Pan Zagloba had his head mightily full when he hurled the word "traitor" thrice at the eyes of the terrible hetman. At an hour nearer morning, when the wine had evaporated from his bald head, and he found himself with the two Skshetuskis and Pan Michael in a dungeon of Kyedani Castle, he saw, when too late, the danger to which he had exposed his own neck and the necks of his comrades, and was greatly cast down. "But what will happen now?" asked he, gazing with dazed look on the little knight, in whom he had special trust in great peril. "May the devil take life! it is all one to me!" answered Volodyovski. "We shall live to such times and such infamy as the world and this kingdom have not seen hitherto!" said Pan Yan. "Would that we might live to them!" answered Zagloba; "we could restore virtue in others by our good example. But shall we live? That is the great question." "This is a terrible event, passing belief!" said Pan Stanislav. "Where has the like of it happened? Save me, gentlemen, for I feel that there is confusion in my head. Two wars,--a third, the Cossack,--and in addition treason, like a plague: Radzyovski, Opalinski, Grudzinski, Radzivill! The end of the world is coming, and the day of judgment; it cannot be otherwise! May the earth open under our feet! As God is dear to me, I am losing my mind!" And clasping his hands at the back of his head, he began to pace the length and width of the cellar, like a wild beast in a cage. "Shall we begin to pray, or what?" asked he at last. "Merciful God, save us!" "Be calm!" said Zagloba; "this is not the time to despair." Pan Stanislav ground his teeth on a sudden; rage carried him away. "I wish you were killed!" cried he to Zagloba. "It was your thought to come to this traitor. May vengeance reach you and him!" "Bethink yourself, Stanislav," said Pan Yan, sternly. "No one could foresee what has happened. Endure, for you are not the only man suffering; and know that our place is here, and not elsewhere. Merciful God! pity, not us, but the ill-fated country." Stanislav made no answer, but wrung his hands till the joints were cracking. They were silent. Pan Michael, however, began to whistle through his teeth, in despair, and feigned indifference to everything happening around him, though, in fact, he suffered doubly,--first, for the misfortune of the country, and secondly, because he had violated his obedience to the hetman. The latter was a terrible thing for him, a soldier to the marrow of his bones. He would have preferred to die a thousand times. "Do not whistle, Pan Michael," said Zagloba. "All one to me!" "How is it? Is no one of you thinking whether there are not means of escape? It is worth while to exercise one's wits on this. Are we to rot in this cellar, when every hand is needed for the country, when one man of honor must settle ten traitors?" "Father is right," said Pan Yan.