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
And springing up, they began to pound on the shoulders of their
attendants, urging them to hurry. Before a quarter of an hour had
passed, the whole room was thundering with shots. The smoke hid the
light of the candles and the forms of the men shooting. The report of
discharges was accompanied by the voice of Zend, who croaked like a
raven, screamed like a falcon, howled like a wolf, bellowed like an
aurochs. The whistle of bullets interrupted him; bits flew from the
skulls, chips from the wall, and portraits from their frames; in the
disorder the Billeviches were shot, and Ranitski, falling into fury,
slashed them with his sabre.
The servants, astonished and terrified, stood as if bereft of their
senses, gazing with startled eyes on that sport which resembled a
Tartar invasion. The dogs began to howl and bark. All in the house were
on their feet; in the yard groups of people assembled. The girls of the
house ran to the windows, and putting their faces to the panes,
flattening their noses, gazed at what was passing within.
Zend saw them at last; he whistled so piercingly that it rang in the
ears of all, and then shouted, "Mighty lords! titmice are under the
window,--titmice!"
"Titmice! titmice!"
"Now for a dance!" roared dissonant voices.
The drunken crowd sprang through the anteroom to the porch. The frost
did not sober their steaming heads. The girls, screaming in voices that
rose to the sky, ran in every direction through the yard; but the men
chased them, and brought each one they seized to the room. After a
while they began dancing in the midst of smoke, bits of bone, and chips
around the table on which spilled wine lay in pools.
In such fashion did Pan Kmita and his wild company revel in Lyubich.
CHAPTER IV.
For a number of subsequent days Pan Andrei was at Vodokty daily; and
each time he returned more in love, and admired more and more his
Olenka. He lauded her to the skies, too, before his companions, till on
a certain day he said to them,--
"My dear lambs, you will go to-day to beat with the forehead; then, as
we have stipulated with the maiden, we will go to Mitruny to have a
sleigh-ride through the forests and look at the third estate. She will
entertain us there, and do you bear yourselves decently; for I would
cut into hash the man who offended her in anything."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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