The Knights of the Cross/Volume 2/Chapter 66

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

CHAPTER LXVI.

Some days later Yurand died. Father Kaleb celebrated masses a whole week above his body, which showed no decay,—in this all beheld a miracle,—and for a week guests came in crowds to Spyhov. Then followed a time of quiet, such as there is usually after a funeral. Zbyshko went to the vault, and sometimes he went to the forest with his crossbow, from which, however, he shot at no beast, but walked in forgetfulness; till at last one evening he returned to the chamber where the girls were sitting with Matsko and with Hlava.

"Listen to what I will say," said he, unexpectedly. "Sorrow profits no one; hence it is better for you to go to Zgorzelitse and Bogdanets than to sit here grieving."

Silence followed, for all divined that words of great import were coming, and only after a time did Matsko add,—

"Better for us and for thee as well."

But Zbyshko shook his bright head.

"No! I will return, God grant, to Bogdanets, but now I must take another road."

"Ei!" cried Matsko; "I said that the end had come, but now there is no end! Fear God, Zbyshko!"

"But you know that I made a vow—"

"Is that a reason? Danusia is gone, and the vow is gone also. Death has released thee from the oath."

"She would have released me, but I did not swear to her; I swore to God on my knightly honor. What do you wish? On knightly honor!"

Every word touching knightly honor had an influence on Matsko that seemed as it were magical. He guided himself in life by few commands except those of God and the Church, but he guided himself by those unswervingly.

"I do not tell thee not to keep thy oath," replied Matsko.

"But what?"

"This, that thou art young and hast time for everything, Come now with us; thou wilt rest—shake thyself free of pain and sorrow—and then thou wilt go whithersoever thou wishest."

"I will tell you as truly as at confession," answered Zbyshko: "I am going, you see, whither I must go; I talk with you, I eat and drink, like every man, but I say truly that within me and within my soul I cannot help myself in any way. There is nothing in me but sadness, nothing but pain, nothing but those bitter tears which flow from my eyes whether I will or not."

"Among strangers it will be still worse."

"No; God sees that I should die in Bogdanets. When I tell you that I cannot, it means that I cannot! I need war, for in the field one forgets more easily. I feel that when I accomplish my vow, when I am able to say to that saved soul, 'I have fulfilled everything that I promised,' only then will she release me. Earlier she will not. You could not hold me with a rope in Bogdanets."

After these words there was such silence in that chamber that flies were heard as they passed beneath the ceiling.

"If it would kill him to be in Bogdanets, better let him go," said Yagenka, finally.

Matsko put his two palms on his neck, as was his custom at moments of perplexity, sighed then deeply, and said,—

"Ei, mighty God!"

But Yagenka continued,—

"Zbyshko, but thou wilt swear, that if God preserves thee, thou wilt not remain off there, but return to us?"

"Why should I not return? I shall not avoid Spyhov, but I will not remain here."

"For," continued the girl, in a voice somewhat lower, "if thou art concerned for the coffin we will take it to Kresnia. "

"Yagus!"^[1] cried Zbyshko, with an outburst.

And he fell at her feet in the first moment of transport and gratitude.

1. One of the many variants of Yagenka.