Hania. Генрик Сенкевич
clapped her hands.
"Oho! I am learning something new!" cried she, laughing. "Is she pretty, Pan Selim; is she pretty?"
I thought that Selim would grow confused and lose his boldness; but he merely said, —
"Henryk?"
"What?"
"Dost thou know what I do with those whose tongues are too long?" And he laughed.
Hania insisted on his telling her even the name of this chosen one; without thinking long, he said, —
"Yozia."
But if he had been what he pretended he would have paid dearly for his sincerity, for Hania gave him no peace from that hour till evening.
"Is she pretty?"
"Oh, so."
"What kind of hair has she, and eyes?"
"Nice ones, but not such as please me more than all others."
"And what kind please you?"
"Bright hair, and eyes, if they are kind, blue, like those into which I am looking at this moment."
"Oo, Pan Selim!"
And Hania frowned; but Selim, putting his palms together, made himself pleasant with that incomparable sweetness in his eyes, and began, —
"Panna Hania, be not angry. What has the poor little Tartar done? Be not angry! Let the lady laugh."
Hania looked at him, and as she looked the cloud vanished from her forehead. He simply enchanted her. A smile wandered in the corners of her mouth; her eyes grew bright, her face radiant; and at last she answered in a soft, mild voice, —
"Very well, I will not be angry; but I beg you to be nice."
"I will, as I love Mohammed, I will."
"And do you love your Mohammed much?"
"As dogs a beggar."
And then both laughed again.
"But now tell me whom does Pan Henryk love? I asked him, but he would not tell me."
"Henryk? Do you know" (here he looked at me askance) "he is not in love with any one yet, perhaps, but he will love. Oh, I know perfectly whom! and as to me – "
"As to you, what?" inquired Hania, trying to conceal her confusion.
"I would do the very same – but wait a bit; he may be in love already."
"I beg thee to stop, Selim."
"Thou, my honest boy," said Selim, putting his arm around my neck – "Ah, if you knew how honest he is."
"Oh, I know that," said Hania; "I remember what he was to me after my grandfather's death."
A cloud of sadness flew between us then.
"I will tell you," said Selim, wishing to change the subject, "that after examination we had a little feast with our master – "
"And drank?"
"Yes. Oh, that is the custom which one cannot avoid. So while we were drinking, I, being, as you know, a giddy fellow, raised a toast to you. I acted unwisely, but Henryk sprang up: 'How dare you mention Hania in such a place as this?' said he to me; for that was a wine-cellar. We came near fighting. But he will not let any one offend you, no, no – "
Hania gave me her hand. "How good you are, Pan Henryk!"
"Well," answered I, carried away by Selim's words, "say thyself, Hania, is not Selim just as honest, since he tells this?"
"Oh, what great honesty!" said Selim, laughing.
"But it is," answered Hania; "you are worthy of each other, and we shall have such a pleasant time in company."
"You will be our queen!" cried Selim, with enthusiasm.
"Gentlemen! Hania! we invite you to tea," called Pani d'Yves from the garden veranda.
We went to tea, all three of us in the very best feeling. The table was set under the veranda; the lights, shielded by glass tubes, burned brightly, and moths in a swarm circled around them; they butted against the glass walls of the tubes; the leaves of wild grapevines rustled, moved by the warm night air; and beyond the poplars rose a great golden moon. The last conversation between Hania, Selim, and myself had brought us to a wonderfully mild, friendly tone. That calm and quiet evening acted also on the older persons. My father's face and the priest's were as serene as the sky.
After tea Pani d'Yves began to play solitaire; my father fell into perfect humor, for he commenced to tell of old times, which with him was always a sign of good feeling.
"I remember," said he, "we halted once not far from a village in Krasnostav. The night was dark; even strain your eyes out, you could not see anything" (here he drew smoke from his pipe and let it go above the light). "People were as tired as a Jew's nag. We were standing silently, and then – "
Here began a narrative of wonderful and most wonderful happenings. The priest, who had listened to this more than once, still stopped smoking and listened more attentively; he raised his spectacles to his forehead, and, nodding, repeated "Uhum! Uhum!" or called out, "Jesus, Mary! well, and what?"
Selim and I, leaning against each other, with eyes fixed on my father, caught his words eagerly. On no face was the expression depicted so definitely as on Selim's. His eyes were gleaming like coals; a flush covered his face; his hot Eastern nature came to the surface like oil. Hardly could he sit in one place. Pani d'Yves smiled as she looked at him, and showed him to Hania with her eyes; then both began to observe him, for they were entertained by that face, which was like a mirror or the surface of water, in which everything is reflected that comes near its transparency.
To-day, when I recall evenings like that, I cannot resist my emotion. Many waves on the water, many clouds in the sky, have passed since that time; but still winged memory pushes before my eyes continually similar pictures of the village mansion, the summer night, and that family, harmonious, loving, happy, – a gray veteran telling former adventures of his life; youths with fire in their eyes; farther on a face like a field flower – Ei! Many waves on the water and clouds in the sky have passed since that time.
Meanwhile the clock struck ten. Selim sprang up, for he had received the command to return that same night. The whole company decided to go with him as far as the cross at the end of the lindens near the second gate, I on horseback farther, as far as the meadows. We started then, all of us except Kazio, who had fallen asleep in the best fashion.
Hania, Selim, and I pushed on ahead, we two leading our horses by the bridles, Hania between us. The three old people walked behind. It was dark in the alley; the moon, merely breaking through the dense foliage, marked the dark road with silver spots.
"Let us sing something," said Selim, "some song, old and good; for example, the song about Filon."
"No one sings that," answered Hania. "I know another: 'Oh, autumn, autumn, the leaf is withering on the tree!'"
We agreed at last to begin with "Filon," which the priest and my father liked much, for it reminded them of old times, and then sing "Oh, autumn, autumn!" Hania placed her white hand on the mane of Selim's horse and began to sing, —
"The moon has gone down, the dogs are all sleeping;
But some one is clapping beyond the pine wood.
Surely, Filon, my darling, is watching,
Awaiting me under the favorite maple."
When we finished, the voices of the old people were heard behind us in the darkness: "Bravo! bravo! sing something more." I accompanied as best I could, but I did not sing well; while Hania and Selim had beautiful voices, especially Selim. Sometimes, when I went too far beyond the notes, they both laughed at me. Then they hummed some other songs, during which I thought, "Why does Hania hold the mane of Selim's horse, and not the mane of mine?" That horse pleased her peculiarly. Sometimes she nestled up to its neck, or, patting it, repeated, "My steed, mine!" and the gentle beast snorted and stretched out its open nostrils toward her hand, as if looking for sugar. All this caused