A Terrible Vengeance

VI

In a deep underground cellar at Danilo’s the sorcerer lay bound in iron chains behind a door with three locks, while his devilish castle above the Dnieper was on fire and the waves, glowing red as blood, splashed and surged around the ancient walls. It was not for sorcery, it was not for ungodly deeds that the sorcerer lay in the underground cellar—for his wickedness God was his judge; it was for secret treachery that he was imprisoned, for plotting with the foes of Orthodox Russia to sell to the Catholics the Ukrainian people and burn Christian churches. The sorcerer was gloomy; thoughts black as night strayed through his mind; he had but one day left to live and on the morrow he would take leave of the world; his punishment was awaiting him on the morrow. It was no light one: it would be an act of mercy if he were boiled alive in a cauldron or his sinful skin were flayed from him. The sorcerer was sad, his head was bowed. Perhaps he was already repenting on the eve of death; but his sins were not such as God would forgive. Above him was a little window covered with an iron grating. Clanking his chains, he stood to look out of the window and see whether his daughter were passing. She was gentle and forgiving as a dove; would she not have mercy on her father…? But there was no one. The road ran below the window; no one passed along it. Beneath it rippled the Dnieper; it cared for no one; it murmured, and it splashed monotonously, drearily.

Then someone appeared upon the road—it was a Cossack! And the prisoner heaved a deep sigh. Again the road was empty. In the distance someone was coming down the hill… a green overskirt flapped in the wind… a golden headdress glittered on her head… It was she! He pressed still closer to the window. Now she was coming nearer…

“Katerina, daughter! Have pity on me, be merciful!”

She was silent, she would not listen, she did not turn her eyes toward the prison, and had already passed, already vanished. The whole world was empty; dismally the Dnieper murmured; it made hearts sad; but did the sorcerer know anything of such sadness?

The day was drawing to a close. Now the sun was setting; now it had vanished. Now it was evening, it was cool; an ox was lowing somewhere; sounds of voices floated from afar: people doubtless going home from their work and making merry; a boat flashed into sight on the Dnieper… no one thought of the prisoner. A silver crescent gleamed in the sky; now someone came along the road in the opposite direction; it was hard to tell the figure in the darkness; it was Katerina coming back.

“Daughter, for Christ’s sake! even the savage wolf cubs will not tear their mother in pieces—daughter, give one look at least to your guilty father!”

She heeded not but walked on.

“Daughter, for the sake of your unhappy mother…”

She stopped.

“Come close and hear my last words!”

“Why do you call me, enemy of God? Do not call me daughter! There is no kinship between us. What do you want of me for the sake of my unhappy mother?”

“Katerina, my end is near; I know that your husband means to tie me to the tail of a wild mare and send it racing in the open country, and maybe he will invent an end more dreadful yet…”

“But is there in the world a punishment bad enough for your sins? You may be sure no one will plead for you.”

“Katerina! It is not punishment in this world that I fear but in the next…. You are innocent, Katerina; your soul will fly about God in paradise; but your ungodly father’s soul will burn in a fire everlasting and never will that fire be quenched; it will burn more and more hotly; no drop of dew will fall upon it, nor will the wind breathe on it…”

“I can do nothing to ease that punishment,” said Katerina, turning away.

“Katerina, stay for one word! You can save my soul! You know not yet how good and merciful is God. Have you heard of the Apostle Paul, what a sinful man he was—but afterward he repented and became a saint?”

“What can I do to save your soul?” said Katerina. “It is not for a weak woman like me to think of that.”

“If I could but get out, I would abandon everything. I will repent, I will go into a cave, I will wear a hair shirt next to my skin and spend day and night in prayer. I will give up not only meat, but even fish I will not taste! I will lay nothing under me when I lie down to sleep! And I will pray without ceasing, pray without ceasing! And if God’s mercy does not release me from at least a hundredth part of my sins, I will bury myself up to the neck in the earth or entomb myself in a wall of stone; I will take neither food nor drink and perish; and I will give all my goods to the monks that they may sing a requiem for me for forty days and forty nights.”

Katerina pondered. “If I were to unlock you I could not undo your fetters.”

“I do not fear chains,” he said. “You say that they have fettered my hands and feet? No, I threw a mist over their eyes and held out a dry tree instead of hands. Here, see: I have not a chain upon me now!” he said, walking into the middle of the cellar. “I should not have been contained by these walls either; but your husband does not know what walls these are: they were built by a holy hermit, and no evil power can deliver a prisoner from them without the very key with which the hermit used to lock his cell. Just such a cell will I build for myself, incredible sinner that I have been, when I am free again.”

“Listen, I will let you out; but what if you deceive me,” said Katerina, standing still at the door, “and instead of repenting, again become the devil’s comrade?”

“No, Katerina, I have not long left to live; my end is near even if I am not put to death. Can you believe that I will give myself up to eternal punishment?”

The key grated in the lock.

“Farewell! God in His mercy keep you, my child!” said the sorcerer, kissing her.

“Do not touch me, you fearful sinner; make haste and go…” said Katerina.

But he was gone.

“I let him out!” she said to herself, terror-stricken, looking wildly at the walls. “What answer shall I give my husband now? I am undone. There is nothing left but to bury myself alive!” and sobbing she almost fell upon the block on which the prisoner had been sitting. “But I have saved a soul,” she said softly. “I have done a godly deed; but my husband… I have deceived him for the first time. Oh, how terrible, how hard it will be for me to lie to him! Someone is coming! It is he! my husband!” She uttered a desperate shriek and fell senseless on the ground.