On the Field of Glory: An Historical Novel of the Time of King John SobieskiSienkiewicz, Henryk
History
On the Field of Glory: An Historical Novel of the Time of King John Sobieski
Sienkiewicz, Henryk
Poland -- History -- John III Sobieski, 1674-1696 -- Fiction
Father Voynovski blushed as does a maiden when a young man confesses on
a sudden that for which she is yearning beyond all things; but the
blush flew over his face as swiftly as summer lightning through the sky
of evening; then he looked at Pan Serafin, and asked,--
"Why do you take it?"
Pan Serafin answered with all the sincerity of an honest spirit:
"I want it since I wish, without loss to myself, to render an honorable
young man a service, for which I shall gain his gratitude. And, Father
benefactor, I have still another idea. I will send my one son to that
regiment in which Pan Yatsek is to serve, and I think that my Stashko
will find in him a good friend and comrade. You know how important a
comrade is and what a true friend at one's side means in camp where a
quarrel comes easily, and in war where death comes still more easily.
God has not, in my case been sparing of fortune, and He has given me
only one son. Pan Yatsek is brave, sober, a master at the sabre, as has
been shown--and he is virtuous, for you have reared him. Let him and my
son be like Orestes and Pylades--that is my reckoning."
Father Voynovski opened his arms to him widely.
"God himself sent you! For Yatsek I answer as I do for myself. He is a
golden fellow, and his heart is as grateful as wheat land. God sent
you! My dear boy can now show himself as befits the Tachevski
escutcheon, and most important of all, he can, after seeing the wide
world, forget altogether that girl for whom he has thrown away so many
years, and suffered such anguish."
"Has he loved her then from of old?"
"Well, to tell the truth, he has loved her since childhood. Even now he
says nothing, he sets his teeth, but he squirms like an eel beneath a
knife edge. Let him go at the earliest, for nothing could or can come
from this love of his."
A moment of silence followed, then the old man continued,--
"But we must speak of these matters more accurately. How much can you
lend on Vyrambki? It is a poor piece of land."
"Even one hundred ducats."
"Fear God, your grace!"
"But why? If Pan Yatsek ever pays me it will be all the same how much I
lend him. If he does not pay I shall get my own also, for though the
land about here is poor, that new soil must be good beyond the forest.
To-day I will take my son and the Bukoyemskis to Yedlinka, and you will
do us the favor to come as soon as Pan Yatsek returns to you from
Radom. The money will be ready."
"Your grace came from heaven with your golden heart and your money,"
said Father Voynovski.
Then he commanded to bring mead which he poured out himself, and they
drank with much pleasure as men do who have joy at their heart strings.
With the third glass the priest became serious.
"For the assistance, for the good word, for the honesty, let me pay,"
said he, "even with good advice."
"I am listening."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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