Part 15 (1/2)

”I bring you these gentlemen,” said Yatsek.

The face of the old man grew bright for a moment, but became serious straightway, when he saw the Bukoyemskis and Stanislav blood-bedaubed.

”All five!” cried he, clasping his hands.

”There are five!”

”An offence against heaven! Gentlemen, how is it with you?” asked he, turning to the wounded men.

They touched their caps to him, except Marek, who, since the cutting of his shoulder-blade, could move neither his left nor his right hand. He merely groaned, saying,--

”He has peppered us well. We cannot deny it.”

”That is nothing,” said the others.

”We hope in G.o.d that it is nothing,” answered Father Voynovski. ”Come to the house now as quickly as possible! I will care for you this minute. Move on with the sleigh,” said he.

And then he himself followed promptly with Yatsek. But after a while he stopped on the roadway. Joy shone, in his face again. He embraced Yatsek's neck on a sudden.

”Let me press thee, O Yatsek,” cried he. ”Thou hast brought in a sleigh load of enemies, like so many wheat sheaves.”

Yatsek kissed his hand then, and answered,--

”They would have it so, my benefactor.”

The priest put his hand on the head of the young man again, as if wis.h.i.+ng to bless him, but all at once he restrained himself, because gladness in this case was not befitting his habit, so he looked more severe, and continued,--

”Think not that I praise thee. It was thy luck that they themselves wished this, but still, it is a scandal.”

They drove into the courtyard. Yatsek sprang to the sleigh so that he might, with the driver and the single house-servant, help out the wounded men. But they stepped out themselves, except Marek, whose arms they supported and soon they were all in Yatsek's dwelling. Straw had been spread there already, and even Yatsek's own bed had been covered with a white, slightly worn horse skin. At the head a felt roll served as pillow. On the table near the window was bread kneaded with spider-web, excellent for blood stopping. There were also choice balsams which the priest had for healing.

The old man took off his soutane and went to dressing the wounds with the skill of a veteran who had seen thousands of wounded men, and who from long practice knew how to handle wounds better than many a surgeon. His work went on quickly, for, except Marek, the men had suffered slightly.

Marek's shoulder-blade needed considerably longer work, but when at last it was dressed the priest wiped his b.l.o.o.d.y hands, and then rested.

”Well,” said he, ”thanks to the Lord Jesus, it has pa.s.sed without grievous accident. This also is certain, that you feel better, gentlemen, all of you.”

”One would like a drink!” said Mateush.

”It would not hurt! Give command, Yatsek, to bring water.”

Mateush rose up on the straw. ”How water?” asked he in a voice of emotion.

Marek, who was lying face downward on Yatsek's bed groaning, called out quickly,--

”The revered father must wash his hands, of course.”

Hereupon Yatsek looked with real despair at the priest, who laughed and then added,--

”They are soldiers! Wine is permitted, but in small quant.i.ty.”