The voevoda was silent. In a marvellous manner did this leader add to the courage of his soldiers. "The king is to blame for all!" was shouted more and more frequently. "But do you remember, gentlemen, the history of Yan Olbracht?" asked the voevoda. "The nobles perished for King Olbracht. Treason, brothers!" "The king is a traitor!" cried some bold voices. The voevoda was silent. Now Ostrojka, standing by the side of the voevoda, struck himself a number of times on the legs, and crowed like a cock with such shrillness that all eyes were turned to him. Then he shouted, "Gracious lords! brothers, dear hearts! listen to my riddle." With the genuine fickleness of March weather, the stormy militia changed in one moment to curiosity and desire to hear some new stroke of wit from the jester. "We hear! we hear!" cried a number of voices. The jester began to wink like a monkey and to recite in a squeaking voice,-- "After his brother he solaced himself with a crown and a wife, But let glory go down to the grave with his brother. He drove out the vice-chancellor; hence now has the fame Of being vice-chancellor to--the vice-chancellor's wife." "The king! the king! As alive! Yan Kazimir!" they began to cry from every side; and laughter, mighty as thunder, was heard in the crowd. "May the bullets strike him, what a masterly explanation!" cried the nobles. The voevoda laughed with the others, and when it had grown somewhat calm he said, with increased dignity: "And for this affair we must pay now with our blood and our heads. See what it has come to! Here, jester, is a ducat for thy good verse." "Kryshtofek! Krysh dearest!" said Ostrojka, "why attack others because they keep jesters, when thou not only keepest me, but payest separately for riddles? Give me another ducat and I'll tell thee another riddle." "Just as good?" "As good, only longer. Give me the ducat first." "Here it is!" The jester slapped his sides with his hands, as a cock with his wings, crowed again, and cried out, "Gracious gentlemen, listen! Who is this?" "He complains of self-seeking, stands forth as a Cato; Instead of a sabre he took a goose's tail-feather He wanted the legacy of a traitor, and not getting that He lashed the whole Commonwealth with a biting rhyme. "God grant him love for the sabre! less woe would it bring. Of his satire the Swedes have no fear. But he has barely tasted the hardships of war When following a traitor he is ready to betray his king." All present guessed that riddle as well as the first. Two or three laughs, smothered at the same instant, were heard in the assembly; then a deep silence fell. The voevoda grew purple, and he was the more confused in that all eyes were fixed on him at that moment. But the jester looked on one noble and then on another; at last he said, "None of you gentlemen can guess who that is?"