“Your grace, as I see, has no better wish for the Swedes than I have,” said Kmita.
The unknown looked around as it were with a certain alarm, but soon calmed himself and spoke on—
“I would that pestilence crushed them, and I hide that not from you, for it seems to me that you are honest; and though you were not honest, you would not bind me and take me to the Swedes, for I should not yield, having armed men, and a sabre at my side.”
“Your grace may be sure that I will not harm you; your courage is to my heart. And it pleases me that your grace did not hesitate to leave property behind, in which the enemy will not fail to punish you. Such goodwill to the country is highly deserving of praise.”
Kmita began unwittingly to speak in a patronizing tone, as a superior to a subordinate, without thinking that such words might seem strange in the mouth of a small horse-dealing noble; but apparently the young lord did not pay attention to that, for he merely winked cunningly and said—
“But am I a fool? With me the first rule is that my own shall not leave me, for what the Lord God has given must be respected. I stayed at home quietly with my produce and grain, and when I had sold in Prussia all my crops, cattle, and utensils, I thought to myself: ‘It is time for the road. Let them take vengeance on me now, let them take whatever pleases their taste.’ ”
“Your grace has left the hind and the buildings for good?”
“Yes, for I hired the starostaship of Vansosh from the voevoda of Mazovia, and just now the term has expired. I have not paid the last rent, and I will not, for I hear the voevoda of Mazovia is an adherent of the Swedes. Let the rent be lost to him for that, and it will add to my ready money.”
“ ’Pon my word,” said Kmita, smiling, “I see that your grace is not only a brave cavalier, but an adroit one.”
“Of course,” replied the unknown. “Adroitness is the main thing! But I was not speaking of that. Why is it that, feeling the wrongs of our country and of our gracious king, you do not go to those honorable soldiers in Podlyasye and join their banner? You would serve both God and yourself; luck might come, for to more than one has it happened to come out of war a great man, from being a small noble. It is evident that you are bold and resolute, and since your birth is no hindrance, you might advance quickly to some fortune, if God favors you with booty. If you do not squander that which here and there will fall into your hands, the purse will grow heavy. I do not know whether you have land or not, but you may have it; with a purse it is not hard to rent an estate, and from renting an estate to owning one, with the help of the Lord, is not far. And so, beginning as an attendant, you may die an officer, or in some dignity in the country, in case you are not lazy in labor; for whoso rises early, to him God gives treasure.”
Kmita gnawed his mustache, for laughter seized him; then his face quivered, and he squirmed, for from time to time pain came from the healing wound. The unknown continued—
“As to receiving you there, they will receive you, for they need men; besides, you have pleased me, and I take you under my protection, with which you may be certain of promotion.”
Here the young man raised his plump face with pride, and began to smooth his mustaches; at last he said—
“Will you be my attendant, carry my sabre, and manage my men?”
Kmita did not restrain himself, but burst out in sincere, joyous laughter, so that all his teeth gleamed.
“Why laugh?” asked the unknown, frowning.
“From delight at the service.”
But the youthful personage was offended in earnest, and said—
“He was a fool who taught you such manners, and be careful with whom you are speaking, lest you exceed measure in familiarity.”
“Forgive me, your grace,” answered Kmita, joyously, “for really I do not know before whom I am standing.”
The young lord put his hands on his hips: “I am Pan Jendzian of Vansosh,” said he, with importance.
Kmita had opened his mouth to tell his assumed name, when Biloüs came hurriedly into the room.
“Pan Com—”
Here the soldier, stopped by the threatening look of Kmita, was confused, stammered, and finally coughed out with effort—
“I beg to tell you some people are coming.”
“Where from?”
“From Shchuchyn.”
Kmita was embarrassed, but hiding his confusion quickly, he answered, “Be on your guard. Are there many?”
“About ten men on horseback.”
“Have the pistols ready. Go!”
When the soldier had gone out, Kmita turned to Pan Jendzian of Vansosh and asked—
“Are they not Swedes?”
“Since you are going to them,” answered Pan Jendzian, who for some time had looked with astonishment on the young noble, “you must
