Harasimovich gave the sealed letter; the prince opened it, and began to read as follows:-- May God guard and restrain your highness from such plans as might bring eternal infamy and destruction to our house! Set your mind on a hair-shirt rather than on dominion. The greatness of our house lies at my heart also, and the best proof of this is in the efforts which I made in Vienna that we should have a vote in the diets of the Empire. But I will not betray the country nor my king for any reward or earthly power, so as not to gather after such a sowing a harvest of infamy during life and damnation after death. Consider, your highness, the services of your ancestors and their unspotted fame; think of the mercy of God while the time is fitting. The enemy have surrounded me in Nyesvyej, and I know not whether this letter will reach your hands; but though destruction threatens me every moment, I do not ask God to rescue me, but to restrain your highness from those plans and bring you to the path of virtue. Even if something evil is done already, it is possible yet to draw back, and it is necessary to blot out the offences with a swift hand. But do not expect aid from me, for I say in advance that without regard to bonds of blood, I will join my forces with those of Pan Gosyevski and the voevoda of Vityebsk; and a hundred times rather would I turn my arms against your highness than put my hands voluntarily to that infamous treason. I commend your highness to God. Michael Kazimir, _Prince in Nyesvyej and Olyta, Chamberlain of the Grand Principality of Lithuania_. When the hetman had finished the letter he dropped it on his knee, and began to shake his head with a painful smile on his face. "And he leaves me, my own blood rejects me, because I wished to adorn our house with a glory hitherto unknown! Ah! it is difficult! Boguslav remains, and he will not leave me. With us is the Elector and Karl Gustav; and who will not sow will not reap." "Infamy!" whispered his conscience. "Is your highness pleased to give an answer?" asked Harasimovich. "There will be no answer." "May I go and send the attendants?" "Wait! Are the guards stationed carefully?" "They are." "Are orders sent to the squadrons?" "They are." "What is Kmita doing?" "He was knocking his head against the wall and crying about disgrace. He was wriggling like a mudfish. He wanted to run after the Billeviches, but the guards would not let him. He drew his sabre; they had to tie him. He is lying quietly now." "Has the sword-bearer of Rossyeni gone?" "There was no order to stop him."