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
Here Kmita looked boastfully at Olenka, and began to twirl his
mustache. This fickleness of humor and inopportune boastfulness enraged
her to the last degree; therefore she said haughtily and with emphasis,
"You must choose between me and them; there is no other way."
Kmita seemed not to note the decision with which she spoke, and
answered carelessly, almost gayly: "But why choose when I have you and
I have them? You may do what you like in Vodokty; but if my comrades
have committed no wrong, no license here, why should I drive them away?
You do not understand what it is to serve under one flag and carry on
war in company. No relationship binds like service in common. Know that
they have saved my life a thousand times at least. I must protect them
all the more because they are pursued by justice. They are almost all
nobles and of good family, except Zend, who is of uncertain origin; but
such a horse-trainer as he there is not in the whole Commonwealth. And
if you could hear how he imitates wild beasts and every kind of bird,
you would fall in love with him yourself."
Here Kmita laughed as if no anger, no misunderstanding, had ever found
place between them; and she was ready to wring her hands, seeing how
that whirlwind of a nature was slipping away from her grasp. All that
she had said of the opinions of men, of the need of sedateness, of
disgrace, slipped along on him like a dart on steel armor. The unroused
conscience of this soldier could give no response to her indignation at
every injustice and every dishonorable deed of license. How was he to
be touched, how addressed?
"Let the will of God be done," said she at last; "since you will resign
me, then go your way. God will remain with the orphan."
"I resign you?" asked Kmita, with supreme astonishment.
"That is it!--if not in words, then in deeds; if not you me, then I
you. For I will not marry a man weighted by the tears and blood of
people, whom men point at with their fingers, whom they call an outlaw,
a robber, and whom they consider a traitor."
"What, traitor! Do not bring me to madness, lest I do something for
which I should be sorry hereafter. May the thunderbolts strike me this
minute, may the devils flay me, if I am a traitor,--I, who stood by the
country when all hands had dropped!"
"You stand by the country and act like an enemy, for you trample on it.
You are an executioner of the people, regarding the laws neither of God
nor man. No! though my heart should be rent, I will not marry you;
being such a man, I will not!"
"Do not speak to me of refusal, for I shall grow furious. Save me, ye
angels! If you will not have me in good-will, then I'll take you
without it, though all the rabble from the villages were here, though
the Radzivills themselves were here, the very king himself and all the
devils with their horns stood in the way, even if I had to sell my soul
to the Devil!"
"Do not summon evil spirits, for they will hear you," cried Olenka,
stretching forth her hands.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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