King Stakh's Wild Hunt

And here Śvieciłovič became even paler, staring into space, as if he were considering something extremely important. I did not disturb him. If he wanted to, he'd tell us himself. However, he didn't think long.

“Brothers, it seems I know this person. You understand, you have helped me to find an answer to a riddle. Firstly: at the ‘Witch's Mortar’. Yesterday evening I saw a man there whom I know very well. I'd never have suspected him, and that disturbs me. He was very tired, dirty, riding on horseback to the Gap. Seeing me, he came nearer: ‘What are you doing here, Mr. Śvieciłovič?’ I answered jokingly, ‘I'm in search of yesterday's day.’ And he burst into laughter and asked: ‘Does yesterday's day, then, the devil take it, come into today's?’ And I said to him: ‘Yesterday's day hangs round all our necks.’ Then he said: ‘However, it doesn't come, does it?’ Then I said: ‘But the Wild Hunt? Hasn't it come from the past?’ His countenance even changed. ‘To the devil with it! Don't even mention it.’ And he moved on northwards along the quagmire. I went on towards your house, Mr. Biełarecki, but when I turned round I saw that he had turned back and was letting himself down into the ravine. He went there and disappeared.”

“Who was it?” I asked. Śvieciłovič hesitated. Then he raised his bright eyes.

“Forgive me, Biełarecki, forgive me, Ryhor, I cannot tell you yet. It's too important, and I'm not a gossip. I cannot lay such a terrible accusation on the shoulders of a person who, perhaps, is not guilty. You know that for such a thing a person may be killed simply on suspicion. All that I can say is that he was among the guests at Janoŭskaja's. I'll think it over in the evening, will weigh everything, will recall in detail the story about the promissory notes and tomorrow I'll tell you. But for the present I cannot say anything more…”

Oh, of course! A dependable alibi. Oh, fools! And what dim thoughts! By analogy I recalled my own indefinite thoughts, too, the thoughts about “the hands”, which were to help me in investigating something important.

We decided Ryhor would sit this night at the Cold Hollow. It was not far from there to Sve-tilovich's house where he lived with an old attendant and a cook. In case of need we could find him.

“Nevertheless I don't believe that I'll be able to catch them when they leave. Śvieciłovič has put them on their guard,” Ryhor said hoarsely. “They'll find another road out of the dense forest onto the plain.”

“But another road into the park they won't find. I'll be lying in wait for them near the broken-down fence,” I decided.

“It's dangerous alone,” Ryhor lowered his eyes.

“But you, too, will be alone.”

“Me? No! I'm nobody's fool. I'm bold, but not so bold as to fight one against twenty.”

“But I tell you,” I said stubbornly, “that the mistress of Marsh Firs will not live through another appearance of the Wild Hunt at the walls of her house. I must not allow them to enter the park if they intend to come.”

“Today I cannot help you,” said Śvieciłovič sunk in a brown study. “What I must clear up is more important. Perhaps the Wild Hunt won't come today at all. An obstacle will stand in its way.”

“Well then,” I, rather dryly, interrupted him. “You should have expressed your views and not given us puzzles to answer. I'll go out alone today. They aren't expecting anybody, and on that I am laying my hopes. By the way, they don't know that I have a gun. Twice I met with the Hunt, and also with that man who shot me in the back, and I never used it. Well then, they will see yet… How slowly we are untying this knot! How lazily our brains are working!”

“Everything is cleared up easily and logically only in bad novels,” Śvieciłovič growled, offended. “In addition, we are not detectives from the provincial police. And thank the Lord for that!”

Frowning, Ryhor was digging the earth with a twig. “Enough!” he said with a sigh. “We must act. I'll make them hop about yet, the skunks! And, excuse me, after all you are aristocrats, gentlemen all. We are together now, following the same path, but if we find them, we mužyks shall not only kill these savage creatures, we will burn their nests, we will bring utter ruin on their offspring, and we'll perhaps put an end to their descendants.”

Śvieciłovič began to laugh:

“Biełarecki and I are very fi-ine gentlemen! As the saying has it: a gentleman all dressed up in a caftan made of grape vine, and sandals made of bast. Actually, we ought to annihilate them all and their like including their young ones, for with the passing of time, these young ones will grow up to be aristocrats.”

“If only it is not a phantom, this Wild Hunt, a vision seen in a dream when asleep. Well, there wasn't, there has never yet been a person who was able to hide his tracks from me, the best of hunters. But phantoms will be phantoms.”