“I am, your grace.”
“Therefore I do not call myself Kmita, but Babinich, do you understand? No one must know my real name. Open not your lips; let not a breath out. If men ask whence I come, say that you joined me on the road and do not know, but say, ‘Whoso is curious, let him ask the man himself.’ ”
“I understand, your grace.”
“Warn your sons, and also your men. Even if straps were cut out of them, they must say my name is Babinich. You will answer for this with your life.”
“It will be so, your grace. I will go and tell my sons, for it is necessary to put everything into the heads of those rogues with a shovel. Such is the joy I have with them. God has punished me for the sins of my youth; that is the trouble. Let me say another word, your grace.”
“Speak boldly.”
“It seems to me better not to tell soldiers or men where we are going.”
“That is true.”
“It is enough for them to know that Babinich, not Pan Kmita, is travelling. And on such a journey it is better to conceal your grace’s rank.”
“Why?”
“Because the Swedes give passes to the more considerable people; and whoso has not a pass, him they take to the commandant.”
“I have passes to the Swedish troops.”
Astonishment gleamed in the cunning eyes of Kyemlich; but after a while he asked, “Will your grace let me say once more what I think?”
“If you give good counsel and delay not, speak; for I see that you are a clever man.”
“If you have passes, it is better, for in need they may be shown; but if your grace is travelling on an errand that should remain secret, it is safer not to show the passes. I know not whether they are given in the name of Babinich or Kmita; but if you show them, the trace will remain and pursuit will be easier.”
“You have struck the point!” cried Kmita. “I prefer to reserve the passes for another time, if it is possible to go through without them.”
“It is possible, your grace; and that disguised either as a peasant or a petty noble—which will be easier, for I have some clean clothes, a cap and gray coat, for example, just such as petty nobles wear. We may travel with a band of horses, as if we were going to the fairs, and drive farther till we come to Lovich and Warsaw, as I have done more than once during peace, and I know the roads. About this time there is a fair in Sobota, to which people come from afar. In Sobota we shall learn of other places where there are fairs, and so on. The Swedes too take less note of small nobles, for crowds of them stroll about at all the fairs. If some commandant inquires we will explain ourselves, but if a small party asks we will gallop over their bellies, God and the Most Holy Lady permitting.”
“But if they take our horses? Requisitions in time of war are of daily occurrence.”
“Either they will buy or they will take them. If they buy we will go to Sobota, not to sell, but to buy horses; and if they take them, we will raise a lament and go with our complaint to Warsaw and to Krakow.”
“You have a cunning mind,” said Kmita, “and I see that you will serve me. Even if the Swedes take these horses, some man will be found to pay for them.”
“I was going to Elko in Prussia with them; this turns out well, for just in that direction does our road lie. From Elko we will go along the boundary, then turn to Ostrolenko, thence through the wilderness to Pultusk and to Warsaw.”
“Where is that Sobota?”24
“Not far from Pyantek.”25
“Are you jesting, Kyemlich?”
“How should I dare,” answered the old man, crossing his arms on his breast and bending his head; “but they have such wonderful names for towns in this region. It is a good bit of road beyond Lovich, your grace.”
“Are there large fairs in that Sobota?”
“Not such as in Lovich; but there is one at this time of year, to which horses are driven from Prussia, and crowds of people assemble. Surely it will not be worse this year, for it is quiet about there. The Swedes are in power everywhere, and have garrisons in the towns. Even if a man wanted to rise against them, he could not.”
“Then I will take your plan. We will go with horses, and that you suffer no loss I will pay for them in advance.”
“I thank your grace for the rescue.”
“Only get sheepskin coats ready and common saddles and sabres, for we will start at once. Tell your sons and men who I am, what my name is, that I am travelling with horses, that you and they are hired assistants. Hurry!”
When the old man turned to the door, Pan Andrei said further, “No one will call me grace nor commandant nor colonel, only you and Babinich.”
Kyemlich went out, and an hour later all were sitting on their horses ready to start on the long journey. Kmita dressed in the gray coat of a poor noble, a cap of worn sheepskin, and with a bandaged face, as if after a duel in some inn, was difficult of recognition, and looked really like some poor devil of a noble, strolling from one fair to another. He was surrounded by people dressed in like fashion, armed with common poor sabres, with long whips to drive the horses, and lariats to catch those that might try to escape.
The soldiers looked with astonishment at their colonel, making various remarks, in low tones, concerning him. It was a wonder to them that he was Babinich instead of Pan Kmita, that they were
