Part 45 (1/2)

Meanwhile the monster roared like a wounded bear, and so did the brothers. Pan Serafin's voice and that of his visitor were lost in the general tumult, though all the power in their lungs was used then in shouting.

”Stop! By G.o.d's wounds, will ye stop!”

But the four brothers urged on, as if seized by insanity--and they had rushed five times round the yard when from the kitchen, and the stables, and barns, and granaries, and outhouses a great crowd of servants ran in, who hearing the cry ”Stop!” repeated as if in desperation by Pan Serafin, plunged forward and, seizing bits and bridles, strove to stop the horses.

At last the horses of the four brothers were brought to a standstill, but with the feathery steed there was very great trouble. Without a bridle, beaten, terrified, the beast reared at sight of the servants, or sprang to one side with the suddenness of lightning. They stopped it only at the fence when preparing to spring over. One of the men grasped its forelock, another caught its nostrils, a number seized its mane; it could not jump with such a burden, and fell to its knees. The beast sprang up quickly, it is true, but did not try to rush away; it only trembled throughout its whole body.

They removed the rider, who, as it seemed then, had not been thrown because his feet were bound firmly beneath the beast's belly. They pulled the feathers from his head, and under the feathers appeared a visage covered so thickly with tar that no man there recognized the features.

The rider gave faint signs of life, and only when taken to the porch did old Krepetski and Pan Serafin see who it was and cry out ”Martsian!” with amazement.

”This is that vile scoundrel!” said Mateush. ”We have punished him not a little, and have hunted him in here, so that Panna Sieninski may know that tender souls have not gone from this world yet.”

Pan Serafin seized his head with his hands, and shouted,--

”The devil take you and your tender souls! Ye are nothing but bandits!”

Then, turning to Pani Dzvonkovski who had run up with the others and was crossing herself, he cried,--

”Pour vodka into his mouth. Let him regain consciousness, and be taken to bed.”

There was hurry and disorder. Some ran to make the bed ready, others for hot water, still others for vodka; a number began to pull the feathers off Martsian, in which they were aided by his father, who was gritting his teeth, and repeating,--

”Is he alive? Is he dead? He is alive! Vengeance! Oh Vengeance!”

Then he sprang up on a sudden, jumped forward, and thrusting up to the very eyes of Pan Serafin, fingers, bent now like talons, he shouted,--

”You were in the conspiracy! You have killed my son--you Armenian a.s.sa.s.sin!”

Pan Serafin grew very pale, and seized his sabre, but almost at the same instant he remembered that he was the host, and Krepetski a visitor, so he dropped the hilt, and raised two fingers immediately.

”By that G.o.d who is above us,” said he, ”I swear that I knew nothing--and I am ready to swear on the cross in addition--Amen!”

”We are witnesses that he knew nothing!” cried Marek Bukoyemski.

”G.o.d has punished,” said Pan Serafin; ”for you threatened me, as a defenceless old man, with the pa.s.sion of your son. Here is his pa.s.sion for you!”

”A criminal offence!” bellowed the old man. ”The headsman against you, and your heads under the sword edge! Vengeance! Justice!”

”See what ye have done!” said Pan Serafin, as he turned to the Bukoyemskis.

”I said it was better to run away at once,” answered Lukash.

Pani Dzvonkovski now came with Dantsic liquor, and fell to pouring it from the bottle into the open mouth of the sufferer. Martsian coughed, and opened his eyes the next minute. His father knelt down to him.

”Art alive? Art alive?” asked he in a wild joyful outburst.

But the son could not answer yet, and was like a great owl, which, struck with a bullet, has fallen on its back and lies there, with outstretched wings, panting. Still consciousness was coming to him, and with it memory. His glance pa.s.sed from the face of his father to that of Pan Serafin, and then to the Bukoyemskis. Thereupon it grew so terrible that if there had been the least place for fear in the hearts of the brothers, a s.h.i.+ver would have pa.s.sed from foot to head through their bodies.

But they only went nearer to Martsian, like four bulls which are ready to rush with, their horns at an enemy, and Mateush inquired,--