The Deluge: An Historical Novel of Poland, Sweden, and Russia. Vol. 1Sienkiewicz, Henryk
History
The Deluge: An Historical Novel of Poland, Sweden, and Russia. Vol. 1
Sienkiewicz, Henryk
Historical fiction; Poland -- History -- John II Casimir, 1648-1668 -- Fiction
"You are not greatly confused, if in my presence you can be so urgent
that I am wonder-stricken."
"That is our way in Smolensk,--to go boldly at women as we do into
battle. You must, my queen, grow accustomed to this, for thus will it
ever be."
"You must put it aside, for thus it cannot be."
"Perhaps I may yield, may I be slain! Believe, believe me not, but with
gladness would I bend the skies for you. For you, my queen, I am ready
to learn other manners; for I know myself that I am a simple soldier, I
have lived more in camps than in chambers of castles."
"Oh, that harms nothing, for my grandfather was a soldier; but I give
thanks for the good-will," said Olenka; and her eyes looked with such
sweetness on Pan Andrei that his heart melted like wax in a moment, and
he answered,--
"You will lead me on a thread."
"Ah, you are not like those who are led on threads; to do that is most
difficult with men who are unsteady."
Kmita showed in a smile teeth as white as a wolf's teeth, "How is
that?" asked he. "Are the rods few that the fathers broke on me in the
monastery to bring me to steadiness and make me remember various fair
maxims for guidance in life--"
"And which one do you remember best?"
"'When in love, fall at the feet,'--in this fashion."
When he had spoken, Kmita was already on his knees. The lady screamed,
putting her feet under the table.
"For God's sake! they did not teach that in the monastery. Leave off,
or I shall be angry--my aunt will come this minute--"
Still on his knees, he raised his head and looked into her eyes. "Let a
whole squadron of aunts come; I shall not forbid their pleasure."
"But stand up!"
"I am standing."
"Sit down!"
"I am sitting."
"You are a traitor, a Judas!"
"Not true, for when I kiss 'tis with sincerity,--will you be
convinced?"
"You are a serpent!"
Panna Aleksandra laughed, however, and a halo of youth and gladness
came from her. His nostrils quivered like the nostrils of a young steed
of noble blood.
"Ai! ai!" said he. "What eyes, what a face! Save me, all ye saints, for
I cannot keep away!"
"There is no reason to summon the saints. You were absent four years
without once looking in here; sit still now!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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