"Two dignitaries at the two ends of the Commonwealth have sold the country!" cried Yan Skshetuski. "A curse on this house, shame and God's anger!" Hearing this, Zagloba shook himself free from amazement and burst out: "Ask him how great was the bribe he took from the Swedes? How much have they paid him? How much have they promised him yet? Oh, gentlemen, here is a Judas Iscariot. May you die in despair, may your race perish, may the devil tear out your soul, O traitor, traitor, thrice traitor!" With this Stankyevich, in an ecstasy of despair, drew the colonel's baton from his belt, and threw it with a rattle at the feet of the prince. Mirski threw his next; the third was Yuzefovich; the fourth, Hoshchyts; the fifth, pale as a corpse, Volodyovski; the sixth, Oskyerko,--and the batons rolled on the floor. Meanwhile in that den of the lion these terrible words were repeated before the eyes of the lion from more and more mouths every moment: "Traitor! traitor!" All the blood rushed to the head of the haughty magnate. He grew blue; it seemed that he would tumble next moment a corpse under the table. "Ganhoff and Kmita, to me!" bellowed he, with a terrible voice. At that moment four double doors leading to the hall opened with a crash, and in marched divisions of Scottish infantry, terrible, silent, musket in hand. Ganhoff led them from the main door. "Halt!" cried the prince. Then he turned to the colonels: "Whoso is with me, let him go to the right side of the hall!" "I am a soldier, I serve the hetman; let God be my judge!" said Kharlamp, passing to the right side. "And I!" added Myeleshko. "Not mine will be the sin!" "I protested as a citizen; as a soldier I must obey," added a third, Nyevyarovski, who, though he had thrown down his baton before, was evidently afraid of Radzivill now. After them passed over a number of others, and quite a large group of nobles; but Mirski, the highest in office, and Stankyevich, the oldest in years, Hoshchyts, Volodyovski, and Oskyerko remained where they were, and with them the two Skshetuskis, Zagloba, and a great majority as well of the officers of various heavy and light squadrons as of nobles. The Scottish infantry surrounded them like a wall. Kmita, the moment the prince proposed the toast in honor of Karl Gustav, sprang up from his seat with all the guests, stared fixedly and stood as if turned to stone, repeating with pallid lips, "God! God! God! what have I done?" At the same time a low voice, but for his ear distinct, whispered near by, "Pan Andrei!" He seized suddenly his hair with his hands. "I am cursed for the ages! May the earth swallow me!" A flame flashed out on Olenka's face; her eyes bright as stars were fixed on Kmita. "Shame to those who remain with the hetman! Choose! O God, All Powerful!--What are you doing? Choose!" "Jesus! O Jesus!" cried Kmita.