At first they went in silence, nothing save the plash of oars was to be heard; at last Zagloba was somewhat alarmed and said—
“Lot the trumpeter announce us immediately, for those scoundrels are ready to fire in spite of the white flag.”
“What do you say?” answered Volodyovski; “even barbarians respect envoys, and this is a civilized people.”
“Let the trumpeter sound, I say. The first soldier who happens along will fire, make a hole in the boat, and we shall get into the water; the water is cold, and I have no wish to get wet through their courtesy.”
“There, a sentry is visible!” said Kmita.
The trumpeter sounded. The boat shot forward quickly; on the other shore a hurried movement began, and soon a mounted officer rode up, wearing a yellow leather cap. When he had approached the edge of the water he shaded his eyes with his hand and began to look against the light. A few yards from the shore Kmita removed his cap in greeting; the officer bowed to him with equal politeness.
“A letter from Pan Charnyetski to the Most Serene King of Sweden!” cried Pan Andrei, showing the letter.
The guard standing on the shore presented arms. Pan Zagloba was completely reassured; presently he fixed his countenance in dignity befitting his position as an envoy, and said in Latin—
“The past night a certain cavalier was seized on this shore; I have come to ask for him.”
“I cannot speak Latin,” answered the officer.
“Ignoramus!” muttered Zagloba.
The officer turned then to Pan Andrei—
“The king is in the farther end of the camp. Be pleased, gentlemen, to stay here; I will go and announce you.” And he turned his horse.
The envoys looked around. The camp was very spacious, for it embraced the whole triangle formed by the San and the Vistula. At the summit of the triangle lay Panyev, at the base Tarnobjeg on one side, and Rozvadov on the other. Apparently it was impossible to take in the whole extent at a glance; still, as far as the eye could reach, were to be seen trenches, embankments, earthworks, and fascines at which were cannons and men. In the very centre of the place, in Gojytsi, were the quarters of the king; there also the main forces of the army.
“If hunger does not drive them out of this place, we can do nothing with them,” said Kmita. “The whole region is fortified. There is pasture for horses.”
“But there are not fish for so many mouths,” said Zagloba. “Lutherans do not like fasting food. Not long since they had all Poland, now they have this wedge; let them sit here in safety, or go back to Yaroslav.”
“Very skilful men made these trenches,” added Volodyovski, looking with the eye of a specialist on the work. “We have more swordsmen, but fewer learned officers; and in military art we are behind others.”
“Why is that?” asked Zagloba.
“Why? It does not beseem me as a soldier who has served all his life in the cavalry, to say this, but everywhere infantry and cannon are the main thing; hence those campaigns and military maneuvers, marches, and countermarches. A man in a foreign army must devour a multitude of books and turn over a multitude of Roman authors before he becomes a distinguished officer; but there is nothing of that with us. Cavalry rushes into the smoke in a body, and shaves with its sabres; and if it does not shave off in a minute, then they shave it off.”
“You speak soundly, Pan Michael; but what nation has won so many famous victories?”
“Yes, because others in old times warred in the same way, and not having the same impetus they were bound to lose; but now they have become wiser, and see what they are doing.”
“Wait for the end. Place for me now the wisest Swedish or German engineer, and against him I will put Roh, who has never turned over books, and let us see.”
“If you could put him,” interrupted Kmita.
“True, true! I am terribly sorry for him. Pan Andrei, jabber a little in that dog’s language of those breeches fellows, and ask what has happened to Roh.”
“You do not know regular soldiers. Here no man will open his lips to you without an order; they are stingy of speech.”
“I know that they are surly scoundrels. While if to our nobles, and especially to the general militia, an envoy comes, immediately talk, talk, they will drink gorailka with him, and will enter into political discussion with him; and see how these fellows stand there like posts and bulge out their eyes at us! I wish they would smother to the last man!”
In fact, more and more foot-soldiers gathered around the envoys, looking at them curiously. The envoys were dressed so carefully in elegant and even rich garments, that they made an imposing appearance. Zagloba arrested most attention, for he bore himself with almost senatorial dignity; Volodyovski was less considered, by reason of his stature.
Meanwhile the officer who received them first on the bank returned with another of higher rank, and with soldiers leading horses. The superior officer bowed to the envoys and said in Polish—
“His Royal Grace asks you, gentlemen, to his quarters; and since they are not very near we have brought horses.”
“Are you a Pole?” asked Zagloba.
“No, I am a Cheh—Sadovski, in the Swedish service.”
Kmita approached him at once. “Do you know me?”
Sadovski looked at him quickly. “Of course! At Chenstohova you blew up the largest siege gun, and Miller gave you to Kuklinovski. I greet you, greet you heartily as a famous knight.”
“And what is going on with Kuklinovski?” asked Kmita.
“But do you not know?”
“I know that I paid him with that with which he wanted to treat me, but I left him alive.”
“He died.”
“I thought he would freeze to death,” said Pan Andrei, waving his hand.
“Worthy Colonel,” put in Zagloba, “have you not a certain Roh Kovalski?”
Sadovski laughed: “Of course.”
“Praise be to God and
