“I commit her to your virtue, bravery, and honor,” said the princess once more to Kmita; “and remember that you have sworn to me to conduct her to Pan Sapyeha without fail.”
“I will take her as I would a glass, and in need will wind oakum around her, because I have given my word; death alone will prevent me from keeping it,” answered the knight.
He gave his arm to Anusia, but she was angry and did not look at him; he had treated her rather slightingly, therefore she gave him her hand very haughtily, turning her face and head in another direction.
She was sorry to depart, and fear seized her; but it was too late then to draw back.
The moment came; they took their seats—she in the carriage with her old servant, Panna Suvalski, he on his horse—and they started. Twelve German horsemen surrounded the carriage and the wagon with Anusia’s effects. When at last the doors in the Warsaw gate squeaked and the rattle of wheels was heard on the drop-bridge, Anusia burst into loud weeping.
Kmita bent toward the carriage. “Fear not, my lady, I will not eat you!”
“Clown!” thought Anusia.
They rode some time along the houses outside the walls, straight toward Old Zamost; then they entered fields and a pinewood, which in those days stretched along a hilly country to the Bug on one side; on the other it extended, interrupted by villages, to Zavihost.
Night had fallen, but very calm and clear; the road was marked by a silver line; only the rolling of the carriage and the tramp of the horses broke the silence.
“My Tartars must be lurking here like wolves in a thicket,” thought Kmita.
Then he bent his ear.
“What is that?” asked he of the officer who was leading the escort.
“A tramp! Some horseman is galloping after us!” answered the officer.
He had barely finished speaking when a Cossack hurried up on a foaming horse, crying—
“Pan Babinich! Pan Babinich! A letter from Pan Zamoyski.”
The retinue halted. The Cossack gave the letter to Kmita.
Kmita broke the seal, and by the light of a lantern read as follows:—
“Gracious and dearest Pan Babinich! Soon after the departure of Panna Borzobogati tidings came to us that the Swedes not only have not left Lublin, but that they intend to attack my Zamost. In view of this, further journeying and peregrination become inconvenient. Considering therefore the dangers to which a fair head might be exposed, we wish to have Panna Borzobogati in Zamost. Those same knights will bring her back; but you, who must be in haste to continue your journey, we do not wish to trouble uselessly. Announcing which will of ours to your grace, we beg you to give orders to the horseman according to our wishes.”
“Still he is honest enough not to attack my life; he only wishes to make a fool of me,” thought Kmita. “But we shall soon see if there is a trap here or not.”
Now Anusia put her head out of the window. “What is the matter?” asked she.
“Nothing! Pan Zamoyski commends you once more to my bravery. Nothing more.”
Here he turned to the driver—
“Forward!”
The officer leading the horsemen reined in his horse. “Stop!” cried he to the driver. Then to Kmita, “Why move on?”
“But why halt longer in the forest?” asked Kmita, with the face of a stupid rogue.
“For you have received some order.”
“And what is that to you? I have received, and that is why I command to move on.”
“Stop!” repeated the officer.
“Move on!” repeated Kmita.
“What is this?” inquired Anusia again.
“We will not go a step farther till I see the order!” said the officer, with decision.
“You will not see the order, for it is not sent to you.”
“Since you will not obey it, I will carry it out. You move on to Krasnystav, and have a care lest we give you something for the road, but we will go home with the lady.”
Kmita only wished the officer to acknowledge that he knew the contents of the order; this proved with perfect certainty that the whole affair was a trick arranged in advance.
“Move on with God!” repeated the officer now, with a threat.
At that moment the horsemen began one after another to take out their sabres.
“Oh, such sons! not to Zamost did you wish to take the maiden, but aside somewhere, so that Pan Zamoyski might give free rein to his wishes; but you have met with a more cunning man!” When Babinich had said this, he fired upward from a pistol.
At this sound there was such an uproar in the forest, as if the shot had roused whole legions of wolves sleeping near by. The howl was heard in front, behind, from the sides. At once the tramp of horses sounded with the cracking of limbs breaking under their hoofs, and on the road were seen black groups of horsemen, who approached with unearthly howling.
“Jesus! Mary! Joseph!” cried
