“Who knows, Michael, this is your fortunate day? Maybe there is a wife for you among these nobles’ daughters,” said Zagloba. “Look! see, there an open carriage is approaching, and in it something white is sitting.”
“That is not a lady, but a man who may marry me to one,” answered the swift-eyed Volodyovski; for from a distance he recognized the bishop Parchevski, coming with Father Byalozor, archdeacon of Vilna.
“If they are priests, how are they visiting a Calvinist?”
“What is to be done? When it’s necessary for public affairs, they must be polite.”
“Oh, it is crowded here! Oh, it is noisy!” cried Zagloba, with delight. “A man grows rusty in the country, like an old key in a lock; here I think of better times. I’m a rascal if I don’t make love to some pretty girl today.”
Zagloba’s words were interrupted by the soldiers keeping guard at the gate, who rushing out from their booths stood in two ranks to salute the bishop; and he rode past, making the sign of the cross with his hand on each side, blessing the soldiers and the nobles assembled near by.
“The prince is a polite man,” said Zagloba, “since he honors the bishop, though he does not recognize the supremacy of the Church. God grant this to be the first step toward conversion!”
“Oh, nothing will come of it! Not few were the efforts of his first wife, and she accomplished nothing, only died from vexation. But why do the Scots not leave the line? It is evident that another dignitary will pass.”
In fact, a whole retinue of armed soldiers appeared in the distance.
“Those are Ganhoff’s dragoons—I know them,” said Volodyovski; “but some carriages are in the middle!”
At that moment the drums began to rattle.
“Oh, it is evident that someone greater than the bishop of Jmud is there!” cried Zagloba.
“Wait, they are here already.”
“There are two carriages in the middle.”
“True. In the first sits Pan Korf, the voevoda of Venden.”
“Of course!” cried Pan Yan; “that is an acquaintance from Zbaraj.”
The voevoda recognized them, and first Volodyovski, whom he had evidently seen oftener; in passing he leaned from the carriage and cried—
“I greet you, gentlemen, old comrades! See, I bring guests!”
In the second carriage, with the arms of Prince Yanush, drawn by four white horses, sat two gentlemen of lordly mien, dressed in foreign fashion, in broad-brimmed hats, from under which the blond curls of wigs flowed to their shoulders over wide lace collars. One was very portly, wore a pointed light-blond beard, and mustaches bushy and turned up at the ends; the other was younger, dressed wholly in black. He had a less knightly form, but perhaps a higher office, for a gold chain glittered on his neck, with some order at the end. Apparently both were foreigners, for they looked with curiosity at the castle, the people, and the dresses.
“What sort of devils?” asked Zagloba.
“I do not know them, I have never seen them,” answered Volodyovski.
Meanwhile the carriages passed, and began to turn in the yard so as to reach the main entrance of the castle, but the dragoons remained outside the gate. Volodyovski knew the officer leading them.
“Tokarzevich!” called he, “come to us, please.”
“With the forehead, worthy Colonel.”
“And what kind of hedgehogs are you bringing?”
“Those are Swedes.”
“Swedes!”
“Yes, and men of distinction. The portly one is Count Löwenhaupt, and the slender man is Benedikt Schitte, Baron von Duderhoff.”
“Duderhoff?” asked Zagloba.
“What do they want here?” inquired Volodyovski.
“God knows!” answered the officer. “We escorted them from Birji. Undoubtedly they have come to negotiate with our prince, for we heard in Birji that he is assembling a great army and is going to move on Livonia.”
“Ah, rascals! you are growing timid,” cried Zagloba. “Now you are invading Great Poland, now you are deposing the king, and now you are paying court to Radzivill, so that he should not tickle you in Livonia. Wait! you will run away to your Dunderhoff till your stockings are down. We’ll soon dunder with you. Long life to Radzivill!”
“Long life!” repeated the nobles, standing near the gate.
“Defender of the country! Our shield! Against the Swedes, worthy gentlemen, against the Swedes!”
A circle was formed. Every moment nobles collected from the yard; seeing which, Zagloba sprang on the low guard-post of the gate, and began to cry—
“Worthy gentlemen, listen! Whoso does not know me, to him I will say that I am that defender of Zbaraj who with this old hand slew Burlai, the greatest hetman after Hmelnitski; whoso has not heard of Zagloba was shelling peas, it is clear, in the first period of the Cossack war, or feeling hens (for eggs), or herding calves—labors which I do not connect with such honorable cavaliers as you.”
“He is a great knight!” called numerous voices. “There is no greater in the Commonwealth! Hear!”
“Listen, honorable gentlemen. My old bones craved repose; better for me to rest in the bakehouse, to eat cheese and cream, to walk in the gardens and gather apples, or putting my hands behind my back to stand over harvesters or pat a girl on the shoulder. And it is certain that for the enemy it would have been better to leave me at rest; for the Swedes and the Cossacks know that I have a very heavy hand, and God grant that my name is as well known to you, gentlemen, as to the enemy.”
“What kind of rooster is that crowing so loud?” asked some voice in the crowd, suddenly.
“Don’t interrupt! Would you were dead!” cried others.
But Zagloba heard him. “Forgive that cockerel, gentlemen,” said he; “for he knows not yet on which end of him is his tail, nor on which his head.”
The nobles burst into mighty laughter, and the confused disturber pushed quickly behind the crowd, to escape the sneers which came raining on his head.
“I return to the subject,” said Zagloba. “I repeat, rest would be proper for me; but because
