“Our colonel seized that traitor in Billeviche, as a fox in his den, and straightway commanded to lead him to death; I took him with great delight, for the hand of God had reached him, and from moment to moment I held the lantern to his eyes, to see if he showed any sorrow. But no! He went boldly, not considering that he would stand before the judgment of God—such is his reprobate nature. And when I advised him to make even the sign of the cross, he answered, ‘Shut thy mouth, fellow; ’tis no affair of thine!’ We posted him under a pear-tree outside the village, and I was already giving the word, when Pan Zagloba, who went with us, gave the order to search him, to see if he had papers on his person. A letter was found. Pan Zagloba said, ‘Hold the light!’ and he read. He had barely begun reading when he caught his head: ‘Jesus, Mary! bring him back to the house!’ Pan Zagloba mounted his horse and rode off, and we brought Kmita back, thinking they would burn him before death, to get information from him. But nothing of the kind! They let the traitor go free. It was not for my head to judge what they found in the letter, but I would not have let him go.”
“What was in that letter?” asked the tenant of Vansosh.
“I know not; I only think that there must have been still other officers in the hands of the prince voevoda, who would have had them shot right away if we had shot Kmita. Besides, our colonel may have taken pity on the tears of Panna Billevich, for she fell in a faint so that hardly were they able to bring her to her senses. I do not make bold to complain; still evil has happened, for the harm which that man has done, Lucifer himself would not be ashamed of. All Lithuania weeps through him; and how many widows and orphans and how many poor people complain against him is known to God only. Whoso destroys him will have merit in heaven and before men.”
Here conversation turned again to Pan Volodyovski, the Skshetuskis, and the squadrons in Podlyasye.
“It is hard to find provisions,” said Butrym, “for the lands of the hetman are plundered completely—nothing can be found in them for the tooth of a man or a horse; and the nobles are poor in the villages, as with us in Jmud. The colonels have determined therefore to divide the horses into hundreds, and post them five or ten miles apart. But when winter comes, I cannot tell what will happen.”
Kmita, who had listened patiently while the conversation touched him, moved now, and had opened his mouth to say from his dark corner, “The hetman will take you, when thus divided, one by one, like lobsters from a net.” But at that moment the door opened, and in it stood Soroka, whom Kmita had sent to get the horses ready for the road. The light from the chimney fell straight on the stern face of the sergeant. Yuzva Butrym glanced at him, looked a long time, then turned to Jendzian and asked—
“Is that a servant of your great mightiness? I know him from some place or another.”
“No,” replied Jendzian; “those are nobles going with horses to fairs.”
“But whither?” asked Yuzva.
“To Sobota,” said old Kyemlich.
“Where is that?”
“Not far from Pyantek.”
Yuzva accounted this answer an untimely jest, as Kmita had previously, and said with a frown, “Answer when people ask!”
“By what right do you ask?”
“I can make that clear to you, for I am sent out to see if there are not suspicious men in the neighborhood. Indeed it seems to me there are some, who do not wish to tell where they are going.”
Kmita, fearing that a fight might rise out of this conversation, said, without moving from the dark corner—
“Be not angry, worthy soldier, for Pyantek and Sobota are towns, like others, in which horse-fairs are held in the fall. If you do not believe, ask the lord starosta, who must know of them.”
“They are regular places,” said Jendzian.
“In that case it is all right. But why go to those places? You can sell horses in Shchuchyn, where there is a great lack of them, and those which we took in Pilvishki are good for nothing; they are galled.”
“Every man goes where it is better for him, and we know our own road,” answered Kmita.
“I know not whether it is better for you; but it is not better for us that horses are driven to the Swedes and informants go to them.”
“It is a wonder to me,” said the tenant of Vansosh. “These people talk against the Swedes, and somehow they are in a hurry to go to them.” Here he turned to Kmita: “And you do not seem to me greatly like a horse-dealer, for I saw a fine ring on your finger, of which no lord would be ashamed.”
“If it has pleased your grace, buy it of me; I gave two quarters for it in Leng.”
“Two quarters? Then it is not genuine, but a splendid counterfeit. Show it.”
“Take it, your grace.”
“Can you not move yourself? Must I go?”
“I am terribly tired.”
“Ah, brother, a man would say that you are trying to hide your face.”
Hearing this, Yuzva said not a word, but approached the chimney, took out a burning brand, and holding it high above his head, went straight toward Kmita and held the light before his eyes.
Kmita rose in an instant to his whole height, and during one wink of an eyelid they looked at each other eye to eye. Suddenly the brand fell from the hand of Yuzva, scattering a thousand sparks on the way.
“Jesus, Mary!” screamed Butrym, “this is Kmita!”
“I am he!” said Pan Andrei, seeing that there were no further means of concealment.
“This way, this way! Seize him!” shouted Yuzva to the soldiers who had
