannot
find words sufficient to praise the strength, valor, and bearing of the
officers and soldiers led by Pan Lyubomirski.[8]

"'The battle,' writes the Duke of Lorraine, 'was a great one, and our
glory not small.'"

"We will show that we are not worse," cried the warriors.

"I believe and am confident, but we must hasten, for later letters
portend evil. Vienna is barely able to breathe, and all Christianity
has its eyes on us. Shall we be there in season?"

"Few regiments have remained here, the main forces are at the Tarnovski
Heights waiting, as I have heard, under the hetmans," said Father
Voynovski, "but though our hands are needed at Vienna, they are not
needed so much as a leader like your Royal Grace."

Sobieski smiled at this and answered,--

"That, word for word, is what the Duke of Lorraine writes. So,
gentlemen, keep the bridles in hand, for any hour I may order the
sounding of trumpets."

"When, gracious lord?" called a number of voices.

The king grew impressive in a moment.

"I will send off to-morrow those regiments which are still with me,"
then he glanced quickly at Tachevski, as if testing him. "Since her
grace the queen will go to the Heights with us to see the review there,
thou, unless thou ask of us an entirely new office, may remain here, if
thou engage to overtake us exactly."

Yatsek, putting his arm around his wife, pushed one step toward the
king with her.

"Gracious lord," said he, "if the German empire, or even the kingdom of
France were offered me in exchange for this lady, God, who sees my
whole heart, knows that I would not accept either, and that I would not
give her for any treasure in existence. But God forbid that I should
abandon my service, or lose an opportunity, or neglect a war for
religion, or desert my own leader for the sake of private happiness. If
I did I should despise myself, and she, for I know her, would also
despise me. O gracious lord, if ill luck or misfortune were to bar the
road and I could not join thee I should burn up from shame and from
anguish." Here tears dimmed his eyes, blushes came to his cheeks, and,
in a voice trembling from emotion, he added: "To-day I blasphemed
before the altar, for I said: 'O God, I will thank to the full, to the
full for this.'--But only with my life, with my blood, with my labor
could I return thanks for the happiness which has met me. For this very
reason I shall ask no new office, and when thou shalt move, gracious
leader and king, I will not delay even one day behind thee. I will go
at the same hour, though I were to fall on the morrow." And he knelt at
the feet of Sobieski, who, bending forward, embraced his head and then
answered,--

"Give me more of such men, and the Polish name will go through the
world thundering."

Father Voynovski had tears in his eyes, the Bukoyemskis were weeping
like beavers. Emotion and enthusiasm seized every man present.

"On the pagans, for the faith!" roared many voices. And then began
rattling of sabres. But when it had grown somewhat quiet Pani Tachevski
bent to the ear of her husband and, with pale lips, whispered into
it,--

"O Yatsek, wonder not at my tears, for if thou go I may never see thee
hereafter--but go!"

                             CHAPTER XXVIII

Still they remained two days together. The court, it is true, set out
the day following, but the queen, with all her court ladies, and a
multitude of lay and church dignitaries, followed the king to Tarnovski
Heights where the camp was and where a great review had been ordered.
The retinue being numerous moved slowly and hence to overtake it was
easy. The subsequent advance of the forces, with the king at the head
of them, from the boundary to Vienna astonished the world by its
swiftness, especially since the king hastened on and arrived before the
main army, but to Tarnovski Heights the queen dragged on six days, with
her retinue. In two days the Tachevskis came up with the escort. Pani
Tachevski took her seat then in a court carriage, and Yatsek hurried on
to the camp for the night, to join there his regiment. For the royal
pair the time of separation was approaching. On August 22 the king took
solemn farewell of his beloved "Marysienka." In the early morning he
mounted and marshalled before her the army; next he moved at the head
of it to Glivitsi.

People noted that although he always took farewell of the queen with
great sorrow, since he loved her as the apple of his eye, and was
pained by even a short absence, his face this time was radiant. So the
church and lay dignitaries took courage. They knew how tremendous was a
war with that enemy, who besides had never advanced with such forces.
"The Turks have moved three parts of the world, it is true," said they
to themselves, "but if our lord, their greatest crusher and destroyer,
goes with such delight to this struggle, we have no cause for anxiety
touching it." And hope filled their bosoms, the sight of the warriors
increased it still more, and changed it to perfect confidence in
victory. The army, with all the camp followers seemed very
considerable. As far as the eye reached the sun shone on helmets, on
armor, on sabres, on barrels of muskets and cannon. The glitter was so
bright that eyes were dazzled by the excess of it. Rainbow-hued ensigns
and banners played in the blue air, above the army. The rolling of
drums throughout the foot regiments was mingled with responses from
trumpets, crooked horns, and kettledrums, and also the hellish noise of
a Janissary orchestra, and the neighing of horses.

At first the train moved toward one side, to afford a free way to all
movements of the army, and only then the review began really. The royal
carriage halted on a plain not too high, a little to the right of the
road by which the regiments were to pass while advancing. In the first
carriage sat the queen wearing plumes, laces, and velvets glittering
with jewels. She was beautiful and imposing, with the full majesty in
her face of a woman who possesses all in life that the most daring
designs can imagine, for she had a crown, and the unspeakable love of
the most glorious of contemporary monarchs. She, in common with those
dignitaries in the suite of the king, felt most certain that when her
husband was on horseback for action, he would be followed, as he had
been followed at all times, by destruction and triumph. And she felt
that at the moment the eyes of all the world from Tsargrad to Rome,
Madrid, and Paris, were turned on him that all Christianity was
stretching out hands to him, and that only in those iron arms of his
warriors did people see rescue. Hence her heart rose with the pride of
a woman. "Our might is increasing, and glory will raise us above all
other kings," said she in spirit; and therefore, though her husband was
leading barely twenty and some thousands of men against countless hosts
of Osmanli, her breast was filled with delight and no cloud of alarm or
distrust darkened then her white forehead. "Look at the victor, look at
your father, the king," said she to her children, who, as little birds
fill a nest, filled the carriage--"when he returns, the world will
kneel to him in thanksgiving."

In other carriages were visible the charming features of youthful court
ladies, the mitres of bishops, and the dignified, stern faces of
senators, who remained at home to manage the government in place of His
Majesty. The king himself was with the army, but all could see him very
clearly on the height at some distance, among hetmans and generals,
where he produced the impression of a giant on horseback. The army was
to pass a little lower, before his feet, as it seemed to spectators.

First there moved forward, with a deep, rolling sound and the biting of
chain-links, Pan Kantski's artillery; after it went foot regiments with
a musket on the shoulder of each man, under officers with sabres on
straps, and carrying long canes with which they kept all ranks in
order. Those regiments marched four abreast and seemed moving
fortresses, their step preserved time and was thundering. Each regiment
when passing the carriage of Her Majesty gave a loud shout to salute
her, and lowered its ensign in homage. Among them were some with a
costlier outfit than others, and showing a form beyond common in
dignity, but the most showy regiment of all was made up of Kashubians
in blue coats and yellow belts for ammunition. These Kashubians, large
and strong fellows, were so carefully chosen that each seemed a brother
to the next man; the heavy muskets moved in the mighty hands of those
warriors as would walking-sticks. At the sound of the fife they halted
before the king as one person, and presented arms with such accuracy
that he smiled with delight, and the dignitaries said to one another:
"Eh! To strike upon these men will not be healthy for even the Sultan's
own body-guard. Those are real lions, not people!"

But immediately after them moved squadrons of light-horse. One might
have thought them real centaurs to such a degree had each man and horse
become one single entity. These were undegenerate sons of those
horsemen who in their day had trampled all Germany, cleaving apart with
their sabres and with horse hoofs whole regiments, nay, entire armies
of Luther's adherents. The heaviest foreign cavalry, if only equal in
number could not oppose them, and the lightest could not escape from
them by fleeing. The king himself had said of those men when at Hotsim:
"If they are led to the enemy they will cut down all in front of them,
as a mower cuts grass at his labor." And though at this moment they
advanced past the carriages slowly, each person, even one quite
unknowing in warfare, divined very quickly that at the right moment
nothing save a hurricane could surpass them in swiftness, power to
whirl, strike down, and overthrow. Crooked trumpets and drums went on
thundering in front of them, while they marched forward, squadron after
squadron, with drawn sabres which seemed flaming swords in the
quivering sunlight. When they had passed the court carriages they
advanced like a wave starting suddenly, going first at a trot which
turned soon to a gallop, and, when they had outlined a great giant
circle, they passed again, and this time they rushed like a tempest and
near the queen's carriage; but while they were doing this they shouted,
"Slay! Kill!" and in extended right hands held their sabres pointed
forward as if in attacking, on horses whose nostrils were distended to
the utmost, with waving manes, as if wild from the impetus of their
onrush. And they passed thus a second time, and then at the third turn
they, without breaking ranks, stood still on a sudden. They did this so
accurately, so evenly, and with such agreement that foreigners, of whom
at that court there were many, and especially those who saw then for
the first time Polish cavalry in action, gazed at one another with
amazement, as if each man were questioning his own eyesight.

When they had vanished the field glittered with dragoons everywhere and
bloomed like a blossom. Some of those regiments had appeared under Pan
Yablonovski, some had been assembled by magnates, and one by the king,
from his own private fortune; this was commanded by Pan de Maligny, Her
Majesty's brother.

In the dragoons served common folk for the greater part, but men
trained to riding from childhood, experienced in fighting of various
sorts, stubborn under fire, less terrible at close quarters than
nobles, but disciplined and most enduring of military labor.

But the greatest delight for the eyes and the spirit began only when
the hussars started forward. They moved on in calmness as was proper
for regiments of such value; their lances pointing upward seemed a
forest, and at the points, moved by the light breeze, was a rainbow
cloud of streamers. Their horses were heavier than those in other
squadrons; their steel armor was inlaid with gold; on their shoulders
were wings, in which the feathers, even when moving slowly, made that
sound heard in forests among branches. The great dignity, and, as it
were, the pride which issued forth from them, made so deep an
impression that the queen and court ladies, the senators, and above
all, foreign visitors, rose in their carriages to see them more
accurately. There was something tremendous in that march, for it came
to the mind of each man unwittingly, that when an avalanche of iron
like that should rush forward it would crush, grind, and drive apart
all things in front of it, and that there was no human strength which
could stop it. And this was undoubted. Not so distant at that time was
the day when three thousand such horsemen had rubbed into dust Swedish
legions five times their own number; still less remote was that other
day when one squadron of the same kind had passed, like a spirit of
destruction, through the whole army of Karl Gustav; and quite recent
was the day when at Hotsim those same hussars under that same king
there present had trampled in the earth Turkish guards formed of
Janissaries, as easily as standing wheat in the open. Many of the men
who had shared in that shattering of the enemy at Hotsim were serving
then under the banners of that day, and these warriors, proud, calm,
and confident, were starting now toward the walls of a foreign capital
to reap a new harvest.

Terror and strength seemed the soul of that body. An afternoon breeze
rose behind them on a sudden, whistled in their streamers, blew forward
the waving manes of their horses, and made so mighty a sound in the
wings at the shoulders of each mounted warrior, that the horses from
Spain which drew the court carriages rose on their haunches. The
squadrons approached to a line twenty yards from the carriages, turned
to one side and marched past in squadrons. Then it was that Pani
Tachevski saw her husband for the last time before the expedition. He
rode in the second rank at the edge of the squadron, all in iron and
winged armor, the ear pieces of his helmet hid his cheeks altogether.
His large golden bay Turkish stallion bore him on easily despite the
weighty armor, throwing his head upward, rattling his bit, and
snorting loudly, as if in good omen for the rider. Yatsek turned his
iron-covered head toward his wife, and moved his lips as if whispering,
but though no distinct word reached her ears she divined that he was
giving her the last "Fare thee well!" and such an impulse of yearning
and love seized her heart that if she could have, at the cost of her
life, changed at that moment to a swallow she would have perched on his
shoulder, or on the flag of his lance point, and gone with him; she
would not have stopped for one twinkle to calculate.

"Fare thee well, Yatsek! God guard thee!" cried she, stretching her
hands to him. And her eyes were tear-bedewed while he rode past in
solemnity, gleaming in the sunlight, and, as it were, rendered sacred
by the service imposed on him.

                           *   *   *   *   *

Behind this the regiment of Prince Alexander came up and marched past
still others, equally terrible and equally brilliant Then other
regiments described a great circle and halted on the plain almost in
the places from which they had started in the time of reviewing, but
now in marching order.

                           *   *   *   *   *

From the carriages on the height the eye could embrace all the
regiments very nearly. Far away and near by were seen crimson uniforms,
glittering armor, the flashing of swords, the upturned forest of
lances, the broad cloud of streamers, and above them great banners like
giant blossoms. From the regiments standing nearer, the breeze brought
the odor of horse sweat, and the shouts of commanders, the shrill note
of fifes, and the deep sound of kettledrums. But in those shouts, in
those sounds, in that delight and that eagerness for battle, there was
something triumphant. A perfect confidence in the victory of the cross
above the crescent,--that confidence was flowing through every heart in
those legions.

                           *   *   *   *   *

The king remained yet for a moment at the carriage of Her Majesty, but
when a blessing had been given him with a cross and with relics by the
bishop of Cracow, he rushed at a gallop to the army. The air was rent
suddenly by the keen sound of trumpets, while masses of foot and of
cavalry stirred, began slowly to lengthen, and finally those masses
moved, all of them, westward. In advance were the banners of the light
horse, behind them hussars; the dragoons closed the movement.

                           *   *   *   *   *

The prince bishop of Cracow raised with both hands the cross, holding
relics as high above his head as was possible:

"O God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, have mercy on Thy people!"

                           *   *   *   *   *

Just then more than twenty thousand breasts raised the anthem which Pan
Kohovski had composed for that moment:

                 "For Thee, O pure Lady,
                  O Mother Immaculate,
                  We go to defend Christ,
                    Our Lord.

                 "For thee, O dear country,
                  For you, O white eagles,
                  We will crush every enemy.
                    ON THE FIELD OF GLORY."

                               FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: Kromer.]

[Footnote 2: His pets.]

[Footnote 3: On Saint Stephen's day people used to cast various kinds
of grain at the priest at the altar in memory of the stoning of that
saint.]

[Footnote 4: The Elector just mentioned, _i. e_., the Elector of
Brandenburg.]

[Footnote 4: The Elector just mentioned, _i. e_., the Elector of
Brandenburg.]

[Footnote 5: Among the Poles and Slavs generally death is represented
as a woman.]

[Footnote 6: This man is mentioned on page 224.]

[Footnote 7: Jewish pronunciation of _vivant_.]

[Footnote 8: Carolus Dux Lotharingiae Joanni III, Poloniae Regi, etc.
Julius 31, 1683.]

                         _THE ZAGLOBA ROMANCES_
                _by Henryk Sienkiewicz. Translated from_
                    _the Polish by Jeremiah Curtin_.

                          WITH FIRE AND SWORD

An Historical Novel of Poland and Russia. Illustrated. Crown 8vo.
$1.50.

The first of the famous trilogy of historical romances of Poland,
Russia, and Sweden. Their publication has been received as an event in
literature. Charles Dudley Warner, in _Harper's Magazine_, affirms that
the Polish author has in Zagloba _given a new creation to literature_.

_A capital story_. The only modern romance with which it can be
compared for fire, sprightliness, rapidity of action, swift changes,
and absorbing interest is "The Three Musketeers" of Dumas.--_New York
Tribune_.

                               THE DELUGE

An Historical Novel of Poland, Sweden, and Russia. A Sequel to "With
Fire and Sword." With map. 2 vols. Crown 8vo. $3.00.

Marvellous in its grand descriptions.--_Chicago Inter-Ocean_.

Has the humor of a Cervantes and the grim vigor of Defoe.--_Boston
Gazette_.

                              PAN MICHAEL

An Historical Novel of Poland, Russia, and the Ukraine. A Sequel to
"With Fire and Sword" and "The Deluge." Crown 8vo. $1.50.

The interest of the trilogy, both historical and romantic, is
splendidly sustained.--_The Dial_, Chicago.

                           *   *   *   *   *

                  LITTLE, BROWN, & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS
                         BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS

                               QUO VADIS

A Narrative of the Time of Nero. By Henryk Sienkiewicz. Translated from
the Polish by Jeremiah Curtin. Illustrated. Crown 8vo. $1.50.

One of the greatest books of our day.--_The Bookman_.

The book is like a grand historical pageant.--_Literary World_.

Of intense interest to the whole Christian civilization.--_Chicago
Tribune_.

Interest never wanes; and the story is carried through its many phases
of conflict and terror to a climax that enthralls.--_Chicago Record_.

As a study of the introduction of the gospel of love into the pagan
world typified by Rome, it is marvellously fine.--_Chicago Interior_.

The picture here given of life in Rome under the last of the Caesars is
one of unparalleled power and vividness.--_Boston Home Journal_.

One of the most remarkable books of the decade. It burns upon the brain
the struggles and triumphs of the early church.--_Boston Daily
Advertiser_.

It will become recognized by virtue of its own merits as the one heroic
monument built by the modern novelist above the ruins of decadent Rome,
and in honor of the blessed martyrs of the early Church.--_Brooklyn
Eagle_.

Our debt to Sienkiewicz is not less than our debt to his translator
and friend, Jeremiah Curtin. The diversity of the language, the rapid
flow of thought, the picturesque imagery of the descriptions are all
his.--_Boston Transcript_.

                           *   *   *   *   *

                  LITTLE, BROWN, & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS
                         BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS

                        THE KNIGHTS OF THE CROSS

An Historical Romance of Poland and Germany. By Henryk Sienkiewicz.
Translated from the Polish by Jeremiah Curtin. Illustrated. 2 vols.
Crown 8vo. 2.00.

The greatest work Sienkiewicz has given us.--_Buffalo Express_.

It seems superior even to "Quo Vadis" in strength and realism.--_The
Churchman_.

The construction of the story is beyond praise. It is difficult
to conceive of any one who will not pick the book up with
eagerness.--_Chicago Evening Post_.

There are some scenes in the book that for power and excitement
remind one of the great encounter between Ursus and the bull in "Quo
Vadis."--_Minneapolis Tribune_.

Vivid, dramatic, and vigorous.... His imaginative power, his command of
language, and the picturesque scenes he sets combine to fascinate the
reader.--_Philadelphia Bulletin_.

A book that holds your almost breathless attention as in a vise from
the very beginning, for in it love and strife, the most thrilling of
all worldly subjects, are described masterfully.--_The Boston Journal_.

Another remarkable book. His descriptions are tremendously effective;
one can almost hear the sound of the carnage; to the mind's eye the
scene of battle is unfolded by a master artist.--_The Hartford
Courant_.

Thrillingly dramatic, full of strange local color and very faithful to
its period, besides having that sense of the mysterious and weird that
throbs in the Polish blood and infects alike their music and
literature.--_The St. Paul Globe_.

                           *   *   *   *   *

                  LITTLE, BROWN, & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS
                         BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS

                      _OTHER NOVELS AND ROMANCES_
                _by Henryk Sienkiewicz. Translated from_
                    _the Polish by Jeremiah Curtin_.

                          CHILDREN OF THE SOIL

Crown 8vo. $1.50.

It must be reckoned among the finer fictions of our time, and shows its
author to be almost as great a master in the field of the domestic
novel as he had previously been shown to be in that of imaginative
historical romances.--_The Dial_, Chicago.

                        HANIA, AND OTHER STORIES

With portrait. Crown 8vo. $1.50.

At the highest level of the author's genius.--_The Outlook_.

                       SIELANKA, A FOREST PICTURE

And Other Stories. With frontispiece. Crown 8vo. $1.50.

They exhibit the masterly genius of Sienkiewicz even better than his
longer romances. They abound in fine character-drawings and beautiful
descriptions.--_Chicago Inter-Ocean_.

                        LIFE AND DEATH AND OTHER
                          LEGENDS AND STORIES

Illustrated. 16mo. Decorated cloth, $1.00.

                             WITHOUT DOGMA

A Novel of Modern Poland. (Translated from the Polish by Iza Young.)
Crown 8vo. $1.50.

A human document read in the light of a great imagination.--_Boston
Beacon_.

                           *   *   *   *   *

                  LITTLE, BROWN, & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS
                         BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS

End of Project Gutenberg's On the Field of Glory, by Henryk Sienkiewicz