carried, therefore, Zagloba in their arms, and stood before him with bared heads, even the greatest lords. Pan Podlyaski drank three days with him; the Patses, whom he met in Kalushyn, bore him on their hands.
More than one man gave command to thrust into the old hero's hamper considerable gifts, from vodka and wine to richly ornamented caskets, sabres, and pistols.
Zagloba's servants too had good profit from this; and he, despite resolutions and promises, travelled so slowly that only on the third week did he reach Minsk.
But he did not halt for refreshments at Minsk. Driving to the square, he saw a retinue so conspicuous and splendid that he had not met such on the road hitherto: attendants in brilliant colors; half a regiment of infantry alone, for to the Diet of Convocation men did not go armed on horseback, but these troops were in such order that the King of Sweden had not a better guard; the place was filled with gilded carriages carrying tapestry and carpets to use in public houses on the way; wagons with provision chests and supplies of food; with them were servants, nearly all foreign, so that in that throng few spoke an intelligible tongue.
Zagloba saw at last an attendant in Polish costume; hence he gave order to halt, and sure of good entertainment, had put forth one foot already from the wagon, asking at the same time, "But whose retinue is this, so splendid that the king can have no better?"
"Whose should it be," replied the attendant, "but that of our lord, the Prince Marshal of Lithuania?"
"Whose?" repeated Zagloba.
"Are you deaf? Prince Boguslav Radzivill, who is going to the Convocation, but who, God grant, after the election will be elected."
Zagloba hid his foot quickly in the wagon. "Drive on!" cried he. "There is nothing here for us!"
And he went on, trembling from indignation.
"O Great God!" said he, "inscrutable are Thy decrees; and if Thou dost not shatter this traitor with Thy thunderbolts. Thou hast in this some hidden designs which it is not permitted to reach by man's reason, though judging in human fashion, it would have been proper to give a good blow to such a bull-driver. But it is evident that evil is working in this most illustrious Commonwealth, if such traitors, without honor and conscience, not only receive no punishment, but ride in safety and power, – nay, exercise civil functions also. It must be that we shall perish, for in what other country, in what other State, could such a thing be brought to pass? Yan Kazimir was a good king, but he forgave too often, and accustomed the wickedest to trust in impunity and safety. Still, that is not his fault alone. It is clear that in the nation civil conscience and the feeling of public virtue has perished utterly. Tfu! tfu! he a deputy! In his infamous hands citizens place the integrity and safety of the country, – in those very hands with which he was rending it and fastening it in Swedish fetters. We shall be lost; it cannot be otherwise! Still more to make a king of him, the – But what! 'tis evident that everything is possible among such people. He a deputy! For God's sake! But the law declares clearly that a man who fills offices in a foreign country cannot be a deputy; and he is a governor-general in princely Prussia under his mangy uncle. Ah, ha! wait, I have thee. And verifications at the Diet, what are they for? If I do not go to the hall and raise this question, though I am only a spectator, may I be turned this minute into a fat sheep, and my driver into a butcher! I will find among deputies men to support me. I know not, traitor, whether I can overcome such a potentate and exclude thee; but what I shall do will not help thy election, – that is sure. And Michael, poor fellow, must wait for me, since this is an action of public importance."
So thought Zagloba, promising himself to attend with care to that case of expulsion, and to bring over deputies in private; for this reason he hastened on more hurriedly to Warsaw from Minsk, fearing to be late for the opening of the Diet. But he came early enough. The concourse of deputies and other persons was so great that it was utterly impossible to find lodgings in Warsaw itself, or in Praga, or even outside the city; it was difficult too to find a place in a private house, for three or four persons were lodged in single rooms. Zagloba spent the first night in a shop, and it passed rather pleasantly; but in the morning, when he found himself in his wagon, he did not know well what to do.
"My God! my God!" said he, falling into evil humor, and looking around on the Cracow suburbs, which he had just passed; "here are the Bernardines, and there is the ruin of the Kazanovski Palace! Thankless city! I had to wrest it from the enemy with my blood and toil, and now it grudges me a corner for my gray head."
But the city did not by any means grudge Zagloba a corner for his gray head; it simply hadn't one. Meanwhile a lucky star was watching over him, for barely had he reached the palace of the Konyetspolskis when a voice called from one side to his driver, "Stop!"
The man reined in the horses; then an unknown nobleman approached the wagon with gleaming face, and cried out, "Pan Zagloba! Does your grace not know me?"
Zagloba saw before him a man of somewhat over thirty years, wearing a leopard-skin cap with a feather, – an unerring mark of military service, – a poppy-colored under-coat, and a dark-red kontush, girded with a gold brocade belt. The face of the unknown was of unusual beauty: his complexion was pale, but burned somewhat by wind in the fields to a yellowish tinge; his blue eyes were full of a certain melancholy and pensiveness; his features were unusually symmetrical, almost too beautiful for a man. Notwithstanding his Polish dress, he wore long hair and a beard cut in foreign fashion. Halting at the wagon, he opened his arms widely; and Zagloba, though he could not remember him at once, bent over and embraced him. They pressed each other heartily, and at moments one pushed the other back so as to have a better look.
"Pardon me, your grace," said Zagloba, at last; "but I cannot call to mind yet."
"Hassling-Ketling!"
"For God's sake! The face seemed well known to me, but the dress has changed you entirely, for I saw you in old times in a Prussian uniform. Now you wear the Polish dress?"
"Yes; for I have taken as my mother this Commonwealth, which received me when a wanderer, almost in years of boyhood, and gave me abundant bread and another mother I do not wish. You do not know that I received citizenship after the war."
"But you bring me good news! So Fortune favored you in this?"
"Both in this and in something else; for in Courland, on the very boundary of Jmud, I found a man of my own name, who adopted me, gave me his escutcheon, and bestowed on me property. He lives in Svyenta in Courland; but on this side he has an estate called Shkudy, which he gave me."
"God favor you! Then you have given up war?"
"Only let the chance come, and I'll take my place without fail. In view of that, I have rented my land, and am waiting here for an opening."
"That is the courage that I like. Just as I was in youth, and I have strength yet in my bones. What are you doing now in Warsaw?"
"I am a deputy at the Diet of Convocation."
"God's wounds! But you are already a Pole to the bones!"
The young knight smiled. "To my soul, which is better."
"Are you married?"
Ketling sighed. "No."
"Only that is lacking. But I think – wait a minute! But has that old feeling for Panna Billevich gone out of your mind?"
"Since you know of that which I thought my secret, be assured that no new one has come."
"Oh, leave her in peace! She will soon give the world a young Kmita. Never mind! What sort of work is it to sigh when another is living
