"In Volodyovski's squadron are Lauda men only."
"The guardians of your maiden. If that is true, begin by conveying her to Kyedani. Only listen: I will undertake to bring the sword-bearer to our side, but do you win the maiden as you can. When I bring over the sword-bearer, he will help you with the girl. If she is willing, I will have the wedding for you at once. If not, take her to the altar without ceremony. When the storm is over, all will be well. That is the best method with women. She will weep, she will despair, when they drag her to the altar; but next day she will think that the devil is not so terrible as they paint him, and the third day she will be glad. How did you part from her yesterday?"
"As if she had given me a slap in the face."
"What did she say?"
"She called me a traitor. I was almost struck with paralysis."
"Is she so furious? When you are her husband, tell her that a distaff is fitter for her than public affairs, and hold her tight."
"Your highness does not know her. She must have a thing either virtue or vice; according to that she judges, and more than one man might envy her her mind. Before you can look around she has struck the point."
"She has struck you to the heart. Try to strike her in like manner."
"If God would grant that, your highness! Once I took her with armed hand, but afterward I vowed to do so no more. And something tells me that were I to take her by force to the altar it would not be to my heart, for I have promised her and myself not to use force again. If her uncle is convinced he will convince her, and then she will look on me differently. Now I will go to Billeviche and bring them both here, for I am afraid that she may take refuge in some cloister. But I tell your highness the pure truth, that though it is a great happiness for me to look on that maiden, I would rather attack the whole Swedish power than stand before her at present, for she does not know my honest intentions and holds me a traitor."
"If you wish I will send another, – Kharlamp or Myeleshko."
"No, I would rather go myself; besides, Kharlamp is wounded."
"That is better. I wanted to send Kharlamp yesterday to Volodyovski's squadron to take command, and if need be force it to obedience; but he is an awkward fellow, and it turns out that he knows not how to hold his own men. I have no service for him. Go first for the sword-bearer and the maiden, and then to those squadrons. In an extreme case do not spare blood, for we must show the Swedes that we have power and are not afraid of rebellion. I will send the colonels away at once under escort; I hope that Pontus de la Gardie will consider this a proof of my sincerity. Myeleshko will take them. The beginning is difficult. I see that half Lithuania will rise against me."
"That is nothing, your highness. Whoso has a clean conscience fears no man."
"I thought that all the Radzivills at least would be on my side, but see what Prince Michael writes from Nyesvyej."
Here the hetman gave Kmita the letter of Kazimir Michael. Pan Andrei cast his eyes over the letter.
"If I knew not the intentions of your highness I should think him right, and the most virtuous man in the world. God give him everything good! He speaks what he thinks."
"Set out now!" said the prince, with a certain impatience.
CHAPTER XVIII
Kmita, however, did not start that day, nor the following, for threatening news began to arrive at Kyedani from every side. Toward evening a courier rushed in with tidings that Mirski's squadron and Stankyevich's also were marching to the hetman's residence, prepared to demand with armed hand their colonels; that there was terrible agitation among them, and that the officers had sent deputations to all the squadrons posted near Kyedani, and farther on to Podlyasye and Zabludovo, with news of the hetman's treason, and with a summons to unite in defence of the country. From this it was easy to see that multitudes of nobles would fly to the insurgent squadrons and form an important force, which it would be difficult to resist in unfortified Kyedani, especially since not every regiment which Radzivill had at hand could be relied on with certainty.
This changed all the calculations and plans of the hetman; but instead of weakening, it seemed to rouse his courage still more. He determined to move at the head of his faithful Scottish regiments, cavalry and artillery, against the insurgents, and stamp out the fire at its birth. He knew that the soldiers without colonels were simply an unorganized throng, that would scatter from terror at the mere name of the hetman. He determined also not to spare blood, and to terrify with examples the whole army, all the nobles, nay, all Lithuania, so that it should not dare even to tremble beneath his iron hand. Everything that he had planned must be accomplished, and accomplished with his own forces.
That very day a number of foreign officers went to Prussia to make new enlistments, and Kyedani was swarming with armed men. The Scottish regiments, the foreign cavalry, the dragoons of Myeleshko and Kharlamp, with the "fire people" of Pan Korf, were preparing for the campaign. The prince's haiduks, his servants, and the citizens of Kyedani were obliged to increase the military forces; and it was determined to hasten the transfer of the prisoners to Birji, where it would be safer to keep them than in exposed Kyedani. The prince hoped with reason that to transport the colonels to a remote fortress, in which, according to treaty, there must be a Swedish garrison already, would destroy in the minds of the rebellious soldiers all hope of rescuing them, and deprive the rebellion itself of every basis. Pan Zagloba, the Skshetuskis, and Volodyovski were to share the lot of the others.
It was already evening when an officer with lantern in hand entered the cellar in which they were, and said, -
"Prepare, gentlemen, to follow me."
"Whither?" asked Zagloba, with a voice of alarm.
"That will be seen. Hurry, hurry!"
"We come."
They went out. In the corridor Scottish soldiers armed with muskets surrounded them. Zagloba grew more and more alarmed.
"Still they would not lead us to death without a priest, without confession," whispered he in the ear of Volodyovski. Then he turned to the officer; "What is your rank, I pray?"
"What is my rank to you?"
"I have many relatives in Lithuania, and it is pleasant to know with whom one has to do."
"No time for inquiries, but he is a fool who is ashamed of his name. I am Roh Kovalski, if you wish to know."
"That is an honorable stock! The men are good soldiers, the women are virtuous. My grandmother was a Kovalski, but she made an orphan of me before I came to the world. Are you from the Vyerush, or the Korab Kovalskis?"
"Do you want to examine me as a witness, in the night?"
"Oh, I do this because you are surely a relative of mine, for we have the same build. You have large bones and shoulders, just like mine, and I got my form from my grandmother."
"Well, we can talk about that on the road. We shall have time!"
"On the road?" said Zagloba; and a great weight fell from his breast. He breathed like a bellows, and gained courage at once.
"Pan Michael," whispered he, "did I not say that they would not cut our heads off?"
Meanwhile they had reached the courtyard. Night had fallen completely. In places red torches were burning or lanterns gleaming, throwing an uncertain light on groups of soldiers, horse and foot, of various arms. The whole court was crowded with troops. Clearly they were ready to march, for a great movement was manifest on all sides. Here and there in the darkness gleamed lances and gun-barrels; horses' hoofs clattered on the pavement; single horsemen hurried between the squadrons, – undoubtedly officers giving commands.
Kovalski stopped the convoy and the prisoners before an enormous wagon drawn by four horses, and having a box made as it were of ladders.
"Take your places, gentlemen," said he.
"Some one is sitting there already," said Zagloba, clambering up. "But our packs?"
"They are under the straw," said Kovalski; "hurry, hurry!"
"But who are sitting here?" asked Zagloba, looking at dark figures stretched on the straw.
"Mirski, Stankyevich, Oskyerko," answered voices.
"Volodyovski, Yan and Stanislav Skshetuski, and Zagloba," answered our knights.
"With the forehead, with the forehead!"
"With the forehead! We are travelling in honorable company. And whither are they taking us, do you know, gentlemen?"
"You are going to Birji," said Kovalski.
When he said this, he gave the command. A convoy of fifty dragoons surrounded the wagon and moved on. The prisoners began to converse in a low voice.
"They will give us to the Swedes," said Mirski; "I expected that."
"I would rather sit among enemies than traitors," answered Stankyevich.
"And I would rather have a bullet in my forehead," said Volodyovski, "than sit with folded arms during such an unfortunate war."
"Do not blaspheme, Michael," answered Zagloba, "for from the wagon, should a convenient moment come, you may give a plunge, and from Birji also; but it is hard to escape with a bullet in the forehead. I foresaw that that traitor would not dare to put bullets in our heads."
"Is there a thing which Radzivill does not dare to do?" asked Mirski. "It is clear that you have come from afar and know him not. On whomsoever he has sworn vengeance, that man is as good as in the grave; and I remember no instance of his forgiving any one the slightest offence."
"But still he did not dare to raise hands on me!" answered Zagloba. "Who knows if you have not to thank me for your lives?"
"And how?"
"Because the Khan loves me wonderfully, for I discovered a conspiracy against his life when I was a captive in the Crimea. And our gracious king, Yan Kazimir, loves me too. Radzivill, the son of a such a one, did not wish to break with two such potentates; for they might reach him, even in Lithuania."
"Ah! what are you saying? He hates the king as the devil does holy water, and would be still more envenomed against you did he know you to be a confidant of the king," observed Stankyevich.
"I think this," said Oskyerko. "To avoid odium the hetman would not stain himself with our blood, but I could swear that this officer is bearing an order to the Swedes in Birji to shoot us on the spot."
"Oi!" exclaimed Zagloba.
They were silent for a moment; meanwhile the wagon had rolled into the square of Kyedani. The town was sleeping, there were no lights in the windows, only the dogs before the houses snapped angrily at the passing party.
"Well," said Zagloba, "we have gained time anyhow, and perhaps a chance will serve us, and some stratagem may come to my head." Here he turned to the old colonels: "Gentlemen, you know me little, but ask my comrades about the hot places in which I have been, and from which I have always escaped. Tell me, what kind of officer is this who commands the convoy? Could he be persuaded not to adhere to a traitor, but take the side of his country and join us?"
"That is Roh Kovalski of the Korab Kovalskis," answered Oskyerko.
"I know him. You might as well persuade his horse as him; for as God is bountiful I know not which is more stupid."
"But why did they make him officer?"
"He carried the banner with Myeleshko's dragoons; for this no wit is needed. But he was made officer because his fist pleased the prince; for he breaks horseshoes, wrestles with tame bears, and the man has not yet been discovered whom he cannot bring to the earth."
"Has he such strength?"
"That he has such strength is true; but were his superior to order him to batter down a wall with his head he would fall to battering it without a moment's delay. He is ordered to take us to Birji, and he will take us, even if the earth had to sink."
"'Pon my word," said Zagloba, who listened to this conversation with great attention, "he is a resolute fellow."
"Yes, but with him resolution consists in stupidity alone. When he has time, and is not eating, he is sleeping. It is an astonishing thing, which you will not believe; but once he slept forty-eight hours in the barracks, and yawned when they dragged him from the plank bed."
"This officer pleases me greatly," said Zagloba, "for I always like to know with whom I have to do."
When he had said this he turned to Kovalski. "But come this way, please!" cried he, in a patronizing tone.
"What is it?" asked Kovalski, turning his horse.
"Have you gorailka?"
"I have."
"Give it!"
"How give it?"
"You know, gracious Kovalski, if it were not permitted you would have had an order not to give it; but since you have not an order, give it."
"Ah," said Kovalski, astonished, "as I live! but that is like forcing."
"Forcing or not forcing, it is permitted you; and it is proper to assist a blood relative and an older man, who, if he had married your mother, might have been your father as easily as wink."
"What relative are you of mine?"
"I am, for there are two stocks of Kovalskis, – they who use the seal of Vyerush and have a goat painted on their shield, with upraised hind leg; and they who have on their shield the ship in which their ancestor Kovalski sailed from England across the sea to Poland; and these are my relatives, through my grandmother, and this is why I, too, have the ship on my shield."
"As God lives! you are my relative."
"Are you a Korab (ship)?"
"A Korab."
"My own blood, as God is dear to me!" cried Zagloba. "It is lucky that we have met, for in very truth I have come here to Lithuania to see the Kovalskis; and though I am in bonds while you are on horseback and in freedom I would gladly embrace you, for what is one's own is one's own."
"How can I help you? They commanded me to take you to Birji; I will take you. Blood is blood, but service is service."
"Call me Uncle," said Zagloba.
"Here is gorailka for you, Uncle," said Kovalski; "I can do that much."
Zagloba took the flask gladly, and drank to his liking. Soon a pleasant warmth spread through his members. It began to grow clear in his brain, and his mind became bright.
"Come down from the horse," said he to Kovalski, "and sit here a short time in the wagon; let us talk, for I should like to have you say something about our family. I respect service, but this too is permitted."
Kovalski did not answer for a while.
"This was not forbidden," said he, at last.
Soon after he was sitting at the side of Zagloba, and stretched himself gladly on the straw with which the wagon was filled.
Zagloba embraced him heartily.
"How is the health of thy old father? – God help me, – I've forgotten his name."
"Roh, also."
"That's right, that's right. Roh begat Roh, – that is according to command. You must call your son Roh as well, so that every hoopoo may have his topknot. But are you married?"
"Of course! I am Kovalski, and here is Pani Kovalski; I don't want any other."
So saying, the young officer raised to the eyes of Zagloba the hilt of a heavy dragoon sabre, and repeated, "I don't want any other."
"Proper!" said Zagloba. "Roh, son of Roh, you are greatly pleasing to me. A soldier is best accommodated when he has no wife save such a one, and I will say more, – she will be a widow before you will be a widower. The only pity is that you cannot have young Rohs by her, for I see that you are a keen cavalier, and it would be a sin were such a stock to die out."
"Oh, no fear of that!" said Kovalski; "there are six brothers of us."
"And all Kohs?"
"Does Uncle know that if not the first, then the second, has to be Roh? – for Roh is our special patron."
"Let us drink again."
"Very well."
Zagloba raised the bottle; he did not drink all, however, but gave it to the officer and said, "To the bottom, to the bottom! It is a pity that I cannot see you," continued he. "The night is so dark that you might hit a man in the face, you would not know your own fingers by sight. But hear me, Roh, where was that army going from Kyedani when we drove out?"
"Against the insurgents."
"The Most High God knows who is insurgent, – you or they."
"I an insurgent? How could that be? I do what my hetman commands."
"But the hetman does not do what the king commands, for surely the king did not command him to join the Swedes. Would you not rather slay the Swedes than give me, your relative, into their hands?"
"I might; but for every command there is obedience."
"And Pani Kovalski would rather slay Swedes; I know her. Speaking between us, the hetman has rebelled against the king and the country. Don't say this to any one, but it is so; and those who serve him are rebels too."
"It is not proper for me to hear this. The hetman has his superior, and I have mine; what is his own belongs to the hetman, and God would punish me if I were to oppose him. That is an unheard of thing."
"You speak honestly; but think, Roh, if you were to happen into the hands of those insurgents, I should be free, and it would be no fault of yours, for nec Hercules contra plures!-I do not know where those squadrons are, but you must know, and you see we might turn toward them a little."
"How is that?"
"As if we went by chance to them? It would not be your fault if they rescued us. You would not have me on your conscience, – and to have a relative on a man's conscience, believe me, is a terrible burden."
"Oh Uncle, what are you saying! As God lives, I will leave the wagon and sit on my horse. It is not I who will have uncle on my conscience, but the hetman. While I live, nothing will come of this talk."
"Nothing is nothing!" said Zagloba; "I prefer that you speak sincerely, though I was your uncle before Radzivill was your hetman. And do you know, Roh, what an uncle is?"
"An uncle is an uncle."
"You have calculated very adroitly; but when a man has no father, the Scriptures say that he must obey his uncle. The power of an uncle is as that of a father, which it is a sin to resist. For consider even this, that whoever marries may easily become a father; but in your uncle flows the same blood as in your mother. I am not in truth the brother of your mother, but my grandmother must have been your grandmother's aunt. Know then that the authority of several generations rests in me; for like everything else in the world we are mortal, therefore authority passes from one of us to another, and neither the hetman nor the king can ignore it, nor force any one to oppose it. It is sacred! Has the full hetman or even the grand hetman the right to command not merely a noble or an officer, but any kind of camp-follower, to rise up against his father, his mother, his grandfather, or his blind old grandmother? Answer me that, Roh. Has he the right?"
"What?" asked Kovalski, with a sleepy voice.
"Against his blind old grandmother!" repeated Zagloba. "Who in that case would be willing to marry and beget children, or wait for grandchildren? Answer me that, Roh."
"I am Kovalski, and this is Pani Kovalski," said the still sleepier officer.
"If it is your wish, let it be so," answered Zagloba. "Better indeed that you have no children, there will be fewer fools to storm around in the world. Is it not true, Roh?"
Zagloba held down his ear, but heard nothing, – no answer now.
"Roh! Roh!" called he, in a low voice.
Kovalski was sleeping like a dead man.
"Are you sleeping?" muttered Zagloba. "Wait a bit-I will take this iron pot off your head, for it is of no use to you. This cloak is too tight at the throat; it might cause apoplexy. What sort of relative were I, did I not save you?"
Here Zagloba's hands began to move lightly about the head and neck of Kovalski. In the wagon all were in a deep sleep; the soldiers too nodded in the saddles; some in front were singing in a low voice, while looking out the road carefully, – for the night, though not rainy, was exceedingly dark.
After a time, however, the soldier leading Kovalski's horse behind the wagon saw in the darkness the cloak and bright helmet of his officer. Kovalski, without stopping the wagon, slipped out and nodded to give him the horse. In a moment he mounted.
"Pan Commandant, where shall we stop to feed?" asked the sergeant, approaching him.
Pan Roh gave no word in reply, but moving forward passed slowly those riding in front and vanished in the darkness. Soon there came to the ears of the dragoons the quick tramp of a horse.
"The commandant has gone at a gallop!" said they to one another. "Surely he wants to look around to see if there is some public house near by. It is time to feed the horses, – time."
A half-hour passed, an hour, two hours, and Pan Kovalski seemed to be ahead all the time, for somehow he was not visible. The horses grew very tired, especially those drawing the wagon, and began to drag on slowly. The stars were leaving the sky.
"Gallop to the commandant," said the sergeant; "tell him the horses are barely able to drag along, and the wagon horses are tired."
One of the soldiers moved ahead, but after an hour returned alone.
"There is neither trace nor ashes of the commandant," said the soldier; "he must have ridden five miles ahead."
The soldiers began to grumble.
"It is well for him he slept through the day, and just now on the wagon; but do thou, soldier, pound through the night with the last breath of thy horse and thyself!"
"There is an inn eighty rods distant," said the soldier who had ridden ahead. "I thought to find him there, but no! I listened, trying to hear the horse-Nothing to be heard. The devil knows where he is!"
"We will stop at the inn anyhow," said the sergeant. "We must let the horses rest."
In fact they halted before the inn. The soldiers dismounted. Some went to knock at the door; others untied bundles of hay, hanging at the saddles, to feed the horses even from their hands.
The prisoners woke when the movement of the wagon ceased.
"But where are we going?" asked old Stankyevich.
"I cannot tell in the night," answered Volodyovski, "especially as we are not going to Upita."
"But does not the load from Kyedani to Birji lie through Upita?" asked Pan Yan.
"It does. But in Upita is my squadron, which clearly the prince fears may resist, therefore he ordered Kovalski to take another road. Just outside Kyedani we turned to Dalnovo and Kroki; from the second place we shall go surely through Beysagoli and Shavli. It is a little out of the way, but Upita and Ponyevyej will remain at the right. On this road there are no squadrons, for all that were there were brought to Kyedani, so as to have them at hand."
"But Pan Zagloba," said Stankyevich, "instead of thinking of stratagems, as he promised, is sleeping sweetly, and snoring."
"Let him sleep. It is clear that he was wearied from talk with that stupid commandant, relationship with whom he confessed. It is evident that he wanted to capture him, but with no result. Whoso would not leave Radzivill for his country, will surely not leave him for a distant relative."
"Are they really relatives?" asked Oskyerko.
"They? They are as much relatives as you and I," answered Volodyovski. "When Zagloba spoke of their common escutcheon, I knew it was not true, for I know well that his is called wczele (in the forehead)."
"And where is Pan Kovalski?"
"He must be with the soldiers or in the inn."
"I should like to ask him to let me sit on some soldier's horse," said Mirski, "for my bones are benumbed."
"He will not grant that," said Stankyevich; "for the night is dark, you could easily put spurs to the horse, and be off. Who could overtake?"
"I will give him my word of honor not to attempt escape; besides, dawn will begin directly."
"Soldier, where is the commandant?" asked Volodyovski of a dragoon standing near.
"Who knows?"
"How, who knows? When I ask thee to call him, call him."
"We know not ourselves, Colonel, where he is," said the dragoon. "Since he crawled out of the wagon and rode ahead, he has not come back."
"Tell him when he comes that we would speak with him."
"As the Colonel wishes," answered the soldier.
The prisoners were silent. From time to time only loud yawning was heard on the wagon; the horses were chewing hay at one side. The soldiers around the wagon, resting on the saddles, were dozing; others talked in a low voice, or refreshed themselves each with what he had, for it turned out that the inn was deserted and tenantless.
The night had begun to grow pale. On its eastern side the dark background of the sky was becoming slightly gray; the stars, going out gradually, twinkled with an uncertain, failing light. Then the roof of the inn became hoary; the trees growing near it were edged with silver. The horses and men seemed to rise out of the shade. After a while it was possible to distinguish faces, and the yellow color of the cloaks. The helmets began to reflect the morning gleam.
Volodyovski opened his arms and stretched himself, yawning from ear to ear; then he looked at the sleeping Zagloba. All at once he threw back his arms and shouted, -
"May the bullets strike him! In God's name! Gracious gentlemen, look here!"
"What has happened?" asked the colonels, opening their eyes.
"Look here, look here!" said Volodyovski, pointing at the sleeping form.
The prisoners turned their glances in the direction indicated, and amazement was reflected on every face. Under the burka, and in the cap of Zagloba, slept, with the sleep of the just, Pan Roh Kovalski; but Zagloba was not in the wagon.
"He has escaped, as God is dear to me!" said the astonished Mirski, looking around on every side, as if he did not yet believe his own eyes.
"Oh, he is a finished rogue! May the hangman-" cried Stankyevich.
"He took the helmet and yellow cloak of that fool, and escaped on his horse."
"Vanished as if he had dropped into water."
"He said he would get away by stratagem."
"They will never see him again!"
"Gentlemen," said Volodyovski, with delight, "you know not that man; and I swear to you to-day that he will rescue us yet, – I know not how, when, with what means, – but I swear that he will."
"God grant it! One cannot believe his eyesight," said Pan Stanislav.
The soldiers now saw what had happened. An uproar rose among them. One crowded ahead of the other to the wagon, stared at their commandant, dressed in a camel's hair burka and lynx-skin cap, and sleeping soundly.
The sergeant began to shake him without ceremony. "Commandant! commandant!"
"I am Kovalski, and this is Pani Kovalski," muttered Roh.
"Commandant, a prisoner has fled."
Kovalski sat up in the wagon and opened his eyes. "What?"
"A prisoner has fled, – that bulky noble who was talking with the commandant."
The officer came to his senses. "Impossible!" cried he, with terrified voice. "How was it? What happened? How did he escape?"
"In the helmet and cloak of the commandant; the soldiers did not know him, the night was dark."
"Where is my horse?" cried Kovalski.
"The horse is gone. The noble fled on him."
"On my horse?"
"Yes."
Kovalski seized himself by the head. "Jesus of Nazareth! King of the Jews!"
After a while he shouted, "Give here that dog-faith, that son of a such a one who gave him the horse!"
"Pan Commandant, the soldier is not to blame. The night was dark, you might have struck a man in the face, and he took your helmet and cloak; rode near me, and I did not know him. If your grace had not sat in the wagon, he could not have done it."
"Kill me, kill me!" cried the unfortunate officer.
"What is to be done?"
"Kill him, catch him!"
"That cannot be done in any way. He is on your horse, – the best horse; ours are terribly road-weary. He fled at the first cock-crow; we cannot overtake him."
"Hunt for a wind in the field!" said Stankyevich.
Kovalski, in a rage, turned to the prisoners. "You helped him to escape! I will-"
Here he balled his gigantic fist, and began to approach them. Then Mirski said threateningly, "Shout not, and remember that you are speaking to superiors."
Kovalski quivered, and straightened himself involuntarily; for really his dignity in presence of such a Mirski was nothing, and all his prisoners were a head above him in rank and significance.
Stankyevich added: "If you have been commanded to take us, take us; but raise no voice, for to-morrow you may be under the command of any one of us."
Kovalski stared and was silent.
"There is no doubt you have fooled away your head, Pan Roh," said Oskyerko. "To say, as you do, that we helped him is nonsense; for, to begin with, we were sleeping, just as you were, and secondly, each one would have helped himself rather than another. But you have fooled away your head. There is no one to blame here but you. I would be the first to order you shot, since being an officer you fell asleep like a badger, and allowed a prisoner to escape in your own helmet and cloak, nay, on your own horse, – an unheard of thing, such as has not happened since the beginning of the world."
"An old fox has fooled the young man!" said Mirski. "Jesus, Mary! I have not even the sabre!" cried Kovalski.
"Will not the sabre be of use to him?" asked Stankyevich, laughing. "Pan Oskyerko has said well, – you have fooled away your head. You must have had pistols in the holsters too?"
"I had!" said Kovalski, as if out of his mind.
Suddenly he seized his head with both hands: "And the letter of the prince to the commandant of Birji! What shall I, unfortunate man, do now? I am lost for the ages! God give me a bullet in the head!"
"That will not miss you," said Mirski, seriously. "How will you take us to Birji now? What will happen if you say that you have brought us as prisoners, and we, superior in rank, say that you are to be thrown into the dungeon? Whom will they believe? Do you think that the Swedish commandant will detain us for the reason simply that Pan Kovalski will beg him to do so? He will rather believe us, and confine you under ground."
"I am lost!" groaned Kovalski.
"Nonsense!" said Volodyovski.
"What is to be done, Pan Commandant?" asked the sergeant.
"Go to all the devils!" roared Kovalski. "Do I know what to do, where to go? God give thunderbolts to slay thee!"
"Go on, go on to Birji; you will see!" said Mirski.