brother!"
"Have a drink with me too!"
"Long life to Vishnyevetski's men!"
"So young, and already a lieutenant with Vishnyevetski!"
"Long life to Yeremi, hetman of hetmans! With him we will go to the ends of the earth!"
"Against Turks and Tartars!"
"To Stamboul!"
"Long life to Vladislav, our king!"
Loudest of all shouted Pan Zagloba, who was ready all alone to out-drink and out-talk a whole regiment.
"Gentlemen!" shouted he, till the window-panes rattled, "I have summoned the Sultan for the assault on me which he permitted in Galáts."
"If you don't stop talking, you may wear the skin off your mouth."
"How so, my dear sir? Quatuor articuli judicii castrensis: stuprum, incendium, latrocinium et vis armata alienis ædibus illata. Was not that specifically vis armata?"
"You are a noisy woodcock, my friend."
"I'll go even to the highest court."
"But won't you keep quiet?"
"I will get a decision, proclaim him an outlaw, and then war to the knife."
"Health to you, gentlemen!"
Some broke out in laughter, and with them Skshetuski, for his head buzzed a trifle now; but Zagloba babbled on just like a woodcock, charmed with his own voice. Happily his discourse was interrupted by another noble, who, stepping up, pulled him by the sleeve and said in singing Lithuanian tones,--
"Introduce me, friend Zagloba, to Lieutenant Skshetuski,--introduce me, please!"
"Of course, of course. Most worthy lieutenant, this is Pan Povsinoga."
"Podbipienta," said the other, correcting him.
"No matter; but his arms are Zervipludry--"2
"Zervikaptur,"3 corrected the stranger.
"All right. From Psikishki--"4
"From Myshikishki,"5 corrected the stranger.
"It's all the same. I don't remember whether I said mouse or dog entrails. But one thing is certain: I should not like to live in either place, for it is not easy to get there, and to depart is unseemly. Most gracious sir," said he, turning to Skshetuski, "I have now for a week been drinking wine at the expense of this gentleman, who has a sword at his belt as heavy as his purse, and his purse is as heavy as his wit. But if ever I have drunk wine at the cost of such an original, then may I call myself as big a fool as the man who buys wine for me."
"Well, he has given him a description!"
But the Lithuanian was not angry; he only waved his hand, smiled kindly, and said: "You might give us a little peace; it is terrible to listen to you!"
Pan Yan looked with curiosity at the new figure, which in truth deserved to be called original. First of all, it was the figure of a man of such stature that his head was as high as a wall, and his extreme leanness made him appear taller still. His broad shoulders and sinewy neck indicated uncommon strength, but he was merely skin and bone. His stomach had so fallen in from his chest that he might have been taken for a man dying of hunger. He was well dressed in a gray closely fitting coat of sveboda cloth with narrow arms, and high Swedish boots, then coming into use in Lithuania. A broad and well-filled elk-skin girdle with nothing to support it had slipped down to his hips; to this girdle was attached a Crusader's sword, which was so long that it reached quite to the shoulder of this gigantic man.
But whoever should be alarmed at the sword would be reassured in a moment by a glance at the face of its owner. The face, lean like the whole person, was adorned with hanging brows and a pair of drooping, hemp-colored mustaches, but was as honest and sincere as the face of a child. The hanging mustaches and brows gave him an expression at once anxious, thoughtful, and ridiculous. He looked like a man whom people elbow aside; but he pleased Skshetuski from the first glance because of the sincerity of his face and his perfect soldierly self-control.
"Lieutenant," said he, "you are in the service of Prince Vishnyevetski?"
"I am."
The Lithuanian placed his hands together as if in prayer, and raised his eyes.
"Ah, what a mighty warrior, what a hero, what a leader!"
"God grant the Commonwealth as many such as possible!"
"But could I not enter his service?"
"He will be glad to have you."
At this point Zagloba interrupted the conversation.
"The prince will have two spits for his kitchen,--one in you, one in your sword,--or he will hire you as a cook, or he will order robbers to be hanged on you, or he will measure cloth with you to make uniforms! Tfu! why are you not ashamed as a man and a Catholic to be as long as a serpent or the lance of an infidel?"
"Oh, it's disgusting to hear you," said the Lithuanian, patiently.
"What is your title?" asked Skshetuski; "for when you were speaking Pan Zagloba interrupted so often that if you will pardon me--"
"Podbipienta."
"Povsinoga," added Zagloba.
"Zervikaptur of Myshikishki."
"Here, old woman, is fun for you. I drink his wine, but I'm a fool if these are not outlandish titles."
"Are you from Lithuania?" asked the lieutenant.
"Well, I'm two weeks now in Chigirin. Hearing from Pan Zatsvilikhovski that you were coming, I waited to present my request to the prince with his recommendation."
"Tell me, please,--for I am curious,--why do you carry such an executioner's sword under your arm?"
"It is not the sword of an executioner, Lieutenant, but of a Crusader, and I wear it because it is a trophy and has been long in my family. It served at Khoinitsi in Lithuanian hands, and that's why I wear it."
"But it's a savage machine, and must be terribly heavy. It's for two hands, I suppose?"
"Oh, it can be used in two hands or one."
"Let me have a look at it."
The Lithuanian drew the sword and handed it to him; but Skshetuski's arm dropped in a moment. He could neither point the weapon nor aim a blow freely. He tried with both hands; still it was heavy. Skshetuski was a little ashamed, and turning to those present, said,--
"Now, gentlemen, who can make a cross with it?"
"We have tried already," answered several voices. "Pan Zatsvilikhovski is the only man who raises it, but he can't make a cross with it."
"Well, let us see you, sir," said Skshetuski, turning
