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
"That is no dangler around women; that is a true man," said the lady to
herself. "He is a soldier of the kind that my grandfather loved most of
all,--and he deserved it!"
So meditated the lady; and a happiness undimmed by anything embraced
her. It was an unquiet; but that unquiet was something dear. Then she
began to undress; the door creaked, and in came Panna Kulvyets, with a
candle in her hand.
"You sat terribly long," said she. "I did not wish to interfere with
young people, so that you might talk your fill the first time. He seems
a courteous cavalier. But how did he please you?"
Panna Aleksandra gave no answer at first, but barefooted ran up to her
aunt, threw herself on her neck, and placing her bright head on her
bosom, said with a fondling voice, "Auntie, oh, Auntie!"
"Oho!" muttered the old maid, raising her eyes and the candle toward
heaven.
CHAPTER III.
When Pan Andrei drove up to the mansion at Lyubich, the windows were
gleaming, and bustle reached the front yard. The servants, hearing
the bell, rushed out through the entrance to greet their lord, for
they had learned from his comrades that he would come. They greeted
him with submission, kissing his hands and seizing his feet. The old
land-steward, Znikis, stood in the entrance holding bread and salt, and
beating worship with the forehead; all gazed with uneasiness and
curiosity,--how would their future lord look? Kmita threw a purse full
of thalers on the tray, and asked for his comrades, astonished that no
one of them had come forth to meet his proprietary mightiness.
But they could not come forth, for they were then the third hour at the
table, entertaining themselves at the cup, and perhaps in fact they had
not taken note of the sounding of the bell outside. But when he entered
the room, from all breasts a loud shout burst forth: "The heir, the
heir has come!" and all his comrades, springing from their places,
started toward him with their cups. But he placed his hands on his
hips, and laughed at the manner in which they had helped themselves in
his house, and had gone to drinking before his arrival. He laughed with
increasing heartiness when he saw them advance with tipsy solemnity.
Before the others went the gigantic Pan Yaromir Kokosinski, with the
seal of Pypka, a famous soldier and swaggerer, with a terrible scar
across his forehead, his eye, and his cheek, with one mustache short,
the other long, the lieutenant and friend of Kmita, the "worthy
comrade," condemned to loss of life and honor in Smolensk for stealing
a maiden, for murder and arson. At that time war saved him, and the
protection of Kmita, who was of the same age; and their lands were
adjoining in Orsha till Pan Yaromir had squandered his away. He came up
holding in both hands a great-eared bowl filled with dembniak.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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