"I forgot!" said the prince. "Open the windows, for it is stifling and asthma is choking me. Tell Kharlamp to go to Upita for the squadron and bring it here at once. Give him money, let him pay the men for the first quarter and let them get merry. Tell him that he will receive Dydkyemie for life instead of Volodyovski. The asthma is choking me. Wait!" "According to order." "What is Kmita doing?" "As I said, your highness, he is lying quietly." "True, you told me. Give the order to send him here. I want to speak with him. Have his fetters taken off." "Your highness, he is a madman." "Have no fear, go!" Harasimovich went out. The prince took from a Venetian cabinet a case with pistols, opened it, and placed it near at hand on the table by which he sat. In a quarter of an hour Kmita entered, attended by four Scottish soldiers. The prince ordered the men to withdraw, and remained face to face with Kmita. There did not seem to be one drop of blood in the visage of the young man, so pale was it, but his eyes were gleaming feverishly; for the rest he was calm, resigned, though apparently sunk in endless despair. Both were silent for a while. The prince spoke first. "You took oath on the crucifix not to desert me." "I shall be damned if I keep that oath, damned if I break it. It is all one to me!" "Even if I had brought you to evil, you would not be responsible." "A month ago judgments and punishments threatened me for killing; to-day it seems to me that then I was as innocent as a child." "Before you leave this room, you will feel absolved from all your previous sins," said the prince. Suddenly, changing his tone, he inquired with a certain confidential kindness, "What do you think it was my duty to do in the face of two enemies, a hundred-fold stronger than I, enemies against whom I could not defend this country?" "To die!" answered Kmita, rudely.