The Deluge: An Historical Novel of Poland, Sweden, and Russia. Vol. 2Sienkiewicz, Henryk
History
The Deluge: An Historical Novel of Poland, Sweden, and Russia. Vol. 2
Sienkiewicz, Henryk
Historical fiction; Poland -- History -- John II Casimir, 1648-1668 -- Fiction
“Who pretend that they believe in the Lord Jesus, wishing to hide their
wickedness; but in fact they only howl at the moon like dogs, and in
this is all their religion.”
“And such as these raise their hands against the splendors of Yasna
Gora!”
“You have touched the spot in speaking of their faith,” said
Volodyovski to Zagloba, “for I myself have heard how they howl at the
moon. They said afterward that they were singing Lutheran psalms; but
it is certain that the dogs sing such psalms.”
“How is that?” asked Kovalski. “Are there such people among them?”
“There is no other kind,” answered Zagloba, with deep conviction.
“And is their king no better?”
“Their king is the worst of all. He began this war of purpose to
blaspheme the true faith in the churches.”
Here Kovalski, who had drunk much, rose and said: “If that is true,
then as sure as you are looking at me, and as I am Kovalski, I’ll
spring straight at the Swedish king in the first battle, and though he
stood in the densest throng, that is nothing! My death or his! I’ll
reach him with my lance,—hold me a fool, gentlemen, if I do not!”
When he had said this he clinched his fist and was going to thunder on
the table. He would have smashed the glasses and decanters, and broken
the table; but Zagloba caught him hastily by the arm and said,—
“Sit down, Roh, and give us peace. We will not think you a fool if you
do not do this, but know that we will not stop thinking you a fool
until you have done it. I do not understand, though, how you can raise
a lance on the King of Sweden, when you are not in the hussars.”
“I will join the escort and be enrolled in the squadron of Prince
Polubinski; and my father will help me.”
“Father Roh?”
“Of course.”
“Let him help you, but break not these glasses, or I’ll be the first
man to break your head. Of what was I speaking, gentlemen? Ah! of
Chenstohova. _Luctus_ (grief) will devour me, if we do not come in time
to save the holy place. _Luctus_ will devour me, I tell you all! And
all through that traitor Radzivill and the philosophical reasoning of
Sapyeha.”
“Say nothing against the voevoda. He is an honorable man,” said the
little knight.
“Why cover Radzivill with two halves when one is sufficient? Nearly ten
thousand men are around this little booth of a castle, the best cavalry
and infantry. Soon they will lick the soot out of all the chimneys in
this region, for what was on the hearths they have eaten already.”
“It is not for us to argue over the reasons of superiors, but to obey!”
“It is not for you to argue, Pan Michael, but for me; half of the
troops who abandoned Radzivill chose me as leader, and I would have
driven Karl Gustav beyond the tenth boundary ere now, but for that
luckless modesty which commanded me to place the baton in the hands of
Sapyeha. Let him put an end to his delay, lest I take back what I
gave.”
“You are only so daring after drink,” said Volodyovski.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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